#and you know what? she’s right. fuck people who break fire safety regulations

[quidam-sirenae]

I think calling the cops on people is always morally wrong and unnacceptable except when it’s my grandma from California calling the cops on her rich neighbors who are breaking water conservation mandates and lighting off illegal fireworks

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

aight SO

i finished ep 12 and i've talked about it with a friend, and now i've also taken a look into the tarlos tag to get a sense of what people are saying. i think i'm ready to break this down.

so there are a few big questions about That Scene and the following tarlos interactions. i'll just work through them one at a time. buckle in, this is gonna get long. now without further ado...

1) Was TK lashing out at Carlos at the firehouse in character?

Short answer: yes and no.

Long answer: we've seen TK get physical and even violent before. He literally sought out a bar fight in s1. He nearly got into a fist fight with Judd, too. And did you see the way he was hurling darts after that, when he and Carlos were on their date? This boy is not a stranger to getting physical. There are, however, a few major differences between those scenes and this one with Carlos.

One. The bar fight was premeditated, while his fight with Carlos was not. Why is this important? Because it means that TK has shown some measure of restraint in the past. He managed to stay present during what I would call the 'trigger' of the bar fight episode, and saved his physical response for a later time.

Two. His altercation with Judd, on the other hand, was not premeditated. The difference, then, is that Judd was also ready to get physical at the time. With the scene with Carlos, Carlos was trying to remain calm and impartial for most of it, and attempted to de-escalate when TK got violent. The whole thing was driven by TK.

Three. In none of the scenes we've seen before of TK getting violent has his dad's health or safety been threatened. TK's dad is a HUGE part of his life, and he has a LOT of emotional trauma surrounding his relationship with his dad. He's TERRIFIED of losing Owen, because he's nearly lost him so many times before. TK has some MAJOR anxiety about losing people, to the point where he refused to let Carlos into his heart at the beginning of s1. There's also the fact that TK has gone through a lot of trauma in not a lot of time. Even if the show wants us to believe the kidnapping is over, I'm willing to bet that the after-effects are still hitting. For both TK AND Carlos, honestly.

There are also two other lines to consider when we're talking TK's characterization: first, in the episode when Gwyn moves out, and we see her and TK talking, she then calls Owen who asks if TK 'flew off the handle' (i believe that was the wording, correct me if I'm wrong). This is important because we have two people who are VERY close to TK talking about how he reacts to things, the crux of which is that TK gets reactionary. He has high emotional responses and says (or does) things that he doesn't necessarily mean.

Then there's another line that I think is important. This is the one in the crossover episode, when TK tells Buck that he's 'done a lot worse than steal a fire truck'. This one is important because it's TK talking about HIMSELF. We don't have any context for this or what it means, necessarily, but I'm willing to bet from context that he wasn't just talking about ODing.

So with all this in mind... do I think TK was in character? Do I really think TK would do this? Well... it makes sense in the context of TK's story and his arcs and all the scenes we've seen him in so far. But, at the same time, I would definitely have done it differently. It's a thing like... it's not a WRONG answer, but then again, was it really right, either?

2) Was Carlos's reaction to TK lashing out in character?

Short answer: yeah, I think so*.

*though if they don't expand on it I'm gonna have a problem.

Long answer: Carlos, at this point in the story, is dealing with two things that I think impact his emotional landscape a HELL of a lot.

One. His past and his family. He grew up with a man who seems emotionally distant, and it has only VERY RECENTLY started to get better. He felt INCREDIBLY alienated after he came out, and then when he became a cop and he was dealing with his father's silent disapproval. He is always searching for approval and, most likely, affection as well. What this means is that he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself, and bases his self worth on how OTHER people react. If someone reacts badly, that's a mark against himself.

"But Kay," you say, "What about the scene where he made dinner for TK and TK walked out? Carlos didn't blame himself then!"

Which is an interesting point! Carlos didn't put the onus on himself in that scene, he turned it back on TK, calling him 'crazy'. I think that was a secondary coping mechanism, to be honest. He knew he couldn't deal with feeling like he was the one who was wrong AGAIN so he twisted the situation around in his head until it was TK who was 'being crazy'. I've talked about that scene in depth before so I won't do it again, but Carlos's reaction is, I think, indicative of having felt rejection before and trying to protect himself.

Which brings me to number two. The fact that he's nearly lost TK several times already. This plays a HUGE role in how Carlos acts, especially with TK. Carlos has wanted TK LITERALLY from day 1, and since then he's nearly lost him how many times??? Enough, at least, that I'm fairly certain he's now holding on too tight, even when it comes back and hurts him. He just... he seems to have this mentality that if he's in he's ALL in, and he's not allowed to back away or put any distance between them, or else he'll lose TK for real.

Because we've seen TK pull back and get some distance before. We saw TK take a night away after their fight about the farmer's market. Maybe not with the best communication, but TK was angry and he needed space, so he left. When he did that, however, Carlos was convinced that they were breaking up. Like, CONVINCED. You cannot tell me that Carlos didn't think the worst in that moment.

Now why is THIS important? Easy. Because Carlos and TK may be moving forward in their relationship, but they are at a point right now where they react to things in fundamentally different ways. TK kind of bounces between becoming reactionary and going distant (again, we saw this in s2ep8 very clearly), while Carlos has reached a point where he kind of doubles down on holding tightly to TK even when he maybe shouldn't.

Basically, when you boil all this down, Carlos is DESPERATELY trying not to rock the boat, with his parents OR with TK, because he's scared of everything coming apart. And I think that makes sense with this episode.

The problem, then, is that this is a coping mechanism. The narrative has set it up as such. Which means that he's going to have to address it at some point. If he doesn't, I will be FUCKING PISSED, believe you me.

3) Did the narrative address that scene with respect, dignity, and nuance?

Short answer: I DON'T THINK SO.

Long answer: TK is human. He's a recovering addict. He's had problems with feeling numb in the past (that line about how everything is gray), which, I think, makes his feelings just THAT MUCH BIGGER when he does have them. So clearly, he's going to make mistakes. The question then is, was this particular mistake something he's learned from, or was it just used for the drama?

I have two reasons to believe it was the latter rather than the former.

One. Judd's reaction. Judd telling Carlos to get out of the firehouse after TK hit him, as if Carlos was the bad guy in that situation, was dramatic as hell. TK and Carlos are pitted against each other in that moment, and instead of mediating, Judd picked a side. Which is, ironically enough, the first thing that I think was NOT in character in that scene.

Judd, we know, is a bit of a hot-head, but he's also very empathetic. Judd was shown trying to mediate between Billy and Owen the last time the two of them had an episode together, because he understood both sides of the story and he cared for both of them. Why do I think it should have been the same this time? Well, because he loves TK and Carlos BOTH. They were both in the group hug at the hospital after the Ryder's car crash. It wasn't like Carlos stayed back, okay--JUDD CARES FOR BOTH OF THEM. And I think, at that point, that Judd would have seen the fact that TK was spinning out and Carlos was trying to stay objective and known that he needed to de-escalate. It would have been SO EASY to have that line be "Okay, okay, both of you step back and take a breather." He could EASILY have mediated. But he didn't. And that was a specific choice that leans more toward drama than anything else.

Which brings me to number two. The fact that they don't talk about it on screen. We had a hand-wavey 'we agreed no apologies' and a hot and heavy make-out scene instead. The writers wanted the drama of the two of them being in bed together while the fire started, and in order to do that they sacrificed the screen time it would have taken to actually have them have a conversation. Because, again, it would have been SO EASY to write them actually talking about it. They've done it before! After their fight about the farmer's market and Carlos's parents, the two of them have a WONDERFUL conversation. Why then and not now? Well, to make the fire more dramatic, to up the stakes one more time.

So no. I don't think there was any respect. I don't think there was any nuance. TK made a mistake, because he's human and he has some problems with emotional regulation, but there were little to no repercussions for it where there really should have been. There was no respect coming from the firefam for Carlos, either. There were no apologies, or further comments, or anything. And honestly... this season has done a lot toward making me feel like they don't give a shit about violence. Judd hitting that kid in the bear trap in the wild fire episode, Judd hitting the drunk driver who drove him off the road, Judd punching Billy when he thought he was framing Owen, and now TK hitting Carlos... all with no repercussions or apologies or even discussions about them... it's not a good look.

And there you have it. The writing makes sense. It does. But it's also really clear that the writers' priorities have changed. I really, honestly feel like the show has lost something since season 1. There's been a massive tonal shift, and I don't like it. The fact that we keep having Event after Event with no reprieve, have sacrificed conversations and interpersonal relationships for Drama, and have started killing and maiming characters with wild abandon, sometimes with seemingly no reason... it's all just a Lot. I have enjoyed watching season 2, but it's not sticking the same way as season 1 did. I'm not letting myself get attached to characters at this point because clearly we're not in a found family show anymore. I don't care about them the same way I did before. I can’t bring myself to do it when it’s becoming clear that we’re not going to slow down and actually process anything anytime soon.

[captain-danwilds]

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic  AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky​

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life.  He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay.  And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist. 

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.   

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times.  I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor.  I do not know everything they go through.   I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things.  There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.  

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.  

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her.  She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany.  But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.  

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly.  There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.  

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over.  There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty.  If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.  

The problem was, in both worlds,  Nathaniel hadn't shown promise.  It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying.  He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary.  As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically.   But he was moving through water.   He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement.  The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out.   There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.  

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks.  He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.  

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else.  She also happened to know the traitor in question.   One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework.  There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it.  He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky.   Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.  

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years.   Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs.   Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches.  He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.  

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends.   For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.  

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own.  A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.  

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road.  His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic.  They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.  

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other.   Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England.  In dire circumstances one had to make do.  

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program.   He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.  

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?"  Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.    

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile.  "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned.   He had no idea what she meant by genuine self.   Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam?  Or logical like Owen?  His life had been a mass of contradictions.   The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.    

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.    

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.  

"You needed two years for that?"  Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse.  "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves.  Truly the incompetence is astounding."  

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words.  She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.    

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball.  Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.    

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet.  "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"  

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.  

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them.  Instead, he was fifteen.   Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.  

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car.  He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.  

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch.  He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy.  Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.  

They took enjoyment in this.   Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.  

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.  

He was scared.  He fought back anyway.  

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.  

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.  

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.  

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him.  Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind.  Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.  

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court.  In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital.  This is that story.  

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."  

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck.  He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards.   Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.  

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face.  "I'm glad I'm able to help.  Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."  

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump.  "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."  

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.  Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit.   Every hospital was wrong.  

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding.   But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up,  did their job and offered some kindness.  Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.  

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through.  Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know.  He’d just know they’d hurt like hell.  Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.  

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.  

It’s one thing to offer sympathy.  It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.  

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.  

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door.  It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment.   He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed.   So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.  

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift.  (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)  

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone.   Abby knew better to expect much from him.  

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner."  She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.  

Well he should have expected it of her.  Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.      

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.  

It's for her own good.  The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.  

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep.  Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file.   He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk.   She had housed him during the trial.  That would be enough for them.   There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.  

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was.  Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person.  He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break.  Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going.  He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.  

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?”  Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.  

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well.  “Still an example.  Just an example of one way to fuck up.  You’ll be fine.”  

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.  

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.  

Matt made him feel unbalanced.  He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily.  Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.  

And what was left after that?  The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables.  It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.  

But he was.  

And that made Neil want to try.  Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.  

After two weeks, he had more than enough.   Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up.  He might be able get onto the roof.  But he would settle for just one of the upper floors.  As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked.   But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.  

The roof wasn't empty like he expected.  Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof.  Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short.  Small but not delicate.   Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs.  His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him.  He is not the best with names.  He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon.   But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.  

Allison had taken that a step farther.  Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.  

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.  

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.  

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers.  “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.  

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease.  Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.  

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation.  There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him.  Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot.  Everything about it had made him feel unsteady.   He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.  

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised.   He narrated everything he did before he did it.  Nothing was a surprise.  They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day.  He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.  

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs.   He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.  

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else.  There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof.  But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.      

“What are you doing up here?”  

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet.  He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.  

“Trying to avoid company.”  Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew.  They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail.  It’s unnerving.  

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.  

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke.  Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.  

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side.  “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”  

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly.  "You lie.  All the time."  

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.  

This time it isn’t quite a lie.  He did like the smell.  It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep.  But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.  

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either.  He did lie all the time.  Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.  

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them.  Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.  

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.  

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons.  As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.  

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college.   Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously.  It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.  

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be.  It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that.  They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.  

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage.  Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.  

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face.  The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him.  He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.  

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."  

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against  the roof.  "I'm not asking for party tricks.  I'm asking for something true."  

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer.  What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.  

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this."  He gestured to himself.  He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline.  Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain.  This wasn’t an accident.  

"My roommate forced me into PT.  Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."  

"It's not like he was wrong."  

"You disgust me Josten."  

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."  

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then."  Neil teased easily.  

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try.  I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew.  Eating on the roof together felt easy.  The conversation had rules.  Answer for answer, truth for truth.  There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew.  They could just talk.  

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand.  He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation.  "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling.  "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.  "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"  

Neil rolled his eyes.  "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"  

"That wasn't an answer."  

"And if I just like orange?"  

"You're being ridiculous."  

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.  

"College colors.  Just never outgrew them I guess.  They make me feel..."  

Safe wasn't the right word.  He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus.  Like he was a part of something feels wrong too.   He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.  

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence.  "Feeling is dangerous."  

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more.   It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.  

"So is not feeling.  What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far.  Andrew wouldn’t let him.  But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.  

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.  

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.  

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor.  He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof.   There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear.   What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.  

It certainly helped that they shared patients.   They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse.  402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.  

Neil did not have soft spots for patients.  He was the epitome of professionalism.  But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.  

"You don't have to like your scars you know?"  Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face.  "Don't have to hate them either."  

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that.  I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.”  He uncapped a new jar of ointment.   “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened.  No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would.  People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”    

"It doesn't change what happened."  

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"  

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected.  I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."  

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around.    Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest.   He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.  

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”  

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.    

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.  

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”  

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat.  He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry.  “People always look at the scars.  Drove me mad with their staring.  Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”  

Andrew snorted.  “The scars are the least of your problems then.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body.   He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”  

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”  

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof.  “People find you attractive.”  He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning.  He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.  

“You like me."  

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.  

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.  

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands.  They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky.  And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky.  (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)  

Still today shouldn’t be too bad.  There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.  

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite.  She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her.  So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible.  If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed.  Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall.    Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.  

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.  

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary."   They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot.  He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.  

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.  

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.  

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases.  He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it.   He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again.  And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.  

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car.  Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.  

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle.  He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together.   There was just so much blood and not enough time.  

You can't stop running.  

He thought he heard someone calling his name.  Too close. He’s too close.  

You're never safe.      

He darted through the closest door.  It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.  

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly.   You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.    

He forced himself into the corner.  There should be something here, anything really to block the door.  But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.  

And if you can’t run.  You hide.  You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf.  It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small.  It should be just big enough.   Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way.  He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast.  His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away.  His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him.   He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars.  He knew he should stop.  He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now.  He’d be dead soon.   He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.  

He should have tried to think his way out of this.  

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share.  He’d made it to twenty-six.  But now, he was going to die.  

He knows it won’t be a painless death.  There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore.  But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin.  He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure.  There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him.  His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.  

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again.  He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be.  He kept seeing flashes of other moments.  

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement.  Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife.  His father’s grin menacing and horrible.  

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.  

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure.  Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital.  You're safe."  The words wrapped around him like a caress.  

It felt less like he was drowning.  

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared.    Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.  

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens.   His hazel eyes stared into Neil's.  They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over.  You're safe.  Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move.  He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.  

"We're going to do this together."   Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him.   He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out.   Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync.  They're not deep breaths.  Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him.  "Can I touch you?"  

He nodded haltingly.  

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin.  “You’re not there.”  His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.  

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf.  He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers.  He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit.  "Yes or no?"  

He hated how broken his voice sounded.  His father wasn't even here.  His father was dead.  He shouldn't sound so lost.  

Andrew's stare was penetrating.  "To what?  I'm not going to kiss you.  You're having a mental breakdown Josten."  

Neil bit his lip.  That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all.  He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.  

"Just touching you.  Leaning on you."  

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched.  It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.  

"It's a yes,"  Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.  

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck.  It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.  

"I should be happier."  

"Bullshit.  There is no should."  

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."  

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair.  "Maybe someday it will.  When was the last time you thought about him before today?"  

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates.   But he couldn't.  For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.  

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof.  He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying.  He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.  

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father.   And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.  

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right.   “They come where they aren’t wanted.  Doesn’t mean they get to stay.  

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.  

“Do you have any other clothes?”  

Neil looked up at him confused.  

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.    

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests.  “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”  

Andrew glared.  “I’m taking care of that.”  

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.  

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him.  The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.  

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.  

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into.  It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.  

They drove in silence.  At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway.  Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew.   Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station.  The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue.  Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.  

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?"   Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.    

"No."  The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why.  He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him.   But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.  

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place.  Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to.  It wasn't just today.   Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.  

"Kevin's going to ask questions."  

Neil barely stifled his groan.  While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.  

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?"  Neil asked.  

"Don't ask stupid questions."   Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.  

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be.  Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college.  Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams.  But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed.  And for that Andrew would never let him go.  

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.  

"The hospital's fine.  I can get home from there."  

Andrew gave him a disparaging look.   "Now is not the time Rabbit.  Give me the address."  

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it.  The lock on staff records too hard to break?"  

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all.   So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people.  He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.  

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days.  Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him.  But the thought of people made him want to shrink.   He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.      

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too.  It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.  

Neil wasn't being paranoid.  His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson.  Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison.  But there had to be some he hadn't met.  People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about.  He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.    

But for now, he had time.  He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.  

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before.   He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his.   Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter.  For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new.  But he thought he could get used to it.  

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.  

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.  

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.  

He wasn’t an idiot.  He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea.  Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors.  Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.    

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.  

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.  

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby.  “I’m so glad to see you.  Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes.  She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier.  The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.  

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips.  "You're in a hospital Dan.  It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"  

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"  

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically.   "I'll have you know I could do it any day.  I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here."   Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is"   Allison cooed as she held the newborn.      

Dan watched her with a smile.  "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."  

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”  

Dan snorts.  

"So when are you back officially then?  I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."  

Allison snorted.  

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.  

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it.  "You mean we get to keep him?"  

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."    

"So?"  

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."  

"Of Course Dan.  I wouldn't dare."  Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."      

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.    

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you.  I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."  

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard.   "Most of them from your husband I assume."  

Dan laughed good naturally.  "You’d certainly think so.   I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."  

Neil grimaced.  

"But it isn't just him."  Dan stepped closer.  "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"  

"It's fine."  

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred.  "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here.  And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."  

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach.   "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now.  I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."  

She smiled so eagerly at him.  He almost felt guilty when he said, "No.  I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."  

"Oh."  Dan's voice was so small.   She looked absolutely heartbroken.  

He grimaced again.    

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."  

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.  

They wanted him to stay.  

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.  

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital.  He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer.   Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.  

"Why are you being such an idiot?"  Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open.  "I can't believe you."  

"What's there to believe?"  

Andrew stalked across the room toward him.  Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face.  "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.  

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.  

"He's dead."  

"So?"  

"So stop running."  

"I don't know how."  The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body.   He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.  

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else.   But it wasn't the same.   He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone.  And she was all too willing to watch him walk away.  He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.  

He couldn't explain why this time was different.  Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him.  Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself.  He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him.  He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.    

Neil was desperate for him to understand.   "Tell me to stay.  You have to tell me to stay."  

"Why should I?  Nothing will come of it."  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

Neil wanted to scream.   Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to.  He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer.  Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.  

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.  

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid.  I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to.  I won't make you."  

I'd never make you.  

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway.  Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.    

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.    

"It's always been 'go.  It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'."   Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face.  It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this.  He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was.  "I'm so tired of being nothing."  

"Then stop making yourself be nothing.   Let yourself have this."  

Neil felt himself floundering even more.  "It's not that simple."  

Andrew huffed and turned away from him.  "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."  

He let the door slam as he left.  

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur.  Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed.  His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home.  He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months.  Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.  

It never really bothered him before.  

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them.  But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt.   He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew.   He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.  

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person.  A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with.  Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew.   Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.  

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.  

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force.   His chart notes were too detailed.  His frown all the deeper when things went wrong.  He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit.  And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.  

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.  

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.  

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too.  Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.  

The first was to Andrew.  “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything.  Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew.  Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.  

“Can I really stay?”  

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out.  But he didn’t have another way to ask.  It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.  

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.  

But he needn’t have worried.  Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous.  “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”  

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago.  It was only his address.  But Abby would know what it meant.   She always did.  

[karajaynetoday]

at the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them | ashton irwin

Hello lovely people! Because I’m apparently far too emo and angsty to function when it comes to my writing, I’ve decided to explore Part 2 of the first ever 5sos writing piece I posted on tumblr “it’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love”. 

I’ve based part of this part 2 concept on the ode, which is a poem that’s recited at ANZAC and remembrance day celebrations here in Australia (is it blasphemous to use that as writing inspo? Soz if it offends you, I just love the ode so much). The poem is 4 lines that I’ve split into two parts and incorporated into the piece.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

Trigger warning for death of a loved one following an illness (non-graphic). 

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 1.6k 

You thought you’d have more time. Even though you knew the clock was ticking on your mother’s mortality, you just thought you’d have more time. But then again, no amount of time would ever truly be enough. Ashton had stayed around for the weekend, and you’d found each other’s arms again as you sat in the backyard and watched the sun set, but it turns out he had press and meetings in the city on Monday (the only way he could wrangle the sudden trip home was to coordinate at least some work things) so you tried to embrace it, despite knowing his company would be short-lived.

Your mother had loved her birthday party and seeing the faces of those she cherished the most, but it had also exhausted her, and come Monday morning you couldn’t convince her to move from her bedroom into the lounge where she usually spent her days, but you just figured she was more tired than usual. You managed to get your siblings out the door and out of your hair so you could tidy up after yesterday’s festivities, but deep down you could feel yourself becoming more and more unsettled about what was yet to come. It’s there, in the pit of your stomach. Every time you swallow, you feel it. But because you’ve got no choice other than to go on, that’s what you do. Push forward with your life, and push the feeling away.

Around lunchtime, your phone chimed with a text message from Ashton that simply read “Neverland?”, which had you grinning like an idiot. Neverland was what you called one of your teenage hideaways, a codename to stop your parents from figuring out where it was, and in your mind it was still a magical place where your hopes and dreams lived, and where your love for Ash and his kindred spirit grew and grew. In reality, it was a gathering of really old trees along a dried up creek bed behind your house, with a ripped and torn old couch you’d managed to push in from your backyard, but there was a part of your soul there, and you knew part of Ashton’s was there too, amongst the whispering leaves and the bark scratched deep with words.

You tried not to think too much about it, tried not to get too attached to the idea of spending more time with Ash, because you knew eventually he’d leave again and that distance would rip your heart into pieces once more. But you wanted to hope for more. A message here or there, or a phone call to hear his voice, or maybe one day a trip to see the world he told you about with bright, shining eyes all those years ago. Maybe with his hand holding yours, and those hazel eyes meeting yours, and just… more.

You were stuck in your daydream at the kitchen sink, idly scrubbing a cake dish from the party, when a loud beeping snapped you out of it. What was that? You’d never heard it before. Where was it coming from? You rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway, and then as you neared your mother’s bedroom the beeping got louder and louder until it was the only thing you could hear, and the only thing you could feel was the bile pushing up your throat. Opening the door, all it took was one glance and you knew. She was gone.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

You don’t know how, but you’d managed to dial the numbers of the people you needed to call. First, the doctors, who needed to come and make it official with their paperwork and time of death. Second, your siblings, so they could come home to you. Third, your mother’s best friend, who answered the phone on the first ring and came straight over to hold you in her arms while you bawled like a baby. Fourth, you thought about calling your mother’s best friend’s eldest son, but you couldn’t bring yourself to press the button. You’d only had him back for a day and a half. What a cruel universe it was, to put this scenario upon you. Instead, you sent a text. “She’s gone. Neverland at 6pm x”.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tears and paperwork and soothing cups of tea. Because it wasn’t an entirely unexpected event, soon enough family friends were showing up on your doorstep, offering warm casserole dishes with hushed tones and sad eyes, and you willed yourself into strong big sister mode, thanking them for their kindness and trying your best to soothe their grief. Your siblings sat quietly in different parts of the house, not quite knowing what to do with themselves. No one wanted to eat anything quite yet, and honestly you still had that sick feeling in your stomach. With a splash of cold water to your face and a few deep breaths, you pulled on a warm jacket before stepping out the back door into the cool evening air, and slipping through the gate unnoticed.

You hadn’t been to Neverland in almost ten years, but somehow your feet knew exactly which path you needed to take. Shuffling towards the familiar trees, you could just make out Ashton’s figure in the twilight, his head in hands as he sat forward on the dusty old couch that had somehow survived years of turbulent weather outdoors. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and you could see the puffiness in his eyes. Fuck, would everyone look at you with such sadness for the rest of your life?

You felt the tears prick in your own eyes as you neared closer, and Ash stood and opened his arms to you. You throw yourself at him and like just a few days ago, you feel the warmth and the safety and the security and you feel the part of your soul that is set on fire whenever his skin touches yours, but before you can get any words out, the sobs come hard and fast. You’re babbling incoherently, and he’s whispering sweet reassurances into your ear, and pulling you down onto the couch so he can pull you into his side and rub small circles into your back. He’s using your nickname as he tries to calm you, and slowly you feel your tears start to slow and your breathing regulate. Sniffling, you settle your head onto Ash’s chest and close your eyes.

“What is it with this place and me crying my eyes out? Last time we were here, you told me you were going to London.”  You said quietly, wiping your eyes.

“That’s right… and you told me you hated me and that you never wanted to see me again.” Ash whispers, brushing your hair out of your face with a gentle hand.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, and that lasted all of 7 hours until I sat next to you on the bus the next morning and copied your homework.”

Ash laughed, and the sound brought warmth to your heart. Sounds cheesy, but you wanted to bottle it and hear it every day for the rest of forever. You were both silent for a moment, taking in the peacefulness of the night sky, and the hushed whispering of the trees that surrounded your little hideaway spot. You close your eyes, and breathe in. Breathe in the moment, breathe in Ashton, breathe in and breathe out all of the stress and anxiety and anguish and fear that was trying to push its way to the front of your heart and soul.

“We’ll remember her. I promise. We won’t ever forget.” Ashton says quietly, ducking his head down to meet your eyes. You smile sadly, reaching up to cup his cheek and brush your fingers over the dark circles under his eyes.

“I know. It’s okay. It’s just a lot, even though I knew it was coming.”

“Just because you expected it, doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad and confused and just be yourself for at least a little while. My love, you’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but I need you to remember that you matter. So much. To your family and to me and I know that I’ve been gone and shit at keeping in contact and I’m so fucking sorry that I – “ You lean in and silence Ashton’s words with a soft kiss. He’s shocked at first, and then relaxes into, before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you trying to seduce me? Out here, on this couch?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You wish, Irwin. Just wanted to shut you up. I know my mother just died, but we don’t have to have emo hour every hour.” You chide in response, tapping his nose and earning a laugh.

You push yourself up off the couch and step over to the big tree beside it, reaching out to run your hands over the words carved into the trunk. Your siblings’ names, and Ash’s, his initials and yours in an arrow heart, and the word “remember” in the centre of it all.

You feel Ash step up behind you, and his head rests on your shoulder and kisses your neck softly. It’s another moment, like you had in the kitchen, where your heart breaks and bursts with love and a feeling of content at the same time, but for now, it’s enough. Enough to commit to memory, and enough to get you through until the sun rises for another day.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 9 Rundown

I felt very satisfied for the first 90% of this episode but then I got kinda annoyed in the literal final 40 seconds before the credits. But that’s just my own growing agitation for Cinder, so it’s fine. We’ll get to that later.

There isn’t exactly a very happy vibe at the start of the chapter though, as it opens on the cold streets of Mantle as the cold is now likely setting in something fierce and people have realized the heat is gone. As Maria and Pietro welcome folks into the shelter of his pharmacy, some of those inside wonder if this same problem is affecting Atlas as well, and if this dangerous change was done intentionally by the city on high. The two kind elders stare up at Atlas with growing concern.

In the dinning room once more, the council continues to bring up criticisms that have been leveled at Ironwood, specifically that he has two council seats. He tries to counter there are checks and balances to make sure he doesn’t misuse his authority, but they interject that he has been ignoring those regulations and making major decisions all on his own. The General tries to defend himself and say he had no intention of running amiss of the rules, but Councilman Sleet reminds him that intention and action are not always the same and his actions have been wrong. Speaking of making wrong decisions without meaning to, a faunus servant comes in to whisper concerning news in Jacques ear, presumably that the SDC Heating Grid has been off for a while and people are freezing. And it was done on his authorization. Guess Watts just loves to frame people. As Jacques urges the staff member to check the system again and grows visibly concerned, Sleet notices he’s not paying attention and pulls him back into the conversation. He tries to act like he knows what’s going on and agrees with what Sleet was saying, then claims he has no further concerns or questions. But Robyn is by no means done yet, badgering Ironwood about all his secrecy and fears that he refuses to share with the council. He says he fears Atlas becoming a tragic site like Vale or attacked like Haven, but she knows there’s more to it and wants to use her lie detector Semblance to force the truth out of him and test if he’s hiding something. The pressure is palpable, and we know he wants to be more open after the talk he had with Oscar...

But then the door behind Jacques slams open to reveal Weiss with a Phoenix Wright worthy OBJECTION to this one sided accusation. She knows the real culprit for the killing of anti-Ironwood speakers, and the fraudulent election, and she claims Jacques not only knows him in name but knows him personally. With such an accusatory prelude she sets Willow’s Scroll on the table and projects the video big enough that Camilla and Sleet can recognize Arthur Watts, who was thought to be dead since the “Paladin Incident” years ago. Papa Schnee feigns confusion and ignorance, but Daddy Ironwood stands in steely determination and tells Weiss to play the video. It shows the tail-end of Jacques conversation with the bad Doctor, how he hates Ironwood for the embargo and wishes he could fire everyone to save money, and we get to see just what Watts had in mind for Jacques to have his cake and eat it too. Watts is pissy and petulant that Ironwood disgraced him despite his genius contributions and wants to return the humiliation he received ten-fold. All Jacques has to do is give Watts his login for the Atlas Network and promise he’ll make ol’ Jimmy’s life a nightmare, and Watts will manipulate the polls to guarantee he gets that Council seat. Robyn seems very pissed off to learn the voting was rigged and she would have actually won like she had hoped. Jacques, or at least the version in the video, is delighted at the offer and commends Watts for his cutthroat “business” strategy. Ironwood has had enough of this, and Weiss stops the video so they can all glare at Jacques. He tries to get up to run and claims the video is fake. Sleet tells him to SIT. BACK. DOWN. but instead he bolts for the door only to find Weiss’ Knight standing guard and ready to take him down. By the power vested in her by the Kingdom of Atlas, Weiss arrests her father for treason... but maybe she doesn’t actually have the power to do that? It’s unclear but I definitely hope she can. Her entire relationship with her father has been based on him having power and control over her, her wanting to earn his approval and remain on his good side or suffer the consequences of his rage. The crux of her character arc has been recognizing her old way of living was unacceptable and finding ways to get free of that control and influence to become her own strong person. Now, through her hard work, she has more power than him and he has to do what she says or suffer the consequences of his actions against justice. But on the other hand you have to wonder what legal authority Huntsmen have to make arrests and the like. They’re not military or police officers, but they do handle more dangerous threats than the common man. If their job involves apprehending human criminals then they probably would be sanctioned to make arrests. To draw reference to another of my favorite shows, perhaps they are akin to deputized vigilantes like Green Arrow and his team on Arrow? They have specialized skills with which to handle threats the regular military and police aren’t trained enough for.

But breaking off from that topic and back down to one such criminal, Watts is standing on the street catching a snowflake in the palm of his glove before he sees people looting a store that I SWEAR is called Dust in the Wind. Desperate civilians have already started burning things to create a big enough fire so they can keep warm, and a few stolen Fire Dust crystals get thrown in to make it really flare up. Atlas soldiers are watching on and requesting advice on what to do. Glad they’re not stopping them forcefully since no one really knows the procedure for all the heat not working and this being the only way to live in warmth at the moment. Watts relishes in the chaotic moment and is joined by Tyrian.

We go back to the dining room where the adults stand around a sitting Jacques to continue interrogating him while the teens stand off to one side. As Ironwood berates the still defensive Schnee for stooping for such disgraceful lengths to get what he couldn’t fairly earn, Clover gets a blip in his earpiece and walks away to take the message, likely about the freezing crisis. Jacques warns Ironwood he’ll hurt his knees if he keeps jumping to such wild conclusions, but no avail. Better switch condiments, cuz that weak sauce ain’t working on the General. Now that he knows Watts is around and willing to cause trouble, all the loose ends are tying together quite smoothly. Since he made the Mantle security network he would know exactly how to manipulate it and work with Tyrian to do such violent acts and frame good people for it. Penny still seems pretty upset over her tarnished reputation because of that. And to top all of the scandalous deeds of Arthur Watts off, all of that was just to help Jacques cheat through the election. I should like to note that as Ironwood is giving Jacques the works he is backed by a smirking portrait of an armored Nicholas Schnee, as if even now the founder of this great company of his is amused by just how badly his son in law has fucked up royal. Jacques didn’t even consider the consequences of his alliance, he only saw the way it benefited him. There is blood on his hands for this, and he needs to be held accountable in a court of law for both his treason against the safety of his kingdom and the lives it lost. He is of course very much against this idea, all he intended was to win the election after all! But like Councilman Sleet said earlier, what you intend and what you are responsible for doing are not always the same thing. An excuse like that is not enough, and Robyn is physically enraged that he would try to trivialize the deaths of good people, to the point that she throws a chair across the room. Councilwoman Camilla asks the important question, what will Watts be able to do with the power Jacques gave him? They can only speculate into the grim infinitudes, until all their scrolls start buzzing with the concrete facts of just what he’s done. The heat is off, and Jacques can’t even log in to fix it anymore since Watts took his account and locked him out. The bastard tries to save his own hide and distance himself from the situation by saying he didn’t know Watts was planning this, but Winter tells him to SHUT. UP. and fix the heating grid, but he reveals what I did just now about no longer having access. Sleet voices the depressing obvious as Ironwood stares at his scroll and Robyn looks out the window, both in solemn concern: if the heat doesn’t come back on people WILL die. Ruby tries to get the General’s mind off of desperate what-ifs to focus on the facts of how things are right now. Since they know whose credentials Watts is using they can follow his network activity, but he would now have the ability to find out about the Amity project and get into its network. Fortunately, he hasn’t looked hard enough yet so neither he or Salem know about it. Weiss asks if they can lock the good doctor out, but he’s already set to work blocking their access instead. They can’t exactly trace him if he’s on the move so they need to lure him out so they can get to his access point. Robyn interjects, since she has been listening to all this cryptic talk and planning with no one paying any mind to her still being in earshot, that people as vastly different as Tyrian and Watts banding together seems rather farfetched without some larger factor. Their unanimous decision to go after Ironwood in particular seems even stranger with only one of them having much motive, and she still doesn’t get why Ironwood is keeping the Amity Tower a secret. James is quite shocked that she even knows about that, and I’m sure Blake and Yang will have a rather sheepish confession to make. 

But we don’t see that, because instead we bear witness to Atlesian Knight robots being sent in to dispel the rioters gathered around the massive fire. But as Pietro and Maria watch on in silent shock, the people of Mantle lash out hard at these cold metal symbols of a cold ruling society and smash two of the robots. But these heated emotions are the tipping point and the streets start lighting up red to warn the civilians. Grimm are coming, and they are coming in mass. Mammoth-like Megoliaths and swiftly vicious Sabyrs are charging at the massive gap in the border wall, and the assembled Atlas soldiers and robots are not enough to hold the line, while Manta aircraft on bombing runs do nothing to slow the pack or thin the numbers. The Sabyrs are the first to get in and demolish the robots at ground level, and unidentified avian Grimm fly over the heads of the soldiers on top of the wall.

The scene shifts again from that chaos to the dining room again for a calmer moment of building faith, as Robyn admits she now sees just how much Ironwood is trying to protect with all the work he’s doing and the secrets that means keeping. She recognizes he has genuine fear for what will happen if the truth comes out. But the moment is stalled there as Clover and Oscar burst in to inform everyone about the Grimm swarming into Mantle, and how the airfleet can’t do much of anything or else it might result in civilian casualties. Ironwood goes back into beard-stroking panic mode, this is precisely what he hoped wouldn’t happen. Clover urges him to send in ground support to handle the Grimm within the city, but Robyn insists nowhere in the city will be safe if it gets completely overrun. Evacuating people up to Atlas with the airfleet should be their priority. But Daddy Ironwood has to raise his voice, he can’t move the fleet for any evacuation measures or else Atlas would be vulnerable instead. He worked so hard to keep everyone safe, and it’s all falling to pieces in the worst way. But Oscar is there to offer his advice again, though Ironwood rudely rebuffs him that he doesn’t want that. He wants Ozpin’s advice, but Oscar tells him that’s not the fix all answer he wishes it were. Oz would have told him to keep secrets, but Ironwood already knew that wasn’t the right way to go and made his own new and better plan. That plan has failed, the General argues, but that just means the day he was preparing for is upon them already. It’s time to tell the truth and have faith that the world will accept it, starting with Robyn and the council. Ruby assures him, he will not be alone in this. That puts the wind back in his sails, and he starts making a plan. Oscar is probably best off going back to the Academy for safety, and Ironwood needs to have a talk with his critics. In the meantime, the huntresses and huntsmen need to head down into the fray to do what they do best. And that means everyone is coming, even Penny. They still trust and believe in her, and the people will too. Winter has a look of approval as Ruby starts calling the shots, she definitely sees growth from how unimpressive the young rose seemed at Beacon. Clover couldn’t have said it better himself, and they all go running out the door... past a servant who had been in the dining room a couple times last episode bringing in drinks. She watches the trained warriors all leave, and smirks. Creepy.

As everyone else heads out the door, Ruby and Oscar stop for a moment to try and talk, and of course they talk over each other and act like a couple of dorks. They both think that since Ironwood is revealing everything he knows, they ought to do the same. But a lot of the fans are just thinking how they seem like such a cute adorkable couple. Y’all know who I ship so I can’t say too much about this, but I do certainly think it’s fun how they get along so well and seem to be on the same wavelength. Anyway, Ruby wants to be the one to tell Ironwood but duty calls so it has to be Oscar. Marrow is not amused by their awkwardness, or by the fact that Ruby uses finger-guns. Still, the Ace Ops, Qrow, and the young huntsmen head down in an airship where Clover lays down a reminder that their priority is saving people not racking up a Grimm kill count. Ren seems very distressed, so Nora holds his hand and it seems to help a little. They both feel a bit safer being able to feel that they still have each other, and Blake and Yang share a look that seems to imply the same sentiment even if they’re not going to hold hands too. As the ship soars swiftly downward into the danger, we see a streak of danger soaring above them too.

Back to the political scene, Sleet and Camilla are quietly discussing the world changing whiplash they just had  from Ironwood telling them about Salem existing, and how they almost can’t believe it’s true but know he wouldn’t make something that serious up. Robyn, meanwhile, is just staring at the ground as if thinking to herself “I know I asked what he was hiding, but I immediately regret asking”. She looks over to the closed door, and we cut to the other side to see the General in his own mind shattering crisis. Oscar told him everything they know about Ozma and Salem’s past, how as far as they know she’s immortal and they can’t do a damn thing to change that. He’s understandably upset that Ozpin kept this from all of them, you can almost hear anguish and sadness in his voice, but Oscar affirms that it was for the sake of keeping hopes alive so they would stay motivated. Oscar also apologizes on behalf of RWBY and co. for likewise keeping it a secret, but they just didn’t know who could be trusted to know. Of all people Ironwood would understand that. But now was the time to bare it all, before anything terribly important was lost for good. It might be too late for that though, Ironwood’s hope seems pretty broken now. The poor boy tries to make sure the General is okay, to see what he’s going to do now that he knows all this, and for a second it seems like even he doesn’t know. But his head finds a firm place back on his shoulders and his gaze returns to the task at hand. Grand scheme matters will have to wait, they need to save Mantle. Oscar seems proud, says Ozpin would be too. Atlas is providing the hope it was always meant to, since such a marvel of ingenuity and power is supposed to be held to standards matched only by its altitude. I’m paraphrasing, but the way Oscar says it seems all too familiar to Ironwood, as if he was there to see Atlas get its start. It would seem there’s more of Ozpin in Oscar than even he realizes, or maybe there hasn’t been much Oscar himself in there for a little while?... But we don’t have time for that, because their transports have arrived and they need to go. The two agree that neither of them could handle any more surprises, but it’s the huntsmen and huntresses who are in for the surprise. 

A new Grimm called a Teryx that as you would expect resembles a pterodactyl has latched onto the ship and no matter what fancy flying Harriet does to shake it loose it’s not budging. All that comes of it is Jaune starting to get airsick for the first time since Volume 1 and the Grimm moving around to the starboard side and digging its talons into the wall, right between Blake and Yang’s heads. Any further to either side and one of them might have died. The news only gets worse as another Teryx dive bombs them and damages the starboard engine. They all agree now would be a good time to bail and just get to the ground, and Clover opens the side door... on the side where the Grimm is. As his copious luck would have it, the damaged engine breaks loose and takes the Teryx down in a ball of flame so they’re safe to jump. As the kids start jumping, Elm playfully tells Harriet not to stay on board too much longer and she responds with sarcastic thanks. Not friends my ass, they all get along so well! Harriet decides to be a little extra with her exit and punches the windshield to go out onto the roof, inviting Ruby to try and keep up. Ruby gives a smile with more purity than distilled mountain spring water and follows her. Clover and Qrow are the last to jump, and Clover tries to show off a little for his boyfriend.

We go back to Schnee Manor for the last time as Jacques is being taken away by soldiers and Willow watches from the front door. Whitley is sitting sadly on the stairs alone, and Willow looks over to him with a slight smile. Clearly, she feels like the worst is behind them and hopefully they can try to be a real family now, but he runs away up the stairs. I don’t blame the poor kid, he feels like he has no one now. His mom has always preferred to drown her despair in liquor over being a present parental figure, and his sisters see him as an annoyance whom they never give the time of day. His father was the only one who showed him any attention or guidance, and that was so he could mold the boy in his image. He played along and did as he was told because no one else was there for him to give him much choice. Whitley probably wants to get along and be cared about by his sisters, but they thought the worst of him because he chose to listen to the father they wanted nothing to do with. Its a tragedy of circumstances, and it gives new context to lots of old scenes. The poor kid probably was kinda hurt that Weiss didn’t even say hello or show joy in seeing him again when she arrived for the party last episode. I definitely hope these two can recover and find a happier life. But as Jacques is brought to the armored truck, complaining all the way, we instead focus on a member of the staff leaving rather nonchalantly: the same young woman we saw smirking at everyone leaving earlier. She even starts skipping and if you couldn’t tell the twist already the familiar creepy music should make it obvious; Neo is already in Atlas, and if she’s here then Cinder can’t be far behind. Neo goes to a locked room in an unknown building with wall to wall windows showing the city outside, and sure enough there’s the fiery cockroach herself waiting for her companion’s return. Neo was in disguise to do recon since Cinder would stick out too much in a crowd, and it seems she found what they’re looking for. That sounds quite ominous and troublesome, and I’m a little annoyed that at the first sign of the new interesting villains getting exposed and being in our heroes crosshairs we return to the old villains who’re still trying the same old shtick. Still, at this point they almost feel like the Pilaf gang from original Dragon Ball, once the worst thing our heroes had to deal with but are now practically comedy relief villains who still think they’re the top threat. I’m not that mad, I just don’t much like Cinder and her nefarious schemes anymore. Still, doesn’t detract from the great satisfying episode.

[tarmairons]

alright!!!! here’s part 1 of the extensive (book & netflix) masterpost of all my fave eslaf moments!!!! this is a very long post so i apologize in advance to anyone who opens the read more 😘

this is more or less organized in chronological order but features a lot of me rambling incoherently so you have been warned

let’s start with esmé being massively horny on main and nearly blowing her whole cover in TEE part 1 

to be fair, any interaction between them in the TEE eps is valid and amazing and showstopping so yeah

and then we have them carrying an unconscious body!!!! and i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again… this is not the first time they’ve been in this situation. other bodies they’ve carried together may or may not have been dead or otherwise incapacitated 

my fave thing is them being absolutely awful together okay i love that. this whole post is gonna be full of them being awful. look at that. look at them. look at jerome’s life flashing before his eyes bc his wife is eye fucking this random stranger in the back of their limo

now, this scene… olaf wasn’t here in the book and i’m extremely glad that they added him in in the show. it increases the sexy factor

a blessing. and the maniacal laughter…….. peak romance

this is probably my #1 fave screenshot of them. soft. very soft

now listen. the most important part. they f*cked in the penthouse and the dance scene in the netflix version was just one massive innuendo for a sex scene no i will not be taking criticism 

i mean. god. GODDD

T H E M

+ also this innuendo that netflix somehow got away with is just. wow

next up we have book esmé being horny on main

and then another example of them being shady bitches together… bc evil couples with zero morals who commit heinous crimes together stay together ya know

this is just wholesome:

and this again is peak romance. there’s nothing quite like running through an underground tunnel with your significant other, wearing fancy clothes, having just committed unspeakable crimes

MOVING ON…. TVV

first of all, esmé is Small so jot that down

second of all, i would die for this whole saloon scene, but then again i would die for every eslaf scene so

this speaks for itself:

and then we have esmé thinking with her pussy heart and not her brain and leaving her whole life behind for illegal shenanigans with olaf 

i’m uwu

i appreciate that the netflix series gave us an insight into how the villains act behind closed doors (even if half the time it’s not at all how their relationship is described in the books but okay i’ll suck it up and deal, at least we have oodles of footage of esmé being extremely horny on main)

next up we have one of my favorite genres of eslaf content: Their One Shared Brain Cell

ex. in this scene it was clearly esmé’s turn 

and then we have esmé suggesting violent murder and olaf looking at her like the world’s most supportive bf so that’s wholesome

netflix got a LOT wrong but i really need to send them a thank you card for the innuendos

this isn’t even subtle, his hand is on her ass

and then we have Couples Murder again. love that. nothing quite as romantic as killing an old friend and then going upstairs to f*ck and then cuddle on some shitty fold out sofa or whatever

i don’t even know who has the brain cell in this scene. maybe the brain cell was taking a break

and these…… i need to print these out and carry them in a locket and tell people those are my biological parents. look at them having fun

this post is gonna be extremely long because as you see, every eslaf scene is my favorite eslaf scene.

i mean. look. look at them. UWU

and once again we have olaf using the forbidden L word… i’m just saying. there’s definitely some sort of feelings there. at least 1 (one) feeling between them

nothing screams romance like buying your gf a dangerous weapon huh

and then complimenting her shooting skills

and we were rudely robbed of them on a motorcycle together, with esmé disregarding safety regulations, and putting a label on their relationship (which netflix olaf allegedly isn’t a fan of or whatever)

ya know as i’m typing this i’m realizing just how long this post is gonna be….. i’ve only covered 2 books so far…… i’m so sorry 

this is random but i’m a big fan of how handsy esmé always is. she always has her claws on olaf 24/7 all the time

kidnapping people together ~just couple things~

and this is just them sitting in a room together but naturally it’s one of my fave eslaf scenes because they’re sitting in a room together

i mean let’s be real, they could be yelling at each other and it’s still gonna be on this list. they’re always 0.04 seconds away from murdering each other and you know what, i support them

next up we have an iconic cinematic parallel:

and then some more Couples Kidnapping 

and we were ROBBED of this line

and then we have olaf being a supportive bf again

so i’m gonna take a moment to be fake deep now: olaf clearly doesn’t mind esmé’s whole Fashion thing and whatever their breakup is caused by later on, it sure af isn’t her outfits. “i’m tired of having a gf obsessed with fashion” is a fake excuse, they were just frustrated at everything and everyone by the events of TPP and took it out on each other thx bye

here we have another example of esmé’s turn on their shared brain cell:

and then more wholesome content (i mean, yeah, they’re in the middle of a kidnapping scheme right but for them it’s wholesome)

and then interactions like these… peak romance

fake deep time AGAIN: people often criticize this ship bc olaf has a tendecy to leave esmé in burning buildings and i’m like. okay, in the hotel they were broken up so it’d be illogical for olaf to interrupt his scheme to worry about his ex-gf whom he was NOT on good terms with at the moment????? so, not a good reason to criticize their relationship bc they weren’t in a relationship at the time

and in THH olaf being like “hurry up or i’ll leave you behind” when the hospital is burning… it’s like sure maybe they do care about each other but deep down they’re both egoists and they WILL focus on self-interest and self-preservation first… is that a healthy dynamic? of course not. are they both fully aware that the other will run and save themselves? yeah, and they accept that bc that’s how they both roll. no hard feelings 

ANYWAY 

this is the only time they sit next to each other in the front seat without anyone between them and i firmly believe we deserved more of this

i MEAN

another Trope i enjoy is esmé reacting to awful things olaf says like

she loses her shit when he bullies children or plans to set a circus on fire etc… and that’s cute

next up this scene speaks for itself:

i have nothing to add. my uwus have rendered me speechless 

HOWEVER my main complaint is that the netflix version cut literally all of their soft affectionate scenes and FOR WHAT

or that time they went to f*ck in a tent

we got this tho.... iconic!!!

and more snarky domestic content thank you for that netflix

and then here we have another example of their shared brain cell going on vacation bc clearly it’s not in the picture

and (not pictured) but them watching madame lulu get eaten by lions was their idea of a romantic night out i guess so good for them

AND NOW BACK TO SCENES WE WERE ROBBED OF

like yeah we got a variation of that scene but NOWHERE NEAR AS SOFT

WHERE IS THE AFFECTION, NETFLIX? THE KISSES? THE HUGS?? HAIR STROKING??

like all i wanted was one scene of my batshit arsonist parents being mushy but netflix looked me dead in the eye and flipped me off

and that’s all for season 2!!! i wanted to squeeze season 3 into the same post but tumblr kindly informed me i hit a size limit oops

[part 2]

[thatwritingho]

Momento Mori

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Olive had been given all of 24 hours to pack her things and make arrangements before she was flown out for her two week trial in Mordhaus. Now, after a day to settle in and go over various rules and regulations and what seemed to be a ridiculous amount of health and safety waivers, she found herself in a rather lavish, gothic styled guest room, her bags tossed randomly across the floor, clothes strung out on the bed as she fretted and mumbled to herself over what to wear for her first meeting with the band.

“I don’t want to look too formal, but I don’t want to seem too casual either, oh my god why didn’t I pack more options I don’t have shit to wear fuck fuck fuck… should I wear something kinda sexy? I want them to think I’m hot but I don’t want to look like a fucking groupie either, this is supposed to be a professional meeting after all… god damn it…”

Dark eyes shot over to the plastic tub serving as temporary housing for her ball python, and she quickly approached, popping off the lid and lifting the snake out.

“What do you think, Apophis? Is this outfit ok for a first meeting?”

Said snake was draped over her neck as she walked to the mirror, turning this way and that as she mentally critiqued every little detail of her appearance. Her makeup was done, skin appearing flawless, dusty rose and grey eye shadow with matching rosey lips, and a dusting of gold highlight to compliment her skin tone, nails done with pointed tips and shiny black polish.

Her hair was proving to be as wild and unruly as ever, natural curls refusing to be tamed and forming a large pink mass on the left side of her head, a stark contrast to the dark brown stubble on the right. She longed to be able to pull it back in a classy french braid, but exposing the left side of her scalp was absolutely out of the question.

The grey, short sleeve turtle neck was tight and hugged her curves in all the right ways, accentuating her large chest without being revealing enough to be considered inappropriate, and the high waisted, black pencil skirt with equally black belt cinched in her waist before smoothing over her hips and coming to a stop at a modest-but-not-grandmotherly length just below her knees.

She had chosen short sleeves to highlight the sprawling art that made up the tattoo sleeve on her right arm, as well as the rest of the singular pieces littered across her other arm and both legs.

The ensemble did wonders for her figure, but it was still a bit plain. Missing something.

Boring.

And that was the last thing she wanted to seem when meeting her favorite band.

“If only I could wear you as an accessory, Apophis,” she sighed, walking over to the messy, tangled pile of metal that her jewelry had become in her haste to pack.

“Now… how to spice this up…”

After much frustration and cursing herself multiple times for not taking the time to properly store her necklaces, Olive finally managed to untangle her statement piece. It was simple, but beautifully crafted; a medium sized, smoky glass pendant attached to a long silver chain, a few shades darker than her top. To compliment, she fished out a plethora of silver studs and hoops to fill in all of her ear piercings, choosing plain black tunnels to make her stretched lobes stand out.

Slipping on a pair of black closed toe heels, she did one last turn, jolting a bit in surprise at the knock on her door, a muffled voice addressing her through the heavy wood.

“It’s time, miss.”

Nerves set heavy in the pit of her stomach as she returned the reptile to it’s home, and she bounced in the balls of her feet for a few moments before working up the courage to open the door, smiling politely at the Klokateer who was stationed outside her room, the very same one, it turned out, whom had been her mystery stalker a few days prior.

“Are you ready, miss?”

Olive cleared her throat awkwardly, nodding in response as she didn’t trust her voice not to crack, and began to follow after the rather large fellow who’s name she didn’t know, heels clacking against the stone floor as she fought the urge to vomit. He had introduced himself as a number, twelve-thousand-and-something, which was honestly very unnerving, and had her questioning whether she should be working for a place that dehumanized it’s employees so, but had decidedly disregarded the matter. It was probably easier for everyone involved, with the sheer amount of people they employed, to go by number instead.

Lost in thought as she was, she barely noticed as a large, medieval style door came into view, two more large, hooded men posted up on either side, and sucked in a few, hopefully discreet, deep breaths as it dawned on her that this was actually happening. Behind that door await the most famous, most musically talented men in the entire fucking world. Waiting to evaluate her. To judge her. To decide if she was worthy of their time. Worthy of their presence.

Oh, she was absolutely fucked! What had she been thinking? There was no way in hell that she was actually qualified for this!

Stalkateer, as she had dubbed the behemoth of a man, rapped gently on the wood, addressing her before entering.

“Please wait here, miss.”

Heart slamming against her chest, pounding in her ears, stomach about to implode, a cold sweat breaking out all over, she fought the primal urge to fucking run.

God I need to get myself together. I can do this. It’s just like any other stupid business meeting. Only this time it’s with fucking Dethklok. Oh god oh god…

After what seemed like hours but was in reality mere thirty seconds of Olive trying her damndest to avoid eye contact with the two guards, the door creaked open and Stalkateer reemerged, taking up post next to one of his coworkers.

“The masters are ready for you.”

.

Charles took a steadying breath, assessing the band members in various states of inebriation before him. He had requested they be sober for the first meeting with their potential physician, so of course none of them were, although he would give them credit for all being awake and semi interested, which is more than he could typically say about their usual alertness during meetings.

“So.. you uh, you really found someone, huh?” Nathan looked at him with mild skepticism, slouching in his chair, beer bottle in hand.

“Ah, yes, yes I did. And I can assure you that she meets all of your, ah, conditions.” 

“Scho then sche’sh hot, right?”

“And knows how to, uh, like, cut up corpses and stuff?”

“She’s ams a nice ladys too, rights? One whats know hows to haves fun?”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Charles raised his hands in a silencing gesture, attempting to quiet the rapid fire questions, “why don’t you all make the call yourselves? I’ve asked her to do a two week trial, to, ah, see how she gets along with everyone. She should be here any moment now, actually, for me to introduce to you all.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, a Klokateer entering and bowing before his masters, announcing the arrival of the woman in question.

“Ah, very well. Thank you, Number 12945. You may let her in.”

All eyes turned to the door, the click clack of heels approaching the only sound in the room as a small figure appeared, dark eyes glancing over every person in the room once as she made her way to stand next to Charles, looking every bit as cool and collected on the outside as she felt nauseous on the inside.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet Olive Axworthy, your new personal doctor.”

.

A deafening silence filled the room for a few moments as Olive stood before the band, all eyes on her as everyone was frozen for a beat, a bit shocked at just how very young, how very small, and how very pretty of a doctor Charles had managed to pull out of nowhere. She fought against the need to fidget under their stare, standing straight and proud with a neutral expression like she had been drilled to by her adoptive father.

“Dood. Are ya even, like, old enough ta be a doctor?”

Finally, the awkward silence was broken, Olive’s eyes snapping over to the owner of the voice and nearly squealing in excitement as she met the gaze of fucking Pickles the Drummer, frontman of Snakes n’ Barrels turned best drummer in the world, who was talking to her.

Oh sweet jesus, he was talking to her!

Respond, you idiot!

“Oh, um, yeah. I graduated early.”

Great, real articulate, Olive…

She could have smacked herself for giving such a lame answer, but he merely raised a pierced brow at her in response, and she nearly died from how ridiculously attractive it was.

“Scho are you like schome kinda geniush or schomethin?”

Dark eyes slid over to the person sitting next to the redhead, and she felt her heart flip at the sight of William fucking Murderface slouching in his chair, arms crossed and eyes racking over her body none too subtly.

Oh my god, he’s checking me out, holy fuck.

“Uh, technically, yeah, I am.”

“Huh. How ‘bout that.”

On the other side of the table, someone cleared their throat, and Olive was sure every person in the room could hear how loud her heart was pounding as she met the eyes of Nathan god damn Explosion, his broad form even more appealing in person.

Lord, how I’d love to be pinned under him…

“You, uh.. You can, like, work on, uh, dead people, right?”

Shaking off her perverted train of thought, Olive couldn’t help but smile at that, relaxing a bit as the topic turned away from her and to corpses.

“Yeah. I’ve been working in a morgue for the past year.”

“And you, like, take out all their, uh, organs and blood and stuff? You can do that?” He had leaned forward in his chair, becoming more attentive at the change in conversation.

“Yeah. I can do autopsies, embalming, cremation.. pretty much anything.”

“Oh, wowee! That ams so cool!”

Olive practically salivated at the sight of Toki Wartooth grinning at her from beside Nathan, his long, silky hair shining beautifully as he stared at her in fascination.

“Ja, how cools ams it tos cuts open people whats already died?”

“Yous ams so means, Skwisgaar! It ams too cool!”

Said blonde scoffed at Toki, fingers plucking away at the strings of the guitar in his grasp as his icey eyes sized up the woman before him, much slower and with much more purpose than Murderface had.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf. I’m in the same room as Skwisgaar Skwigelf. He’s so beautiful. This isn’t real.

Despite her Inner Fangirl blabbering away like an idiot, Olive managed to push aside the urge to jump the blonde and ride him for all he was worth right then and there on the table in front of everyone, instead shrugging as his eyes finally met hers.

“I mean, it’s pretty fun. Better than dealing with most living people, y’know?“

There were a few chuckles around the table at that, and Pickles stole her attention once more, a sexy, crooked grin on his face.

“Fun, huh? Is dat what ya cahll it?”

Olive grinned a slightly devious grin back at him, eyes glinting in mirth.

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Whoah. So, like, can you, uh, show us? Like right now?”

Nathan’s face was lit up with childlike excitement, and as she glanced around the table, so were the other member’s, even Skwisgaar.

“Sure, why not?” Dark eyes turned their focus to the suited man next to her, who had been silent for this entire exchange, and he eyed her with slight suspicion as she smiled mischievously at him. Oh god, what had he done, putting this woman and Dethklok together? And with her next question, it cemented in his mind that she was going to be nothing but trouble for him.

“Got a body?”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

[the-roanoke-society]

So uh....I know this might not be the easiest but how about that trip to hell via the gate??

i’m guessing you’re talking about nova and seraphim’s first mission!

step right up–this one’s a bit of a doozy. and decidedly lacking in the aesthetics i had in mind when i first started it and morphed into something wildly different… hopefully the disappointment is more of a dull ache and less of a shooting pain.


there are also depictions of body trauma and other violence below the cut. proceed with caution.

“lillith gave me a briefing on the way down here but uhm–run it by me one more time.”

seraphim grinned, slipping on her forearm guard. she began, reaching up to adjust the goggles over nova’s eyes, “this particular part of the underworld is, to us, gate point seveny-nine point three. it’s not a part of our hell, per se, but it’s–look, it’s close, hit me up on a day off and i’ll explain the finer theological points. our job today!” seraphim pivoted on a heel, grabbing her bottle of body armor and swallowing the last of it with a backwards tilt of her head, “is to go free the prince. name’s kreuger. not a bad–uhh. well he’s not as bad as who’s overthrown him.”

nova swallowed, shifting. the armor was heavier than she anticipated, but lighter, all at once. not something she’d worn before on any previous run. it was a blood-rust red, matte finished, and was more streamlined than bulky. she figured it was because they’d have to be stealthy. move quickly. move unseen. the only thing heavier were the pistols that hung on their hips,fueled by a cell pack that gave off a faint green glow.


she also remembered drake and wyvern positively beaming the day before over the tech that currently cloaked their frames. “the place you’re headed’s not exactly human-friendly. think the mojave with a little more punch and a lot more poison. this–” wyvern tapped on the outer shell. “–will protect your skin, help regulate your temperatures so you don’t get overheated.”

“and this,” drake took the liberty of lifting a mask to his face, “will help you breathe. we’ve got goggles to match for eye safety ‘cause gettin’ ocular degeneration over a period of ten minutes once you get back is a mega bummer.”

“don’t you mean macular?”

“nah, this shit’s a lot worse, we gave it a new name.”

“oh.”

but seraphim’s gentle touch on her elbow brought her back. “it’s okay to still be nervous. from what i’ve heard, every time feels like the first time for the few couple of months that you’re jumping. but you’re with me, and lillith wouldn’t send me in with a rookie if she didn’t think you could handle it, which means i already think you’re a badass. we just have to work together, okay?”

nova smiled at the other agent’s earnest expression. she couldn’t help it. 


this was an adventure that she’d been wishing for, for a long time.

“let’s go take ass and kick names. … wait.”

“close enough!” seraphim laughed as they walked towards the gate, glowing a faint blue around the outer rings. someone had put down stage tape at their mark. it clashed with the long, red rug that rolled out beneath the gate to the doorway. 


“final safety check, equipment secure?” nova noticed wyvern’s voice had dropped a pitch. maybe this was his proper officer tone. she pushed down on her mask, her goggles, taking deep, deep breaths. 


“equipment secure,” she answered him, turning back to meet his eyes at the console at the other end of the room.

“copy. initiating travel sequence. please remain still.”

(”dude we’re not talking over radio, do you still have to say ‘copy’?” “drake shut up!”)

and it sparked. that was the best way nova could think to describe it, even now. like seeing a heart pulsed back from the dead. then the tendrils of white light that branched out from the inner ring, like tentacles looking for each other, right up until they snapped forward, wrapping around the two of them. their feet remained rooted to the floor as they were surrounded by light, and then eventually, lifted.

everything was perfectly silently. that was the barrier building. all of the tethers tying them to their home timeline being carefully snipped, so they could be pulled in. nova glanced at seraphim, who just gave her a swift thumbs up, before there was a violent snap; to drake and wyvern: they were just gone.

but nova and seraphim landed roughly on their feet on rock that looked a bit too much like freeze-dried… well. nova picked her eyes up as soon as she could. didn’t want to look at it. her stomach caught. deep breaths, deep breaths, you’re fine, you’re fine…

but seraphim was hunched over, her breathing sort of staggered, just like hers was. “jeremy, do you have our signal?” her voice was a little weak, hoarse. a little muffled because of the mask. “… good. we’ll signal when we’re ready to be brought back. copy. … and remember to record the thunder game while i’m gone, i think we play los angeles or something. copy for real this time… hey, see, you made it!”

nova just stretched out an arm, which seraphim took, helping her take a few adjustment steps forward. and as nova walked, she was able to take in the landscape that surrounded them–and that seraphim’s gait was a bit stilted.

wasteland. that was the first thing she thought of. a sky the color of a rotted bone. mountains in the distance that weren’t wounded-colored but rather more like aged, rotted wood, jutting up from the cracked, jagged ground. something was coming down from the sky like a faint, soft snow. it was grey. and definitely wasn’t snow.

beyond everything was a faint red glow. like they were standing in a volcano’s mouth, and the rim was wide, wide around them.


“have you been here before?” nova asked, her tone hushed. the space here was oppressive, closing in, heavy. sort of like a sauna set too high, even with the armor. there was a beat before seraphim answered her.

“… a few times. i wouldn’t say i’ve been through the gate often, but i’ve been often enough to know that i really dislike being brought to places like this, and enough to know i really want us to go to gate point nintey-three point one after this. it’s a wonderful kingdom, el. haven’t been in a while. hope the princess is all right, she said something about a man named ganon before i left last...” her voice seemed to trail off for a second, before she coughed, shaking her head. “not sure why lillith keeps bringing me here. i’m not a prime candidate for jumping. … not like you.”

“not like me?”

the goggles were so reflective that all nova could see when she looked at seraphim’s face was either mask or a reflection of an alien horizon. an unholy horizon. “i may or may not have looked over your file before this. you have… i can’t remember the specific words they used. but you have something in you that makes you an absolute fit for this role. i’d called it god-crafted. a gift from the spirit. other people would call it other shit. but i said what i said.” seraphim nodded, like she was adding emphasis, before turning her face to look at the landscape. “okay. they sealed kreuger underneath the end of the palace–”

“the palace? hell has palaces?”

“my sweet little chicken nugget, all underworlds have more than we’ve been told. and to answer that question, yes. like… c’mere, look, look…” seraphim beckoned her over to a ragged cliff, which overlooked a valley that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

it was like a cradle full of darkness. the only light that existed seemed to be that of fires, torches. candles.

and in the center rose up something that towered over everything, something that–reminded her a lot of maleficent’s castle from sleeping beauty. weird. 


“that’s where we need to go. if i remember from the last time i was here, i know a shortcut we can take, we just have to stay low and stick together. you good? … awesome. follow me. keep your eyes peeled. we don’t want to fire unless we absolutely have to, it’ll draw attention to us that, trust me, nobody will want.
“

*     *     *

it still took them hours to reach the palace. hiking through the worst kind of desert, dodging rogue demonic entities, hiding. seraphim discovered that their armor had built-in cloaking (”were you going to fucking brief us on this or did you just forget?” “… uhm.”) which made it infinitely easier.

it took nova–well, to be fair, she still hadn’t quite gotten over how they all looked. and none of them were the same. each demon was fairly humanoid in shape… except for when they weren’t. and each one had viscera showing where a body part was missing… except when they didn’t, and then proceeded to have way too many eyes or mouths or teeth than any being anywhere had the business of having. and the sounds they made when they walked. if she wasn’t going to ask cherub for something for her bath before…


“think dinosaur rules,” seraphim had whispered over her shoulder, crouched behind the corner of what nova thought looked a little like an adobe house (not even the ability to become invisible could quite break her out of sneaking behind everything). in fact a lot of the aesthetics of the city–could she call it a city?–reminded her a lot of taos, jemez springs. new mexico. “if they don’t see movement, they don’t see anything.”

“wait, didn’t someone disprove that?”

“lucky for us nobody told these assholes.”

as they snuck further and further into the heart of the metropolis, the aesthetics seem to… shift. from rustic adobe to more alhambra. if she could easily pick out things from her own world to compare all this too, then surely, it was tied to earth somehow, right? “uh, morgan…” nova began. she kept close to her side. the alleyway they were walking down was vacant. seraphim took the opportunity to stretch her neck, roll her shoulders.

“this place looks a lot like this catle in granada…”

“that’s because it–sort of is.”

and there was a bit of silence before: “… i’m guessing i should wait until we get back before i lay into you with questions about how the fuck that’s possible and what the hell that even means.”

“first bath, then a nap, and then i know this great brunch place not too far from the estate, i promise i’ll tell you everyt-!” her voice cut out abruptly and one of her arms shot out in front of nova, pressing her against a wall as something huge, hulking and smoking lurched in front of the opening of the alleyway. seraphim let out a long, shaky exhale. 


“the only place worse than this is centralia…”

“where?”

“put it on our list of sleepover topics. it’s gonna be long. this place tends to do that. although it’s honestly not that hard to sneak through as long as you’re careful and you’ve got the right tech. you just gotta be smart.”

they both carefully started towards the end of the alley, sticking close to the wall. nova thought she could smell something… it wasn’t brimstone, not quite. but close. just as unpleasant. “speaking from experience?” it came out before she could stop it. 


seraphim didn’t answer until they reached the end, motioning for nova to look upwards. the spire of the tallest tower looked a lot closer than it had an hour ago. they were getting close. “… yes. once. once is all it takes for you to learn. i had amy tattoo my left calf for a reason.”


*     *     *

it was only when they reached the actual outer wall separating the palace from the rest of the city did the vibe turn a bit more–gothic was an apt descriptor. the spanish vibes gave way to something more once upon a time, something more disney, and somehow it was worse than what they’d walked through. a glossy surface trying too hard to be romantic hiding something insidious underneath, like organs wrapped in plastic wrap.

there were vines of roses along the upper edge of the wall with thorns the length of nova’s palm.

seraphim stared up at the blossoms, “okay. climbing over the wall is a no-go. each of those packs enough poison to kill something three times our size. the front main gate in and out has about sixteen different layers of wards on it and as much as i love our basement boys, i don’t exactly trust their cloaking shields to withstand that this close to the throne room…” seraphim started taking one step, then another, eyes on the flowers, lost in thought.

and nova was, too, up until she remembered: “oh! wait, i have an idea.” she unclipped a small box the color of gunmetal from her belt over one of her back pockets. “i’ve been helping jeremy and joseph with this. we’ve had a few successful test runs, and i think now would be a good time to give it an actual field test.”

“well, shit, okay, you thought of an idea first so we’ll go with that. uh–what is it?”

and nova actually swayed a bit, like an excited child. “i’ll show you. but first, you have to tell me… if you could make a hole anywhere in the wall, where would be the best place?”

that was about the time that they heard shouting, too close to be comfortable. it was in a tongue deep, guttural, with a lot of clicking interspersed. “definitely not here. c’mon, i think i know just the spot.”

after about fifteen minutes of fast-paced creeping, seraphim stopped. nova could see the roof of something like a shack over the roses, which she no longer doubted were circling the entire place. “just on the other side of this wall is a part of the chambers for the staff. i’m positive that he’s under that, and that there’s gotta be a way down there. i don’t think they’d let him starve to death, he’s too useful alive.”

“awesome. okay, stand back, calibrating this is a bit tricky…” seraphim took a few wide strides backwards as nova tucked the nondescript box into the crook of her elbow, but quickly jumped when she realized the agent was doing so to remove her glove. 


“ellie, wait, no no no–”

“i have to have skin-contact in order to activate it, i promise i’ll hurry. call it a sacrifice for the mission.”

as soon as the glove left her hand she very immediately realized that she wouldn’t have a choice. she’d been expecting a burning sensation, and that’s exactly what she got, but it still sort of took her breath away, for the first few seconds. it felt like something that you could almost get used to, if given enough time. almost. seraphim’s own covered hands went to the sides of her face. “oh jesus, okay, go do your thing sugar–”

with her thumb on the top of the box, and with her jaw clenched trying to fight through the persistent stinging, she traced a well-practiced pattern. for a moment, nothing happened. then from the end of the box shot out a circle of light, that landed on the wall in a perfect oval, like an outline.


“oh it’s so pre–”

seraphim didn’t get to finish. there was a sound like a large rubbing band being strung, almost like a bass guitar strum–and there was a perfectly cut hole in the wall.


nova was struggling to put her glove back on so she didn’t quite notice how seraphim had thrown her arms out and was just wildly gesturing to nova, to the wall, back to nova, back to the wall, “what the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuck. oh my god. that was awesome. holy shit. what the fuck did you just do. i just. oh my god. oh my god let’s go i have so many questions when we get back–oh. ellie, you all right?”

she was taking in breaths through her teeth, cradling her hand against her chest. “yeah. yeah. just feels like a really really re-he-eally bad sunburn.”

“well hang in there starkid, as soon as we find kreuger, he can take care of the rest himself. and ah, we won’t want to be here when that happens anyway. pray that nobody’s in here.” she brought up her pistol, “i know i said no firing, but–wait, was that your trigger hand?”

“uh–yeah.”

seraphim took the liberty of taking nova’s pistol of its holster and putting it in her uninjured hand. “as long as you don’t shoot me, this’ll probably work. probably. okay…” her voice lowered. “team break.”

*     *     *

lillith must have timed their jump on purpose, seraphim reasoned, or had some kind of premonition about how long it would’ve taken them to get to the castle, because right as she pushed open the shack door, there was a single, long gong from far above them. “what was that?” nova couldn’t get above a whisper. 


“given that no one’s in here, i think it’s a feasting hour. all the help’s off serving that absolute fucking batshit son of a--” a huff. “we need to hurry and take advantage of this while we still can. the servants here are the only creatures i pity. … well. they’re at least on the top five.”

nova could see why. the room was rotting away in places, black, black, blacker, an absolute absence of color amidst what looked like concrete and wood. two sets of bunk beds, and the word ‘bed’ was generous. more like just four stone slabs large enough for an adult human attached at different heights to the wall. and that was all, except for a scrap of off-white fabric on the floor.

“but where do they go to the b–”

“trust me, you don’t want to know.” seraphim interrupted, peeling back the rug to reveal a trap door. she sighed, “i know this is the right way, but this seems too easy… you got us through the wall, i’ll be body insurance going downstairs, deal? cool.” she lifted the heavy door, grunting under the weight, revealing a very narrow stairwell that looked like it was carved out of brick. there was a dim light coming from somewhere they couldn’t see, just enough to make the stair landing visible. seraphim shook her hands, taking a deep breath. “here goes nothin’, wish me luck.”

she didn’t get very far.

seraphim put one leg out in space, aiming to awkwardly go down the steps, when her leg jerked hard to one side. she swore under her breath and grabbed nova’s arm, quickly pulling herself up to sit on the floor.

she had a needle roughly the same thickness as a knitting needle shoved through the top of her boot. blood was beginning to ooze from the wounds. “ohhhhkay. i don’t know what else i was expecting.”

“morgan–”

“this is fine.”

“morgan.”

“this is okay.”

“do we leave it in?”

seraphim swore again, this time with a little more enunciation. “no. i don’t know what this is made of and now it’s currently inside of me, so we’re just going to uhm–ellie you have to do it.”

“what?”

“ellie i can’t pull this out you have to do it, you gotta not hesitate and just go for it, i don’t have the g–FUCK.” nova wrapped a hand around one end of the needle and jerked it clean in the middle of seraphim’s rambling, replacing it as quickly as she could with her hands, adding pressure. there were a few moments where the only sound was seraphim’s ragged breathing, which eventually calmed, as she braced her foot against the opening to the basement. safe in nova’s hands. “… thank you.”

“don’t mention it… but what do we do now? is the entire area down there going to be like that?”

seraphim sighed. “probably. and we could stop and look for the way that the help disarms the hallway, or we could do it my way, which will take a lot less time…” she awkwardly shifted up into a squatting position on the floor, staring down into the dark. “and because we did the right thing and properly hydrated before the jump, i should be able to do this even with my gloves on… just gotta focus for a sec…”

seraphim took one huge breath in, and out. ignore the pain. ignore it. we’ll deal with it later.

she held her palm out flat, and then lifted it. as she did, spots all along what they could see of the lower level glowed a faint lavender shade. 


nova’s eyes widened. were… were those all the traps that had been set?

seraphim raised her other hand, and tried to snap her fingers. no dice. she hissed, making an abrupt fist.

what followed was a soft cacophony of things breaking, falling, or shattering.

“morgan that was–oh!”

seraphim had yanked her mask down in time to vomit violently off to the side, rib cage moving erratically underneath her armor. it honestly didn’t make the room smell that much worse.


“are you–?”

“yeah, just uh–don’t ask me to do anything like that again for a few hours.”

“that was… amazing.”

seraphim threw her head back, laughing roughly. “yeah, we’re both pretty rad, now let’s–let’s go get this fucker so we can go home, i need to go to medical like yesterday.”



*     *     *

with the traps disabled, the going down was easy, and straightforward. they crunched over needles, arrows, and metallic shapes as they went. everything around them was like sod, with torches embedded in the walls. 


nova tried not to think about that they looked like arms, eternally smoldering just bright enough to light the way.

“what, no labyrinth of endless twisting hallways? i’m a little disappointed.”

seraphim was trying to not limp but pain spread up her leg with every step she took. shit, shit, shit. she kept glancing to nova’s hand, hoping that she couldn’t see behind her goggles. “for one, they think that the traps will kill or maim anyone not authorized to be down here. for two, if they are authorized to be down here, why waste their time?” their voices were quiet. they hadn’t seen anyone else down here, but…

the torches stopped. and there was a long stretch of darkness before they came to another pair. nova grabbed a hold of seraphim’s arm, and she let her keep it there, up until they entered the rim of a dim glow by a wall of bars.

a cell.

“kreuger.” seraphim began, gently. “… kreuger.”

“hush–exorcist.” nova’s grip on seraphim tightened as he spoke. she had to twist back when she realized she’d almost buried her face in seraphim’s shoulder out of some kind of reflex. he sounded like… the buzzing of bees, the low growl of a monster, with a canyon beneath all of it. she hated it. “i hear you… who is this? this is not john.”

“no. it’s not. enoch has… left our little club, since we last saw each other.” 


as seraphim spoke, voice laced with pain, kreuger stepped up to the light, although nova could see the backlight, inhuman reflection of his eyes before he got close to them. she wished he’d stayed away.

he did look human. almost. limbs a little too long, face a little too angular. his eyes were a solid pink, no pupils to speak of (where did the reflection come from, where did it come from?). he had horns, like a ram, that rose up and wrapped around his pointed ears in a tight spiral. 


he… was hunched over. nova felt a little bad for him, then. somewhere in her chest. like you’d pity a vulture in a cage too small.

“good. i hated him.”

“you hate everyone, kreuger.”

“oh, now, dear lady morgana, be kind. i tolerate you, do i not?”

“you’re going to do more than tolerate me here in a second, we’re here to bust you out.”

“… bust me…?” but seraphim was too busy digging into a pocket by her kneecap, pulling out a small bottle. it was crystalline, marked with a cross. holy water. kreuger’s eyes widened in what might have been surprise. “… you are releasing me.”

“psellus is not the rightful ruler of this place. you are. and i don’t know the intimate details of the politics of this fucking shitshow but you can be damned sure that where we’re from we greatly prefer lawful evil to complete, uncontrollable chaos. now if you give me one second–” seraphim uncorked the bottle and kreuger quickly recoiled back away from his bars; the senior agent hobbled along the length of his cell wall. the metal seemed to dissolve as soon as the water hit it, and then there was nothing.

nova became very acutely aware that she was standing in the same room with what was essentially a demon king.



this was going to make a good story someday.



but as he started to walk forward, there was clanking. “… shit. water can’t cut through that.”

kreuger stood to his full height as soon as he passed where his threshold had been. he was easily seven feet tall, and dressed all in black, in–a suit. this guy had a taste for aesthetics, nova would give him that. 


“everything in me is suppressed because of these chains. i do not know where psellus found them…” he had thick, chain link cuffs on both his wrists and around his ankles. it reminded nova of the same stone she’d seen on the ground where they had landed. they were massive. probably needed to be. her heart was in her throat.

“ellie, you still have your box from earlier?”

oh no.

“y-yes.”

kreuger smiled and revealed a mouth full of knives. well, fangs, but they looked like knives, for all intents and purposes. “oh how adorable! and she smells so good…” 


“can you focus that circle into a point? that circle you made?” seraphim tried to make her voice as solid, as reassuring, as possible. because now nova was staring up at kreuger’s face and maybe trembling, and-well. 


now she’d really see what she was made of.

“we–i can. yes.”

“okay. kreuger, you stay still, spread out like this. ellie, focus that thing to a point and cut through his chains.”

“you–you can’t magic them apart? like the traps?”

“oh that was you? excellent work, exorcist.”

“–thank you, your highness. and no, el, i can’t. that level of tinkering–if i tried that again this quickly there’s a good chance i’d rupture an organ. i’ve had lots of practice but there are still things i’m not able to do, not yet. ellie, look at me. … kreuger is not going to hurt you.” her face went to the king himself. “he needs us, and knows exactly what’ll happen if we don’t come home.”

“mmm, yes. how is our dear lillith.”

“she’s fine. ellie, if you would.” she stepped closer to her, muttering by her face. “i know that you’ve already burned your hand once today, do you think you can push through and do it again? if you don’t, then you’ll have to tell me how to do it.”

“no–no. i can do it.”

kreuger assumed a strange position, wrists and ankles spread apart. his gaze made nova feel naked in the worst way. 


and seraphim watched with not a small amount of pure, unadulterated admiration as ellie readied the box, and removed her glove. she was even brave enough to glance at his face once. 


“ready?”

“ready, little solider.”

solider. strange.

and it may have been to comfort her, or it may have been a warning, looking back, but as nova traced a different pattern over the top of the box–her skin feeling like it was being cut a centimeter at a time--kreuger began to talk to seraphim.

“oh lady, tell me–how has your spine been lately?”

“fine, besides the usual. why?”

“oh, no reason. i just know you wish for a certain thing.”

a heavy sigh. “not this again–”

“and you’ll get it. after… a few trials.”

another strum, like before.

kreuger was unbound.

and as soon as he was, the hallway positively lit up. the torches’ light was amplified as kreuger drew in a breath too big for human lungs, and a pair of wings, that hadn’t been there before, stretched and touched the walls with their span. “… thank you. darling little solder. darling little exorcist. i fear i am in your debt. tell me, how can i repay your kindness pending the slaughter of half of my kingdom?”

nova’s hands shook as she clipped the box back onto her belt, and she tried to focus on being able to tell wyvern and mothman how it preformed afield.

seraphim began, “we’ll call you. for now, we just need to get back to our land point so our crew can get us back.”

“oh, allow me.” without warning, kreuger put his hands on their backs, reaching around them. his limbs seem to elongate, to stretch, and nova thought to herself, hm, that’s strange, i’ve never had a hand on my back that was the entire length of my spine before.

seraphim tried to stop him, in her defense. “wait, no, kreuger, if you push us through then we’ll–”

too late. 


drake, wyvern and longma let out high-pitched shrieks as seraphim and nova were launched, unannounced, from the gate’s mouth. they landed roughly on the carpet, hacking, grasping at their masks and goggles to breathe air natural and familiar to the lining of their lungs.

“holy shit! are you guys okay? what happened?”

nova blinked at the sight of the three faces looking down at her. she smiled to the tune of seraphim’s voice.

“we fucking saved the world. … also please call karen and aly we need them like, right now.”


[sanjuno]

from the tone of ur mcu/got fic it seemed like u really hate or at least disiked steve, how come?

Woo boy, okay. So first things first. Let’s clarify the statement. Steve Rogers, aka Captain America is a character that has been re-imaged several times dependant on the universe he’s in. Classic and Silver Age Steve is okay. I’m kind ‘meh’ about Steve in 616 and Ultimates.

MCU Steve is everything wrong about American superheroes distilled into one storyline. And it’s not just one thing, it’s many things that build up until I want to set him on fire for the good of the world and all the poor, impressionable fanboys in it.

My issues with Steve in the First Avenger are:

MCU Steve refuses to accept any dissenting opinions and his first resort is always violence instead of debate. He’s manipulative in that he verbally antagonizes people so that they “throw the first punch” so he can feel justified in “standing up to bullies”.

MCU Steve glorifies active military service to the point of outright refusing to support the army in a way he’s actually capable of succeeding at and instead commits treason (lying on the enlistment forms) rather that applying for a support role. To say nothing of the danger Steve’s fellow servicemen would be in covering his ass if he did actually manage to lie his way to the warfront. Plus he completely ignores the fact that Bucky was drafted, which means that Bucky did not willingly enlist.

MCU Steve took steroids that had the proven, recorded side effects of increased aggression, sociopathy, and psychosis in every known survival case.

MCU Steve never finished basic training, and thus never even made it to the rank of Private. He’s never been employed by the US Army. “Captain America” is a stage name, not a real rank. If anything, Steve was a consultant employed by the SSR to deal with Hydra and only Hydra.

My issues with Steve in The Avengers are:

MCU Steve is isolating himself and refuses to take care of his own mental health and stability. He expresses obsessive behaviours and rigid thought processes that make it easy for the Hydra agents embedded in SHIELD to gaslight him about people and the operation of modern society. In short, Steve is ignorant and uneducated in a way that he could easily change but refuses to despite have unrestricted access to the resources he needs, and so any failures or bad judgement calls on his part as a result of his ignorance are on his head. Self-education is the responsibility of every thinking person who wants to interact with the wider world.

MCU Steve doesn’t know how to accept specialist opinions, as proven by his distain for Tony and Bruce’s work in the lab so they can track down the cube. Again, distain for cerebral pursuits such as engineering or computer sciences because there’s no visible effort to show for it aside from the results that are produced once the actually work is over.

More attempts to provoke people into violence when MCU Steve is losing an argument because he doesn’t have the facts to back up his statement.

Takes off on a road trip, but when the hell did MCU Steve have the time to get a motorcycle certification or driver’s license? Does he even have a source of income? Second instance of lawbreaking confirmed.

My issues with Steve in The Winter Soldier are:

MCU Steve has no proof that Sam isn’t a Hydra plant when he goes for help, just a gut feeling. Sorry, but background checks are a thing you need to do before sharing classified information for a reason. Operational security is nothing but a dream at this point.

Doesn’t call Tony to get the Helicarriers shut down. Why? Tony has made multiple public statements that Stark tech in the hands of terrorists goes boom!

Yes, there were Hydra agents in SHIELD but dumping the database just meant that all the good, actually SHIELD agents are the ones who got burned. How many active or retired agents and their families got killed because of that info leak? That’s like burning down your house because you saw a spider.

MCU Steve fucks off and doesn’t go to the hearing, and he never actually gets debriefed about what went down. Once again Steve disrespects governing authority and the due process of laws put in place to protect the public. (Because Bucky, and I’m so sick of that mentality.)

My issues with Steve in Age of Ultron are:

MCU Steve hasn’t told Tony that his parents death was a murder but accuses Tony of lying to them. Tony never lies, he doesn’t have enough of a self preservation instinct to bother lying. But Steve is covering up a murder and still somehow thinks he’s a moral authority.

Blames Tony for Ultron when it’s obvious that (a) Bruce was helping and (b) alien magi-tech bullshit was at fault. Plus JARVIS is dead and Steve doesn’t care despite the fact that it’s obvious Tony is grieving.

Identifies with Wanda, known Hydra volunteer who only switched sides because she was going to get killed by Ultron otherwise. Trusts Wanda’s word over Tony’s, when Wanda’s goal has always been to messily murder Tony and she set an enraged Hulk on a city full of civilians with the intent to kill everyone there. 

Throws the shield when he gets to Tony’s lab while Vision is being born, so yet again violence is the chosen option instead of debate.

My issues with Steve in Civil War are:

MCU Steve is still so ignorant of modern politics that he thinks the UN is a government. Also refuses to respect the right of sovereign nations to say “no” to having the Avengers cross their borders. If Steve wants to operate against human organizations instead of just the random alien invasion then he needs to have oversight and a proper command structure. Otherwise he’s just another extremist pushing his personal agenda on the populace. And that’s the definition of terrorism.

MCU Steve fucks up Bucky Barnes’ chances of being acquitted of Hydra’s crimes when they escape custody by blowing through the anti-terrorist task force and collapse a transit tunnel on civilians during the midday commute. Until that point everything Bucky did was could be filed under Bucky being non copus menti as a result of the Winter Soldier programming and the deliberately, maliciously cultivated PTSD triggers implanted by Hydra. But that chance is gone now because Bucky Barnes was the one “in control” when they fucked up the airport and beat up Tony.

MCU Steve lies to Clint and Scott about the reason they’re fighting. Steve says they needs to stop the other Winter Soldiers from being set loose and that the Accords will stop them from acting, but in reality it all boils down to saving Bucky. Meanwhile everyone on Team Cap gets labelled an international criminal in the end and chances are they aren’t going to be able to go home for years even if they’re very, very lucky.

Bad laws are argued in court and amendments get made if a law infringes on the civil rights of the people it impacts. But MCU Steve doesn’t obey the laws, he has never obeyed the laws, and so he has no fucking goddamned clue about how to work inside the system to get what he wants peacefully. Cue more punching his problems.

LYING OR WITHHOLDING INFORMATION ABOUT A MURDER CASE IS OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE AND IT’S A CRIME, STEVE.

Breaking people out of prison when they have, in point of fact, broken the law, IS A CRIME, STEVE.

So in summary, MCU Steve is a violent, delusional bully who likes to be the centre of attention and has never believed that the laws apply to him. It’s especially grating because the script writers keep trying to make him a sympathetic character but all I can see is some jacked up white boy on steroids whining because it’s not fair that he needs to be a decent, law-abiding human being. Due Process, Workplace Health and Safety Regulations, Harassment Policies, things like that. Also, Steve and Wanda are actually close to the same age in life experience according to the MCU storylines but he marginalizes her and denies her agency by saying she’ “just a kid”, which is the most bullshit patronizing expression of a superiority complex I’ve even seen in media. And that’s why I don’t like MCU’s version of Steve Rogers.

[captainsimagines]

Kill ‘Em With Kindness - PART TWELVE

Bucky Barnes x Reader

You had been detected.  You were now on their radar.  You were recruited for one mission only.  You’re trained and put to the test.  With your background, everyone realizes it was a mistake recruiting a college student who would soon be faced with the thing that drove her to kill in the first place.   

Warnings: ANGST; ANGST; ANGST; SWEARING

Word Count: 2,532

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen... I want to ruin you.”

“You’re too late.”

PART TWELVE 

     “What the fuck?”

     You were seething. Your face was puffy and red, your lips sucked in so far you were talking through clenched teeth.  Your voice was a mix of tiny squeals and angry whispers, the combination frightening.  The pressure of the two clawed at your veiny throat.  Your hands were around Sam’s neck, nails digging into his skin as he struggled to get away. 

     Bucky could only tug at your shoulders because the sight of your bulging, tear-filled eyes prevented him from pulling you any further.  He knew the anger you felt and how no one should interfere.  He believed you were right in threatening Sam, Tony, literally anyone who let Peter leave their sight.

     “How could you let this happen?” Your frustration caused an overflow of tears and your face became redder.  Sam clawed at your hands and looked around at the rest of the team for some assistance.  Natasha was in the same boat as you, deciding however to stare at the wall blankly and think of a way to retrieve Peter.  You would be trying to do that too but there was no possible way you could clear your mind. 

      “The hall... was clear!” Sam choked.  Steve huffed, finally stepping in and ripping you away from Sam.  Your fists curled and your nails punctured the tender flesh of your palm, the crescents most likely visible from miles away.  Each breath you took felt like a sea of fire, every second passing as if you were drowning in hell. 

      “It wasn’t! It fucking wasn’t!” You began to whimper and your body gave out.  Your back ran into the wall and slid down to the floor, Bucky following your actions and pulling you into his body.  He tried to calm you down, not really understanding why you were so emotional over his disappearance.

     “Y/N, please calm down.  You are having a panic attack,” Vision warned, his hands extended in a comforting way.  You only stared at him and shook your head. 

     “He doesn’t have his web shooters! He was taken by HYDRA and he doesn’t have his web shooters,” you declared, looking at Bucky as if you were trying to make him comprehend that information.  You searched his eyes for understanding.  Bucky knew you what you meant.  Peter doesn’t have his web shooters and there is no way he could win a fight with just his fists... no matter how hard Steve had trained him.  He didn’t even have his suit.  

     “Security is getting the video now.  We’ll have our lead soon.” Tony rounded the corner looking disheveled and out of breath.  He wiped his face and his eyes, holding his chest every so often and blinking rapidly as if this was all a dream. 

     This had to be hitting Tony harder than it was hitting you.  It certainly didn’t feel like it but this wasn’t a battle of ‘who was the most worried’.  Everyone was dealing with the kidnapping in their own manner.  

     Tony began to regulate his heavy breathing while Steve stood still and clenched his jaw, deep in concentration.  Natasha picked at her cuticles, straining her ears for the slightest sound that could possibly lead to Peter.  Clint sat silently, imagining if this was his own kid and how that would feel.  Thor held Wanda close, her silent sobs muffled by his shoulder.  Sam was perhaps the most scared.  He breathed heavily and closed his eyes.  This was all his fault, he thought.  

     Ten minutes had passed before security gave you the tape.  You all piled into the safety room which was specifically built for protection against the mafia.  

      Here you were, pushing a VHS tape into a VCR and praying the old technology would work.  The equally ancient television shined, a grainy image and crappy audio of the hallway coming to life.  You witnessed Sam leaving the room and doing a routine check, sweeping the hallways three times over before he stepped into the elevator. He had done everything right.  

     You apologized quietly, Sam nodding in return.  Nothing appeared for five minutes and the tension in the room had everyone on their toes.  Finally, you saw Peter emerge from his room and walk to the middle of the hallway, entering the small corridor where the vending machine was located.  Three minutes.  

     Peter got his snack and came into view again, this time not alone.  Once he rounded the corner, a woman in a high ponytail and regular street clothing purposefully bumped into him.  You could hear Peter apologizing and see as they separated.  Then the woman made an abrupt turn and raced towards Peter.  It was the same woman who had planted the cameras in your room and around the tower, but she wasn’t wearing a baseball cap this time.  You could make out her face, even through the static and shitty image. 

     You raised your hands to your mouth, no one noticing your shocked state yet.  They were focused on the screen.  You backed away slowly, eyes filled with tears, and bile lapped at the base of your throat.  

     Lucy.  

     Inhaling was harsh and you became verbal, whimpers beginning to escape your covered, quivering lips.  You backed up enough to run into the table and grip the back of a chair.  Your vision became useless, the image abolishing any former notions of reality you once had.  You knocked over the chair and you went down with it.  Your body crumbled to the floor and you landed on your knees.  The loud cries you let slip wracked your battered form until you had to breathe in again to exhale a more intense cry than the first.  

      The whole team was startled.  Shock was evident in their faces and the mere sight of you scared them beyond anything they could conjure up.  They had never seen you like this. You had never cried in front of them when you were in pain.  You had only cried out of frustration and anger, but never once did they see you wail. 

     Your heart shattered, each piece piercing through your breast and evening gown, landing on the concrete floor.  

     Bucky couldn’t help but weep.  He didn’t know what was happening- no one did.  But seeing you crouched on the floor, bawling and screeching, destroyed his tough guy act.  He had suffered for years, saw numerous others suffer a horrible fate due to his own hands, but never once did he think he was completely and utterly ruined.  This conclusively mutilated him.  

__________

     The hotel was forced to inform their guests on the floors above and beneath the team of the loud noises filling the building.  Many of the guests relocated with no questions asked. 

      No one knew what to do.  They sat in their rooms and waited.   Sitting on the edge of their beds, making calls, and trying to sleep.  No one could relax completely, your sudden wails snapping them awake.  The sounds were etched in their minds with each flinch you caused. 

     You were thrashing around in bed, screaming and crying at the top of your lungs.  Bucky lay behind you, clutching at any part of your body you would let him.  He tried to rock you, smooth down your hair, wipe your tears, and hold you down so you wouldn’t injure yourself.  He was struggling and the intensity of it wouldn’t allow him to breathe.

      Your face was red and puffy, the pressure of your yells taking a toll.  You had a headache, a stomachache, hell- you had vertigo, nausea, all the fucking above wrapped into one catastrophic meltdown.  

      Bucky had changed your clothes and dressed you in his, hoping the size of them would help you feel less constricted or panicked. 

     When you had finally choked out Lucy’s name, the team quickly realized why HYDRA wanted to find you.  It was finally obvious as to why you were asked to go to Paris instead of Germany.  They wanted to break you, and then Bucky, and then Steve.  The order was going to be chronological- they had planned this. 

      Bucky, however, could only cry with you.  He was experiencing this all over again.  He had no idea what it was like to be in your place, but knowing what it was like to be mind controlled wasn’t foreign.  You were now dealing with two people who had suffered the torture of HYDRA.  You didn’t deserve it. 

     When you finally stopped thrashing and yelling, Bucky hooked his arms under and over you to hold you in place and rock you back and forth.  It calmed you down, but you still wanted to scream for your sister and Peter. The innocence of both was parallel and the urge to rescue them was immense.  

     As your screams dialed down and went extinct, the others exited their rooms and went to see why.  You had finally fallen asleep, the brutal beating you had made your body endure ultimately tapping you out.  Bucky slowly rose from his spot, heading to the bathroom in Steve’s room to throw up. 

     When you woke up, you expected to find Bucky still holding you and whispering in your ear.  However, you were greeted with the sight of Steve sitting in a chair beside your bed, napping as well.  

     Your eyes were swollen and your lips were extremely chapped, the constant stretching and pulling resulting in a few bloody cracks.  You took short breaths, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall.  You were on your side, half of your face hidden in the blankets and pillow.  Your knees were tucked in.  You could have sworn you were the smallest being on earth at the moment, the feeling so dangerous your swollen eyes began to water up again.  With a small sniff, Steve woke up and locked eyes with you.  

     “Y/N,” Steve whispered, leaning from his chair and taking your left hand in his.  You whimpered and ducked into the pillow.  He massaged your palm and each individual finger. 

     “Shh, Y/N.  Listen to me.  You’re okay.”  

     His words cut sharper than any knife you owned.  You sobbed and responded. 

     “How did you do it, Steve? How did you get through it?” 

     Steve seemed surprised by that question.  Never did anyone ask him how he bounced back from the Winter Soldier reveal.  They would always ask him if he was okay and if he needed anything, not how he was going to recover.  

     Steve had witnessed his best friend in the whole wide world fall off a train to his death.  He had suffered while fighting in the war, the misdoings of his country and the rest of the world a distraction from his own turmoil.  When he woke from the ice, he was reminded of everyone he had lost.  Even though he was asleep for seventy years, Bucky’s death technically happened a few days earlier in Steve’s mind.  

     “I thought he was dead.  I knew he was,” Steve explained, his voice soft and reassuring.  He continued to rub your hand, inching closer to the bed as he did so.  You nodded but urged him to continue. 

     “I woke up like he had died a week ago.  It was still fresh.  I didn’t have time to recover and adjust.  I was automatically recruited and told the world needed me.  While I was trying to piece my life back together, he was losing his all over again.”

     Steve matched your expression, the pain expressed in both his words and his face.   

      “I was peacefully asleep for seventy years and he was tortured-” Steve sucked in a ragged breath, “he was tortured for all seventy of them.”

     Sniffing, you started rubbing circles into his knuckles.  

     “I should have recovered his body.  I didn’t and I regret it everyday.  But he’s here now, Y/N.  We’ll get Lucy and Peter back.  I promise you that.”

     You shook your head, “Don’t promise me anything, Captain.”

     Steve wiped his cheeks and stood up, looking down at you with determination swimming in his blue eyes. 

     “Suit up.”

__________

     “Are you okay?” Thor asked as you walked onto the quinjet.  You looked around the cabin and met Steve’s eyes.  It was almost as if he was giving you your answer. 

     “I’ll get over it.”

     You strapped yourself in and grabbed Bucky’s hand, squeezing it to let him know you would indeed get over it.  

     You could feel yourself slipping away again.  No matter how hard you tried to hold on, the same feeling you felt when your parents died, when your sister was taken, and when Mark betrayed you, began to creep its way to the front of your mind.  

     The silence in the jet was interrupted by your ringtone.  You stared at everyone and they stared back.  The number was blocked.  You motioned for Tony to record the call just in case, tracking the number if possible.  With everyone leaning toward you and your phone on the fifth ring, you answered. 

     “Hello?”

    “Y/N?”

     A whisper.  

    “Who’s this?”

    “It’s Mark.”

     He was the last person you wanted to talk to right now.  You growled, the pressure of your teeth cracking your jaw slightly. 

    “Listen to me, I don’t have much time.  The coordinates are tucked into a page of your anthropology textbook.  Someone in the Avengers compound was working for me this whole time.  The textbook should be stored near Clint’s arrows,” Mark stammered.  Clint practically flew to the back, searching through every crack until he found your favorite highlighted copy.   

    “Why are you helping us?” you asked him.  You weren‘t about to allow your voice to falter.  

     “I didn’t know what they did to her,” Mark choked.  You closed your eyes but let him continue. 

    “The money they offered was too much to refuse.  My team had no idea how to copy Howard Stark’s recipe-”

     “It’s not a fucking deep dish- it’s a weapon!”

    “Y/N, I know.  I know that now.  Please, I am so sorry.  I don’t have much time.  The place is surrounded.  When you get here, do not approach Lucy.  They wiped her beyond repair.”

      Bucky dipped his head, his shaggy hair falling over his face. You ignored Mark’s comment about Lucy.

    “Is Peter with you?”

    “He’s right here.”

    “Y/N?”  The weight on your chest was immediately lifted, as was everyone else’s.  Tony clutched at his chest and mumbled something along the lines of ‘thank fucking god, May would have had my soul.’

     “Peter, oh my God!” you happily stated, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. 

    “I’m okay, but they are planning something big.  Keep Natasha safe, guys,” Peter instructed, his voice wavering. He was trying to sound tough but you could hear his sniffling. There was shuffling on the other line. 

    “Peter, we are so sorry.”

    “Don’t sweat it.  Things would have been easier if I had my webs and a tracker but hey, life has its little games.”

     “Peter-”

    “I am fine for now.  I don’t want to worry you.  Mark says we have to go.”

    “Peter, we promise we’ll get the-”

    “Please just hurry,” Peter interrupted Steve.  Before you or Mark could hang up, you brought the phone to your ear and lowered your voice. 

     “Peter, I couldn’t save Lucy... but you can be damn sure I will save you.”

TAG LIST: 

@chipilerendi @4theluvofall @purplekitten30 @owhatshername1 @buckyappreciationsociety @sumafamouxx @g0back2bed @katykyll @shaexoox @polkadottedpillowcase @jonnavgl @thefridgeismybestie @bunnymother93 @s8sense @huntermichelle @lovable-harmonica @almondbuttercup @wowiebro @secondsandstars  

[adambstingus]

6 Actors Who Tried To Teach Lessons (And Madness Ensued)

A celebrity public service announcement seems like a fine idea in theory. People love having a popular, attractive person tell them what to do — that’s how God-Emperors are made. So how can you screw that up? Well, let us count the ways …

6

Mario Tells Kids That They’ll Suffer Hell On Earth

“Captain” Lou Albano had the honor of being both a professional wrestler and Mario on The Super Mario Bros. Super Show, which to children is about as impressive as being a crimefighting dog who can magically summon ice cream. So it’s not surprising that Albano was seen as a great choice for an anti-drug PSA aimed at kids. It is surprising that they filmed the whole shebang in a closet while Albano looked like he was wasted on a whatever he was telling kids to stay away from.

Albano crams a lot of words into 19 seconds, and while it’s mostly standard PSA stuff (“Don’t be afraid to say no,” “People who want you to take drugs aren’t really your friends,” “You’ll probably stop giving a crap about what Mario says when you go to college and some cutie invites you to smoke weed with them,” etc.), there’s a last-second twist. Albano warns that if you do drugs, “you’ll go to hell before you die,” while fading into a corner of a screen and whispering the word “please” in a way that would really mess with your head if you were tripping.

Always remember, kids: According to a professional athlete who played a hero whose power comes from magical mushrooms, drugs have no benefit whatsoever and will send you to a nightmarish plane of brimstone and fire.

5

The Cast Of The Wire Wants You To Wear A Condom

Teenagers, generally speaking, are the demographic that most need education on sexual safety, both because they’re lacking in life experience and because they’re getting laid way more often than we are. So if you had to make a hip safe sex PSA in the mid-2000s, what celebrities would you work with? The stars of a teen drama? Maybe the cast of a reality show? How about the heroes of their dad’s favorite gritty police drama, The Wire?

Luckily, a whole chunk of The Wire‘s cast is here to prestige people into practicing safe sex. Unfortunately, this PSA is less of a coherent call to action than a laudanum-induced fever dream. There are no statistics or stern lectures — merely the dying hallucinations of a ’80s music video director made surreality.

Monique Richert/YouTube “Why, I’m practicing safe sex right now!”

The whole thing comes across like aliens have kidnapped humans and are trying to make a soothing simulated reality for them based only on the trivia that we like sex, award-winning television, and outdated music. Clarke Peters looks like he’s about to teach us either Tae Bo or how to use your orgasm to ascend to a higher plane of existence.

4

Here’s Jackie Chan Hanging Out With A Giant Condom

“You all know me as an action hero,” is how Jackie Chan walks into this PSA. But he wants to introduce us to another action hero: Mr. Condom, who sounds like the stuffed bear of a Victorian British child — something to keep in mind the next time you use one.

Mr. Condom and Jackie clearly have a strong and respectful master-student relationship, and Chan explains how this strong warrior prevents STDs. Meanwhile, an energetic Mr. Condom shows off his fighting moves. Because if there’s one thing you want a good condom to be, it’s flexible enough to move around wildly on its own.

Mr. Condom then launches himself into the air, spins around, and stretches himself out, in case you’ve ever wondered what it looks like when a condom has its own orgasm, before reminding us to use him when you have sex. Chan then wraps up the PSA by telling us that while he can fight visible enemies, even he needs Mr. Condom’s help in keeping HIV at bay, which can definitely be a risk when you cheat on your wife. Then Jackie and Mr. Condom embrace, and Jackie definitely doesn’t die a little inside before they punch the camera.

3

Don’t Drive Angry, Or Evander Holyfield Will Beat You To Death

If you make the wrong decision while driving, you can end a person’s life. Someone’s loved one could be snuffed out in an instant due to your carelessness. But apparently some people require a more “What’s in it for me?” incentive than that, so Evander Holyfield made a PSA about how he’ll beat the shit out of aggressive drivers.

Scene: A car pulls into traffic and cuts off another driver, who then angrily honks and forces the car over. The man gets out of his truck and reveals himself to be a redneck stereotype whose string of profanity makes it clear that he intends to beat the fuck stuffing out of his new nemesis. But then, surprise twist! The man he wants to murder is Evander Holyfield! Now who’s about to die?

The moral clearly ought to be “Avoid road rage. You never know who you might run into. But counterpoint: If you can clearly see it’s some soccer mom or a grandpa, feel free to go full King Immortan Joe on their asses.” If the only way you can think of to appeal to violent maniacs is to remind them they’ll sometimes cross paths with a professional fighter, you haven’t made a PSA against road rage, but one in favor of keeping a gun in the glove compartment.

2

Mel Gibson Doesn’t Want The Feds To Take Away Our Vitamins

Holy shit, check out this thrilling Mel Gibson movie set in the grim future of 1993!

Whose fancy house is being raided? A corrupt politician? An unscrupulous CEO?

No, they’re arresting Mel Gibson. And while it was prescient for Gibson to portray himself as being in trouble with the law, here he’s being hauled in for the simple dystopian crime of owning vitamins. “Guys, guys! It’s only vitamins!” he protests. But what he doesn’t know is that the government wants to make vitamins illegal. This video is here to warn good American citizens that their supplements are under attack. Now, you probably don’t know anyone who has been dogpiled by a SWAT team for cracking open a bottle of Flintstone’s, but in the chilling, stupid reality of Mel Gibson’s world, the answer is “It’s already happening.”

As shown in this obviously based-on-real-events footage, the fascist pig cops are unimpressed when Gibson explains to them he was only taking Vitamin C, “like in oranges.” He’ll have plenty of time to adjust his mindset during his four-month stay at a Dietary Supplement Reeducation Camp. But that future doesn’t have to be ours, the cards say, if we just call our senators.

If you’re wondering what the hell is going on, this “PSA” was funded by the Nutritional Health Alliance, a lobby group formed by the supplement industry to prevent the government from looking into what a huge scam supplements are.

Specifically, in early ’90s, the FDA wanted to crack down on supplements that made completely unsubstantiated health claims on their packaging and in ads, because if there’s one thing the Man loves to do, it’s pushing around honest, hard-working Americans by forcing them to stop buying dangerous products that hospitalize tens of thousands and might accidentally kill people. It’s unclear if Gibson actually believed in the supplement industry or was letting them supplement his income, but luckily, Gibbers was unable to terrify Americans with his vision of a vitamin-hating police state. The FDA’s new regulations went through, and Gibson found himself on the wrong side of history — a position he’s since become intimately familiar with.

1

Kid Rock And Sean Penn For Generic Unity Between Americans

It’s no secret that America is a politically divided country. And who better to bridge that bitter gap than Kid Rock and Sean Penn, two of the most beloved and kind artists in the world. Between Kid’s political savvy and Penn’s famous calmness, only these two could ever unite Americans across the political spectrum — mostly by making all of them ask “Wait … what the fuck?”

This nearly 11-minute (no, seriously) public service Sundance entry is called “Americans,” and it features one of America’s favorite (alleged) spousal abusers sitting down with one of America’s least-favorite aural abusers for a conversation that absolutely no one asked for.

We open with Penn sitting at a bar and ordering vodka, even though he already looks and sounds completely shitfaced.

Mitt Romney (this was made in 2012) is giving a speech on TV. Penn asks for the channel to be changed, but the justifiably scared female bartender ignores him, just in time for Romney to introduce his special musical guest. It’s Kid Rock, and for a moment, we are all Sean Penn:

Then, gasp! Old Man Rock appears in the bar! How Penn failed to notice a six-foot-tall overall-wearing Americana scarecrow right next to him is left unexplained.

But Mr. Rock, who also seems drunk, plops himself down next to Penn and starts complaining about “Obummer’s” tax policies, like a totally relatable middle American. The two start sniping at each other like YouTube commenters — Penn quotes Goebbels, while Kid Rock says “Fuckin’ suck it, commie.” They both take turns delivering incoherent tirades, although Penn seems to be winning the debate. After all, it’s hard to take Kid Rock seriously when he’s dressed like he’s on his way to play the Country Bear Jamboree.

They nearly come to blows, in a fight we could only hope they somehow both lose, until a random sassy bar patron tells them to shut up and appreciate everything America has to offer. Her passionate speech about what American citizenship means to her is somewhat undercut by the fact that she finishes by calling them “fucking pussies,” but never mind that –there’s some breaking news on the bar TV that inexplicably isn’t just on ESPN. 26 marines have been killed in Afghanistan! Cue sad music and Kid Rock failing to act!

Thankfully, those soldiers didn’t die in vain. Rock and Penn are inspired by their sacrifice to toast “to freedom” and apologize to each other — while babbling over everyone else’s respectful moment of silence. Naturally, the next step is a wacky montage! The first thing Kid Rock does is sell his car and buy a Prius, as any relatable conservative American who wants to learn more about his liberal friends could totally afford to do at the drop of a hideous hat.

Next, we get a shot of an environmental protest, Kid Rock urinating in the background, and Penn catching his urine in a bucket because … Kid Rock’s dehydrated lizard juice still counts as potable water? No time to reflect, because it’s time for Penn to trade places! Kid Rock teaches him to drink a beer instead of a girly cocktail! As the day is winding down, Penn takes Rock to a gay wedding, which, according to this movie, involves one of the men wearing a wedding dress! Are we seeing this wedding through Rock’s Republican eyes?

They then buy each other T-shirts and exchange them on the beach! Kid Rock and Sean Penn are totally about to fuck! After the pair leaves the beach to go bone down, the message of this inspirational tale appears onscreen for the benefit of the slower viewers: We’re all Americans, whether we love PETA, own guns, or are a sassy black woman. Those are the only three kinds of Americans. You too can put aside your cavalcade of liberal and conservative stereotypes and stop yelling crude insults at each other long enough to bond over some dead marines and go car shopping. Because in the end, aren’t we all just South Park jokes without the irony? Fuck yeah, Sean Penn and Kid Rock. Fuck yeah.

Mark is on Twitter and has a book.

Also check out The 6 Most Counterproductive PSAs of All Time and 7 Safety PSAs (That Were Clearly Made By Serial Killers).

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and check out 6 PSAs Way More F#!@ed Up Than Any Drug Addict, and other videos you won’t see on the site!

Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.

If we’ve ever made you laugh or think, we now have a way where you can thank and support us!

Make a contribution

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/6-actors-who-tried-to-teach-lessons-and-madness-ensued/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182980603822

[samanthasroberts]

6 Actors Who Tried To Teach Lessons (And Madness Ensued)

A celebrity public service announcement seems like a fine idea in theory. People love having a popular, attractive person tell them what to do — that’s how God-Emperors are made. So how can you screw that up? Well, let us count the ways …

6

Mario Tells Kids That They’ll Suffer Hell On Earth

“Captain” Lou Albano had the honor of being both a professional wrestler and Mario on The Super Mario Bros. Super Show, which to children is about as impressive as being a crimefighting dog who can magically summon ice cream. So it’s not surprising that Albano was seen as a great choice for an anti-drug PSA aimed at kids. It is surprising that they filmed the whole shebang in a closet while Albano looked like he was wasted on a whatever he was telling kids to stay away from.

Albano crams a lot of words into 19 seconds, and while it’s mostly standard PSA stuff (“Don’t be afraid to say no,” “People who want you to take drugs aren’t really your friends,” “You’ll probably stop giving a crap about what Mario says when you go to college and some cutie invites you to smoke weed with them,” etc.), there’s a last-second twist. Albano warns that if you do drugs, “you’ll go to hell before you die,” while fading into a corner of a screen and whispering the word “please” in a way that would really mess with your head if you were tripping.

Always remember, kids: According to a professional athlete who played a hero whose power comes from magical mushrooms, drugs have no benefit whatsoever and will send you to a nightmarish plane of brimstone and fire.

5

The Cast Of The Wire Wants You To Wear A Condom

Teenagers, generally speaking, are the demographic that most need education on sexual safety, both because they’re lacking in life experience and because they’re getting laid way more often than we are. So if you had to make a hip safe sex PSA in the mid-2000s, what celebrities would you work with? The stars of a teen drama? Maybe the cast of a reality show? How about the heroes of their dad’s favorite gritty police drama, The Wire?

Luckily, a whole chunk of The Wire‘s cast is here to prestige people into practicing safe sex. Unfortunately, this PSA is less of a coherent call to action than a laudanum-induced fever dream. There are no statistics or stern lectures — merely the dying hallucinations of a ’80s music video director made surreality.

Monique Richert/YouTube “Why, I’m practicing safe sex right now!”

The whole thing comes across like aliens have kidnapped humans and are trying to make a soothing simulated reality for them based only on the trivia that we like sex, award-winning television, and outdated music. Clarke Peters looks like he’s about to teach us either Tae Bo or how to use your orgasm to ascend to a higher plane of existence.

4

Here’s Jackie Chan Hanging Out With A Giant Condom

“You all know me as an action hero,” is how Jackie Chan walks into this PSA. But he wants to introduce us to another action hero: Mr. Condom, who sounds like the stuffed bear of a Victorian British child — something to keep in mind the next time you use one.

Mr. Condom and Jackie clearly have a strong and respectful master-student relationship, and Chan explains how this strong warrior prevents STDs. Meanwhile, an energetic Mr. Condom shows off his fighting moves. Because if there’s one thing you want a good condom to be, it’s flexible enough to move around wildly on its own.

Mr. Condom then launches himself into the air, spins around, and stretches himself out, in case you’ve ever wondered what it looks like when a condom has its own orgasm, before reminding us to use him when you have sex. Chan then wraps up the PSA by telling us that while he can fight visible enemies, even he needs Mr. Condom’s help in keeping HIV at bay, which can definitely be a risk when you cheat on your wife. Then Jackie and Mr. Condom embrace, and Jackie definitely doesn’t die a little inside before they punch the camera.

3

Don’t Drive Angry, Or Evander Holyfield Will Beat You To Death

If you make the wrong decision while driving, you can end a person’s life. Someone’s loved one could be snuffed out in an instant due to your carelessness. But apparently some people require a more “What’s in it for me?” incentive than that, so Evander Holyfield made a PSA about how he’ll beat the shit out of aggressive drivers.

Scene: A car pulls into traffic and cuts off another driver, who then angrily honks and forces the car over. The man gets out of his truck and reveals himself to be a redneck stereotype whose string of profanity makes it clear that he intends to beat the fuck stuffing out of his new nemesis. But then, surprise twist! The man he wants to murder is Evander Holyfield! Now who’s about to die?

The moral clearly ought to be “Avoid road rage. You never know who you might run into. But counterpoint: If you can clearly see it’s some soccer mom or a grandpa, feel free to go full King Immortan Joe on their asses.” If the only way you can think of to appeal to violent maniacs is to remind them they’ll sometimes cross paths with a professional fighter, you haven’t made a PSA against road rage, but one in favor of keeping a gun in the glove compartment.

2

Mel Gibson Doesn’t Want The Feds To Take Away Our Vitamins

Holy shit, check out this thrilling Mel Gibson movie set in the grim future of 1993!

Whose fancy house is being raided? A corrupt politician? An unscrupulous CEO?

No, they’re arresting Mel Gibson. And while it was prescient for Gibson to portray himself as being in trouble with the law, here he’s being hauled in for the simple dystopian crime of owning vitamins. “Guys, guys! It’s only vitamins!” he protests. But what he doesn’t know is that the government wants to make vitamins illegal. This video is here to warn good American citizens that their supplements are under attack. Now, you probably don’t know anyone who has been dogpiled by a SWAT team for cracking open a bottle of Flintstone’s, but in the chilling, stupid reality of Mel Gibson’s world, the answer is “It’s already happening.”

As shown in this obviously based-on-real-events footage, the fascist pig cops are unimpressed when Gibson explains to them he was only taking Vitamin C, “like in oranges.” He’ll have plenty of time to adjust his mindset during his four-month stay at a Dietary Supplement Reeducation Camp. But that future doesn’t have to be ours, the cards say, if we just call our senators.

If you’re wondering what the hell is going on, this “PSA” was funded by the Nutritional Health Alliance, a lobby group formed by the supplement industry to prevent the government from looking into what a huge scam supplements are.

Specifically, in early ’90s, the FDA wanted to crack down on supplements that made completely unsubstantiated health claims on their packaging and in ads, because if there’s one thing the Man loves to do, it’s pushing around honest, hard-working Americans by forcing them to stop buying dangerous products that hospitalize tens of thousands and might accidentally kill people. It’s unclear if Gibson actually believed in the supplement industry or was letting them supplement his income, but luckily, Gibbers was unable to terrify Americans with his vision of a vitamin-hating police state. The FDA’s new regulations went through, and Gibson found himself on the wrong side of history — a position he’s since become intimately familiar with.

1

Kid Rock And Sean Penn For Generic Unity Between Americans

It’s no secret that America is a politically divided country. And who better to bridge that bitter gap than Kid Rock and Sean Penn, two of the most beloved and kind artists in the world. Between Kid’s political savvy and Penn’s famous calmness, only these two could ever unite Americans across the political spectrum — mostly by making all of them ask “Wait … what the fuck?”

This nearly 11-minute (no, seriously) public service Sundance entry is called “Americans,” and it features one of America’s favorite (alleged) spousal abusers sitting down with one of America’s least-favorite aural abusers for a conversation that absolutely no one asked for.

We open with Penn sitting at a bar and ordering vodka, even though he already looks and sounds completely shitfaced.

Mitt Romney (this was made in 2012) is giving a speech on TV. Penn asks for the channel to be changed, but the justifiably scared female bartender ignores him, just in time for Romney to introduce his special musical guest. It’s Kid Rock, and for a moment, we are all Sean Penn:

Then, gasp! Old Man Rock appears in the bar! How Penn failed to notice a six-foot-tall overall-wearing Americana scarecrow right next to him is left unexplained.

But Mr. Rock, who also seems drunk, plops himself down next to Penn and starts complaining about “Obummer’s” tax policies, like a totally relatable middle American. The two start sniping at each other like YouTube commenters — Penn quotes Goebbels, while Kid Rock says “Fuckin’ suck it, commie.” They both take turns delivering incoherent tirades, although Penn seems to be winning the debate. After all, it’s hard to take Kid Rock seriously when he’s dressed like he’s on his way to play the Country Bear Jamboree.

They nearly come to blows, in a fight we could only hope they somehow both lose, until a random sassy bar patron tells them to shut up and appreciate everything America has to offer. Her passionate speech about what American citizenship means to her is somewhat undercut by the fact that she finishes by calling them “fucking pussies,” but never mind that –there’s some breaking news on the bar TV that inexplicably isn’t just on ESPN. 26 marines have been killed in Afghanistan! Cue sad music and Kid Rock failing to act!

Thankfully, those soldiers didn’t die in vain. Rock and Penn are inspired by their sacrifice to toast “to freedom” and apologize to each other — while babbling over everyone else’s respectful moment of silence. Naturally, the next step is a wacky montage! The first thing Kid Rock does is sell his car and buy a Prius, as any relatable conservative American who wants to learn more about his liberal friends could totally afford to do at the drop of a hideous hat.

Next, we get a shot of an environmental protest, Kid Rock urinating in the background, and Penn catching his urine in a bucket because … Kid Rock’s dehydrated lizard juice still counts as potable water? No time to reflect, because it’s time for Penn to trade places! Kid Rock teaches him to drink a beer instead of a girly cocktail! As the day is winding down, Penn takes Rock to a gay wedding, which, according to this movie, involves one of the men wearing a wedding dress! Are we seeing this wedding through Rock’s Republican eyes?

They then buy each other T-shirts and exchange them on the beach! Kid Rock and Sean Penn are totally about to fuck! After the pair leaves the beach to go bone down, the message of this inspirational tale appears onscreen for the benefit of the slower viewers: We’re all Americans, whether we love PETA, own guns, or are a sassy black woman. Those are the only three kinds of Americans. You too can put aside your cavalcade of liberal and conservative stereotypes and stop yelling crude insults at each other long enough to bond over some dead marines and go car shopping. Because in the end, aren’t we all just South Park jokes without the irony? Fuck yeah, Sean Penn and Kid Rock. Fuck yeah.

Mark is on Twitter and has a book.

Also check out The 6 Most Counterproductive PSAs of All Time and 7 Safety PSAs (That Were Clearly Made By Serial Killers).

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and check out 6 PSAs Way More F#!@ed Up Than Any Drug Addict, and other videos you won’t see on the site!

Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.

If we’ve ever made you laugh or think, we now have a way where you can thank and support us!

Make a contribution

Source: http://allofbeer.com/6-actors-who-tried-to-teach-lessons-and-madness-ensued/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/6-actors-who-tried-to-teach-lessons-and-madness-ensued/

[allofbeercom]

6 Actors Who Tried To Teach Lessons (And Madness Ensued)

A celebrity public service announcement seems like a fine idea in theory. People love having a popular, attractive person tell them what to do — that’s how God-Emperors are made. So how can you screw that up? Well, let us count the ways …

6

Mario Tells Kids That They’ll Suffer Hell On Earth

“Captain” Lou Albano had the honor of being both a professional wrestler and Mario on The Super Mario Bros. Super Show, which to children is about as impressive as being a crimefighting dog who can magically summon ice cream. So it’s not surprising that Albano was seen as a great choice for an anti-drug PSA aimed at kids. It is surprising that they filmed the whole shebang in a closet while Albano looked like he was wasted on a whatever he was telling kids to stay away from.

Albano crams a lot of words into 19 seconds, and while it’s mostly standard PSA stuff (“Don’t be afraid to say no,” “People who want you to take drugs aren’t really your friends,” “You’ll probably stop giving a crap about what Mario says when you go to college and some cutie invites you to smoke weed with them,” etc.), there’s a last-second twist. Albano warns that if you do drugs, “you’ll go to hell before you die,” while fading into a corner of a screen and whispering the word “please” in a way that would really mess with your head if you were tripping.

Always remember, kids: According to a professional athlete who played a hero whose power comes from magical mushrooms, drugs have no benefit whatsoever and will send you to a nightmarish plane of brimstone and fire.

5

The Cast Of The Wire Wants You To Wear A Condom

Teenagers, generally speaking, are the demographic that most need education on sexual safety, both because they’re lacking in life experience and because they’re getting laid way more often than we are. So if you had to make a hip safe sex PSA in the mid-2000s, what celebrities would you work with? The stars of a teen drama? Maybe the cast of a reality show? How about the heroes of their dad’s favorite gritty police drama, The Wire?

Luckily, a whole chunk of The Wire‘s cast is here to prestige people into practicing safe sex. Unfortunately, this PSA is less of a coherent call to action than a laudanum-induced fever dream. There are no statistics or stern lectures — merely the dying hallucinations of a ’80s music video director made surreality.

Monique Richert/YouTube “Why, I’m practicing safe sex right now!”

The whole thing comes across like aliens have kidnapped humans and are trying to make a soothing simulated reality for them based only on the trivia that we like sex, award-winning television, and outdated music. Clarke Peters looks like he’s about to teach us either Tae Bo or how to use your orgasm to ascend to a higher plane of existence.

4

Here’s Jackie Chan Hanging Out With A Giant Condom

“You all know me as an action hero,” is how Jackie Chan walks into this PSA. But he wants to introduce us to another action hero: Mr. Condom, who sounds like the stuffed bear of a Victorian British child — something to keep in mind the next time you use one.

Mr. Condom and Jackie clearly have a strong and respectful master-student relationship, and Chan explains how this strong warrior prevents STDs. Meanwhile, an energetic Mr. Condom shows off his fighting moves. Because if there’s one thing you want a good condom to be, it’s flexible enough to move around wildly on its own.

Mr. Condom then launches himself into the air, spins around, and stretches himself out, in case you’ve ever wondered what it looks like when a condom has its own orgasm, before reminding us to use him when you have sex. Chan then wraps up the PSA by telling us that while he can fight visible enemies, even he needs Mr. Condom’s help in keeping HIV at bay, which can definitely be a risk when you cheat on your wife. Then Jackie and Mr. Condom embrace, and Jackie definitely doesn’t die a little inside before they punch the camera.

3

Don’t Drive Angry, Or Evander Holyfield Will Beat You To Death

If you make the wrong decision while driving, you can end a person’s life. Someone’s loved one could be snuffed out in an instant due to your carelessness. But apparently some people require a more “What’s in it for me?” incentive than that, so Evander Holyfield made a PSA about how he’ll beat the shit out of aggressive drivers.

Scene: A car pulls into traffic and cuts off another driver, who then angrily honks and forces the car over. The man gets out of his truck and reveals himself to be a redneck stereotype whose string of profanity makes it clear that he intends to beat the fuck stuffing out of his new nemesis. But then, surprise twist! The man he wants to murder is Evander Holyfield! Now who’s about to die?

The moral clearly ought to be “Avoid road rage. You never know who you might run into. But counterpoint: If you can clearly see it’s some soccer mom or a grandpa, feel free to go full King Immortan Joe on their asses.” If the only way you can think of to appeal to violent maniacs is to remind them they’ll sometimes cross paths with a professional fighter, you haven’t made a PSA against road rage, but one in favor of keeping a gun in the glove compartment.

2

Mel Gibson Doesn’t Want The Feds To Take Away Our Vitamins

Holy shit, check out this thrilling Mel Gibson movie set in the grim future of 1993!

Whose fancy house is being raided? A corrupt politician? An unscrupulous CEO?

No, they’re arresting Mel Gibson. And while it was prescient for Gibson to portray himself as being in trouble with the law, here he’s being hauled in for the simple dystopian crime of owning vitamins. “Guys, guys! It’s only vitamins!” he protests. But what he doesn’t know is that the government wants to make vitamins illegal. This video is here to warn good American citizens that their supplements are under attack. Now, you probably don’t know anyone who has been dogpiled by a SWAT team for cracking open a bottle of Flintstone’s, but in the chilling, stupid reality of Mel Gibson’s world, the answer is “It’s already happening.”

As shown in this obviously based-on-real-events footage, the fascist pig cops are unimpressed when Gibson explains to them he was only taking Vitamin C, “like in oranges.” He’ll have plenty of time to adjust his mindset during his four-month stay at a Dietary Supplement Reeducation Camp. But that future doesn’t have to be ours, the cards say, if we just call our senators.

If you’re wondering what the hell is going on, this “PSA” was funded by the Nutritional Health Alliance, a lobby group formed by the supplement industry to prevent the government from looking into what a huge scam supplements are.

Specifically, in early ’90s, the FDA wanted to crack down on supplements that made completely unsubstantiated health claims on their packaging and in ads, because if there’s one thing the Man loves to do, it’s pushing around honest, hard-working Americans by forcing them to stop buying dangerous products that hospitalize tens of thousands and might accidentally kill people. It’s unclear if Gibson actually believed in the supplement industry or was letting them supplement his income, but luckily, Gibbers was unable to terrify Americans with his vision of a vitamin-hating police state. The FDA’s new regulations went through, and Gibson found himself on the wrong side of history — a position he’s since become intimately familiar with.

1

Kid Rock And Sean Penn For Generic Unity Between Americans

It’s no secret that America is a politically divided country. And who better to bridge that bitter gap than Kid Rock and Sean Penn, two of the most beloved and kind artists in the world. Between Kid’s political savvy and Penn’s famous calmness, only these two could ever unite Americans across the political spectrum — mostly by making all of them ask “Wait … what the fuck?”

This nearly 11-minute (no, seriously) public service Sundance entry is called “Americans,” and it features one of America’s favorite (alleged) spousal abusers sitting down with one of America’s least-favorite aural abusers for a conversation that absolutely no one asked for.

We open with Penn sitting at a bar and ordering vodka, even though he already looks and sounds completely shitfaced.

Mitt Romney (this was made in 2012) is giving a speech on TV. Penn asks for the channel to be changed, but the justifiably scared female bartender ignores him, just in time for Romney to introduce his special musical guest. It’s Kid Rock, and for a moment, we are all Sean Penn:

Then, gasp! Old Man Rock appears in the bar! How Penn failed to notice a six-foot-tall overall-wearing Americana scarecrow right next to him is left unexplained.

But Mr. Rock, who also seems drunk, plops himself down next to Penn and starts complaining about “Obummer’s” tax policies, like a totally relatable middle American. The two start sniping at each other like YouTube commenters — Penn quotes Goebbels, while Kid Rock says “Fuckin’ suck it, commie.” They both take turns delivering incoherent tirades, although Penn seems to be winning the debate. After all, it’s hard to take Kid Rock seriously when he’s dressed like he’s on his way to play the Country Bear Jamboree.

They nearly come to blows, in a fight we could only hope they somehow both lose, until a random sassy bar patron tells them to shut up and appreciate everything America has to offer. Her passionate speech about what American citizenship means to her is somewhat undercut by the fact that she finishes by calling them “fucking pussies,” but never mind that –there’s some breaking news on the bar TV that inexplicably isn’t just on ESPN. 26 marines have been killed in Afghanistan! Cue sad music and Kid Rock failing to act!

Thankfully, those soldiers didn’t die in vain. Rock and Penn are inspired by their sacrifice to toast “to freedom” and apologize to each other — while babbling over everyone else’s respectful moment of silence. Naturally, the next step is a wacky montage! The first thing Kid Rock does is sell his car and buy a Prius, as any relatable conservative American who wants to learn more about his liberal friends could totally afford to do at the drop of a hideous hat.

Next, we get a shot of an environmental protest, Kid Rock urinating in the background, and Penn catching his urine in a bucket because … Kid Rock’s dehydrated lizard juice still counts as potable water? No time to reflect, because it’s time for Penn to trade places! Kid Rock teaches him to drink a beer instead of a girly cocktail! As the day is winding down, Penn takes Rock to a gay wedding, which, according to this movie, involves one of the men wearing a wedding dress! Are we seeing this wedding through Rock’s Republican eyes?

They then buy each other T-shirts and exchange them on the beach! Kid Rock and Sean Penn are totally about to fuck! After the pair leaves the beach to go bone down, the message of this inspirational tale appears onscreen for the benefit of the slower viewers: We’re all Americans, whether we love PETA, own guns, or are a sassy black woman. Those are the only three kinds of Americans. You too can put aside your cavalcade of liberal and conservative stereotypes and stop yelling crude insults at each other long enough to bond over some dead marines and go car shopping. Because in the end, aren’t we all just South Park jokes without the irony? Fuck yeah, Sean Penn and Kid Rock. Fuck yeah.

Mark is on Twitter and has a book.

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/6-actors-who-tried-to-teach-lessons-and-madness-ensued/

[theconservativebrief]

I called into the morgue last Friday to find out what my day’s workload was going to be.

“One gunshot suicide and two other autopsies, probably natural.”

Not a busy day, by any means. It was part of a perfectly ordinary week working as a forensic pathologist in Oakland, California. A couple of days earlier I had pulled out two 9mm bullets from the body of a middle-aged man. The previous week, it was a 30-something, shot in the back.

Right after I got off the phone, I saw a tweet from the National Rifle Association telling doctors to “stay in their lane” — their response to the American College of Physicians’ updated gun safety guidelines. That was just hours before a man with a handgun and a high-capacity magazine shot dead 12 people in a bar in Thousand Oaks, California, and less than two weeks after a man with an assault rifle shot dead 11 people in a Pittsburgh synagogue. Angered, I fired back a response, shut off my phone, and began my day.

Do you have any idea how many bullets I pull out of corpses weekly? This isn’t just my lane. It’s my fucking highway. https://t.co/48S9UIFaV2

— Judy Melinek M.D. (@drjudymelinek) November 9, 2018

By the time I performed three autopsies and got out of the morgue, my tweet had gone viral, and I wasn’t alone. Doctors across specialties and across the nation were speaking up. After all, it’s our job to take bullets out of bodies every day — if anyone’s an expert on gunshot wound injury in this country, it’s us doctors.

The NRA’s original tweet was in response to new guidelines for doctors to protect their patients from firearm injury and death. The paper was issued by the American College of Physicians (ACP), a professional organization that represents general practice physicians. These guidelines urge doctors to ask their patients whether they have guns in their homes to warn them about potential risks.

“We need to ask our patients about firearms, counsel them on safe firearm behaviors, and take further action when an imminent hazard is present,” wrote Dr. Garen J. Wintemute of the University of California Davis Medical Center for the ACP.

The document also encouraged a legislative response, such as strengthening laws that prevent domestic abusers from purchasing guns, and specifically acknowledged “that any such regulations must be consistent with the Supreme Court ruling establishing that individual ownership of firearms is a constitutional right under the Second Amendment of the Bill of Rights.”

I am a forensic pathologist who has investigated gun deaths for my entire career. I am the one who gets called out at to the death scene at 2 am. I am the one who stands behind the cordon line, across the yellow tape from the shocked faces of the decedent’s neighbors, friends, next of kin. Sometimes their anger and frustration is directed at me and my team for taking so long, or not removing the body from public view while we document evidence at the scene. Sometimes they just want to see their loved one for the last time.

In 17 years on the job, I have performed more than 300 autopsies on gunshot wound victims. About half are homicides and the other half suicides, while a small number are accidents. One day I did five autopsies — an entire family — after a man shot his three children, his wife, and himself. In the course of another autops, of a man who was shot by the police after pointing his gun at them, I examined and documented 43 gunshot trajectories. That postmortem took me four days.

In my workplace, the county morgue, I seek to be professionally removed and scientifically dispassionate. I peel off the decedent’s clothing, document the bullet paths in the body, and collect projectiles and fragments. The bullets, shrapnel, and shotgun pellets are all evidence, of course. But the body itself is evidence, too. It breaks my heart to see tattoos of family names on the decedent, or the photos of their kids as I leaf through their blood-soaked wallet to document the personal property.

During the autopsy I get to know my patient intimately. As a wife and a mother and a human being, it’s impossible for me not to grieve for their loved ones who will never again feel the warmth of that now-cold body.

I am also the one who reads the suicide notes. Sometimes the family knew their loved one was despondent, had long struggled with mental health troubles, or had talked about having no way out. But in many cases, the family had no inkling that this terrible thing would happen. The suicide was an impulsive act by someone who had a moment’s urge to self-destruct and easy access to a guaranteed lethal means.

Car crashes used to kill a lot more Americans before doctors, including my fellow forensic pathologists, advocated for government regulation of the auto industry, mandating the use of safety restraints and airbags. Those regulations save lives.

Lung cancer deaths used to be epidemic. Cigarettes are still the leading cause of preventable death in the United States, but our excess mortality rate from smoking has plummeted in the wake of legislation. It was doctors who spearheaded this effort to limit the exposure of teenagers to tobacco — legislation that has resulted in decreased smoking rates in every state where it has been implemented.

As scientists and caregivers, we doctors are in a unique position to understand the scale of human suffering caused by guns. We are driven both by data and by an intense feeling of personal responsibility toward those in our care. Gun deaths get the most media attention following a mass-fatality incident, such as in Parkland, Las Vegas, Pittsburgh, or Thousand Oaks. The daily carnage we witness in hospitals and morgues is often overlooked, but it happens everywhere, to every group of Americans, and leaves our patients and their families with an accumulation of broken bodies, coffins, and grief.

We have to do something. Doctors took on the auto industry and Big Tobacco on behalf of our patients. We didn’t choose this fight, but we if we have to, we can take on the NRA.

Dr. Judy Melinek is a forensic pathologist in California, and the CEO of PathologyExpert Inc. She is also the co-author with her husband, writer T.J. Mitchell, of the New York Times bestselling memoir Working Stiff: Two Years, 262 Bodies, and the Making of a Medical Examiner. Hanover Square Press will publish their debut detective novel, First Cut, in 2019. You can follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

First Person is Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays. Do you have a story to share? Read our submission guidelines, and pitch us at firstperson@vox.com.

Original Source -> Doctors have advocated for regulations on cars and cigarettes. Let’s do the same for guns.

via The Conservative Brief