#id go more into detail if I knew more about suicide

[tobiasdrake]

Okay, time to investigate the crime scene. Y'know, I gotta say, I've been impressed by Desuhiko's (and Kodaka's) restraint so far. I did not trust either of them with this scenario but so far, things have been fairly mild.

I mean, Shinigami is. Just. The absolute worst in this chapter. But she's easy to tune out because she's comic relief. 98% of her dialogue is "Color commentary from the worst person you've ever met" style gags, which can be hit or miss but rarely influence the plot.

Anyways. Investigation!

So that would make it difficult for anyone but the theater club members to have been involved with this murder. An important piece of information that helps validate the narrowing of our scope.

AHA IT WAS HIM-- No, no, we are not doing that again. If Desuhiko were the killer, he would want to take advantage of his seniority and prestige to control the investigation. He wouldn't go, "Yo, man, I can't handle blood, YOU DO IT!" and then peace out.

Poetic. In any case, there isn't much to see on the body's exterior. Karen died from poison. If we had any form of forensics whatsoever we might be able to discern critical details about the poison but as things stand?

This is going to be a toughie. It's not like we can count on happening to find a poison bottle taped to the underside of the table or something. Still, we can at least try to figure out the vector. But that still isn't going to be easy, since the poison's already been consumed. And, again, we don't have a forensics team to look for trace amounts.

Let's start by questioning Kurumi about the other girls. Beginning with Karen herself, to see if there's any way we can ID when the poison first began to take effect.

Her behavior changed and she became more stressed out following Aiko's death? Interesting. That jives with Yuma's earlier observation, that Karen's having second thoughts about being here.

Her agitation following Aiko's "suicide" implies that she knew Aiko was murdered and why. Or, at the very least, suspected. But if Yuma's correct and she wanted out, then she's probably not Aiko's killer. Or, if she is Aiko's killer, then she probably did it under pressure from someone else.

If she knew something and wanted out, that may be why she was killed. Bad things happen to people who try to walk away from a murder pact. That's a possibility.

However, the unpredictable nature of the murder means this is more likely to be about the lead role than targeting Karen specifically. The Russian Roulette of the glasses means the poison could have killed Waruna as easily as Karen. If you're after a lead role, that's fine. Doesn't matter which one dies as long as someone does.

Not necessarily. We should treat Aiko and Karen's deaths as separate incidents, and not assume the same killer for both. It would be convenient if only one person here is murder-y but if the lead role can inspire one person to murder, it can just as easily inspire two.

Okay, let's talk about Karen's co-lead, Waruna.

Prior to the start of the play, Waruna was deaf to the world and might not have noticed things happening nearby. I don't know if that's going to be important but I think it's worth noting.

During the performance, she was onstage for the entire thing. If she poisoned Karen, it would have to have been done in plain sight.

Yep. Waruna had opportunities where she was alone with the glasses and bottle. It's not physically impossible for her to have slipped in the poison by sleight of hand, under the audience's nose.

It is, however, supremely implausible that she would have done so. Karen had too much control over the Russian Roulette their characters were playing. The way the duel was scripted, Karen got to rearrange the glasses after Waruna would have poisoned them. Waruna's character then gives Karen's her choice of which glass to drink.

There would be no way for Waruna to control who dies here. Not to mention, stupid of her to kill Karen to try and snag a lead role when she's already in a lead role. Unless she really was trying to play Russian Roulette for shits and giggles, it'd make no sense for Waruna to be our poisoner.

[quodekash]

gosh darnnit im tired 

in other words: time for my weekly ramblings about a bl where im mildly interested in the main couple but the side couple means more to me than anything and no i will not stop talking about them 

slight warning, there will be one mention of sa and one mention of murder/suicide (both of which are my personal speculation about particular situations, and there’s no detail apart from the word being mentioned). i also discuss/ramble to myself about mental health problems, and alcohol abuse. so if any of those things are triggering for you in any way, please be cautious about reading this, take necessary precautions, and if it’s particularly distressing, i urge you to call a local hotline for these kinds of emergencies. i care about all of you and your health and safety, whether i know you or not, and if you ever need to talk about anything at all, lemme know, my ask box and my dms are always open. 

anyway, on with the show! 

if you haven’t figured it out yet, this is... 

MY THOUGHTS ON EPISODE 4 OF ABAAB 

(if youre new here, it will literally be all of my thoughts on everything while im watching it bc i feel like im annoying my friends with my ramblings so instead ill annoy all of this circle of tumblr. and it will probably not be coherent. youre welcome.) 

i’m obsessed with his little ‘cher is so cute’ smile 

THATS HOW I FEEL ABOUT LITERALLY THIS EXACT POST 

dONT YOU DARE DO A PATPRAN 

that’s real insightful, cher. id never thought of that one before. the statement really gets me thinking. 

are you- are you saying what i think you’re saying? or am i more dirty minded than i thought 

his hair is extra curly today and its veyr pretty 

the curls are giving charlie spring vibes from the side 

i would like to touch his hair please 

the fact that covid exists in this universe is weirdly funny to me 

yup that sounds about right. no one rly cares about covid anymore when the entire world is ending 

YAY HE’S FINALLY OPENING UP TO HIM 

that freaking sucks tho 

and what’s worse is it’s very likely tian was r*ped 

WHY DO ALL THE HAPPY FEEL-GOOD SHOWS HAVE TO HAVE SAD DEATH BACKSTORIES BEHIND 50% OF THE FREAKING CHARACTERS 

GUN (msp)’S DAD IS DEAD AND HIS MUM SPENDS HALF THE SHOW LOW-KEY DYING (and i swear if they do something to gim in our skyy 2 im gonna fly to thailand and have some words with people) 

AYAN’S DAD LEFT, HIS UNCLE DIED 

THUA’S DAD DIED 

HALF THE CHARACTERS IN THE ECLIPSE HAVE DIAGNOSED DEPRESSION AND THE REST OF THEM ARE UNDIAGNOSED BUT ITS DEFINITELY THERE 

HERE, JACK HAS DEPRESSION (and i rly hope they go into that more in depth later in the show bc he intrigues me. if they dont go into it more then im writing a way too in depth analysis post of jack) 

AND NOW FREAKING CHER’S FRIEND/CRUSH FROM CHILDHOOD IS FREAKING DEAD AND HER BODY WAS FLOATING IN A POND WHICH DOESNT RLY LEAD TO ANY IMMEDIATE THOUGHTS OF A NATURAL DEATH WHICH MEANS IT WAS PROBABLY MURDER AND/OR SUICIDE WHICH MAKES IT EVEN FREAKING WORSE 

i knew it was too good to last. the over-confident, cocky, funny, sassy/sarcastic people are generally the most messed up, they just hide it via humour and feigned confidence (i am most certainly not one of these people at all) 

cher stop drinking, you’re gonna hurt yourself. also the alcohol might feel like it’s lifting the burden of thinking and stops you from worrying about everything thats happening, but itll come rushing back to you when you’re sober and worse because youll have a hangover, and it’s only a temporary fix, drinking only works for a couple of hours. you need a more permanent fix, cos if you keep turning to alcohol, itll turn into addiction and substance abuse and dependency, none of which are good, all of which are much harder to get out of than they are to get into. so yeah, just chill with the drinking a little bit. i get that you need to let it all out and you need to not feel for a bit, and that’s totally okay, but you need to make sure you’re not over-indulging yourself. otherwise youll be very ill in the long-term, both physically and mentally 

PFFFT THIS WAS THE PERFECT SHOT TO END IT ON 

final thoughts: 

theyve both said things that make absolutely no sense in context unless theyre confessions of feelings, and yet theyre definitely gonna continue to do the “what if he doesnt like me back” thing even tho its SO CLEAR to LITERALLY EVERYONE they have feelings for each other 

theyve gotten so close to kissing this episode and yet they havent which is sad, but also at least they have kissed at one point before getting to the point where they COULD have kissed a grand total of siXTY-SEVEN TIMES- (shut up im not talking about tinngun what are you talking about. .....but also if you wanted to see that post where i count out all of the times tinngun didn’t kiss...) 

very sad with the complete and utter lack of threezo in this episode. actually, it’s not even a lack of threezo. neither of them even appeared in the episode. neither was even mentioned. they (i.e. the characters, the creators of the show) are all acting like threezo AREN’T the most important characters in this entire show 

i love threezo 

where is threezo 

or is it zothree

either way i dont mind bc i love them 

where was i 

oh right 

this episode was pretty good, very emotional, i definitely didnt cry what are you talking about (who am i kidding, eveyrone knows i cried three times, you dont even need me to tell you) 

im excited for episode 5 

that is all, thank you and goodnight 

[unicarcass]

trauma processing bs. (heavy tws; suicide ideation, abuse, alcohol, self harm. fairly detailed. all past tense. im ok)

idly fiddling with the pendant on the necklace that my first love had given me for my birthday, worn now like a charm in remembrance of the folks ive lost.

a heart shaped opal (he wanted it to be a garnet for my birthstone, but the jewelers didnt have one that he thought i would like) adorning a delicately woven silver heart, a precariously thin chain so easy to carelessly snap yet cautiously preserved. he had saved up his allowance for it for a while. he was so excited for me to get it. it was so sweet.

i think about the late nights we would stay up chatting on the house phone or on skype. the random anime nights. tagging around with him everywhere and him tagging around with me through all our online social spaces so we could meet and hang out with each others' friends. running my flip phone's minutes up constantly (much to the displeasure of my mom, who did not could not would not know about the long distance relationship thing) sending him silly pics of things id seen or calling him up bc i got a little too lovey while gazing at the moonlight or the fireworks in july or the embers drifting from the campfire.

i think about the constant chatter about our futures. about helping each other escape. the sheer desperation we both had to stay alive and make it somewhere better. my parents interrupting our calls nighly because my stepdad was still heavy drinking to avoid his deeply unresolved trauma and my mom constantly provoked him. my older brother taking up heavy drinking and drugs for similarly unresolved trauma but being even more outwardly violent towards me, because... maybe i was a smarter decision to fight than our parents, i guess. maybe he had it out for me because i was "the kid that stayed" while he got shoved off with our grandparents after our parents' divorce. ill never really know.

and then at some point the "me" wasnt me anymore. that sweet missouri boy's girlfriend was gone. he wasnt "my" boyfriend. i loved him but i wasnt who he had fallen in love with. i wasnt that person our friends had gotten to know. and that shit scared me. and i kept pushing.

more and more and more people i kept pushing away through the years. like the only company i shouldve had was the screaming matches and the hands around my neck and the insults thrown at me 24/7 and the holes in the walls and the knives in tables and whole households worth of destroyed furniture and the fires being started and the razors dragged along my shoulders and the cheap booze i hated the taste of but briefly tried to drown myself in anyway and the years and years and years of careful, down to the last detail suicide planning.

"dont tell anyone whats going on at home! theyll think youre being abused!" mom said. it sounds like such a backhanded admission of guilt now. she was so intent on "clinging" to me and "fixing" my stepdad at the same time that she kept endangering everyone. she refuses to get help. she refuses to even see that she does wrong. she just drags everyone down with her. fuck, she straight up kept worsening my stepdad and older brother's whole ordeal with their alcoholism because she kept BRINGING alcohol into the house. she did nothing to help them get better. she did nothing to protect us. she didnt care.

i forgive myself for the shit ive done, i have to. violence was nearly all i knew. constant fear was the only way i knew how to interact with the world. ive done fucked up shit but i never wanted to hurt people.

and i go back to contemplating the heart shaped pendant in my fingers. in it i can feel a little piece of all the loved ones ive parted with. and i hope theyre well.

[xenoblademisadventures]

read the tags on your post about ripping apart xc2 and i gotta say. same dude. i loved the game but that one cutscene on the cliffs of morytha where rex like hallucinated pyra is the worst cutscene ive ever seen. especially when it cuts to the vision of aion and pyra/mythras like "this is our power. as your sure this is what you want" and im just like yeah actually, its a cool fucking robot what reason have you given me not to want it. its not even what mythra used to accidently destroy torna in the prequel that was siren

Yeah. That cutscene actually singlehandedly soured my enjoyment of the game so much that I can't bring myself to play it anymore. This will be fun to elaborate on. Tw: suicide mention.

I truly despise this cutscene entirely due to it brushing off the suicide plot in favor of giving Rex an anime power up.

"The reason we wanted to go to Elysium was to beg our father to let us die."

"Listen, I swore to you, we're going to Elysium. Together."

Like, no. No. Fuck you. The writers above all else. This was the single most important part of Pyra's and Mythra's character arc to get right the they didn't even try. It's been thoroughly established that they want to die because they see themselves as a threat to the world and will inevitably irreparably harm everyone that they love. Mythra is coming from an abusive (or at least, extremely toxic) background where she was both treated as an unwanted burden everyone had to carry around and as a potential ticking time bomb who will kill everyone while being bullied for random shit in between. Pyra is coming from the background of being the face of Mythra's self hatred. Mythra literally already attempted to kill herself by creating Pyra. Rex's piffy nonsense should not have been enough to make her not suicidal.

Here's the problem from a character writing perspective "you have friends who love you" and "my existence is a burden and I will hurt everyone I love" aren't mutually exclusive ideals. And besides the promise to reach Elysium also being the suicide condition, sometimes making commitments isn't enough to stop people from killing themselves and leveraging those commitments over their heads is cold and unhelpful.

I hate how dismissively the writers treated Pyra and Mythra being suicidal when that plot point most mattered.

Alongside that, they chose to establish that Jin is suicidal in a really stupid way. You can't just look at someone in the eyes and ping them as suicidal. People who are suicidal don't flag it like that.

Besides that, Jin would be the second Xenoblade character where they're suicidal and Monolith decides to depict that as being a danger to the people around them. The first being Lao. Lao works better because, first there's an answer for why he doesn't just kill himself and why it had to be everyone else's problem, and second, Elma isn't concerned with Lao's wellbeing and that makes for some interesting scenes. But the larger issue for both of them is that they emphasize how suicide impacts the people who aren't suicidal. They're both depicted as uncontrollable, beautiful, and dangerous. That's not a good.

It's also bad that Pneuma, Lao, and Jin all end their arcs by heroically sacrificing themself (Lao accidentally fell into a vat tube but same difference, the character dies sort of).

Anyways the reason why this part of this scene ruins the entire game for me is that it perpetuates certain stereotypes about suicide that, at best, can make people who know someone who killed themself feel worse and, at worse, push someone further into a suicidal mindset.

Like, Rex just knew the right words to make Pyra and Mythra not suicidal? Imagine if a loved one killed themself and you believed that it was all because you didn't say the elusive magic right words to save them? Imagine if you feel suicidal and you want someone to say something that will drag you out of that mentality but that doesn't happen? Rex leverages his friendship with Pyra and Mythra and that works. Imagine a close friend killed themself. Was it because you just didn't love them hard enough? No. Imagine you are suicidal. Maybe you think you don't have those friends or never will. Maybe you think that you're only making things worse for your existing amazing friends. Both of those conclusions can make things worse.

Stories absolutely should not talk about suicide without having a giant ass content warning. Like, I don't think anyone's going to play Xenoblade 2 and immediately kill themselves for it, but it does reinforce common myths about it that absolutely can make things worse for people.

It doesn't help that this is when the story starts being like "humanity sucks we're philosophical."

There are a lot of other things wrong with that scene and the game as a whole. Despite what I said at the beginning, this scene alone didn't make me hate the game. But it was the final major blow to my ability to enjoy the game. I went from "the game's decent but nowhere near as good as it should be, I want to dissect it" to "fuck at least one of the writers" over time.

[luthorzorl]

just had the most prolonged awkward uncomfortable conversation w my mom im gonna sleep the rest of the day i think

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin - The Stories Project

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN!🍒

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide

Features S2 Gavin but contains no spoilers regarding the S2 storyline

This is a continuation of The Broadcast Countdown Project. Do read that first!

[ This was released on 25 August 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

Gavin and I are standing outside Door 501 of the 7th block in Pavilion Village.

This is also the home of Zhang Nian, the kidnapper who handed me an anonymous letter in the TV station before eventually committing suicide.

A thorough investigation of the case involving the anonymous kidnapper and his suicide has ended. The STF has also removed the cordoning around the scene.

I liaised with the TV station, planning to showcase the incident from start to end in a special episode of the show which will be aired in the last episode of “Inquiries”.

Gavin: This used to be a crime scene. If you’re afraid, wait for me here. If you need any materials, I can head inside and find them for you.

MC: It’s okay, I don’t avoid such things... Also, I have a feeling that there’s definitely something behind this case worth seeing in person.

The husband and wife who were kidnapped had related the details to me, and mentioned that even though Zhang Nian had kidnapped them, they weren’t treated harshly at all.

It’s just that Zhang Nian was deaf and couldn't speak. He could only communicate with them with hems and haws, which ended up frightening them.

In hindsight, they realised that Zhang Nian never harboured malicious intentions towards them.

MC: What was Zhang Nian’s goal and what did he want to tell us? The answers to these riddles... they might be hidden here.

Gavin pushes the door open, and we step into Zhang Nian’s house.

Gavin: This place was sealed off since the incident, which is why the arrangement of furniture we’re looking at is the same as when he was still alive.

In contrast to the dim and cold space I had imagined, the living room is well lit.

The cream coloured wood flooring, a white cloth sofa, a simple wall painting of the ocean... all of these elements set off one another in the indolent afternoon sunlight, displaying a warm atmosphere. 

MC: This place gives me such a strange feeling... the person who lived here must have really loved life...

Gavin: His fiancée decorated this place.

Gavin taps on a magnet on the refrigerator. Tiny colourful slips of paper are stuck underneath zebra, bunny, and elephant magnets. 

“Special discount for wax gourds on Tuesday, special discount for pork ribs on Thursday.” - It’s as though the weekly booklet of discounts from the supermarket had been copied down.

“Invitation cards, wedding dress, decide on the hotel.” - The ring which had rolled onto the zebra crossing in the news immediately flashes across my mind.

Aside from that, they have simple recipes on them.

MC: What a pity. If that incident didn’t happen, they would have had a perfect life here.

Gavin: All the furnishings and decor came to a halt when the incident happened to Xu Wen. He did everything he could to retain traces of her existence. As for his own life...

Gavin opens the refrigerator, showing me that it’s more or less empty aside from condiments which had been used a few times. 

White cold mist hover in the empty space, out of sync with the warm tones in the living room.

Gavin: This too.

He opens a wall cabinet to reveal a few boxes of ordinary flavoured cup noodles. The incandescent light in the cabinet is chilly, shining on plastic film surrounding the cup noodles.

Imagining the taste of cup noodles submerged in MSG, I once again turn towards the recipes stuck on the refrigerator.

Gavin shuts the cabinet, then points at the bedroom.

Gavin: MC, I want to show you something.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

Gavin: During the investigation, we found these.

Gavin guides me to the bookcase, then pulls open a drawer at the bottom.

MC: A disability ID, marriage certificate, graduation certificate, guarantee card for a hearing aid and a bank book...

Gavin: We checked his background. He grew up in an orphanage. 

Gavin: Back then, the orphanage didn’t have adequate facilities, and didn’t have teachers or special medical setups for guiding people with hearing issues. He was always reclusive in the orphanage, and didn't have friends. 

Gavin: When he was ten years old, people from the orphanage and community sent him to school.

While saying this, Gavin retrieves a pile of books from the drawer and shows them to me - they are all sketchbooks, and the pages have long since turned yellow. It’s evident that they were here for a very long time.

MC: He can draw?

Gavin: In these books, there are some sketches of streets and still life. Some are comics modelled after existing works. Although I don’t know much about art, I think he could draw pretty well.

While flipping through the pages, I find myself affected by the exquisite details conveyed in these drawings.

Perhaps because he didn’t go through systematic training, he wasn’t limited to one style in the way he expressed his art.

A distinct and unique style leaving a deep impression seems to break through the sheets of paper, revealing the emotions the artist had hidden in his heart.

MC: ...he must have been a really talented artist. 

Gavin points at the wall - there’s a sketch hanging on it. It takes up almost half of the wall, and it’s mounted in a white frame.

MC: The person in the drawing is Xu Wen.

MC: ...it’s drawn really well.

Gavin releases a “mm”, and is unable to hold back a sigh.

Gavin: Extraordinarily well.

It doesn’t matter if it resembles the actual person. It doesn’t matter if it was meticulous or not. 

The person in the drawing has her eyes curved upwards with a smile on her face, and she looks like any other young girl you can find in a crowd.

But the limitless gentleness and happiness contained in her eyes - that’s a unique feature belonging only to one person.

Gavin: They seemed to be schoolmates. I read through Xu Wen’s background - she graduated from the same school for deaf students. But there weren't any questionable points in this case, which is why we didn’t probe further. If you want to know the specifics, we'd have to investigate again.

My heart hovers in the air, wanting to figure out everything about this matter.

But from the STF’s perspective, this case is already closed...

Gavin gives me an affirmative gaze.

Gavin: I know what you're going to say. I want to continue listening to this story too. He wasn’t able to speak, but he left behind a voice that he hoped for others to hear.

After a pause, he turns his head, once again glancing at the drawing hanging on the wall.

Gavin: I can feel such emotions.

Gavin says this softly, and the light in his eyes grow deeper.

Floating dust in the surroundings gather on Xu Wen's portrait. We stand in this warm and tranquil space, as though we can sense their story surging forth without a sound.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

After this, Gavin and I gather information about Zhang Nian and Xu Wen from various sources.

A few days alter, we arrange to meet at a cafe to exchange materials collected from our individual investigations.

MC: I found the teacher from the school for deaf students. He said that when Zhang Nian first arrived at the school, he didn’t even know how to use sign language. He was gloomy and blue. 

MC: Only Xu Wen knew how to converse with him, and would teach him sign language after school. 

MC: After learning of his interest in drawing, she used her pocket money to buy him colouring pencils and drawing paper in secret without her parents’ knowledge. 

MC: They had a pretty happy time in school. Zhang Nian even organised a small exhibition in school, and many teachers and students supported it. 

MC: But after graduation, his days became a little more difficult.

He didn’t have a place to stay, and he couldn’t find work. While Xu Wen could rely on her parents for financial assistance, he could only rely on himself. 

MC: During this time, Xu Wen seemed to have been using her parents’ money to buy him stationery for drawing, and even accompanied him to set up a stall for his paintings...

MC: But they couldn’t earn money at all.

Gavin opens a few files in front of me.

Gavin: Afterwards, he found a job in a finance company. He went around conducting financial transactions for people, and earned commissions based on the number of successful transactions.

Gavin: Not long after, this company was reported for illegal fund-raising. Both he and his boss were jailed for three years.

I recall seeing his ID from before - a crew cut and a white shirt along with a black suit which looked tidy and fitting.

Turns out he wasn’t working at a bank...

Gavin: Even during his time in jail, Xu Wen never gave up on him. She’d visit him every weekend and converse with him via sign language from across the glass.

Gavin: Of course, Zhang Nian behaved very well in jail, and gave his own drawings to many prison guards. After he was out of jail, he found a stable job.

Separated by the scorching 3pm afternoon sunlight, the gaze Gavin gives me is deep with a tranquil light.

Gavin: Do you know why he planned this kidnapping and handed you the video clip anonymously?

I shake my head. This has been my biggest question.

Gavin takes out a few photographs from the file.

Gavin: Before the case was closed, these documents couldn’t be disclosed to the public, which is why I didn’t tell you at the time.

I scrutinise one of the photographs - an A3-sized sheet of paper is stuck on a door, with a few lines written on it.

From the format of the digits, they appear to be bank account numbers.

Gavin: He was behind this door.

MC: Then these bank account numbers...

Gavin: We checked them.

He points at the first line of digits, then speaks calmly.

Gavin: The first account is for an animal treatment centre. It treats stray cats and dogs which meet with accidents. 

Gavin: This one is for a 10 year old girl with hearing issues. She lives with a granny who sells fruits, and is currently saving money for surgery.

Gavin: The both of them had a habit of sending money to these accounts.

Gavin: Even though Zhang Nian continued sending money to them after Xu Wen passed away, he could only maintain his own livelihood with his income.

MC: What you’re saying is, if the video camera could capture this... and document them properly so that more people would know about them...

Perhaps he could help these people. Even if it was for the last time.

MC: ...but that was such a complex method. There was no need to do a good deed in such a roundabout manner, and even kidnap people to reach that goal.

Gavin silently picks up one of the photos from the table - it’s a note that Zhang Nian wrote before he committed suicide. A short message is written on it - It’s Wen Wen’s birthday today.

Gavin: Aside from that, he more or less did think of seeking revenge.

Gavin’s finger remains on the photograph.

Gavin: In Zhang Nian’s life, Xu Wen was the only one who gave him warmth. She was his lover. 

Gavin: After losing such a person, it isn’t difficult to guess what kind of an attitude he had when facing this world, and facing the people who caused such an ending.

Gavin: When people are in pain, their hatred will involuntarily become amplified.

Gavin: From this perspective, at least he didn't take things even further.

Gavin’s voice is dull, as though he’s mulling over something, or affected by their misfortune.

I can’t help but reach across the table, gently bumping the tip of his finger with mine. 

Silence permeates the air. He curls his finger slightly, hooking it around mine.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

The files, photographs, and a few scattered pages of a notebook are spread on the table randomly, as though illustrating their entire story in front of me.

The car accident was a tragedy, but it wasn’t the only tragedy. I find myself hesitating to speak. When I open my mouth, I sigh.

MC: Xu Wen was such a good person. She tugged onto him from beginning to end, and never gave up on him for a single moment. She actually managed to pull him out of the abyss.

Even though she couldn’t hear nor speak, she used her gentle gaze to heal the person she loved.

Gavin tidies the items on the table one by one, storing them properly.

His composed voice is mixed with ruefulness. He seems to be slightly moved, but has more or less come to terms with his emotions.

Gavin: From the perspective of an observer, there were many dismal and extreme traits in Zhang Nian’s personality. This is a point that can’t be denied.

Gavin: However, he was abandoned from the moment he was born. The path he walked on all these years, and the world that he saw - those are things we’d find difficult to relate with.

Gavin: Perhaps from the time he knew about the world, he realised that living was already something requiring courage.

Probably seeing such stories again and again when handling various cases, Gavin’s attitude is objective and calm.

Gavin: No matter what attitude he had when he made this decision, he shouldn’t have done so.

In contrast to the practised manner in which Gavin handles his emotions, I remain immersed in the regretful ending experienced by the two.

MC: Aside from her, he had nothing else.

The furniture, the recipes underneath the magnets, and the drawing hung on the wall... these images flash past me one by one.

MC: If I were the one who experienced this, and the only important person in my life was gone, I’d lose my connection with this world. Perhaps death would be a form of liberation.

Before I can finish speaking, Gavin raises his voice, cutting off my impending sigh.

Gavin: It wouldn’t.

He looks at me resolutely and decisively.

Gavin: No matter when, death will never be a form of liberation. Pain can always be treated. 

Gavin: Whether it’s because someone important is no longer around, or if you were to lose contact with someone, it’s inevitable to carry some pain.

Gavin: Perhaps time is needed, and perhaps meeting a certain someone is needed, to gradually put an end to such pain, and to use various methods to put an end to such pain.

Gavin: But things will always get better.

Gavin seals the brown paper bag which is filled with materials related to Zhang Nian and Xu Wen, then places it at the corner of the table which has been warmed by the sun.

I watch as his palm presses against the paper bag, a moment of hesitation surging past his slightly lowered gaze. Almost at the same time, he looks up at me -

There’s only certainty in his eyes.

Gavin: No matter when, never give up on yourself. Xu Wen was constantly pulling him out of the abyss. He shouldn’t have given up like that.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

By the time Gavin and I walk out of the cafe, much of the sun’s heat has dispersed. Wind blows over from the river, and it’s refreshing and soothing.

Countless little flowers with names I’m unaware of bloom among the grass along the street, swaying in the evening breeze of midsummer.

MC: The weather is really nice today.

After sitting down for an entire afternoon, I can’t help but stretch, relaxing my shoulders and back.

Before I can take a few steps, I suddenly remember the moment I met Zhang Nian face-to-face, causing me to halt in my footsteps. He had walked towards me in a timid manner, a sincere and apologetic expression on his face.

He had handed me a letter, its edges creased from being pinched. Then, he turned away hurriedly before running away.

Too much time has passed. Even his Evol has lost its effectiveness.

Gavin senses that something is off about me, and draws a few steps closer. I wave my hand at him, signalling that I’m fine.

Having second thoughts, I can’t help but sigh with emotion.

MC: If only Zhang Nian was willing to contact me earlier and tell me about what exactly happened...

MC: If only I could tell him how nice today’s weather is. I wonder if he’d have made such a decision.

Gavin responds decisively from beside me.

Gavin: He wouldn’t. 

Gavin: If someone told him that the weather would be nice today, he’d have definitely held on for a while longer.

Gavin: But he couldn’t always wait for someone to pull him along and bring him out of the abyss. He had to muster his courage and walk out by himself.

I nod quietly, gripping the notebook in my hand. 

MC: Gavin, aside from the original plan for this episode, I think I’d need to add some new content...

Gavin halts in his footsteps, immediately reading the thoughts in my heart.

Gavin: Are you thinking about how there are many people in the world like Zhang Nian?

MC: Mm.

There are definitely some people who are shouldering pain alone, and are hesitating at the crossroads of life and death.

MC: Although this tragedy can no longer be salvaged, we could prevent even more tragedies from occurring.

I turn towards the direction of the river, looking afar at the boundless sky.

MC: I want to tell them about the beautiful scenery all around the world, and the beauty of the four seasons.

MC: Tell them about the colours of sunset, the sounds of the ocean...

MC: And tell them that as long as they’re willing to wait for a while longer, there are still people on earth who will love them.

MC: I want their eyes to be able to see the world that I see. I want them to believe that this world is always worth it.

Realising how overly idealistic and visionary my words are, I give Gavin a smile.

MC: ...I might have sounded too exaggerated.

Gavin: Nope. It will be a very meaningful show.

He suddenly reaches out, combing my hair which has been blown messy by the wind. His fingers linger on the ends of my hair for a long time.

The corners of his lips curl upwards slightly, and he brings me into his arms.

Gavin: Thank you.

Gavin: This world is always worth it.

His voice is far too soft. For a moment, I wonder if I misheard.

MC: What did you say? I couldn’t hear you clearly.

Gavin chuckles, then raises his volume.

Gavin: Since the weather’s pretty good, want to go for a drive?

MC: Did you drive here today?

Gavin: Mm. It’s rare to have such nice weather, so I took the car out for a drive.

MC: Wow~ That is rare. It’s been such a long time since I sat in Captain Gavin’s car.

Gavin takes my hand, striding with large steps as he leads me forward.

Gavin: Let’s go. The car’s in front.

- End -

Filming for the special episode of “Inquries” came to an end. When the final episode aired, the show became a trending topic. After watching it, many members of the audience provided assistance and support for organisations targeted at disabled individuals. Although Zhang Nian and Xu Wen have already left this world, they’ve enabled people who experience difficulties in life to obtain warmth. Such warmth continues to last. I guess being able to allow more people to believe that the world is worth loving, and to do what little they can to help those in need is what it means to be a person in the media industry.

More S2 content: here

[detectivereyes]

I Watched the Leaves Go From Green to Grey

Summary: When TK gets anxious, he gets into fights.

Notes: for the self-harm square on my @badthingshappenbingo card, or my interpretation of it bc i didn’t want to write a traditional “self harm” fic yk

beta’d by @marjansmarwani and also s/o to loml @seaoflittlefires for providing her objective perspective and fixing all my past/present tense issues 💗

word count: 2.3k

read on ao3

If you asked TK, the first time it happened was definitely an accident. 

He wasn’t planning on getting into a fight, and he wasn’t even that high. Instead he found himself riding out the tail end of a high in some dingy bar in the East Village, trying to numb the pain with whatever alcohol the bartender would give him with a quick flash of his fake ID. At only 16, he knew he didn’t look 21, but the bartender didn’t ask or didn’t care.

It started with a simple misplacement of his elbow, brushing up too close against the glass of whiskey belonging to the burly man sitting next to him. He didn’t even realize what had happened until he heard the glass shatter on the floor between them.

He started to stutter out some form of an apology but not before he felt a flash of pain hit his face, radiating through his lower jaw until his body collided with the ground. Though he was caught off guard, the pain he’s feeling didn’t feel wrong. In fact it made him feel alive.

He hopped back up, managing to throw in a few punches of his own until more of the burly man's friends showed up and he couldn't decipher which direction the blows were coming from. But with each punch or kick, he felt more empowered. Each freshly formed bruise serving as a reminder that he wasn’t actually numb. 

He was here, and he was alive.

Fortunately, he had managed to sneak out before the cops showed up. Unfortunately, the bruises did not go unnoticed by his mom or dad. Though they didn’t press too hard, he knew he would have to be more careful next time.

He never forgot the outlet getting into fights provided. A way to not only relieve the numbness, but relieve stress and have the pain on the outside match what he felt on the inside.

He didn’t get into fights that often, only when the pain built up too much and he needed to let it out somehow. Or sometimes he used it as a way to just quiet the anxious thoughts when substances no longer did the trick.

Even after he got clean, he would occasionally find himself back in some random bar that he hadn’t managed to get himself kicked out of yet. Every bar had at least one drunk asshole who he knew would be easy to pick a fight with.

He quickly learned the right words to trigger the perfect reaction. He also got better ducking and throwing his own punches, and hiding the bruises that did form on his skin until his parents no longer noticed or worried about him.

When he arrived in Austin, he figured it would only be a matter of time before he found himself in a dingy bar on the outskirts of town, opposite of the bar the team frequented to avoid any chance of running into a familiar face.

The numb feeling and colorless vision was too much and Judd’s words only served to exacerbate the pain he was feeling inside. He attempted to fight Judd, knowing his larger frame could do a lot of damage and would do the trick. But he should have known the other man wouldn’t fight back, instead holding him close so he couldn’t do any damage until Paul broke them up.

As soon as the shift ended, TK all but ran into the Uber. The tension in his body wound up too tight and he knew it wouldn’t settle until he got in a fight. 

The fight itself was a blur, but what happened next wasn’t. As he walked out of the police station with his bag of belongings and busted lip still pulsing in pain, Carlos’ words rang in his ear.

You should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal.

Was it suicidal? He always saw it as a way to remind himself that he was alive, not trying to die. But he'd also never met someone who cared so much about his well being. 

The police officers he usually ran into during his fights never seemed to give a shit about why he did what he did. And if the guys he hooked up with noticed the busted lips or black eyes, they never said anything.

Carlos checked both of those boxes, yet seemed genuinely concerned with what TK was getting himself into.

That was when he knew things would be different here.

And they were for a time. For a while the color returned into his life and the pain that he had grown so accustomed to settled into a dull ache that he barely noticed.

But like everything else, the good could never last. And soon enough the pain grew more noticeable and he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He needed to know he wasn't numb. He needed to feel pain. He needed to fight.

So he found himself in another dingy bar, much similar to the one he went to when he got to Austin over a year ago. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He had to call someone. But Carlos was on shift and his dad was on a date and while both would have probably picked up in a heartbeat, he couldn't do that to them. And anyone else he could have called wouldn’t understood or known what to do. 

He knew what he had to do.

On muscle memory he ran through his routine, spouting out the perfect words to trigger the reaction he craved. 

After only a few blows to the face, the punches stopped and the fight broke up as the cops arrived. He scanned the area, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn't see Carlos’ familiar brown eyes, and managed to slip out the back before anyone noticed.

The Uber ride from the bar back to his and Carlos’ home passed by in a blur. If his driver noticed the purple bruises likely beginning to blossom on his face, she didn't say anything.

He made a beeline to the bathroom as soon as he walked through the door, hoping that the damage wasn't bad enough that he couldn't cover it up. There was no way Carlos wouldn't notice, but if cleaned it up a bit and came up with a good story, it might not be as bad.

Flipping on the light switch TK frowned at his reflection. While there were a few scattered bruises all over his body, the worst by far was the one forming around his eye, already turning a lovely shade of deep purple. Above his eye was a short but deep gash, stretching across his eyebrow.

Well, that definitely wouldn't go unnoticed.

TK sighed, rifling through the medicine cabinet until he found the box of butterfly bandaids. He knew it probably would need stitches, but if he could avoid a trip to the ER tonight, that would be ideal, and these bandages would do the trick for now. He carefully placed two on his eyebrow, hissing at the contact as the wound closed. He then shut off the light and settled on the living room sofa, waiting for Carlos to come home. 

By the time he heard the jiggling of keys in the door, a few hours had passed and he had nearly fallen asleep under the soft blanket on the couch. He panicked for a second, not quite ready for Carlos’ reaction when he saw TK’s face.

On impulse, he ducked under the blanket before the door swung open. He could see the light switch on and Carlos’ outlined shape from beneath the cover.

“Babe? What’s going on?” he asked. TK could sense he had stopped in front of the couch but was refraining from coming any closer.

“Don’t freak out,” was all TK could manage to say, and he could only imagine the confusion painting his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m freaking out that you won’t tell me what’s going on,” he stated matter of factly.

TK sighed before slowly pulling down the blanket and peeking his head out, giving Carlos a sheepish grin. 

Carlos’ eyes widened in concern as he sat down next to TK, gently running his fingers over TK’s swollen eye. “What happened, baby?”

“Combative patient,” the lie rolled too easily off his tongue. “Woke up while we were treating him and took a swing at me.”

“I see,” Carlos nodded slowly. “And these other bruises?” he added, trailing his hand over the blossoming bruises on TK’s neck and arms. When he reached his torso, he didn't miss the way TK winced at the contact. TK hadn't even realized how sore he was.

“Must have fallen a little bit in the scuffle,” he shrugged.

Carlos hummed along to TK’s response. TK tried to get a read on what Carlos was making of his story. It was a pretty good one if he gave himself any credit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Carlos just wasn't buying it. 

“You know how people get when they’re caught off guard,” he quickly added, panicking when he realized he should be adding more details before Carlos could doubt him anymore. 

Carlos though remained silent, studying him carefully. 

“We’re here to help them but they don’t always realize that right away,” he laughed nervously, hoping Carlos wasn't catching on to his anxious rambling.

“TK,” Carlos trailed off, his eyebrows pinching together in worry. He knew something was off, and there was no getting out of it.

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, he decided to dam break. He launched into the whole story about how he felt so on edge after his shift and he didn’t know what else to do, which is why he fell back into old habits. Carlos listened intently as he explained what happened when he showed up at the bar and instigated the fight, and ducking out he could get caught.

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. Please don’t be mad,” he said at the end of his rant, still shaking with adrenaline while he waited to see how Carlos would handle hearing the truth. 

Carlos sighed, gently rubbing TK’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, TK.”

“You’re not?” TK said, sniffling. 

“No, but I am concerned at why you didn’t think you could call me. And then why you felt like you had to lie about it.”

TK shrugged. “I’m just kind of used to bottling it up, I guess.”

“But you should know you can talk to me about this kind of stuff.”

“I do! But sometimes it just gets to be so much that I don’t know what else to do and I need a way to let it all out.”

“What gets to be so much?” Carlos cocked his head to the side. 

“Everything,” TK quickly responded, as if that clarified anything he was saying. He knew he wasn't making much sense and Carlos was trying his best to understand. But TK didn't know how else to describe the way he was feeling. Like a row of tightly wound string, one pluck away from snapping. 

“TK, what happened that made you want to get into a fight tonight?” Carlos asked. 

“I,” TK started to answer but stopped himself when he realized he didn't even have a good answer. He'd never stopped to consider the reasons for why he felt this way. All he knew was that he felt like he was about to explode and he needed a good way to release it. “I don’t know.”

Carlos nodded, and TK could only admire the patience his boyfriend had with him. The tears started to well up in his eyes and he took some shaky breaths as Carlos pulled him close into a hug, letting him sob into his broad chest. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” he whispered softly into TK’s ear. “But I think it is important to examine why you do feel this way. And to realize when it starts to get bad so it doesn’t happen again.”

TK pulled away from Carlos’ embrace, nodding and wiping back the tears while doing so. “It just feels like there’s always this pain, and sometimes I don’t notice it but other times it’s so much that I need to do something about it. And I can’t do the other stuff I used to do to deal with it, but getting into these fights… I don’t know, it helps. Which probably doesn’t make any sense but it’s better than some of my other coping mechanisms.”

Carlos gave him a sympathetic look. “TK, it might not be drugs, but you are just as likely to get hurt.”

TK looked down, nervous squeezing his hands, unsure of how to respond to Carlos’ observations.

“It’s not healthy,” he continued. “I need you to promise me you will call next time. It doesn’t matter what time, or if I’m on shift, or I’m asleep. Talk to me about it. And talk to me about what you’re feeling all the time so we can try to prevent it getting this bad. Okay?”

TK nodded in agreement. 

“Hey,” Carlos tilted TK’s head up so they matched each other's gaze. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I know,” he gave Carlos a small smile. “I appreciate it, and your patience with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. We’re a team, and I want to help you in whatever way possible. I love you, TK”

TK melted under Carlos’ soft brown eyes and genuine smile. “I love you too, Carlos.”

[tirsynni]

Okay, keep in mind I’m going to start my RE6 watch in, oh, fifteen minutes and haven’t seen it yet, so this bit of Leon flailing is based on what I have seen. This also relies on both the games and movies (and ignores the books and other bits of canon/pseudo-canon).

Under a cut because this went longer than planned and I think I forgot what I was going for after a bit due to Leon flailiing.

We meet our intrepid hero in RE2 (and technically, RE2 Remake, as they provide different bits of background on Leon). In the original, Leon was late because his girlfriend broke up with him, he got drunk, and overslept. In the remake, he was deliberately told to not come because the outbreak had begun and ended up going to Raccoon City when he couldn’t get a hold of anyone (I think that’s what it was). For the sake of argument, we’re combining the two. He had a girlfriend, she broke up with him because he had this crazy idea to apply to a police officer position in another city because he wanted to investigate insane murders of all things, dealt with the break-up by getting drunk, but was late going to the city because he was told not to come. In at least one RE universe, it’s established that drinking is a possible coping mechanism for him. No further details given.

So we have an inclination there but no further evidence of use. Not yet. In RE2, he still pretty optimistic, helpful, compassionate, and people-focused. Honestly, a pretty sweet guy who just wants to help people (and not be turned into a flesh-eating monster). By the end of the remake, we have some foreshadowing after Ada falls when the shadows fall over him and his face is grim. We have a hint as to what he could be.

The end of RE2 is full of betrayals and pain. He learns about Ada. He is horrified by Annette’s attitude toward the virus and her dismissal of her role in it. He is kidnapped by the government who, instead of helping him and Sherry, threatens her life to force him to work for him. The scene ends with him still bloody, hunched over, and shouting that she is just a child. Fucking ow.

His next bit is in Darkside Chronicles. Still pretty sweet, pretty optimistic, a trained fighter not flinching when attacked by monsters, and there’s a nice contrast between him and the more grizzled Krauser. Krauser is more cynical, more ruthless, not a bad guy (not yet), but unlike Leon, he tends to judge things in certain categories, like victims, weapons, etc. The most interesting bit of contrast between the pair is that Leon is far calmer about the monsters than Krauser, who is terrified and, between that and his career-ended wound, sees the viruses as weapons which can be utilized. At this stage of the game, Leon’s big concern remains helping people, as seen in his defense of Manuela. Even after his betrayal by the government, he looks at Krauser and never thinks of the man betraying him or hurting him. He fearlessly extends his hand to Krauser.

In DC, when the final scene of RE2 is referenced, he never mentions the government’s threats or his own forced employment. There is no canon reference to him telling anyone ever.

RE4 is just... fucking trauma. He deals with it with quips and puns and bad humor, but you can tell he’s frustrated and angry. He’s furious with the bad guys and how they treat Ashley and Krauser. He’s betrayed by Krauser and is confused by how Krauser chose his path (which hurts a bit, honestly). How Saddler uses the parasite to control and hurt him. Confirming Ada is alive and the betrayal inherent in that. There’s just... a lot going on for him in RE4. Still! He maintains his sense of humor, keeping Ashley’s spirits up, and flirting with Hunnigan at the end. He’s still holding on.

ID takes place after RE4. For the first time, he references his horror at how the government destroyed Raccoon City without trying to help survivors. He references his horror about the nightmare that was surviving in Raccoon City. He is, again, betrayed. He, once again, has the nightmare that is his own government thrown back in his face.

Still, he’s hanging on! He’s trying to be optimistic, but you see him faltering when Claire is angry with him at the end. Hell, I swear you see him trying not to cry at certain scenes.

Again, no reference that he’s tried to explain anything to Claire, and... yeah. I can see her trying to fistfight the government over all of this, and Leon repeatedly, desperately hopes to end these horrors without accidentally creating more.

Still holding on, though! Still hanging in there!

Damnation, in my opinion, is when we really see him start breaking for the first time. By the end of that movie, he’s realized how thoroughly the government has manipulated and betrayed him. The government couldn’t act in that country, but they knew he could and would and set him up. He just had to shoot a man to save him. He has Hunnigan, someone he trusts because Leon trusts easily and gets attached to people easily and she’s been working with him for years, insisting that she knew nothing about it. He’s exhausted, hurt, betrayed again, and with Sasha and later by himself, you see him drinking, the former with a flask used by yet another person he wasn’t able to save. No sign of optimism. No joking. With Sasha, he gives the suicide speech which could easily have been intended for both of them: you can’t eat a bullet not because life is good and worth living but because you chose to serve others when you picked up that gun and now you need to live for them.

RE6? More horrific betrayals. More... everything. It starts terrible and then keeps going.

By Vendetta, he gets vacation time and slinks away with a bottle. There is no indication that even by then anyone has any idea how terribly the government has betrayed him, and he’s stuck with them. When he wants to lick his wounds, he doesn’t go to anyone for help. He claimed vacation time, hid himself away, and pulled out a damned bottle.

So we’ve had hints from the start that alcohol was an acceptable coping mechanism in his head, even if we didn’t see any signs of self-medication until the end of Damnation. The guy also hides and tries to treat his wounds by himself. He never tells anyone about how much the government has fucked him over. He does try occasionally to reach out -- to Luis, to Krauser, to Jason -- and it didn’t help any because they all ended up dead

It makes me curious about what would have happened if Chris and Rebecca hadn’t found him in Vendetta. When his vacation was done, would he just have taken a deep breath, trashed the bottles, and greeted his co-workers with a dad joke? It’s also interesting that one of the few times we see him that hostile toward an ally is when he does take that time to tuck himself away and engage in behaviors we don’t see him normally display around others. He’s the guy who either breaks the tension or, if he’s fucked up, just withdraws. I don’t see him as an alcoholic, although that is a popular fan headcanon. That would take it more out of his control, put it more into the public arena. He keeps pain and unhealthy coping mechanisms private, with Chris and Rebecca literally having to hunt him down in a random location when he tucked himself away to drink.

Through his timeline, we see the ongoing betrayals and hits take their toll on him, we see him using humor less and withdrawing more, we see when he picks up that bottle in Damnation.

But we also see him pick himself up in Vendetta when needed and take to the battlefield and stagger to Chris and Rebecca after getting his ass kicked by Arias. By that time, he’s definitely no longer the bright-eyed rookie in RE2, but his core remains the same. 

If Chris could just give him a hug instead of a bottle after Vendetta, I would appreciate it.

[menalez]

Idk if this is something welcome to say. If not, please delete and do not worry about it. 🌹

My experience as a teenager with sex was similar. I have come to call it nonconsensual through feeling unable to say no, with verbal OK but no desire.... only enduring something horrible I thought I had to endure... which people seem to get more. Also it makes me feel calmer? To see all the pressure for what it was and call the fear, if “anyone” my assaulter in that situation. Otherwise nobody understands and will minimize it and also I almost feel like I don’t understand myself either. Though like you I can’t hold the boy to be a rapist I can hold him to be unaware of all the frankly obvious signs of my distress. I have considered if this was willing “unawareness” and I would not put it past men but in this case no, i think it was real. But it was superhuman to put it one way... beyond the natural how unaware men get. Not a coincidence, not a bug, a feature of male supremacy. Not something he chose but something he didn’t at that point manage to see and opt out of. Same for myself and the pressures on me at that time. Though our abilities to question and not expect immediate violence were of course, unequal.

Regardless of how it is said or any detail someone could think they need to scrutinize (which, can that please not be considered acceptable? To those who would argue, please examine what we lose vs what we gain by having the expectación... expect society weight of coercion as the norm for those uncomfortable attesting in specific) I mourn for the freedom we should have had. I don’t know how else to say that so hopefully it makes sense

I am glad you are well and have good company with your gf ...!! To end with the good 💗

yeah tbh sometimes i do look back at it and i feel quite baffled bc i dont think its that hard to tell that i didn't want it. i was deeply traumatised and often acting out bc of that, and i was visibly distressed literally every time afterwards. there was also a clear pattern where id harm myself or attempt suicide after it would happen. but at the same time i feel bad bc he wasn't a horrible person, he definitely is shitty in many ways (like he was prosecuted for posession of child porn and he had these excuses for it back then but then i learned his version of the story isnt the truth bc its just not how things work; or his fetishising my age regression which is a common response to CSA, or the fact that the relationship was causing me visible distress & id keep trying to leave and hed refuse. even after i came out he tried to convince me that he could change my sexuality etc etc etc) but he wasn't the worst person i had come across. back then i had practically no one, most of my friends left bahrain by then bc of the arab spring and the ones that were still in bahrain were fake friends who turned against me once my rape became common knowledge and i became the laughing stock & school whore bc of it. and at that time he was one of the only people who opposed my rapist and would defend me from him, since we were all at the same school. i felt indebted and thankful and i knew he wanted to be w me bc he had been obsessed with me for years at that point so i was just thinking.. well my boundaries are meaningless and what i want means nothing and if i say yes then im reclaiming my body and empowering myself somehow and hes nice to me & everyone has been calling me stupid for repeatedly rejecting him sooo i should just go for it. i had such a weird mix of emotions bc i was scared, i was trying to regain my power, i felt obligated, and i was also appreciative. i think if i had said no, he wouldn't have done anything but maybe hed try to convince me to change my mind, but i cant imagine myself saying no back then tbh. there were just too many factors playing into it. i think had i not been raped at all, things would've turned out extremely different for me and none of that 'relationship' would've have happened at all but..... it did happen and im still trying to make sense of it all. either way it doesnt feel right framing it as if it wasnt consensual. and esp when even while i say it was consensual, people online already try to pick apart my story and try to reframe it as if it was enthusiastic consent and like i victimised him somehow and will take bits of what i said a decade ago to argue that im lying now that im out of that situation and more mentally healthy & aware. makes me feel like even being open about my story is somehow a bad thing yanno

[heyitsjay03]

Fighting For Tomorrow: Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Still haven’t bought AOT but I’m working on it! 

AN: this. is a doozy of a chapter- i know. lots. and lots. and lots of words. but DAMN if i didnt love every part of it. however! if you guys prefer smaller chapters please please please dont hesitate to say something. seriously. id love to write you guys more frequent, smaller chapters but if you guys like the longass, slightly infrequent chapters then they shall continue. just say the word bby. also i felt kinda poetic in some of these sections so if you see reader gettin fancy with her verbage, don’t trip. that was my bad. 

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 10k (i finished this at 2 am today before class and nearly passed out at the sight ‘10,008 words’ when i pulled up my word counter. CH-YOW this a big boy)

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, horse accident

You can read parts one, two, three, four, and five just by tapping the lovely numbers!

   The flames crackle and rage before us, engulfing our comrades’ bodies in scarlet and gold waves. 

   Engulfing Marco’s body. 

   Jean had found him. Just… laying there. Up against a building. No one had seen him die, no one knew how he died, just that he did. Marco- our comrade, our friend... my friend- just gone. Taken from us. There was no valiant deed. There was no heroism. There was no triumphant story. Nothing. He just… died. 

   And that’s the worst part. 

   He was taken from us and no one knows how. No one knows why. 

   Marco was one of the first comrades I got close to. We were competitive- always fighting to outdo each other. I’d train two hours, he’d train three. He’d pass the ODM test after four tries, I’d pass it in three. Back and forth, back and forth. 

   But if we faced something bigger than us- if there was an exercise we couldn’t quite pin down, if there was another Cadet giving us problems, if one of our squad members were injured- we’d always come together to beat it. It was always like that. 

   He was like my little brother. 

   I scoff at myself. They all are like my younger siblings. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, even Annie and Bertholdt. They’re all family and losing Marco… it was like losing a brother. 

   I did lose a brother. 

   My brother is among the flames- being turned to ash before my eyes. Marco is gone. Taken from me. Robbed from me. From everyone. His intellect, his kindness, his leadership. All of it gone. Taken from humanity. 

   We’re just kids. 

   Marco was just a kid. 

   All of us- bright-eyed kids wanting to do our best for humanity. To take back what was stolen from us. To serve humanity. We didn’t know how much hate, how much horror was waiting for us. To watch our comrades- our family and friends- be torn apart in front of us. To lose the ones closest to us in unspeakable carnage. 

   All we wanted was to do something for humanity. 

   All Marco wanted was to do something for humanity.

   He was just a kid.

   Tears are streaming down my face as we all watch the flames consume the bodies of fallen soldiers. I can hear the crackling of wood, feel the heat on my skin. But the crackling is distant and the heat is faint. My chest feels empty and cold. 

   I lost Marco. I lost Hannah. I lost Franz. 

   And I’ll never get them back.

   But I’ll be damned if I allow anyone else to be taken from me. 

   The Commander roars and rages before us, engulfing us in his words. They burn and singe like fire as they cross the Cadets’ ears. I can hear them whispering among themselves- asking if he’s serious or if he’s crazy or already resigning themselves to the Garrison. 

   It doesn’t matter what they say. 

   I’m joining the Scouts. Commander Erwin’s words are a comfort, a pleasant yet caveat warmth. Like a candle sitting beside a curtain. I know what I’m signing up for. I’ve always known. But it doesn’t mean I’ll be giving it all up now. 

   “I’ve made my decision.”

   My eyes turn away from the Commander, landing on Reiner’s form beside me. His gaze is still stuck on the Commander, back straight and shoulders squared. I turn my gaze back to the Commander- not wanting to be chewed out by a commanding officer for not paying attention. “...really?” I ask quietly, “Where are you-?”

   “The Scouts.”

   My eyes are back on him. “What?” I hiss, “Reiner, you can’t... throw away your shot at the Military Police- you worked so hard, why would you-?”

   “Eren was right,” he says quietly. I can feel his chest fill with breath before he chuckles. “They don’t need our skills so far away from the walls. They need us where we’re at use- where the people are.”

   “Rei, please, please,” I whisper, “Please don’t do this.”

   “Why not?” Reiner chuckles again, “You want me gone?”

   “It’s not like that,” I shoot back, “I just…”

   “You just what?”

   “...I don’t wanna lose anyone else.”

   “...you won’t.”

   “You can’t know that… I’m already worried about Eren and Armin and Mikasa- if I have to worry about anyone else-”

   “You don’t need to worry about me, darling… Because we’re going to get through this,” I can feel his finger graze the side of my hand before his hand takes mine. “Together.”

   A shaky exhale leaves my mouth as I close my eyes. “...together,” I whisper as shivers run down my spine.

   “That’s right, darling.”

   “...those who wish to join other divisions are dismissed.”

   Shuffles of feet scurry past me as I remain. I can feel their gazes, their judging glares and confused looks. They mumble to themselves. ‘Insane’, ‘crackpots’, ‘suicidal’, ‘deathwish’. Nervously, I swallow and grip Reiner’s hand tighter. 

   I can feel his smile. Proud and bright like the sun. Warming like the sun. Relaxation smoothes out over my skin as I soak it in. 

   I’ve done it. Finally. After years of fighting and hoping and wishing and dreaming about this very moment, I’m here. 

   The crowd clears out and a scattering of us remains. My eyes dart to each of the figures in the hopes of identifying my fellow crackpots.

   Reiner. Armin. Mikasa. Bertholdt. Ymir. Christa. Sas-

   My heart stops. 

   Sasha. Connie. Jean. 

   What the Hell are they doing here?! They were supposed to join the Military Police. They were going to, weren’t they?! Why are they still here?! Why aren’t they walking away? 

   At the very base of my stomach, something churns. Quickly and violently. 

   I think I’m gonna be sick. 

   I’m already going to be looking out for Armin, Eren, and Mikasa- I came to accept that long ago- but now Sasha? And Reiner? Connie and Jean, too?

   Most of everyone I’ve ever loved has just signed their hearts and bodies away to the Scouts- to nearly certain death. 

   There has to be a way to change their minds, right? There has to be. 

   ...but there isn’t, is there?

   They heard the statistics. They know how many have died in the Scouts. They know all the facts, all the dirtiest of details. 

   And they stayed.

   Gods, why did they stay?

   I’ll drag each of them out of here by their ears, kicking and screaming, if I have to. I already lost Marco and Hanna and Franz. I don’t think I could take losing them, too. 

   But if they truly want to- if they know the risk and want to dedicate their hearts just like I am… why would I stop them?

   I should be proud. 

   They’re- we all are- dedicating ourselves to the better future humanity deserves. To the eradication of Titans. To the freedom we all hunger for. 

   “Very well!” Commander Erwin’s voice booms out over us. “I welcome you- the newest recruits of the Scout Regiment!” His fist slams against his chest in a tight salute, “This is my real salute! Dedicate your hearts to the cause!”

   The group moves as one as we all strike our fists to our chests. 

   My eyes glide from the Commander to Sasha once more. 

   She’s shaking. I can hear her stifled sobs from here. 

   But she remains firm in her spot. 

   She’s made her decision. 

   And I can accept that. 

   I lay awake. Moonlight flickers through the window- inching towards the other side of the room. It’s late and I’m exhausted but even when I am, I can’t sleep. There’s too much screaming in my head. Too much gore. Too much carnage that I can only barely remember. The only things that do remember are my heart and lungs- hammering and pounding and stretching to the fullest in the wake of whatever nightmare slinked back into the recesses of my mind. 

   Reiner stirs in his sleep and wraps his arms around my waist. Tucking me into him, he sighs and buries his head into my neck. “...can’t sleep?” he mumbles. His voice is deep. Deeper than usual, with a gentle rumble to it. 

   “No,” I whisper back, shrinking into him.

   “Wanna talk about it?”

   I stay silent. No. No, I really, really, really, really don’t want to. Talking about whatever bothers me is like pulling teeth. It feels like a burden that I’m casting onto someone else. And with Reiner… he’s burdened enough already. He’s everyone’s big brother. Everyone’s confidant. He shoulders responsibilities and punishments for others- never once thinking about himself. 

   But he’s exhausted. All the time, exhausted. And he’s so good at hiding it. Even around me. But I can see it. The way his golden eyes go hazy at times, the way his shoulders sag and the way things slip his mind. The way he can become an entirely different person with terrifying speed. 

   It scares me how much I think he carries. Because when he breaks… it’ll be cataclysmic. 

   Reiner’s lips slide up my shoulder and neck, pressing gentle kisses against my skin. “...well?”

   But maybe he’ll open up to me if I take the step first. Maybe I’ll show him that there’s nothing to worry about- that I’m not going anywhere and that he can talk to me about anything. Everything. 

   “...I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares.” 

   His kisses stop where they are, lips still pressed to my skin for a moment before pulling away. His grip on me gets tighter as he pulls me closer. Reiner lets his head rest in the crook of my neck and sighs. “...what about?”

   I laugh quietly, letting my fingers trail against his forearm. “...I don’t remember most of them but… there is one that comes back… every now and then.”

   “I’m listening, darling.”

  Slowly, I take a breath. My eyes close as I remember the details of the dream. “...it always starts off the same… I’m in a throne room and there’s a person at my feet. Sometimes… it’s a woman and other times it’s a man and other times, I can’t tell which, but… there’s always someone at my feet,”

   “And they’re always crying,” I whisper, eyebrows drawing together and I grip his forearm. “Sobbing and pleading for mercy. A-...And I…” My voice quivers as tears start to flow from my eyes. “I… just… I don’t even know, I just… I see this… light- red light- come from their eyes and they just… they convulse and thrash around for a moment- screaming and crying and begging- before… before they…,”

   “...before they die at my feet,” I whisper brokenly, eyes open and staring out into the distance as the scene replays. “And when they finally die… I look up… and there’s… corpses. Thousands upon thousands of corpses, Rei… All piled up on top of each other and in writhing rigidity. As far as I could see- there were bodies- and… and somehow I know that… that I… I had… somehow I know that I was the one that killed them all.”

   “I’m your squad leader, Ness,” the man before us states before clapping a hand onto the horse towering beside him. “And this! Is my horse, Chalet…” 

   My eyes drift away from him, blankly settling on the various horses in their stalls behind me. I’ve tuned him out… I should probably listen to whatever he has to say. But… I’m so tired. Another night of staring at the ceiling while listening to Reiner snore and watching Bertholdt contort himself into a coil across the room. 

   I don’t know how many sleepless nights I have left. 

   My body lurches forward slightly as someone nudges me from behind. I turn to face whoever it was. Jean is towering over me with a smirk on his face as he pretends to be watching Squad Leader Ness. “...what the hell was that for?” I mutter, facing forward.

   “You were falling asleep again,” he chuckles quietly, “Another… late night?”

   I scoff and shake my head, “You’re a child.”

   “You didn’t say ‘no’.”

   “No, Jean,” I hiss, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

   I can feel him deflate slightly behind me. “...oh…”

   “Yeah.”

   “...I get them, too.”

   “I really hope you don’t.”

   Connie, standing beside me, scoots closer. “What’re we talkin’ about?”

   Jean answers at the same time as I do. “Sex.”

   “Food.”

   Connie’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he risks a glance at me. “...huh?”

   I sigh and roll my eyes, “We were talking about-”

   “Did someone say ‘food’?” Sasha whispers excitedly behind me. 

   I sigh and roll my eyes again. “You three are-”

   “Hilarious.”

   “Your favorites.”

   “Really hungry.”

   Groaning softly, I shake my head at their responses. “Gods… I thought Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were a lot… then I had to get you knuckleheads thrown in, too.”

   “Now!” Ness states, looking significantly more disheveled than he did a few minutes ago. Adjusting the bandana around his head, he huffs and stands up straight. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your dorms- and then you’ll be introduced to your horses.”

   He walks off, leading us between the stables and the looming walls of the castle. My eyes trail up the crumbling stone- plants and vines and flowers managing their way through the cracks- and over the rolling hills dotted with trees. Sunlight floods the stone courtyard, basking us all in its warmth.

   It reminds me of home. 

   Not Shiganshina- but of the modest cottage in the forest. I smile to myself, watching Sasha bother Jean with Connie’s help just in front of me. I remember playing with her in the trees. We made and marked that forest. There isn’t a tree in that entire forest we haven’t carved up with arrows and knives or with the undersides of our shoes as we climbed their roots and limbs. Sasha would be afraid at first- of foxes or wolves or falling or tripping. But as soon as I took her hand and led her to the sunlight, to the tops of the trees, to the very breath of the sky… she’d always hunger for more. To go to the brightest spot in the forest, to climb the highest tree, to scale the steepest cliff. 

   My smile starts to fade slightly. 

   She’s even more afraid than she used to be… did I cause that? Does she even remember? She was young when I left… Does she remember when she scraped her knee and told her that she was now one with the forest- that its blood was in her and her blood in it? Does she remember that first tree we climbed together? Does she remember the nights we would run barefoot around the dew-covered clearings in the heart of the woods with no light to guide us except that of the moon? Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   Will we ever get to go back…?

   The group stops. Ness smiles at us and points down the hallway to our left. “Down this hallway are the boys’ rooms,” he points to the hallway to our right. “And down this one is the girls’.” He chuckles and turns back to us. “There is… one other thing.”

   Uh oh. 

   “There’s only one bathroom.”

   I stifle a groan. It’s a goddamn castle. How in the walls is that even possible- one bathroom, my ass.

   “Well… only one that’s in good enough shape to be used, anyway. ‘sides the officers’ bathroom...” Ness admits, a sheepish smile growing on his lips as he rubs the back of his head. “You’re welcome to fix up the other ones, though! ...although, I think you’d need help…” Ness continues muttering more to himself than anyone else. 

   One bathroom. Unbelievable. I growl under my breath as Ness marches us back out into the courtyard. You’d think Captain Shortstack would be all over the renovations of this place- bathrooms included. 

   Whatever. It’s not like I shower when everyone else does, anyway. There’s always a possibility I could sneak into the officers’ bathroom like when we were in training… And there was that river...

   “I can see you already coming up with a plan,” Sasha appears next to me, lowering her voice. “What’re ya thinkin’?”

   I laugh softly, nudging her arm with my elbow. “Nothing regarding food.”

   Sasha pouts slightly, “Fine… then what’re ya thinkin’ about?”

   “Just plannin’ my way into the officers’ bathroom.”

   “Oooh,” Sasha laughs maliciously. “Do you think they’ll have hot water?”

   I sigh, closing my eyes and imagining the steam and feel of hot water cascading down my body. Hot water was a privilege in the Cadet Corps. ...one that was constantly being robbed from me. I’d mostly show up after everyone had already showered, praying that maybe I’d have even a moment to myself to unwind- and to not be stared at. And nearly every time, I bathed in freezing cold water. But there were a few times where I’d be wrapped in steam, delicate streams of hot water warming my frigid body. 

   ...now that I think about it, those ‘few times’ were whenever Reiner would wake me up early to get in the shower before everyone else.

   “Gods,” I mumble, looking at Reiner as he walks with Bertholdt and Annie. “I really hope so, ‘tato-muncher.”

   As if he felt my gaze on him, Reiner turns around and smiles. I return the smile with a scrunch of my nose. Reiner’s eyes glide behind me for a second, returning to me before darting back behind me. I turn around to follow his gaze. 

   Eren. 

   Eren runs straight for us, green cape flaring out behind him as he charges towards the group. Our eyes meet and his pace increases. My hand latches onto Sasha’s sleeve and tugs, “‘Tato! ‘Tato, look!” I laugh, slapping Connie’s shoulder. “Look who it is!”

   Connie and Sasha turn around and I can hear the others turn along with them. Armin and Mikasa greet him first, taking him into their arms and speaking quietly amongst themselves for a moment. When they break away, Eren’s smile widens as he looks over us. 

   “...you’re all here?” he asks quietly, smile slightly fading. “You all joined the Scouts?”

   “Well, yeah,” I laugh, “Why else would we be here- shits ‘nd giggles?”

   Eren rolls his eyes before scanning over us again. “Wait… if you’re all here… That means Jean, Marco, and Annie all joined the Military Police.”

   My heart plummets like a rock into my stomach. That’s right. He wasn’t there for the funeral. He doesn’t know. 

   The remaining section of our group walks up behind Eren- Jean leading them all. Eren turns around and groans. “Not you, too.”

   Jean doesn’t react. His face unreadable and voice flat, he rips the bandage off. “Marco’s dead.”

   “...what?” Eren mumbles, “What did you just… What’d you just say? Did you say Marco died?”

   Jean’s voice stays still as he continues.

   “Seems like not everyone can die a dramatic death.”

   “You don’t think it’s weird?” I laugh, picking up a section of hay and starting back towards the stable. “We know everyone, every thing’s position in the formation except Eren’s- arguably the most volatile and important piece of information to have. That isn’t the least bit confusing to you?”

   Reiner shrugs, taking the hay from my hands. “Dunno… I haven’t really thought about it.”

   I huff and shake my head, stepping in front of him and taking the hay back. “I can carry it,” I mutter, looking at the ridges growing in his face. “And by the look on your face, you have been thinking about it.” I turn around, lifting the hay over the stable door and onto the growing pile just beside my horse. 

   My horse nudges me with his nose, huffing. I smile and rub my hand up and down his nose, “...needy, aren’t we?” I whisper softly. 

   “Ya gonna give him a name?” Reiner asks, patting his hand against the horse’s neck. 

   Peeking down under the horse’s neck, I squint up at him. “You didn’t answer me.”

   Reiner rolls his eyes and walks away, sighing. “You didn’t ask anything.”

   “I asked if you were thinking about why we weren’t being filled in on Eren’s location in the formation.”

   “Technically, you didn’t ask,” he shoots back. 

   My eyes lock with his in an intense stare. “...we really gonna do this right now?” I ask quietly, still petting my horse.

   Reiner sighs and looks away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to my horse, letting my forehead rest against his cheek. Reiner sighs again. The three of us stand in silence- only my horse breaking the silence with occasional huffs and flicks of his tail.

   “...I have been thinking about it,” Reiner finally mumbles. “But… not like you have.”

   Here we go again with him being all cryptic and skittish and avoidant. I am so sick of this game. 

   “Then how have you been thinking about it, Reiner?” I hiss, lifting my head off my horse and looking into his large grey eye. “All the time- just when I think you’re gonna open up to me about what’s going on in that…” I sigh frustratedly, “That… that… stupid, thick, adorable, blond head’a yours you just… you shut me back out again. And it’s so goddamn irritating, Rei,” I admit with a slight squeak in my voice. 

   Slowly, I turn to face him, gaze dropping down to the ground. “...I’ve been… I’ve been so open with you. More open than I have with anyone in my whole life- except, I dunno... Sasha- but I just… It’d be nice to have some’a that returned.”

   I can hear him get closer to me. Gently, his arms wrap around me and tuck me into his chest. I’m swallowed in his embrace as he runs his fingers up and down my back. “...okay,” he whispers, “okay, darling… I’ll… I’ll try and open up to you, okay? I’ll…” he trails off and sighs, tightening his hold on me as he places his chin on the top of my head. 

   “I know how hard it is, and… I… I’m not trying to force it out of you or anything… I just… I want to help you,” I whisper quietly. “And I promise you, Rei...I’m not going anywhere.”

   There’s a coldness in his laugh. It leaves his lips like ice and falls to the floor like daggers. “Thank you, darling. Just…,” Reiner takes my shoulders, pushing us apart. His gold eyes have slightly lost their luster as they peer deep into me. I squirm slightly in his stare, eyebrows furrowing. “You have to understand that there is a lot happening- something... bigger, darling.”

   I blink and tilt my head slightly to the side.  “Did you… did you get another assignment?” I ask quietly, “Something under the table?”

   Reiner is quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between mine. “...yes. Something under the table- from people higher than the Captain.”

   My eyes widen slightly. Is this what’s been weighing on him for so long? That’s why he’s been missing at times? What he’s been trying to tell me? Another assignment that he can’t talk about, even with me-

   Oh gods. 

   I feel like a total ass.

   “Who…?” I ask quietly, taking note of the way he straightens up to scan around us before shrinking back down. 

   Reiner scoots us back, tucking me up against the stable door. “I… I can’t tell you but… you understand that, right, darling?” He asks hopefully, a small lilt to his voice. Gently, his fingers trail my face and a small smile crosses my face. His lips mirror mine. 

   “I understand that, love,” I hum, leaning into his touch. “I do… I do have another question.”

   Reiner smiles wider, lovingly staring down at me. “What is it, darling?”

   Nervous claws at my stomach. 

   I shouldn’t ask this.

   Why? He’s finally being open with me- willing to at least tell me what’s wrong. Shouldn’t I-

   No. There’s something bigger here. Don’t. Ask. 

   “__________?” 

   I swallow my fear and meet his gaze. “...I heard you the night after the first clean-up operation,” I admit quietly, “with Annie and Bertholdt.”

   Reiner’s eyes darken, dropping down and avoiding my gaze. “...how much did you...?”

   “Not much,” I laugh nervously, “Just you guys arguing about telling me… and Annie saying to only tell me when you’re sure of how I’d feel.”

   With a sigh of relief, he closes his eyes and smiles. He quickly presses his lips to my forehead. “Okay, okay… Okay… Sorry, I just… I don’t need t’get... chewed out for that.”   I chuckle softly, “So… that big’a deal, huh?”

   Reiner laughs, “Yes. That big of’a deal.”

   “...so… it’s you, Annie, and Bertholdt,” I mumble, picking at the leather strap running down his chest. “Anyone else that I know?”

   “No, just us three.”

   “Am… am I in danger?” I ask jokingly, “All this secrecy- it makes me wonder.”

   Reiner doesn’t laugh with me. 

   “Rei?” I call, looking up at him. “...am I?”

   His eyes slide down to me, a small smile on his lips. “...stick with me, darling- I’ll keep ya safe.”

   “...what?”

   “There’s a lot at work here, __________,” Reiner sighs, his eyes going hazy for a second as he relives whatever is ‘at work’. Blinking, he focuses back on me. “But I can keep you safe. I’ve been keeping you safe.”

   What does this even mean? Are there people I can’t trust? If that’s true, then what? What am I supposed to do? Be some tiny little doll cowering in fear behind him? I hate being treated like some weak, fragile, defenseless thing. And what if he gets hurt protecting me? What then? What if something goes wrong and he ends up being blamed for something he didn’t do? 

   And what about Sasha? 

   “...what about my sister? What about her? Who’s gonna keep her safe?” I ask, clutching the fabric covering his chest, “If anything happens to Sasha, I…”

   “Nothing’s gonna happen to Sasha,” Reiner hums quietly, “We’re gonna keep her safe.”

   “And Eren? Mikasa? Armin? What about the boys? If any of them get hurt, Rei, I just… I don’t think I could…”

   “__________,” he says firmly, catching my attention. Slowly, my eyes slide up to meet his again. They’re gentle and glowing in the fading sunlight. His hand trails down my face again, leaving a buzzing wake behind it. 

   “You need to trust me.”

   I swallow and nod quickly. “Okay, yes, okay… Okay, you’re right. We… We are all gonna be okay.”

   Reiner chuckles and lets his chin rest on the top of my head as he tucks me into his chest again. 

   “That’s my girl.”

   “Oiii!” I yell, waving a hand over my head. “Ponytail!”

   Eld’s head starts swiveling around, looking for whoever called him. With a gentle kick of my horse, he trots closer. “Eld!” I call again, sliding off the side of my horse. My feet hit the dirt just in front of him as I straighten up, shaking a few stray hairs out of my eyes. “It’s good to see ya again.”

   Eld smiles and chuckles, gesturing down to the emerald green cape around my shoulders. “So you made it.”

  I look down and rub the fabric between my fingers. A smile crosses my face as I look back up to him. “Just like I dreamed I would.”

   “You’re in pretty high spirits,” Oluo scoffs as he walks by with a supply box. Setting it down into a wagon, he huffs and turns to face us. “Considering we’ll all be facing death in a few hours.”

   “Always the charmer, huh?” I mutter quietly, earning a small laugh from Eld. “And if you have t’know, I’m just happy we’re one step closer to going outside the walls…” I smile to myself, imagining the places Armin used to talk about. Fire water, ice hills, saltwater that goes on for so long even the merchants couldn’t drain all the salt from it. 

   I think that’ll be my favorite. ‘Sea’.

   Oluo scoffs again. “Bright-eyed, suicidal recruit… Just don’t get someone else killed, will ya?”

   “What the hell’s that supposed t’mean?” I snap back. 

   Oluo smiles crookedly, realisation splitting his face like a piece of china. “Struck a nerve, huh?,” he laughs, “Better get rid of those if you wanna make it.”

   “Bold talk for someone that’s too insecure to keep his own personality,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I turn my attention back to Eld- who’s gone awfully quiet as the two of us went at it. A blush is back on his cheeks and I can see him fidgeting with his gaze in an effort to mind his own business. 

   “...uhm…” He mumbles as his eyes catch someone walking behind me. “This is Petra!” Eld blurts, tugging a woman by the arm. “The one that checked on you when you were, uh… asleep.”

   “In a coma, more like,” I laugh, dipping my head to the woman. She has ginger hair cut just above her shoulders and soft, kind eyes. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of a deer for some reason. 

   Petra’s eyes suddenly light up as she looks over me again. “I remember you- you’re __________! I didn’t know you had your heart set on the Scouts. Which is surprising… considering how much Eld talks about you.”

   Eld’s face goes even redder. He stands rigidly, eyes fixated on the horizon. 

   ...I think he just went into shock. 

   “Well, thank you,” I hum, giving Petra another smile. “For checking in on me.”

   Petra shakes her head, “It wasn’t any issue at all.”

   I dip my head again and lightly punch Eld’s shoulder. “Hopefully you told her the story of how I kicked your and Oluo’s asses.”

   Petra tilts her head slightly to the side before a wicked smile crosses her lips. “...I don’t think I’ve heard that one, __________. Please, tell me.”

   “Well, I was walking down an alleyway when-”

  “That’s good!” Eld suddenly yelps, “Thank you so much, __________, for stopping by, but the Captain’s calling us!”

   Petra giggles as Eld walks behind her, pushing her by the shoulders. Captain Shortstack Jackass is watching them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. He very obviously didn’t call either of them. “You’ll have to tell me when we get back!” Petra calls. 

   “Of course!” I laugh, watching as Eld goes even redder. Petra waves over his shoulder and I do the same before mounting my horse. I give his neck a gentle pat and urge him forward- back towards the stable. 

  “You... need a name, Horse,” I mutter as we trot past the various wagons and other Scouts getting their horses and gear ready. “All horses have names… I guess.”

   Horse huffs at me. 

   “Well… you’re…” I look down at his coat as we start to pick up speed. It shimmers in the sunlight, revealing the faint speckles of black and grey under his cream-colored coat. “You’re cream and you’ve got freckles. And last I checked, you have grey-” Horse looks over slightly at me, light-brown eyes glistening. “Sorry… brown eyes. And black mane and tail.”

   My eyes flick up, locking onto the figure standing just a few feet in front of my horse. Gripping the reins, I tug back to stop Horse from trampling whoever is in front of me. Instead, I feel myself being shot forward and colliding with the ground. Pain shoots out from my arm, branching out in heated flashes. 

   I roll onto my back and stare up at the clouds as they lazily float by. “Gods…” I mutter to myself, “That sucked.”

   “Told you I’m better at handling horses than you.”

   I sit straight up. My head on a swivel, I look around for the voice. It sounded just like… It couldn’t have been- no. No, I’m just-

   My eyes land on him. Standing just a couple feet away, with a green Scouts cape on over his shoulders and ODM gear strapped on. He laughs, walking closer and shaking his head. “Jeez, __________, you’ll really get yourself killed if you keep trying to keep up with me.”

   “Freckles?” I whisper.

   Marco smiles and laughs again, “Really hit your head hard, didn’t you?”

   “Freckles?” I whisper again, reaching out to touch him.

   This isn’t real. It can’t be real. He’s dead. Bit in half. Died alone. Left in the sun to rot for days. He’s dead. 

   “Ah, jeez, you really did hit your head hard,” Marco mumbles, crouching down beside me. “We gotta get you to Sasha. She’s got some experience with injuries, doesn’t she…? And I won’t even tell Reiner! It’ll just be between us, okay?” He asks, worriedly scanning my face. 

   “Freckles, you… You… You aren’t here.”

   “What are ya talkin’ about? I’m right here, remember? We were practicing horseback riding and maneuvering. Don’t you remember the bet we had?”

   Wait a moment.

   This was real.

   This… this happened already, why am I…?

   “...it was my haul from the Commandant’s office,” I whisper, “The… the fountain pen. You’d… you’d take it if I couldn’t pull off a sharp turn and activate my ODM gear while jumping off my horse.”

   Tears start to cloud my vision as I stare up at him. “You aren’t really here,” I croak, “Are you?”

   Marco shakes his head.

   “...I miss you, Freckles,” I smile, tears slipping down my face as I look up at him. My hand brushes through his cheek- like he was a colored mist- but his smile remains. “Gods, I miss you.”

   “You’ll see us again.”

   I nod, feeling my tears start down the sides of my face. “...tell Franz and Hanna I said ‘hi’.”

  “I will.”

   “And you… you stay outta trouble, you hear me?” I laugh, tears choking me at the base of my chest. 

   “You’re the one that needs to stay outta trouble.”

   I nod and laugh again, shaking my head.

   “...take… take care’a the others for me, will you?” I nod silently. Marco looks up as Horse trots closer. “It’s time for me to go. Just… close your eyes, okay?”

   My eyes slide closed before voices start to swarm around me. Bleeding into one another, it makes it so damned hard to hear what anyone is actually saying. All I can do is feel. 

   And someone’s got me by the shoulders, shaking me pretty damned hard. 

   I open my eyes to see familiar faces. “...I’ve got to stop waking up to you guys looking down at me like I’ve died.”

   The four of them sigh. 

   “If you die because of a stupid horse incident, I’ll never forgive you,” Jean mutters, getting to his feet and walking away. I can hear him muttering about ‘how stupid’ of a funeral that would be. 

   “What?” I laugh, wincing at the pain shooting from above my left eye. My fingers graze the spot- only to pull away with a scarlet coloring. 

   Ah, shit. 

   “So,” Reiner grumbles, scooping me off the ground effortlessly. “You and your horse have a bit of an issue?”

   I scoff, curling into myself as my head starts to pound. 

   “No?” He asks as we walk towards the castle. “Then what the Hell kind of stunt were you tryin’a pull?”

   “I-,” I stop and groan, clutching my temples as they begin to sear. “I… I thought… I thought I saw someone.”

   Reiner looks down at me as he pushes the castle door open with his back. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes flicking over every inch of me. It’s the same damn look as every other time I’ve gotten hurt. Which… arguably… is a lot of times. 

   The ODM incident where I almost cracked my skull open on a tree branch. 

   The time I slipped and fell in the bathroom. 

   The sparring training where I cracked three of my ribs. And my arm. And dislocated my shoulder. All because I wouldn’t yield.

   The rooftop. 

   The grocery store. 

   Various little minor accidents scattered throughout.  

   And now this.

   We round the corner and he places me onto a bed. I watch as he runs a hand down my face and sticks his head out the hallway to look around before returning to my side. Reiner sighs. “What am I gonna do with you?”

   “Love me,” I hum, closing my eyes slightly as the pain throbs and squirms beneath my skin. “Unconditionally.”

   “Gods,” he mutters, scooting closer. “I probably will.”

  “Probably?” I ask quietly. “Not ‘most definitely’?”

   A deep sigh passes his lips. It rumbles in his chest like thunder. Calming, soothing, gentle thunder. Memories of the forest running to find shelter as another storm took us by surprise. Bare feet padding the grass. Clothes sticking to our skins. Hair plastered to our faces- much like our smiles. Wiping her face as she ducks behind my arm. Telling her that the forest was telling the sky a joke, that the thunder was the sky’s laughter. Watching her peek out to watch the forest and sky talk, laughing as she swears she heard the punchline. 

   Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   “Hey,” Rei mutters, shaking my arm slightly. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet.”

   “...sorry,” I mumble, opening my eyes and letting them glide to his spot beside me. “Where is she-”

  The door slams open. Sasha- with eyes wide and clutching medical supplies to her chest- pants in the doorway. “Did I make it?” She asks wearily. 

   “Did…,” I trail off, sitting up to look at her. “Did you think I died?”

   Sasha shakes her head, kicking the door closed just as Connie and Jean try to walk in behind her. “No,” she mutters. Plopping down beside me, she looks over me. “Just thought maybe you’d passed out.”

   “Check my eyes,” I remind her. Sasha nods and leans in, forcing open my eyes with her fingers. 

   “...your eye-holes seem to be fine.”

   “...my pupils?”

   “Eye-holes. Same thing.”

   I know Sasha’s joking but by the look on Reiner’s face, he does not.

   “She’s only kidding, love,” I whisper as I take his hand. “She knows the basics.”

   “Yep,” Sasha agrees, digging through the pile of medical supplies she brought in. “And you don’t have a concussion- and that thing on your head doesn’t need stitches- it should heal in a week or so... so you’re good to go after I clean it… ha!” She snatches a bottle of saline and a bandage. “You’ll be all good in no time, __________. Trust me.”

   I’m the one that taught her. Why don’t I trust her?

   “You awake?”

   I focus back in on the now. The present. My surroundings. 

   Scattered trees and hills to the right. Denser trees on my left. Two horses trailing behind me. No flares from either direction. Reiner just in front of me. 

   “Always am.”

   “Good.” He starts to pull back on his horse, levelling off with me. “How’s your head?”

   Instinctively, I reach up and graze the bandage. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “Good.”

   “...are you okay?” I ask, looking over at him. His skin is pale and flushed pink with a slight tinge to his ears. “Here. Drink some.” Unbuckling my flask, I hand it to him. 

   ...and he downs the entire thing before handing it back to me. 

   “Rei, are you sick?”

   “No, I just-”

   “Well, love, you look like you’re either about to shit yourself or vomit,” I laugh worriedly, “Are you sure?”

   “__________, listen, I…,” he sighs and looks away. He’s even more red now. 

   I nudge him with my elbow. “I’m listening.” I smirk, stirrupping Horse again. My eyes turn to the horizon, scanning for any flares or anything that approaches us.

   Reiner returns my smile and sighs shakily. “I wanna-”

   Something appears in the distance. “What is that?” I mumble, staring at the thing. “Do you see it?” I point. “That.”

    Reiner looks at the thing, squinting. “I… I can’t tell.”

   “Should we fire a flare off?” I ask, reaching to my saddlebag. “Just in case?”

   “Just… hang on-”

   He stops just as the thing changes form, moving closer towards us and faster. 

   It takes shape as it grows. Fourteen meters, blonde hair. 

   Female body type.

   My hands move on their own- throwing the canister into the gun, lifting it straight up, and firing. Red smoke fires out from the gun into the clouds. “Rei, we have to move!” I yell, turning the horses in towards the center of the formation. 

   I look over my shoulder, watching the two horses trail after Reiner. He stays going forward, heading right for it with glazed eyes. “Reiner!”

   My eyes follow his gaze as I bring Horse to a stop. They land on the Female Titan, who snatches something from mid-air and dropkicks it. Blood trails after the broken body and I watch ODM wires disconnect from the Female Titan’s body- following the body. 

   It’s… is it like Eren? A person inside it?

   “Reiner!” I scream again. 

   It gets his attention. Snapping out of his daze, Reiner makes a sharp turn. 

   As he gets closer, I press my heels into Horse’s sides. “Ha!”

   Footsteps follow after us, thundering and quivering the very organs inside of me. My breath catches in my lungs as I feel it- her- getting closer. Gods. Gods, please. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

   Something flashes at my side. With trembling force, a foot lands beside me- crushing one of the horses before it could even make a sound. 

   We’re going to die. Right now, we are going to die. 

   I wince, waiting for her to reach down and crush me in her hand. Reiner yells something but it’s lost in the frantic whinnies of our horses, the pounding of my heart, the panting of my lungs. When it reaches me, it’s blurred together like the colors in my eyes.

   ‘I’ve gotten hurt’ is what it sounds like. 

   Gods, please. Spare us.

   My fists clutch the reins as I look up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fourteen meters. This is what will kill me. 

   The Female Titan’s other foot collides with the earth beside me. All at once, sounds and colors and shapes retract into their determined forms. Everything flushes back into focus as the Female Titan takes another step away from us. I watch as she continues sprinting towards the center- leaving us in her wake. Her head turns to look over her shoulder before she presses forward. 

   Right to Armin.

   “Rei!” I yell, sticking Horse again. “She’s gonna hit Armin! She’s headed right for him!” 

   “C’mon!” He yells back, appearing at my side.

   “This is the job we chose, right?” Jean snaps, “So lend me a hand!” 

   The rest of us are silent. Only hoofbeats and footsteps resound around us. Silently, Armin pulls his hood up over his head. “...pull your hoods up. Over your heads- far down enough so she can’t see your face.”

   “You’re thinking she won’t kill anyone that could be Eren,” Reiner mutters, tugging his hood up over his head. “...that’s a nice, but small, consolation… Let’s hope she has bad eyes, too.”

   Jean shakes his head, laughing. “I was always creeped out the way you used to hang around Eren so much,” he mutters as he pulls his hood up. “But I always knew you were capable.”

  “...‘creeped out’ is a little harsh but thanks,” Armin mumbles.

   Feeling the three pairs of eyes on me, I tug my hood up as well. “...I always knew I’d die next to you three bastards.”

  “Well. If we don’t,” Reiner chuckles, “We’ll throw a big party ‘nd get married.”

  “Oh yeah,” I scoff, pulling my swords out from their holsters. “We’ll have a big ol’ buffet ‘nd everything. I’ll even have a live band play for us.”

   “You two lovebirds over there still squawking?” Jean barks, leaning forward to glare at us. 

   “Will you shut up for a minute?” Reiner shoots back, “I’m… Kinda doin’ something.”

   “You can ‘kinda do something’ after this!” Jean yells, “We’re not dying today.”

   “Fine!” I snap, “I’m not spending my last moments fighting with you two morons! Let’s just do this. Delay her as long as we can- by any means necessary. Got it?!”

   The three grunt in agreement. “Jean, go to her left,” Reiner starts, “Armin, you go to her right. __________, you-”

   “I’m going with Armin!” I whip my reins and follow after Armin as he heads to the Female Titan’s right hand side. 

   We level off just behind her. “She’s much slower than when she attacked me!” Armin comments, “If we’re going to do this, it has to be now!”

   “Wait for Jean!” I yell, “He’s the best out of us with ODM gear. If he can get a good angle on her, it’ll be us being his support!” 

   A flash shoots out, launching into the Female Titan’s leg. Jean flies in behind it with his swords readied. The Titan crouches down and spins- flinging Jean. Armin and I get to our feet and stand on our horses’ backs. As my wires stick into the Female Titan’s leg, I give Horse a tap of my heel that sends him running away from the Titan. 

   Something swipes just under my legs. Everything around me slows as I watch the Titan’s hand bat Armin’s horse out from underneath him. His name leaves my lips the same way it did when Shiganshina fell. Breathless. Screeching. Desperate. “Armin!”

   “__________!” Reiner’s voice carries out over my own. 

   Before I can do anything, I feel something crack against my back. I’m pushed forward- colliding with the earth and rolling for a few feet. Landing on my back, I stare up in a daze at the clouds. 

   Aching pain crawls through my veins- igniting my muscles in throbbing, squeezing pain. My back arches as I take long, hard breaths to stop my heart from pounding in my ears. It does nothing but amplify the sound as I feel my lungs burn and the cages around them scream in agony. 

   Broken ribs. At least a few on each side. 

   Certain slices and patches of my skin burn from the contact with the ground. Minor scratches, bruises, friction burns.

   I’ll live. If she doesn’t finish me off. 

   Time begins to speed up again- her footsteps not taking so long to hit the ground as they get closer. Clouds seem to flurry past and my heartbeat begins to race once more. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I push myself to my feet, feeling every ache, every pain, every burn a million times over. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I’m not done yet. 

   The Female Titan tightens her fist, preparing to swing backwards at Jean. Breaking out into a sprint, I click my triggers and shoot my wires into the ground, allowing me to run faster. A blur of gold and green starts towards the Titan as I do- catching me attention so I stutter and stop. 

   Reiner. 

   Teeth gritted, eyes blazing, blades glinting.   He’s going for her nape.

   Armin’s yelling something. The Titan stays completely still as he continues screaming. 

   And then she snaps. 

   She catches Reiner’s body in her hand. 

   My heart stops. Blood stops. Lungs stop. 

   Everything. 

   Stops.

   “...no.” 

   Chills run down my spine- dull and weak. Nothing like adrenaline. 

   Fear.

   “No… no.”

   I shake my head, watching as Reiner’s body disappears in her grasp. 

   Someone grabs my waist, tugs me away. “No!” I scream, thrashing around as everything starts to move again. “No!” 

   “__________!” Jean yells, pulling me away. “We have to go!” 

   A blur of metal spins out from her grip, severing her fingers off from the base of her palm. Reiner pushes out and around her back. Grabbing Armin, he sprints away from her and towards us. 

   The four of us break out into a sprint as she stares down at her palm. She gets to her feet and runs away from us- her hand still steaming. 

   Something breaks inside of me. Tears start running down my face as Reiner sidles up next to me. Armin- bleeding from his forehead- is in his arms. Titan blood evaporates off of Reiner’s hair and shoulders as he looks down at me. “We’ll be okay! She won’t eat us unless she’s a cannibal! We-”

   I cut him off, punching his shoulder as hard as I can. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again, Reiner Braun!” I snap, furiously wiping the tears rolling down my face. “I swear on the walls, I… I will kill you myself if you do, do you hear me?! You scared the shit outta me! I… I thought I lost you.”

   Reiner laughs breathlessly. “I told you, darling. We haven’t gotten married, yet. I can’t die until that happens.”

   “We aren’t leaving anyone behind,” I snap, tightening Armin’s bandages. “None of that, you hear me?”

   “We might not have a choice,” Armin mutters, “If we all stay behind, we might all-”

   “I said no!” 

   The three of us go silent as Jean continues whistling for his horse. 

   But the question still hangs in the air. 

   Who’s going to stay behind?

   There’s only one horse- there’s four of us. If somehow one of us gets our horse back, we’ll be able to get out of here but until then… We’re stranded in Titan country without a means of escape. 

   “We have to talk about it,” Reiner says quietly. 

   “No,” I get to my feet and shake my head. “No. We don’t.”

   “__________-”

  I hold up a hand to stop him, “Don’t.” Turning to Jean, I gesture to his bag. “You have an emergency flare, yeah?”

   Jean nods and gets it out, loading it into his gun. Shooting it into the sky, purple smoke trails up from our location. 

   It’s a long shot, but they might get the message. 

   “We can wait three more minutes,” Reiner says firmly. “During then, we’ll decide who’s gonna-”

  “I’ll stay.” My head snaps to Armin. “Just get a message to the command section- to Commander Erwin, if you can.”

   “I’m staying, too, then.”

   “__________, no-” Reiner starts. 

   “I don’t want to hear it, Rei,” I mumble, “Please. I don’t… I don’t want to hear it but look. We’re both injured. Armin’s got a possible concussion and he’s bleeding. I’ve broken half a dozen ribs and I’ve got more bruises than I know what to do with. If anyone’s staying it’s-”

   “Neither of you,” Jean laughs, “Someone’s coming this way with three horses.” The three of us look over to him as he shades his face from the sun. “I think it’s… It looks like… Christa!”

   “Guys!” Christa’s dainty voice rings out as she approaches, “Are you okay?!”

   I huff a laugh, “Define ‘okay’, blondie!” 

   “If __________’s still cracking jokes, she’s still alive, right?” Christa laughs, coming to a stop just in front of us. The three horses surrounding her skid to a stop. 

   Horse trots up to me, nudging me with his nose. “Hey there, Horse,” I mutter, pressing my head against his. “Ya miss me?”

   “What happened to you guys?” Christa asks as she looks over me. “You look awful.”

  “Aw, gee, thanks, blondie,” I giggle, “I feel awful.”

   Christa’s soft face tightens slightly in concern. “...you’re sure you’ll be okay riding alone? Your horse… I dunno his name… but he seems to run alongside me pretty well- even without a harness.”

   “Yeah, that’s him, alright,” I mumble, rubbing Horse’s nose. “But I think I’ll be alright.”

   “...I’m with Christa,” Jean says warily, “You broke six ribs.”

   “What?!” Christa screeches. “Six?! No, ma’am! You’re riding with me or with Jean! Six ribs- what were you thinking?!”

   I shrug. “I’ve done worse.”

   “Worse?!” 

   Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

   Christa sighs, pinching her eyes closed. “Fine. The past is the past. I can’t change it. But you- right now- are going to ride with Jean or me. Pick one.”

   “Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumble with a smirk. “I’ll ride with you. Give the boys a little show, how ‘bout that?”

   Christa turns a light shade of pink as Reiner helps me sit on top of Christa’s horse. “You behave,” Reiner mutters with a stern look. 

   But I can see it. 

   A little mischievous smirk plays his lips as he pulls away. 

   “Yes sir,” I coo, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

   The four of us start off towards the center. “What’s your horse’s name?” Christa asks. “He really seems to like you. Before, I couldn’t get him to hold still- then, when I said your name, he calmed down and followed us perfectly fine.”

   “...I just call him Horse.”

   “...oh…”

   I sigh and turn around to watch as Horse gallops. Cream-colored coat hiding thick muscles that twitch and writhe. Dots- freckles- that spatter his coat. His black mane whips about in the wind. 

   “Freckles,” I say quietly. 

   “What?”

   “Freckles. That’s his name.”

   I groan, letting my head fall back as my legs swing off the tree branch. “Rei, we’ve been sitting here for hours and you haven’t said a word to me,” my lip juts out in a pout, “Please talk to me.”

   Reiner grumbles under his breath. His arms cross over his chest as he sits on the farest end of the tree branch away from me. 

   “Baby,” I whine, “you aren’t still mad at me for-”

   “Yes, I’m still mad at you for being a tease. And we’ve been out here an hour. Hour and a half, tops.”

   “Tch,” I groan again, “Baby, it was just a joke. I didn’t mean to drop my ring.” I hold my hand out in the sun to look at my moonstone ring as it glistens. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

   “...you dropped it three times before we got up here.”

  “I would never do anything to tease you.” Reiner raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes. “On a mission.”

   Rei’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “...you really didn’t mean to?”

   “Of course not, baby,” I coo softly. “Not on a mission.”

   Reiner sighs and rolls his eyes before getting to his feet. Wordlessly, he plops down beside me and lays his hand over mine on the branch. “You only call me ‘baby’ when you’re guilty,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. “...so I forgive you.”

   “Oh good, you caught on,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

   “Easy, there, girl,” he huffs, “you’re still on thin ice.”

  “You can’t stay mad at me,” I turn to face him and flash him a face-splitting smile. “I’m your darling.”

   “...you’re right,” Rei laughs softly. “I could never.”

   The two of us fall into a comfortable- buzzing with adrenaline but still comfortable- silence. I lean forward to look at the Titans gathered at the base of our tree, clawing and gripping the bark in an attempt to get to us. Hungrily, they salivate and stare up at us with glazed eyes.

   The Female Titan. Why is she doing what she was? If she’s human, wouldn’t she want the walls to remain? They keep us safe for the time being. The outside world isn’t ready for us to break down our walls. And if she does want the walls gone, why? 

   And who is she?

   “...are you listening?”

   “Hm?” I ask, leaning back. “No, I’m sorry, I was just…,” my eyes flick down to the Titans, “...lost in thought.”

   “I was just asking how your sides are.”

   My fingers rub against my sides. They aren’t sore, they don’t hurt. I’ve always healed fast but knowing how long it’s supposed to take to heal sometimes, it’s… a little disconcerting. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “...you’re better already?”

   I shrug, “It could just be adrenaline. Or maybe they weren’t as badly broken as we thought they were. Bruising and breaks are really similar…”

   Reiner hums in acknowledgment. “As long as you feel okay. When we get back, I’m still getting you checked out.”

   “Yes sir.”

   I lean over the side of the branch to see the Titans again. “It’s strange that we weren’t directed around the forest.” I comment quietly, leaning over more before my ODM wire locks into place.

   “...Iyeah,” Reiner mutters, “Why wouldn’t we just go around?”

   “I dunno,” I strain, slightly jiggling the wire a bit. “But do you think it was on purpose?”

   “It’s Commander Erwin,” Rei chuckles, “Of course it was.”

   “That’s true… I just… It’s so hard for us to see threats coming in,” I grip the wire and tug harder. “So why send them in?”

   “Assuming he knows of the right flank casualties, we should’ve retreated a long time ago,” he mutters, “But we’re here and the center flank is somewhere in the trees.”

   “Which is also weird, right?” I ask, yanking on the wire even harder. “I mean, if we are gonna go in, why not-”

   The wire snaps out of the branch. The force of me pulling sends me over the edge of the branch. I watch as the wire extends rapidly- reeling me down towards the Titans’ grasps. Reiner runs to the end, reaching out to grab my hand. 

   But it’s too late. 

   A hand wraps around my body and pulls, unlatching my ODM wire from the tree. It starts to tighten as it turns me around to face it. My eyes lock onto it and I scream, thrashing around wildly. My arms are pinned in its hold- trapped against the steel of my ODM blade holsters and the clammy flesh wrapped around me. 

   Another Titan stares at me hungrily. As I look at it, red light starts to pour from its eyes like fog. Without warning, it lunges. I wince and duck away- waiting to be engulfed in moist darkness. 

   It doesn’t come. It’s replaced with an unearthly howl of pain and the sound of tearing flesh. 

   The grip around me falls away and as I’m spun in a free-fall, I catch glimpses of the scene above me. Red fog pours from the Titans’ eyes as they all latch onto the Titan that grabbed me. Bite by bite, they tear into the searing flesh of the Titan and devour the steaming chunks of bleeding meat. 

   They’re… eating it. 

   The red fog. 

   It was real. 

   My body stops, swinging up before I hit the forest floor. As we land on another branch, Reiner hugs me to his body tightly. “You scared the shit out of me,” he says raggedly. I feel tears drip onto my shoulder. But I don’t look at him- even as he pulls away, gripping my shoulders. 

   My eyes are focused on the fog swirling through the bodies of the Titans.

   What the Hell is it? 

   Why does it keep following me?

   Why does it keep saving me?

   “...__________!”

   I’m pulled back into my body- away from the grasping hands of the Titans that force muscles and tendons and organs down their throats. Blankly, I stare at Reiner. “What happened?” he asks quietly, looking over his shoulder at the Titans. “Are you-”

   A scream rips out of my throat as I look down at my hands. My fingers start to rake through my skin, clawing for the source of the red fog. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get. It. Out. 

   Reiner’s hands fumble with mine as they try to stop me from continuing the hurried slicing of my skin. “Darling, darling,” he says calmly as he grabs my wrists, “Darling, hey, look at me. Look at me.”

   Wildly, my eyes fly around my surroundings. 

   Get it out. Red fog. Red fog. I have to get it out. I have to find it.

   Red fog. I have to get it out. 

   Red fog. 

   “__________!” Reiner snaps, shaking me by my wrists, “Look at me!”

   My gaze settles on him but I can feel myself twitching and writhing in place. 

   Red fog. 

   Get it out. I have to get it out. 

   “...you’re okay,” he mumurs, “You’re okay now, okay, darling? You’re safe.”

   Tears burst from my eyes, leaking down my face as I roll my hands around from my wrists. Trembling violently, my body falls to the floor. Reiner catches me before I fall, scooping me up under my arms and holding me to him. 

   “There’s something... inside of me,” I strain, keeping down the screams wanting to claw their way out. My nails rake his back- threatening to rip through the fabric. “There is... something inside of me, Rei. I don’t know what it is. And I’m so scared, Rei. I just… I don’t… I don’t understand it. I… I don’t know... what it is. There’s… There’s something inside of me, Reiner, please! Please, Rei! Take it out! Get it out of me!”

WHEW 

a doozy like i said. if you made it this far, i am so proud of you. my short attention span could literally never. as always thank you so much for reading and i hope to hear your thoughts and comments! 

[johnnys-green-pen]

Random E! Thoughts: S3E13 - Understanding

Urban landscapes in the rain have always been one of my favorite things, but vintage urban landscapes in the rain are even better. I love the way the wetness shows up on old film.

This is Not the same guitar as the one Johnny originally bought. It’s a steel string, not a nylon string, and they actually taped over the logo on the headstock… which annoys me, because IDing that kind of thing is fun. 

The guitar playing was overdubbed. I think the whole scene was, but I’m more certain about the guitar. 

Also, Johnny’s severely underselling his guitar playing; the lil’ snipped he played back in S2 may have been basic, but it’s actually not THAT easy to pull off without some guitar skills, I can tell you that from experience. 

Let’s appreciate that Johnny did the exact opposite of the thing Cap wanted him to do.

Ah, I love me some Johnny Logic - though “I can’t justify settling for a bad deal but I can justify gifting something to a friend” is pretty sound reasoning as far as his usual leaps of logic go.

Something about Roy interrupting him with “you happy?” is the absolutely sweetest thing - I think it’s the implication that Johnny’s happiness is where Roy draws the line when it comes to dealing with his bullshit logic.

The horse basically crawling into the crook of Johnny’s arm.

Roy looking between Johnny and the nurse and grimly going “let’s go” even though he clearly knows it’s fucking hopeless.

Dix rattling off the poor woman’s relationship details before Johnny’s even said anything

“nothing except incredible” - cue the unamused Roy face

Dix’s incredibly dry “no kiddin’” when Johnny says his timing’s gotta be just right when asking out that pretty nurse.  

Doctor Brackett siccing Dix on his patient.

The almost-suicide case is tense as fuck and I don’t envy anybody at Rampart there. Holy crap, that’s gotta cause some nightmares.

And Dix still tries to fix everything with a cup of coffee. Talk about consistency. 

But also, I absolutely love the look into record-keeping and data retrieval here; that stuff’s fascinating. Or maybe I’m just a massive sucker for vintage tech, who knows.

That said, I’m side-eyeing them really hard over “let’s take just the Anglo names”. 

That foreshadowing with the radio in the lady’s house was pretty skillfully done. 

Getting on the poor nurse’s nerves for half an hour may not have been the best idea of all times, but at least Johnny seems to pretty readily accept that she’s not interested in dating him.

Ah, Johnny. Not even two guns pointed at him will keep that guy from talking back. Either he had the robbers and their unwillingness to deal with a murder charge all figured out already and puts a whole lot of trust in his own judgement, or dude’s just absolutely fearless even in situations where he can’t just rely on his own skills and the rest of the crew having his back. 

Also, Johnny’s rust-spotted old pocket knife and the headcanon potential of that thing.

Johnny being a lot more bothered by people messing up his drug box than by being held at gunpoint like the definitely neurotypical paramedic he is.

He does sound a little subdued on the phone with Rampart, though. 

Roy and the other bank robber both having the same “what the Fuck” reaction to Johnny’s de-stressing practice session.

I don’t know when exactly Johnny hatched his plan, or if he knew where he was going with it originally, but I’m positive he had it all figured out by the time Roy suggests they lay down their guns - watch how Johnny’s head snaps up at Roy and that little eyes-darting-lips-licking moment because he knows this might ruin his entire plan. I think that’s the closest he gets to being genuinely scared during that rescue.

Cursed thought of the day: Johnny would be really good at improv. He’s a quick, creative thinker, and his brain seems to operate on a “yes, and...” system anyway.

[nehswritesstuffs]

The Thick of UNIT - Part LVI

...and so it begins...

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

The polling places haven’t been closed for more than twelve hours and Kate has already gotten a summons... [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU] 

A trip into Switzerland was more stressful than a lot of people would let on, Kate decided. For one: this particular instance was much more rushed than what any tourist would likely experience, let alone regular—though still frantic—people wasting the scenery and cosmopolitan culture of a Geneva outing on something as dull as business. She had gotten the call in the dead of night, waking up not only herself, but the rest of her family as well as they sat around the television set in the family room, passed out in their respective spots as they attempted to stay up and see the votes results as they started to come in. Malcolm had jolted completely upright from his spot using her lap as a pillow, Conall had fallen off the arm chair, and Fiona roused from being slumped over on the coffee table, napping nearly atop her laptop computer. Their stomachs dropped when they saw the caller ID: Geneva.

Fuck.

There was no time to vocalize any foul language, however—she had answered immediately. “Fuck, lov—!” Malcolm got her free hand covering his mouth—shut the fuck up.

“Stewart speaking.”

“I take it you’ve been watching the reports.” She had froze for just a tic too long. “Report to HQ at oh-nine-hundred hours. Local time.”

No introduction, no explanation, no anything; just orders.

Shit in a shovel—she had been summoned to UNIT’s Geneva HQ.

Thus started a panicked rush to get everything in place for her to head over to Switzerland for maybe one day, maybe four—who the fuck knew? She was bleary-eyed and completely knackered after no more additional sleep by the time Malcolm drove them back into the elevated carpark for the Mainframe before the sun rose, an email coming through on her mobile as they reached the roof.

“What the absolute hell is going on?” It was Bambera, and she did not have to be there in person to let it be known that she was livid.

A bit of attempting a slight bit of damage control later (because most people, yes, would understandably flip the fuck out if their boss arrived to work sixteen hours early after a potentially life-changing national vote), Kate stepped onto a plane, accompanied by a small detail. Malcolm had wanted to come along, be there for her when she needed to duck into a cupboard and get some frustration out, yet she forbade it—who else would she trust to run the show if she was detained for a week or more? Instead it was her son, along with Aparajita, an Osgood, Ji-Yu, and Dr. Shaw; with most of her departments and the Tripartite being represented, she was at least confident with the image she was presenting. Kate Stewart was taking this summons very seriously.

For two: there were not necessarily that many people that could go and say they were being dragged to Switzerland to be bollocked, of all things.

“I don’t like this, Mum,” Gordon frowned. He was in his dress kit, looking as though he was about ready to pass out in fear. UNIT Headquarters was positively swarming with soldiers, many armed to the teeth, making it clear that it was not just a bunch of international diplomats and scientists at-play. Ji-Yu and Osgood had wandered off in the crowd, leaving the four to linger by the lobby wall while waiting for them to catch up. “This is not sitting well.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Aparajita scowled. She was texting furiously on her mobile, trying to give direction to Shaw the Lesser from a distance so that the tit didn’t commit suicide-by-Tucker. “If this summons were any clearer, we would have been told to bring a belt or cane of our choosing with which to beat us.”

“It’s not that bad,” Gordon claimed. He looked at Kate, whose deadpan expression was all he needed. “It is that bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s very, very bad,” Dr. Shaw affirmed. “In my experience, it should be the grand retirements you get called to the central command for, not because some children got pissy over having the same passports as the French.” She leaned against the wall and shrugged as indifferently as possible. “We’re not here for cake and party crackers, that’s for certain.”

Stomach dropping, Kate could feel the stares of the other higher-ranking UNIT members wandering around, going about their business. It was likely that they were going to all reconvene later, after her admonishment for something that she had no control over whatsoever, and pick up the pieces that she was about to be forced to drop. All thirty-one other Mainframe Heads were likely off in a conference room somewhere, starting a betting pool over the what, when, where, and how of her eventual demise. Even amongst Old Guard, not many had as much riding on the meeting as she did… shit,  even Gordon had a chance of escaping this alive, career intact after a transfer, but her…? Everything she ever was or would be depended on it.

“Sorry about that,” Ji-Yu said as she and Osgood approached the group again. “I saw one of my old classmates from uni and needed to introduce Osgood to him—whiz at quantum mechanics. He’s working over in Tanja at the moment; they're here to answer for the Referendum as well.”

“Something tells me that Tanja’s fate and ours are going to be two completely different things,” Kate reminded her. She then took a calming breath—they could do this. “Are we ready?”

“If I were any more ready, I’d’ve taken up nicotine patches in lieu of smoking,” Aparajita quipped. Kate rolled her eyes and began the walk over towards their designated bollocking-session. It was too early, too soon after the vote, and too knee-jerk a reaction, in her opinion. Let the chips finish falling before allowing the gulls to come over and raid the bounty.

The conference room they were ushered into was hushed and grim, a distinct difference from the last time Kate was there. The only other summons she had for this particular chamber, it was for her appointment to head Mainframe UK. Now… it was grim, with a distinct chill in the air that had been absent before. A collection of forty-three varying policy-makers and career soldiers were already there, preparing for the session in their tiered seating, some staring as the newcomers walked into the room. The group from Mainframe UK sat down at the tables opposite their jury and judges, prepared for the worst.

“Everyone seems so serious,” Kate said, her tone attempting to lighten the mood slightly. General Bambera, who was at the front of the group, frowned grimly.

“Everyone merely knows the implications that have been raised with the recent vote,” she replied. She glanced to her right, where a sour-faced man was shuffling through some papers. “Mister Secretary?”

“Brigadier-Director Stewart, we cannot overlook this situation we have staring back at us from the United Kingdom,” he stated. “Polling numbers are coming in that are tipping the scale towards a Leave vote. The best-case scenario is going to be that there is a referendum of the referendum, nullifying and making this whole fuss moot before any motion was officially filed.”

“…and none of us here are fool enough to think that would ever be the case,” Kate said calmly. So much for bureaucratic rigmarole to slosh through first before getting to the meat and potatoes of the occasion. “You make it sound as though I directly told people to vote Leave in order to spite everything we've fought so hard to build… to spite everything my father poured his soul into in lieu of paying attention to me as a child.”

“You don’t need to tell me your family history,” the Secretary said. “You Lethbridge-Stewarts are sneaky, popping up when I least expect them.” His attention turned towards Gordon, whom he considered carefully. “Another one? You are like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“My son is not the concern here, but the situation we have found ourselves in,” Kate said, attempting to railroad the conversation back. “You summoned me because you have a plan, or a request for a plan, or something for us over at Mainframe UK. I have complied, arrived at short-notice, and brought along representatives from much of my staff. What do you have, Mister Secretary?”

“What I have is your husband’s file,” the Secretary said, voice nearly menacing. He picked up the manila folder and jabbed it towards her before bringing it back towards him and opening it up. “Worked in Whitehall for years—three different Prime Ministers—and he seemingly operated independently of them… almost giving some orders of his own.”

“The Government is different now… the Opposition is different… he would not have the same impact as before.”

“That does not change the fact that he is a former Whitehall insider with access to many of the people who are either making decisions, or the people who have access to the people making decisions,” a woman in a back row added. “Why is Lieutenant-Colonel Tucker not here?”

“He is my second-in-command,” Kate said. “Mainframe personnel recognize him as a competent and capable substitute in my absence. He has handled multiple emergencies in my stead when I have not been available.”

“…and where were you during these emergencies?”

“We thought she was dead at least one of the times, so it’s not like she was ignoring her duty,” Aparajita said firmly. The woman looked at her, brow furrowing.

“…and who are you…?”

“Khan—I’ve been working as Tucker’s assistant for the past six years, three years with his predecessor prior to that. I know what he is capable of in a way that Director Stewart is unable to grasp due to the nature of her relationships with him. He is precisely where he belongs right now, and not because he has had to fill in for our Director’s inequities. If she has any then they are left at home. I am here because I am his second-in-command; I might not be the correct person to handle the Mainframe in her entirety, but I am more than qualified to be his additional eyes and ears in front of a council of stuffed shirts and washed-up crossing guards.”

Their jury took note, a few murmuring with one another. Few of them appreciated Aparajita’s sharp tongue, though they could not argue against her defense of her bosses, not with how clear and confidently she spoke.

“Do the rest of you echo this sentiment?” the woman asked.

“Mister Tucker is a bit unorthodox, but a professional all the same,” Osgood replied. “His leadership skills are invaluable when Director Stewart is unavailable.”

“Agreed,” Gordon echoed.

“I’ve been under the command of many different men and women,” Ji-Yu added, “and Tucker and Stewart are two of the best. Whatever brought them to the decision for him to remain at the Mainframe is sound enough reasoning for me.”

“Solid logic as any,” Bambera said.

“You also are predisposed to say so,” the Secretary replied. He frowned at the guests, though exhaled in irritation. “What about you, Dr. Shaw? Do you have a glowing review of this literal felon as well?”

“A felon…?” The scientist feigned shock and leaned forward so she could look down the table at Kate. “Living a bit on the wild side, are we?”

“Not now, Dr. Shaw…”

“Tucker is the reason I’m back at the Mainframe,” the older woman said, returning her attention to the council before them. “If you have an issue with his leadership roles, then you should have thought of that before authorizing his hiring into a role that involved… well, precisely that.”

A couple snickers came from the interrogators and the Secretary scowled. “Then I guess, as of this moment, we have little choice for the time being but to deal with the matter at-hand best we can; it still does not change the fact we need to deploy Tucker to Whitehall in order to influence policy, lest we need to upgrade the Ireland Auxiliary to the area’s Mainframe."

“Tucker has been in active political games against most of the people currently within Whitehall,” Kate reminded them. She kept a mask of calm, not wanting to betray the fact she was absolutely mortified at the idea of UNIT pulling the entire Mainframe out of the UK, where they were needed. It was not as though Ireland was without want, but their auxiliary more than handled the island, where as the Mainframe itself… it was simply imperative it stayed put for more reasons than her vanity. “I doubt they’d be willing to have a friendly chat with him when the last time they spoke, he threatened to eviscerate them and spread their entrails across several ridings should a policy go awry.”

“I thought you said he was a professional,” another military woman said. “Professionals don’t threaten violence like that.”

“Have you ever tried getting a politician to get their head out of their own arse for long enough to function properly?” Kate posited. “It occasionally takes some strong language and vivid details in regards to the consequences, let alone making it clear there might be consequences at all. Threats can be the same as love letters in that line of work.”

“As someone who used to deal with some of their lot as their incompetence was ripening,” Dr. Shaw added, “the Brigadier-Director is being kind in her assessment.”

“So then he cannot aide UNIT in gaining favorable positions within Brexit negotiations?”

“We’ll be lucky if he can make it in past the Number 10 cat, let alone to anyone with a position that can lead to policy molding,” Kate said. “The crowd in power has no fealty to, nor fear of, him like other Governments did.”

“Pity.” The Secretary closed the file folder in irritation. “Then why, pray tell, did we authorize commuting a decades-long prison sentence, allowing him to walk free with the assumption that he would help keep the British government in line?”

“Sir,” Aparajita interrupted, “that was done under a coalition government, completely different than the one we currently have in place. Demographics within the British Government and Opposition have shifted and the political landscape is no longer like it was when Mister Tucker was released.”

“She is correct,” Kate added. “To think that he has the same effect in a different environment is to completely ignore the politicking that got us a Leave vote to begin with.”

“They have a point,” an American shrugged. “It’d be like siccing him on whomever gets to move into the White House next year; you can do it, sure, but I don’t know how well it’ll work.”

“The Yank has spoken,” an Indian man joked. A couple others snickered in response.

“I’m all for cussing more, but I’m just saying,” the American replied. “Why didn’t we summon Tucker as well, if you wanted to grill him so hard?”

“I shouldn’t need to request individuals when it’s clear the highest in command persons are needed,” the Secretary said. “Do you have a plan in place, Stewart? You clearly have had time to think about the possible outcomes.”

“We were prepared to formulate plans starting today, adjusting as the climate changed,” Kate said. “We have the barebones already, and are merely preparing to add the details, since we don’t know how negotiations with the EU are going to be approached.”

“Then you have three months to report back on your contingency plans,” the Secretary ordered. “We need you to be as thorough as possible.”

“What happens if there is not enough to go on that would constitute the makings of a plan?” Gordon wondered.

“You better come additionally prepared,” the Secretary decided. “Now leave, and hope that we don’t need to put in a few thousand transfer notices in a few months.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kate stood and, without making sure the others were following, left the conference room. She went down corridors until she found an empty hall, slipping in to give herself a moment. When she turned back towards the door, she saw that her coworkers had followed, and that Ji-Yu was working on locking the door behind them.

“Jesus fuck,” she shivered. Kate’s whole body began to shake and she started to feel weak-kneed. Gordon sat her down in one of the chairs and watched as she began to crumble. “This is not going to be pretty.”

“No one ever said it was going to be pretty, whether the Referendum passed or not,” Aparajita said.

“It’s ascended past ‘not pretty’ and gone straight towards ‘total disaster’,” Ji-Yu frowned.

“That’s putting it nicely,” Osgood said through clenched teeth.

“Just SHUT UP!” Kate snapped, raising her voice. “We get the bloody point!”

“Mum, please…”

“We are both on-duty—it’s Brigadier-Director,” she fired back. “I am not about to lay down and let everything that our predecessors fought and bled for to just die, just because a bunch of racist, Thatcherite cunts were able to find a scapegoat for the fact that half the bloody world is no longer ours to exploit at their leisure! We’re not perfect, but that doesn’t mean we deserve to eliminate all that hard work!”

“…but Granddad…”

“…is not here right now!” Her fingers could not stop twitching as her world was crashing down all around her. “He’s not here, and at the first available opportunity, those fucking wankers are ready to piss on his grave and dismantle everything he and the rest of the Old Guard did! The only reason UNIT as a whole exists in the form it does is because of them! Because of him! Fuck!” She let the tears flow from her eyes as she sunk down to fold her arms on the table, resting her forehead on them. Every bit of her felt wobbly and angry, like she needed to be sick all over the mockingly-standardized office rug beneath her. “They’re pathetic.”

The others all glanced at one another, not entirely certain how to approach not only their Director, but their mother, friend, and reminder of those already gone. She was grieving all over again, making her nerves more raw and exposed than they'd seen in a long time, if ever, especially since she was very clearly channeling her husband. A chill washed over Kate and she visibly shivered. “Let’s get out of here before I get sick.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Gordon agreed. “How about it ladies? Osgood? I think we all could use a bit of a rest before heading back to the mainframe.”

“I think, maybe, that would be best,” Aparajita agreed. She offered Kate a hand up as she stood, noticing how truly shaky she was. “Don’t those cunts know how we’ve been operating with relative ease as of late? It's not like we’ve fallen into one of our turnover bouts.”

“Tanja’s in one, from what I hear,” Ji-Yu offered. “Maybe that’ll help us in the end.”

“We need all the advantage we can get,” Aparajita said.

She passed the Brigadier-Director over to Gordon and the group carefully went on their way towards the barracks, where they were able to rest in peace. They were careful to avoid running into anyone, or talking to old acquaintances and transferees, and were able to snatch up a trio of short-term visitors’ suites all next to one another. It was only bunks and some chairs and a table, but it was enough room for them to plop themselves down two to a room. Gordon made a sweep of the suite Kate and him were sharing and found it to his satisfaction before sinking onto his own bunk.

“Is Fiona with Conall?” he asked, trying to come up with something different—something normal—to talk about. His mother had already laid down and was staring at the ceiling. “Mum…?”

“Yeah; she’s with him.”

“Wasn’t she supposed to be at work today?”

“No.”

The young man frowned—whether it was his boss or his mum, this wasn't going to do. “You’re scaring me.” She allowed her head to fall to the side, looking at him dully. “Don’t make me bring Granddad into this again.”

“Fuck… I don’t need this… not from them, not from the council, not from you…”

“Then who from?”

Not wanting to answer that, Kate rolled over, facing the drab grey wall of the barracks, blocking him out instead. Her mind was going at hundreds of miles per hour, and all of them were shit.

“I guess I’ll get some sleep as well—the flight back’s going to need me in decent shape,” Gordon said. He laid down and ignored his mum; he was going to try again later.

Except, what he didn’t know, was that she was fighting back tears, allowing herself a more private moment. What she wanted was to simply fuck off back to Mainframe UK and get her husband in a panic room for a few hours before regrouping, but she couldn’t. Not for a few hours at the least… but those few hours were going to be hellish in the meantime.

Once she heard her son snoring quietly, Kate reached into her pocket and brought out her personal mobile, unlocking the screen and pulling up a photo of her father. More a photo of a photo, she had snapped the image from an album last time she went to visit Benton and his wife, having found the ghost of miscellaneous members of the Old Guard to be intriguing. The Elder Osgood was there, carrying a bunch of drinks over to the table at the pub, where her father was sitting along with Benton, the Doctor, Yates, and a few others from back in the 1970’s. Benton had told her it was one of the photos Jo Grant had taken during their many exploits; for her, it was a rare glimpse of the man who seemed so aloof and absent, who she only really began to understand once she began working with him. To see him mid-drink wasn’t anything new, but in such a relaxed setting while so young… it was an odd, completely foreign thing to her.

After a moment, she swiped through her pictures until she found a different photo: one of Gordon and Fiona as children, possibly around 2003 based on the length of her son’s hair. Another few photos and there was her older two with her father, with her mother, with their other siblings, at this house and that place, and she thought about everything she and her father had missed because of UNIT… all to be washed away if the council didn’t think it worth working with the UK anymore to stay where they were.

She came across a photo of Malcolm and Conall, the latter sitting atop the former’s shoulder as they watched television. Shoulder—Malcolm’s left shoulder, specifically, like a bloody parrot—why of all the places? He hadn’t sat like that before or since, meaning she was a bit glad that she had captured the moment when she did. Another picture and she found Fiona, Gordon, and Kanda at Marco’s wedding, another with the kids along with Lex and Euan… and no matter what she found, it tugged at her heart because it was all now at risk.

The mobile buzzed and Kate checked the messages—Malcolm.

‘Is there a verdict?’

She hesitated, thumbs over the keyboard.

‘We have until September to come up with multiple survival plans,’ she replied. She paused again, thinking about how to word the next part. ‘They want to force my hand.’

Minutes passed.

‘What do those fucking suits think they can force?’

‘Deploying you.’

More time passed, during which Kate began to stare at more photos. A new message came up just as she was staring at a picture of Malcolm at the bunyip farm down in the Australian bush.

‘To Whitehall, I presume?’

‘We told them it wouldn’t work.’

Another pause.

‘Do you need me to call you?’

‘What I need is YOU, here, but instead I’m in a fucking jail cell of a suite with my son sleeping on the other side of the room and a sense of dread so intense I’m getting a headache.’

Moments later and her mobile began to buzz as a call attempted to come through. It was Malcolm, though she didn’t answer. Kate knew that she didn’t need Gordon accidentally listening in on the two of them, nor did she want to risk talking about anything else. All she wanted to do was get some sleep at that point, because it was about as much as she could fucking stand. She had just barely drifted off when the mobile in her hand buzzed, jolting her back awake.

It was a voicemail… from Malcolm… that was twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, fuck. So much for her inbox space. She popped an earbud in the ear that was resting against her pillow and plugged in the headphones, wanting to be safe.

“Kate? Yeah? I know you can’t talk, so I thought I’d do the talking for you. Just put the message on pause for a moment and make sure it’s clear before listening to the rest, okay? Yeah? You good? I don’t exactly want to talk dirty to you if my fucking stepson is your security detail within ear’s shot…”

She fell back asleep listening to the message, her husband’s violently explicit threats towards Geneva HQ and graphically sexual promises towards several of her body parts actually allowing her to relax better as she attempted again to get some rest.

[z3ld4]

Mercy Me - Part One

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Angsty? Mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, death, kidnapping, is catholic guilt a warning? culty vibes, mentions of torture, and a very small mention of rape and gouging one’s eyes out.

Word Count: 1.3k (its a babey for the first part)

A/N: this is one of my first fanfictions on tumblr and in this fandom, so idk be nice or like really mean, criticize me, i don’t really mind. i used to write aphmau fanfiction nothing really hurts at this point. also this is an original female character fic because i for real can not write fic in the y/n format and i’ve had this idea for a while. it took a lot of effort to post this without puking in anxiety first but i hope it goes well ig.

If Jacqueline was going to die right then and there, she would have frankly been pissed. Sitting in the bathtub with blood seeping out of shallow cuts on her thighs would not be a great way to go. It’s especially stupid because they weren’t even new. Jacqueline knew better than to cut in the tub.

Especially since she’d been clean before the incident.

She wondered if that was the time to back up and take a second to think. Think about her wrongdoings.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t give her the release of death and instead shot himself in the neck. Her eyes, always the worst part of her body, follow the arterial spray as it stains the yellowing ceilings. She almost wants to take the revolver and shoot herself in the head, but that would contaminate the crime scene.

Jacqueline is smarter than that. But the revolver is so close to her. Yet just out of reach. 

Everything seems to be just out of reach when you’re kidnapped. 

But everything is moot compared to the digging feeling in her stomach telling her that the gun still has five more rounds. 

She doesn’t. Of course, there is more to her life than being a martyr for another’s sins. That isn’t what Father Julien said when she was younger, but Father Julian also tried to gouge out her eyes in the town square.

Father Julian did a lot of things, talking about the grace of God wasn’t one of them. But what can you really expect from a man that creates a psychopath? Jacqueline dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, creating swirling patterns behind her eyelids. Phosphenes. She can hear him say it. Spencer always made sure to tell her the weirdest facts he could remember. She can’t remember most of them but sometimes his voice pops up in her head reminding her of them.

A lot of things pop up in Jacqueline’s head these days. She smoothed her hair back with the water on her hands and stepped awkwardly out of the tub. Taking two towels from the rack on the wall, she wrapped up her hair and body. Carefully stepping around Gabriel’s body and blood pool she enters the bedroom. For a cheap motel, it was quite clean. Frankly, it wouldn’t be half bad if the carpet wasn’t a brown color and she didn’t come with the guy who kidnapped her. She dug through Gabriel’s luggage until she found yet another, white cotton sundress. It wasn’t a bad dress, quite pretty in reality. It was the situation that made it the ugliest rag Jacqueline had ever seen. It fell to just below her knees and the bodice fit her waist perfectly, the spaghetti straps dug into her shoulders but it could have been much, much worse. 

Jacqueline would have liked the dress in another life. However, Gabriel had a thing for the whole ‘white equals purity’ thing and tortured her in a dress similar to the one she was putting on.

She stopped putting the dress on. Blinking through the tears forming in her line of sight, Jacqueline searches for a shirt and a pair of pants that could maybe fit her. She found Gabriel’s taupe button-up and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the front up to the third button. After digging a little more she finds a pair of army green pants, a little too high waisted for such a masculine man but she puts them on. Luckily Gabriel also had a pair of hiking boots which Jacqueline took the shoelace out of and used it as a belt.

The sandals that she wore when out with Gabriel would have to do, though it looked a little silly. Jacqueline took her hair out of the towel and ruffled it up a little, she always hated leaving her thick, wavy hair without product in it but it’s better than brushing it. The bangs brushing against the bridge of her nose are going to make her cry though. She used to hate how she looked in bangs but now, with Gabriel’s praises ringing in her ears, she almost likes the way they frame her face.

Almost.

Jacqueline grabbed Gabriel’s wallet on the way out of their hotel room.

The secretary looked at Jacqueline funny as she checked out. Granted, it was well deserved, Jacqueline looked like a mess of men’s clothing. She also was leaving without Gabriel, which sounded a little unheard of considering he didn’t even let her speak when they checked in.

Jacqueline wanted to call the police so the maid didn’t get a nasty surprise. She didn’t have a phone on her but she walked to the payphone on the street corner and quickly called 911. 

“Hi, Hello. Y-yes… I… I need to report a suicide at Maple Leaf Motel, room 3C. My… My p-partner shot himself in the neck!” She wailed into the phone before hanging up. She was always good at faking things. Right now, faking composure seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Time to catch a flight to Quantico, Virginia.

Or, more likely, hitchhike. If there was anything Jacqueline had learned in her nine years with the BAU is to not hitchhike. But she had about two hundred and fifty dollars and the clothes on her back. And if anything she could pay for some gas and maybe use the self-defense that Morgan taught her. She knew that from where she was it would be around twenty days by foot. A twenty-hour car ride. And maybe a five-hour flight depending on the airport. The closest 'big' town near Maple Leaf was Lexington. 

And deep down, Jacqueline really wanted to take a road trip. Nebraska is quite a pretty state. Though walking would be a little excessive considering she's technically been off for two months already.

The fact that she’d been with Gabriel for two months sent shivers down Jacqueline’s spine. The bureau wouldn't take her vacation days away for being kidnapped but you never really know with the government, do you? She started walking to the library when she realized that she could email Strauss and talk about her job and how fast she can be reinstated. Luckily the library was a few blocks down the street.

"Hello, dear! What can I help you with today?" The elderly woman behind the help desk smiled. Jacqueline figured that they didn't get that many people inside the small library. 

Jacqueline forced a smile and walked up to the desk, "Can I use one of the computers? I need to email my boss about my... vacation."

The librarian gives Jacqueline a sugary sweet smile. "May I, Deary," The librarian corrected.

"Right," Jacqueline drawls. The librarian walked her to a clunky old computer and logged on before shoving Jacqueline down into the seat. Jacqueline goes through google to find her email service and quickly write one to Strauss. Strauss responded quickly, a short email reading:

Dear Agent Laymore,

You're thought to be dead. I can not grant you the ability to step into your building for recertification and discussions of reinstating you until you prove otherwise.

Erin Strauss

Jacqueline responded:

Dear Erin,

You're supposed to be nicer to people who are held as a hostage. Anyways, I guess a way to prove my identity would be that I can sing 'On My Own' from Les Mis perfectly, I know you have heard me do it. And that your husband divorced you after he gave you half of his liver due to your liver cirrhosis. You told me this one night when I was crying over my brother killing himself and getting disowned. I am the only person on the current team (I assume, though I'm sure Rossi knows ;D) who has that information on you.

With love,

Dr. Jacqueline Laymore PsyD

Ps. Please don't give my job away because I made a joke.

Erin responded with a very annoyed emailing detailing what they will discuss once Jacqueline reaches Quantico. With a valid ID of course.

Now the hard part, finding someone who wasn't a serial killer to hitchhike with. For at least twenty-four hours. In a car.

Spencer's voice called out in the back of Jacqueline's head, reminding her that there is a 0.0000086% of being killed or raped while hitchhiking.

[barsformars]

Someday, Somewhere

undercover cop!mingi × mafia boss!yunho ft woosan

t.w - death, suicide, blood, guns, slight violence

g - angst, mafia au

w.c - 1.6k

a/n : aaaaa ok remember when i said i was working on a mafia au thing…. it didn’t work out, obviously. but i was planning to give them such endings anyways so i decided to just compress them into one short imagine.

//

“Drop the gun, Jeong.”

His heart dropped, not at the sound of metal clicking close behind him but at the familiar voice that accompanied along with it. Gun still aiming at the man on the floor, Yunho took a heavy step to the side and pivoted around to face the person that he thought he could trust with his whole life.

Mingi tightened his grip on his gun, his left hand holding onto his right wrist to steady it as his breaths became shaky at the sight of crimson red spotted across the pale skin of the black haired boy. This wasn’t new to Mingi, no. He has seen this side of Yunho - or who he would much rather call Jeong in situations like this - countless of times. 

Yet this time was much different.

Mingi was no longer by Jeong’s side like when he broke fingers, plucked teeth out with bare hands, or plunged his thumb into his victim’s eye sockets and more that were much worse, torturing them until they succumb and tell him information he wanted before he finally ended their pain by murdering them. This time, Mingi was holding Yunho at gunpoint, a lanyard containing his police ID hung around his neck making Mingi feel so sick and suffocated. He hates that he feels this way.

He had already known right from the beginning when his team leader had prepped him to enter the KQZ as an undercover cop that everything would lead to this. But betraying someone he had spent most of the last two years with was a punch to his guts, especially when he knew first hand that there was more to Yunho than a cold hearted mafia boss. There’s no excuse for murder, really, but Mingi’s heart aches for the older boy because he understands. Jeong didn’t want to do what he did either but he had to if he wanted to stay in power, to protect himself.

“Yunho, you don’t have to do this,” Mingi said, barely managing to complete the sentence without his voice cracking.

“He killed my friends,” Yunho seethed through his gritted teeth, the once soft edges of his brown eyes now sharper than ever as he glared at the slightly shorter boy. “Our friends.”

Mingi shut his eyes as the memories from the shootout at the casino came flooding into his mind for the umpteenth time, the pain never lesser than the previous. While most of it was a haze with all the running and crouching as the bullets rained from every direction, the aftermath was something that he remembered in such great detail that it was almost as if he was reliving it everytime he was reminded of it. Mingi doesn’t think he will ever be able to erase that harrowing sight from his mind and he knows Yunho can’t either.

-flashback-

There was San, kneeling beside Wooyoung, his black jeans visibly damp from the pool of blood surrounding the both of them. San didn’t bawl hysterically as he held onto Wooyoung’s torso to let him rest in his arms. Instead, he had broken into a hauntingly beautiful smile that revealed his dimples as he gazed lovingly into Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Damn, you’re dying but you still look so fucking good.” Mingi had heard San choke out, followed by a weak chuckle from the boy that had been shot in the chest. Mingi and Yunho watched in silence from afar as the couple exchanged cheesy words like they usually would, as if nothing was wrong, both of them clinging onto the other equally tightly, desperately trying to find comfort in each other.

“I can’t do this anymore.” It had only been mere minutes before Wooyoung breathed out shakily with tears streaming down his face. “I’m scared.”

“Shhh….” San hushes as he brushed the blonde strands to the side and tucked it behind Wooyoung’s ears lightly, a faint smile still present on his face. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I’ll always be with you.”

Mingi gulped, fully knowing what San’s words meant and hence Yunho and him stood there silently as they see a single tear rolling down his cheek, the smile fading slowly when Wooyoung goes limp in his arms. They knew that there was nothing they could say or do at this point to force San into breaking the couple’s promise to each other.

They were too crazy in love.

The only thing Mingi could do was to cup his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out as San pressed the muzzle of his gun against his temple.

They were indeed insanely in love, Mingi realised only when San pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation. Yunho wrapped his arms around Mingi’s head and buried his face in his shoulders as the gun went off, not wanting him to witness as San slumps over Wooyoung. The older boy held onto Mingi as he tried to breathe, his lower lip quivering as he stares at the corpses of two of his closest friends, wide-eyed.

-end of flashback-

“They won’t come back to life,” Mingi replied, trying his hardest not to break down. “But if you pull that trigger, I’ll lose you too.”

Orders to shoot to kill if Yunho ever harms the president’s son had been given out and Mingi cannot disobey as much as he wanted to.

“Ye-yes, don’t shoot me. It’s not worth it.” The man thought he was making a point but Mingi wanted nothing more than to shoot him in the face too. He was a scumbag who often dwelled in criminal activities but got away with everything because his father could afford to bury all the evidence for him.

If he hadn’t fired first that day and triggered a fight, it wouldn’t have came to this.

Wooyoung and San would still be alive. They would still be bickering with each other as they scrolled through Netflix, unable to decide which show to watch. They would still be happily eating takeouts as they wait for their next job. They would still be living their lives just like normal people their age would, outside their mafia activities, of course.

They were only young boys who were handed the bad cards in life and had no other choice but to play it that way.

None of them wanted this.

“Yunho, I’m begging you.” Mingi pleads when he hears over the in-ear that the special forces were already charging in.

“Did you mean it?”

Yunho’s voice was small and broken.

“When you told me you loved me. Or was it ju-”

“I meant it, Yunho. And I still stand by my words.”

The first time those three forbidden words ever escaped Mingi lips was when they were lying in bed, their sweaty naked bodies tangled under the sheets as the cold night breeze came through the open balcony, leaving goosebumps on the exposed parts of his arms. It had already been slightly more than a year since Mingi had joined the gang and caught Yunho’s eyes but it was the first time he ever felt safe enough to be vulnerable in front of the mafia head. Yunho had said that plenty of times before him so when Mingi had finally reciprocated his feelings, he had sworn to himself to keep him by his side forever.

Yunho had always been alone, his father too busy running the mafia when he was still alive and his mother too sick in the hospital bed to keep him accompany. He couldn’t go to school because his father was insistent on training him to be the next leader, saying that the Jeong family should always be right at the top.

Like Wooyoung and San, Yunho didn’t choose this life. He doesn’t want it.

Yunho wants to meet new friends in college like other people his age, he wants to learn about things not related to money and murder, he wants to be able to live without being in fear that someone in his mafia would backstab him.

Yunho wants to fall in love. And Yunho wants Mingi more than ever now that his identity has been exposed. It hurts to know that Mingi was another cop waiting for him to slip up so that he had evidence to turn in and lock him behind bars but Mingi was also the only person who truly accepted every part of him.

But it’s too late.

As the special forces stood behind Mingi and surrounded Yunho, Yunho only knows one easy way out.

Mingi sees Yunho’s face darkened as he turned his attention back on the begging man sprawled on the marble floor of his own mansion, his finger pressing a little harder on the trigger.

No, no, no, no, no….

No!

Everything happened so fast.

Mingi sees the hole in the president’s son’s head and the next thing he knows, Yunho was already collapsing onto the floor as dozens of bullets flew at him, hitting him everywhere.

Yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Mingi hears nothing but the deafening ringing silence in his ears even when Yunho’s head hit the cold floor with a loud thud.

Yunho’s vision’s a blur but he sees Mingi throw his gun to the floor as he ran forward in a futile attempt to catch him, his jaw agape.

“Y-yun…Yun…h-ho..yunho…yunho..yun…no no no…yunho…y-yunho.”

That’s all Yunho hears as Mingi shook his body, trying to keep him conscious.

As the uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs tore through Mingi’s chest, Yunho let his tears fall, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

It’s the only way Mingi would get over him. What was the point of holding onto him when he was going to be locked up for life?

It’s for the better, Yunho tells himself.

“Mingki.” Yunho whispered softly as he lifted his hand up to find Mingi’s bloodied ones, wanting to hold them in his one last time.

As Yunho rests his hand on Mingi’s, the latter began quaking violently as he gazed back into Yunho’s eyes that were already slowly turning into empty voids.

Even in his last moments, Yunho is on the run, the ticking seconds chasing close behind him. Mingi just wants him to rest.

“Shhh….” All Mingi manages to push out of his dry throat are hushes as he took Yunho’s hand and brought it up close to his face, wanting to feel the warmth one last time before his blood drained out. “Shh…”

“Someday, somewhere…” Yunho breathed out as he fought his heavy lids, using all the strength he had left to stretch a finger out to brush against Mingi’s hot skin.

Mingi shook his head as he shushed the older boy again and again, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to handle his last words. He knows that it will haunt him forever just like Wooyoung and San.

But maybe this was the punishment he had to bear for being a traitor. He deserved this much.

“Let’s meet again.”

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC  ≽ I.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 7.9k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The outline of the green bus threatened to leave me behind. I increased my pace, my toes cursing every stride I took in these pinching heels. The engine of the bus began to roar, black smoke coming from its muffler, as the wheels began to turn. The leather briefcase in my grip struck against my knee as my motions became desperate. Even as I called out in a senseless attempt to catch the vehicle, I remained there along a busy street in Seattle, defeated. 

I let out a grunt from the cage of my clenched teeth. A twitch bugged my eyebrow in frustration as I pulled out my phone and worked to endure the idea of taking an Uber home. I could quite literally see the forming clouds above me, shunning any kind of sunlight that the midday had to offer. After spending the majority of the night before slumped over my desk and sitting the entire morning through a briefing, I was more than ready to kick someone’s head in.  

After fidgeting with a buffering app, finally typing in my address, the screen was ripped away by the caller ID of an unsaved number. 

The phone vibrated in my palm while I stared at the area code. An entirely different sentiment engulfed me completely. The 530 number from Northern California brought an uncomfortable weight in my chest and a hollow ring in my ears.

There was an extensive hesitation on my part, a ball of it, caught in the dryness of my throat. There was only one soul in California that bothered to call. He did once in a year or so, mostly around my birthday. However, this number was different. I watched it ring a few more times as I continued to ponder. Possibly a new number? 

I sighed and answered it all the same. 

"Dad?" 

I questioned. 

However, I was met with a far more tormenting voice. One that only cursed me in my worst dreams. It had been years since his voice had settled upon my ears and suddenly I was 18 years old again, shivering at his sound. 

I was left fruitless, shaken, and unable to move. My entire mind was wiped clean, left with a blank set of notes. No concept, no words, not a single pitch came from my lips. 

He simply spoke in my ear,

"Come home, (Y/n)." 

Then the line went dead.

 That's all it took, that's all I needed to hear, to know that something terrible had happened. As I began to run home, the skies over me began to weep.

-

It was painless, effortless, to just drop everything and leave. It was as simple as breathing. Brushing through the door of the apartment complex, passing through the rooms, with not a single personal attachment to hold me back. 

My bedroom was a color scheme of white and gray, only the most fundamental of furniture and details. This never became my home.

 As I changed into a clean set of clothes, dark jeans, a plain t-shirt, and dumped my heels for boots; there was nothing that I was leaving behind. I grabbed my double rider jacket off of the hook and fished the keys to my Harley and my 23 out of the drawer. I slammed the door shut and never looked back. 

Walking through the basement of the apartment building, I found myself raging through so many thoughts that my mind was practically meaningless. I was so aware that all of my worries were the wrong kind. I should have been outraged about my father, why it was that he didn't call me himself. 

He hadn't bothered speaking to me since my aunt, who I had been living with, passed away six months ago. She was the only thing I cared about in this city and without her, there was nothing left for me here. 

Instead of being furious with him, instead of calling him and demanding answers, I pounced the second I had the chance to come home. I didn't care about anything else. Though, that's how seven years in exile left me, pitiful, and crawling back. Rather than being angry at my father, agitated at the thought of seeing him after so long, my mind was only set on him. 

His voice replayed in my head like a record and the way he said my name was a lukewarm echo. And the worse part of it all? 

I unveiled the gray tarp off of my Softail Harley. The tooled leather was like velvet under the cooling lights of the garage. 

And the worse part of it all is that I would have an entire eight hours to myself. Just me, the road, and my bike with Kim Namjoon's call leading me home to Blackburn California.

- 

"Pass me the wrench, will ya?"

I eyed the floor that was covered in bike limbs and oil. I scavenged for the instrument he needed and found it under a lost tire. Whistling for his attention as he turned around just in time to catch the wrench in his hand. I smiled as my dad kneeled on the floor beside his old Fatboy. I walked up behind him and watched him work underneath me. My hand rested on the letters sewn into the back of his leather cut. 

The top rocker read 'Bangtan' across the back. The center patch showed the opening doors of Bangtan, along with the MC cube. And the bottom rocker, the territory that we claimed, 'California'. A cut signified much more than just a leather vest- it meant you were someone important. For my father, who was the founder and active president of the charter, it meant absolutely everything.

"What's the matter with it? The clutch?"I asked, squinting my eyes and looking over his work. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a square from my case of Marlboro.

"Yeah." He sighed and stood back to his feet. "The clutch plates are probably locked together." 

"Well, what do you expect?" I chuckled with the cigarette placed between my lips. "You've had this Fatboy sitting in the bar for two years like some statue. Poor thing is neglected." 

This was the first bike he ever bought with his own money. It was a 1990 Fatboy, cherry red- a true beauty. He turned around to eye me, except that his eyes fell down to the smoke in my mouth. I cupped my hands over the flame I used to light the end and raised a brow at his stare. He reached over to seize the cigarette from my mouth. 

"What the hell did I tell you about smoking?" He said, holding the square in front of me.

"That you didn't care?" I reminded him with a smile. He stared at me for another moment, attempting to do his best impression of a scolding parent but ultimately broke into a sneer.

"I didn't care as long as I didn't see it." He corrected me and placed the cigarette into his own lips. I humorously rolled my eyes as he turned back to his baby. "This is what we're going to do,"

He said while mounting the bike with his feet planted to the floor. "I'm going to put the bike in gear and pull in the clutch lever. Now if I roll the bike back and forth the plates should come unstuck."

"Do you want me to get some heat in that oil and see if it'll help loosen things back up?" I asked.

Although, before my dad could answer, the engine of another motorcycle roared into the garage behind the bar. The light of a Street500 Harley blinded me momentarily. My father moved off of his bike while I walked out of the incoming Harley's way. I had a pretty good idea of who it was anyhow. 

He thrust down his kickstand and removed his black helmet to reveal his bleached undercut. 

"I was hoping you were still here, old man." He laughed, stepping off his bike and making his way toward my dad. 

"Something wrong with it, Namjoon?" He suggested. With a rag, he wiped his hands clean from any grease as Namjoon put an arm around his shoulder. I cut my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's not running well with the choke on." He explained. I watched as my father and he walked up to his bike to get a closer look. "It stalls when I turn the choke off and when I turn the throttle." 

"It's probably because you left it parked in the garage for two months without draining the gas," I said coldly.  

Namjoon turned to look at me as I walked but beside them, taking a look for myself. I could feel his cold stare on me as I inspected his bike. 

"I think she's right, Joon." My dad said, patting his shoulder. I smirked and shot Namjoon a glare. I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for my father to tell him to fix it himself. "(Y/n) will get started on it in the morning." 

"What!?" I hissed in disbelief. My eyes darted from my fathers to Namjoons, who wore a returning smirk on his face. I could feel my face heat with rage. "That will take hours! I have to drain the old gas, change the spark plugs, replace the air filter, and clean the clogged carburetors!"

"Well, now that you've graduated you'll have plenty of time on your hands' sweetheart," Namjoon said as my dad took a drag of my cigarette and agreed. 

I could kill him. 

I could not believe my father would have me working on Namjoon's bike. What kind of man can't even fix his own Harley? The thought made me sick. I knew how to change the oil on a Harley since I was six years old! Before I could even think to say another word against the idea, the door extending from the bar opened abruptly. 

"Hey! I've been calling you." I saw another cut walk in that belonged to Seokjin. He and the current prospect, Yoongi, gathered around my father. 

"What is it?" He asked. I could hear it in their voices, something must have happened for them to come looking for him at such a late hour.

"The mayor is here... he wants to speak with you," Yoongi said in a hushed tone. 

I automatically knew that Namjoon and I were going to be dismissed. Any club business could not be discussed in front of nonmembers. Immediately, I tried to create an excuse to dismiss ourselves from the situation.

"I'll follow you home Namjoon," I called out catching everyone's attention. "I'll get started on your bike in the morning." 

He simply nodded his head, knowing as well as I did, that this was not our place. Namjoon moved to get on his bike while I gathered my stuff from the counter behind me. 

"Actually," My father suddenly spoke up. Both of us paused to see who he was referring too. "You can stay, Namjoon. It's time you learn a thing or two."

My father barely spared me a glance as he continued, "Prospect, follow (Y/n) and make sure she gets home."

"No problem." He responded. I could feel the color rise to my face as tears threatened to brim my eyes. There was an ache in my chest that could only be explained as heartbreak.

-

It was memories like those that flooded my mind, swarming my thoughts like a plague, and they haunted me all the way home.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was five years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a leather cut and a Harley. For me, being in a motorcycle club was better than being the Queen of England. From the first time that I wandered into the clubhouse behind my father's bar- I knew I had to be a part of them. I knew that I had found the place where I belonged. Bangtan was like nobody else, they did what they wanted- when they wanted. No one ever stopped them or told them otherwise. It was being a part of something much bigger than yourself. It meant being somebody in a town full of nobodies. With my father as president, I knew everyone, and everyone knew me. I thought myself the most fortunate of girls. 

But I was young, I was naive, I didn't know just how unfair the world could be. 

The night had fallen deep. The roads deserted from creation. The air flowed differently down here, with no restraints, liberating. It felt real in my lungs. Seven years of my life had slipped through my hands and as I passed the sign welcoming me home, I could not recognize the world around me.

Welcome to Blackburn

Where Blood is Thicker 

I rode through the empty town, the distant memories of my adolescence whispering within the wind. Recurring nightmares had brought me back through these routes time and time again. Straight from my bones, deep from inside, a fantasy of total catastrophe. They were nightmares I loved to hate because the hopeless endeavor was better than having nothing at all. 

The street lights followed me all the way home. Turning into Ivory Lane, at the very end of the street, is where my youth was left behind. Undeniably the finest, largest, house in the neighborhood. As I pulled up to the front, there was light pouring from each window, the long driveway held 15 Harleys and five cars. A full house and a party I would surely crash. 

Removing my helmet and parking my bike, I subconsciously began to pace toward the front door. It was like I was in another one of my dreams, not knowing what I was doing, nor what was waiting for me on the other side. By every step, I felt more lost and at home at the same time. Everything was the same and yet nothing felt familiar. Like a lost spirit, I simply opened the door and let myself in. 

The door opened into the large foyer, where stairs circled around the left and a hallway led me deeper into the house. I stepped noiselessly, past my father's study and the dining room, following the disembodied voices coming from beyond. The warm light of the house made me feel senseless, not understanding what exactly I was walking into. 

I found myself at an impasse, deep in the house, where the kitchen was in the room to my left and the living room to my right. It felt like I was in a stranger’s house with voices I did not recognize. It was all so unreal. Choosing to explore the living room I stepped to the right. 

I found people scattered around in multiple conversations, no one who stood out in particular. I looked for any sign of a familiar face. The room smelled of alcohol and tobacco. Not a soul had noticed me walk in, it looked like a small gathering, not any kind of celebration. There was rock music playing softly in the background of the people's voices. There were women and their children and older men who I did not know. It looked to be just a few hang-arounds, outsiders that were friendly with the club.

My eyes scattered around the room, not knowing what to think. If I should stay- if I should go? I didn't know what I was doing here anymore. That was until my eyes landed on a group at the far end of the room. 

Then, Namjoon was the only thing I could see.

I stared at him as he sat gathered between other guys. His black eyes switched from person to person as they spoke to him. He wore his cut and fiddled with his knuckles. His hair, that he used to bleach and cut himself, was now its natural black color and styled to the sides. He looked like a grown-up, far from the person that I remembered. 

It felt like I stared at him for hours but it wasn't long before he felt my stare and found me for himself. His eyes dropped dramatically, changing. from a look of focus into one that was shaken. All of his attention was fixed on me and I could feel the weight of the room fall on my shoulders. 

I spent the last seven years thinking about what I would say to him. What he would have to say to me. Except I felt frozen in place as he rose to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

A voice cursed behind me. Her tongue caught the attention of everyone in the room. Their eyes began to watch me intently while their whispers of curiosity filled the air.  

I shuffled to the side, turning to see both her and Namjoon. I became trapped between them on either side, with a crowd of strangers in front of me, like a jury. 

The girl that they knew would have never had the courage to stand here in front of everyone. The girl that they knew would have never come back but I wasn't that girl anymore. I wasn't 18 years old and everything I wanted to say then- I would say it to them now. 

"This is my house." I reminded her.

Jaeeun scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair was a thick, black bob, with a single streak of white, that framed the side of her face. She always wore dark clothing, black and berry colors mostly. And around her neck was a black diamond necklace she was never seen without. The years had been kind to her, she looked like she always did. The wicked stepmother who stayed young forever.

"This hasn't been your home for a long time, sweetheart." She shook her head at me. Jaeeun's stare was as cold as ever, black eyes that looked like a cryptic abyss and fine aging lines cut into her pale skin. 

"Mom," Namjoon cut in, reinserting himself into this situation. He walked between us, facing his mother and attempting to keep her calm as he assured her that, "I called her."

Jaeeun's arms came uncrossed at his words. It felt strange as if Namjoon was somehow defending me. She looked at him in disbelief, the frustration becoming more pronounced on her face, as Namjoon spoke. "She has a right to know."

The seriousness of his voice was alarming, my eyes turned to look at him but I didn't find any answers from his avoiding gaze. Jaeeun's eyes were fixed on him. The conversation quickly became an argument between only them two.

"A right to know and a right to be here- are two entirely different things, Namjoon." Jaeeun raised her voice. Her entire demeanor seemed overwhelmed as she placed her hand over her forehead. Namjoon took notice as well as he stepped to lend her a hand but she exploded. "You could have told me!"

Her voice cracked and tears slipped from her eyes. Entirely caught off guard, I didn't know what to do, I had never seen Jaeeun break down. Namjoon sought to console her by laying a hand on her shoulder but she forced him away. "Like I don't have enough shit going on already!"

I could tell that she was embarrassed to be crying in front of people. It wasn't until a friend of hers came up behind her for comfort. I could only watch as she eased Jaeeun onto a nearby chair where she could relax.

The room fell silent as everyone remained still while Jaeeun regained her composure. I was caught up in my own agenda to care about anything else. Everything just tasted wrong.

"Namjoon," I called for him. He left his mother's side and joined me under the archway of the living room. I caught a glance at Jaeeun's glare as he left but I ignored it and spoke in a low voice. He leaned in to avoid our conversation falling to her ears. I sighed. "What am I doing here?"

"For fuck sake, Namjoon." Jaeeun breathed. She held a cigarette between her lips as her friend beside her brought a lighter. Namjoon cursed under his breath. "You haven't even told her yet?" 

"Told me what?" I didn't intend to raise my voice. The anticipation was causing terrible ideas to flow through my head. 

Suddenly Namjoon took a hold of my hand, the touch alarming me further, as he stared at me sympathetically. I shook my head and yanked my hand from his touch. My heart began to beat in my ears as I stepped back from him. 

"No..." 

I said trying to remove the terrible thought from my head.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)."

He said, stepping closer. 

"No!" 

I yelled.

A weight came tumbling down on me, like the burden of the world, I felt as if my night terrors had crawled into my reality. My head was consumed by the pressure of news. My skin frosted with chills as I stumbled out of the room. 

Bumping into strangers, I abruptly felt cornered as they stared at me with pity. I couldn't seem to retain any form of air in my lungs, every breath came out of my mouth like a cry for help. My house became a real horror scene, and my only impulse was to leave. 

"Let her go! That's all she's good at..."

I pushed through the people behind me, stepping as quickly as my feet would allow. I ran through the way I came in, all the way to the front door with tears trailing behind me. My vision was clouded with the pain that emptied my chest. 

The night breeze crystalized the stain my tears left. My body trembled in a mixture of numbness and despair. The door opened behind me and footsteps simulated my own. 

"(Y/n), wait."

He followed me down the brick driveway, only intercepting me when I stopped to mount my bike. I ignored his call and avoided his stare. I was fiddling with the strap of my helmet when I saw his foot land on my footrest.

"You took the eight-hour ride here? You've got to be exhausted." He stated. 

I felt a rush of rage boil my blood, a result of years of repressed anger. I looked at him from underneath my hair and said in an imminent tone.

"Get your foot off my bike."

Namjoon stood his ground and only released his hold on my bike as a sign of good faith. Except, he continued to hold me in his stare, his eyes a mirror reflection of his mother's. I sighed and looked away in defeat. 

"How did it happen?" I asked. 

That was the question I feared the most. No matter what the answer was- I wasn't here. I couldn't even recollect the last words we had spoken to each other. 

"He was riding on the US-50..." It was hard for him to look into my watering orbs. Namjoon shifted his eyes to the floor, his black hair brushing against his forehead. "He collided with a semi-truck."

My arms rested on the fuel tank of my bike, burying my face from his sight, as I continued to break down. I pressed the tears from my eyes, the droplets tapping against the cold metal, as soft cries left my mouth. 

I couldn't get the image out of my head, it replayed, once after another. My imagination created the sound of the impact. The black crows of the desert that flocked away as a result. The bloody aftermath plastered on the bumper of the semi-truck.

"I loved him too... He was my father too, (Y/n)." Namjoon spoke with pure sincerity. But all I could do was shake my head and dismiss his truth. 

"But he wasn't," I threw my helmet on the floor and stood off my bike. With the little force I could work up, my hands pressed against the leather cut and shoved his chest, causing him to trip over his feet. "He was mine!"

"He practically raised me- taught me what it meant to be a man." He explained, visibly hurt by my comment. It sickened me to hear him give my old man such credit. 

"He was barely a father." I spat. 

"Yes! He was complicated." He admitted, taking a step back and lifting his hands in defeat. He used his dominant hand to push his hair out of his frame, licking his lips in apprehension. "But he was smart and he always did what he thought was right." 

I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to praise him for another minute. Namjoon sighed from his nose, taking a slow pace toward me as I continued to look away. The space between us became less and less until I could feel his body heat radiating on me. I resisted his tempting stare but he managed to make me melt at his touch. He took my chin in his fingers and guided me to his eyes. "Those complications killed him, (Y/n). That's why he let the road take him."

"What are you saying?" I snapped a look at him, removing Namjoon's hand from my face. "You think my father killed himself?" 

"It's the only explanation." He simply declared. As if the answer was so simple. "The driver of the truck said that he just came out of nowhere."

"Bangtans don't kill themselves-" I was ridiculed by his words, finding it hard to accept that he would believe them himself. 

"Don't worry." He hushed me. "No one else knows... I wouldn't let him get stripped of his patch."

He obviously did, nevertheless. Namjoon was ready to pull me in and wrap his arms over my shoulders. He embraced me with pity as if I was in denial about the situation. There wasn't much that I was sure about in my life, not a lot was stable. However, my fathers' courage, his willingness to keep moving ahead was unparalleled. It was the soldier in him.

“You’re not listening to me!" Once again, I pushed him away from me. "He would never do that. For someone who claims to have loved him so much you know very little.”

"(Y/n)," Namjoon said softly, he looked entirely exhausted. It was the first time I was actually analyzing his exterior. He displayed bags under his eyes and his skin was drained of color. “You don’t know what it's been like these past few years.”

His words left a larger impression on me than I would have expected. He was right. I didn't know anything about him, my father, or the club in the past seven years.

I was an idiot to have spent so many years dreaming of coming home. I thought I was lost before, that this was the place where everything would make sense. Now I feel more lost than ever. Nothing felt familiar here in Blackburn, everyone was a stranger.

"Come on," Namjoon called my way. His mouth dusted the most gentle of smiles as he waved me over with his hand. "Let's go back inside." 

"Are you sure?" Using the back of my hands, I cleaned my face, from the horror I could only imagine. "I think Jaeeun still wants me dead."

He smiled, revealing a pair of dimples that cursed him as a child forever. He knew, as well as I did, that I was only half-serious. 

"I'll handle my mother." He assured me. 

I followed behind him, catching up to his side as we walked together up the driveway. I took a moment to examine his clothes. He wore black jeans and a cloudy blue button-up under his leather cut. He also had a bowie knife tucked into a sheath that was clipped to his pocket. And even though I couldn't see it, I would bet my life on him also carrying a handgun hidden under his shirt. 

"Oh," He stopped us right before the front door. His facial expression winced as he remembered something. "No one… knows why you actually left. People think you just ran away."

He explained, presuming that the news would bother me. However, I didn't expect any less from Jaeeun.

"Of course they do," 

-

Namjoon led me to the leather couch in the middle of the living room. The set was surrounded by strangers and a glass coffee table. I sat to the very edge of the couch, crossing my leg over the other, in an effort to take up as little space as possible. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to relax.

"Namjoon." A voice called for him across the room. I didn't need to turn around to know it was club business and Namjoon looked at me apologetically. I assured him that I would be fine. 

He caressed my shoulder before vanishing behind the couch. My hands ran up my lap, feeling the texture of the denim under my hands, as I questioned what to do with myself. I peered down my body and adjusted the sleeves on my jacket. 

"You want some coffee, doll?" I was slightly surprised by the silky voice. Standing over me was a young woman, younger than me, with a fresh coffee pot in her hand. 

"Oh! Uh..." I quickly looked down at the glass coffee table before me. There were some clean mugs resting upside down, beside jars of cream and sugar. "Yeah, sure." 

Instantly, I bent over to reach for the nearest mug at the same moment she did. 

"I got it." She promised. However, in a second of panic, my hand already bumped against hers and tipped the mug over. 

The glass hitting against glass made me uneasy and embarrassed as a few heads turned in our direction. I cursed under my sigh and removed my hands from creating any more chaos. I could only push my hair out of my face and behind my ears as I apologized.  

Without glancing my way, she reassured me that it was fine. I watched as she poured the steaming brown liquid into the mug. She set the pot to the side and reached for the jar of cream. 

"Black is fine." 

She nodded and handed me the mug with a brief smile. I held it between both of my palms, the heat almost being painful, and I thanked her as she stepped away. 

I brought the steam close to my nose, shutting my eyes and breathing in deeply, awaiting the aroma to keep me conscious.

"You have to let them do that for you." Jaeeun's voice spoke from behind. My eyes fluttered open to see her stepping around me. I followed her figure carefully as she took the seat next to me. "It's how they show you respect."

I scoffed to myself. Jaeeun looked better composed than before. That's how she operated, though. There was no time for crying, feeling sorry for yourself, none of that mattered when people depended on you. I figured that was admirable. 

"Why does it matter? That respect is only because of my father, not me." Jaeeun smirked and agreed. "Everyone thinks I ran away nevertheless. Not much respect in that."

She could hear the bitterness that lingered in my mouth. My poor attitude annoyed her. 

"Oh, cry me a river, sweetheart." She cursed under her breath. 

"How do you do it, Jae?" I cut her off sharply. Turning my body to face hers without intimidation. "How-How do you keep all the lies intact? All the secrets buried?"

She lifts her eyebrow, almost amused by my anger. I asked, "Aren't you tired?"

Jaeeun cut eye contact with me and took in a long breath as she worked to remain unbothered. I watched her fix her hair as a distraction, loathing to realize that my judgment struck a nerve. Yet, she swiftly regained her confidence and even dared to lean in close to me.

"For my family?" She prompted. Her black eyes staring almost past me as her mouth dropped into a dead frown. "Never."

Without another word, she rose from her place and left me alone once again.  I stared down into the black coffee, just barely making out my reflection before bringing the rim up to my lips. Being a forgotten memory in this town hurt me more than I wanted to admit.

"(Y/n)." My head turned, my eyes pursuing across the room, where I spotted Namjoon by the entrance. His hand singled me over through the blurred crowd of people. 

I abandoned the coffee on the table and made my way into the lake of bodies. As I walked down my path, the faces turned to see me coming and one by one, they parted the road. Not even a graze came in contact with my shoulder while I approached his awaiting figure. I pressed near him as the masses allowed me too. 

"Are you okay?" 

Jaeeun must have left a sour expression on my face, he seemed concerned as he read my eyes. He even dared to reach his hand out to cup my face in some sort of aid, but I was ready to stir it away, a little vigorously. 

"I'm fine," I said rigidly. Namjoon took notice of my discomfort, my cold behavior, and so he stepped back to proffer me space. 

"Uh," He cleared his throat. I scanned him up and down, as the awkwardness spread in his demeanor. "He wanted to say hello." 

My brows furrowed, confused as to what he was saying. Yet, I followed in his eyes as they led me out into the hall. I sensed his presence as he lingered behind me, his footsteps slower than my own. The lonely hallway almost suggested a trap, as I turned the corner around the staircase, I found no such thing. Assembled in the foyer were a group of leather cuts. With their backs turned to me, I could not make out any of their faces. The heavy noise of my footsteps rang over their conversation and they turned in my direction.

"(Y/n)!"

 I gasped. Shocked, completely caught off guard, to see a familiar face. With nothing but a smile, his arms came wrapping around me.

"Jimin." I laughed, shocked at the years gone by without having spoken his name.

 It was the first time that someone's face brought me memories that were worth reliving. My high school years were only significant because of him. I didn't know it at the time but he was my best friend. The reminiscences of a simpler time threatened my eyes with tears.

When he pulled away, I almost could not classify the man before me. But there was no one else that could mimic that smile, his eyes disappeared and his teeth took the spotlight. 

"I-I can't believe it's you." I smiled. His hands rested on my shoulders as he inspected me from head to toe. "When did you patch in?" 

"I requested a prospect about two years after you left." He explained. Jimin took a step back and pushed his hair out of his face. I used to poke fun at the fat on his cheeks but I couldn't now. He looked great, from his tight jeans to sharp jawline, I was genuinely appalled. "We both did, actually."

Jimin moved aside to reveal the standing figure behind him. "You remember Taehyung, don't you?" 

He stepped out of the shadow, the light overhead casting contours on his face, another image far from what I remembered. But his strong brows and long-lasting eyes haven't changed. He licked his lips at me and shot a polite smile. 

"Y-Yeah, of course." Shuttering lightly, I figured that we didn't know each other well enough to hug. He wore a bandana tied around his forehead that heaved his brown locks. "I see you finally stopped dying your hair red." 

"It was the only way they would let me prospect." He chuckled. 

I didn't know him as well as I knew Jimin, even though they were always together, the conversations between us just never went anywhere. It didn't surprise me in the slightest to see him in a cut. Bangtan was seemingly the only topic we could discuss that endured more than just a few words.

"Yeah, there is no way the vote would have been unanimous if you would have kept that hair." A loud voice laughed behind the two. 

The owner appeared over Taehyung's shoulder, continuing to laugh in his ear. I could distinguish him by his very voice, Hoseok, who began prospecting at the same time Namjoon did. 

"Yeah? I still might do it one day, just to piss you off." Taehyung said, shoving Hoseok's shoulder playfully. 

"You'll be the only one looking like a fucking strawberry, dude." Another face came wandering in, this time behind Jimin. It was only next to Jimin that I was able to recognize who he was.

"Jungkook?" He revealed a pair of bunny teeth and his 16-year-old image flashed in my head. "Last time I saw you, you were following Jimin around like a puppy. Good to see things haven’t changed" 

They all began to tease and ponder the poor boy, Jimin especially, reached his hand up and lightly slapped his face. Jungkook could only laugh off the taunting as he looked back at me.

"Things have changed, (Y/n)." He purposely deepened his voice and with a smug look, pushed Jimin out of the way. With his hand hooked around his belt, he danced a slow walk toward me. "Now I'm 23 and… 5′10." 

He let his eye drop into a wink and I shivered with a deep cringe. I couldn't help but burst out laughing, trying to withhold the obnoxious cries with my hand. The rest of the boy's laugh echoed my own. Everyone except Namjoons, it was only seconds later that he came up from behind me, elbowing the young member away.

"Cute, Jungkook." He stated, certainly not finding humor in Jungkook's flirtatious act.

"Honestly Jungkook, you're sick, her father just died," I noticed Seokjin as he spoke from behind the group, Yoongi just beside him.

"It was a joke." Jungkook protested as he stumbled back beside Jimin.

"It won't be a joke when Namjoon murders you for messing with his sister," Yoongi scolded.

"Stepsister." 

Namjoon and I bluntly corrected, at the same time. 

Our severe voices caused everyone to stop laughing, questionably staring in our direction. My head went blank as soon as I realized what had happened. The silence expanded to us and I hastily looked away from the situation. 

"Where's the prospect?" Namjoon asked taking the pressure off the prior incident. 

"He went to go find me some smokes," Taehyung replied and with perfect timing, the front door behind them opened abruptly.

"I got them!" 

A voice called making his way around the group of boys with a pack of red Marlboro. Taehyung moved quickly to seize the cigarettes from his hand without a single thank you. 

"Say hello, prospect." He said pushing the young boy on his back causing him to stumble forward into my line of sight. 

Caught by utter surprise, he stared at me bashfully. I tilted my head as I examined his features carefully. Something about him looked familiar however he was so young, I could almost deny that I knew him at all. I just couldn't figure it out. He looked at me with pleading eyes, almost as if he was praying that I would recognize him. He had to be at least 19 years old now, which would put him at the age of 12 when I left. 

Then it clicked.

"Yeonjun?" 

When he smiled, in a matter of seconds, my heart completely melted. My face broke into a grin that ached my cheeks, my eyes glossed with more tears as I walked up to him. He lived just down the road, I used to babysit him when his mother took night shifts at the hospital. I placed my hand on his shoulder and got a better look at his face. I couldn't help but complain. "You lost your baby fat." 

The boys teasingly ‘aww’ed at him, Jimin dramatically clenching his heart with his hand. Taehyung wrapped his arm over Yeonjun’s shoulder and began poking at his cheeks. He could only stand there and take the banters of his elders as it was a form of hazing for prospects. However, Yeonjuns head remained held high as he proudly said,

"I told you she would remember me." Taehyung, who he was specifically speaking to, could merely roll his eyes and let the prospect enjoy his victory.

As happy as I was at that moment, I couldn't help but fall mute, the truth of everything just sort of unraveling in my mind. Seeing Yoenjun was a testimony of how much I left behind, the little things I didn't know I cared about so much. The people I used to know had moved on without me. Everyone was so different and changed into better versions of themselves. I began to question if I had really done the same. I felt robbed of the person I could have been, the person I thought I was meant to be. Blackburn was a family community, everyone knew each other- now, I was just an outsider. 

I heard the boy's laughter cut short, my train of thought lost by the screeching sound of tires coming from outside. All of our heads turned to follow the noise. Down the hall where the front door stood lonely, we moved as a group, our feet trying to get a clear image of the outside. There was just enough darkness to see through the glass shapes cut into the frame of the door. The street of Ivory Lane was cleared except for a gray van parked parallel in front of the house.

Before I could think to question anything, the side door slid open and three masked figures appeared, in their hands were fully automated KG-9s. 

"Get down!" 

Namjoon's voice was all that I heard before my body was hitting the floor. Someone's weight was on top of me, acting as a shield, as the following movements were full of total chaos. 

Thousands of rounds firing off, causing the windows to shatter into pieces. My arms covered over my head, shards of glass scratching against the leather of my sleeves. My cheek pressed against the wood as I heard the screams of the souls in the house, women, and children. 

I raised my head to see Yeonjuns face over my shoulder. His forearms rested on either side of my head, I saw the fear in his face, the way his eyes were shut tightly. I took a look at the rest of my surroundings, Taehyung and Namjoon were leaning against the wall, their hands working fast to load their handguns. 

"Cover me!" Namjoon yelled over the firearms. 

My heart was pumping adrenaline throughout my body. But the thought of my family home being shot up while grieving my father's death fueled me with red rage. It was blinding. 

I forced Yeonjun off of me, my knee pinning him down on the floor where he would remain clear of any bullets. 

"What are you doing!?"

I  stayed crouched as my arms reached behind me. My hands felt for the Glock 23 that I had tucked into the belt of my pants. The heavy metal was cold in my hand, I clicked the safety off and rose on my feet.

"(Y/n)!"

I moved quickly, my gun pointed out toward the door as I reached quickly yanking it open. I found the three men retreating back into the van. My brain didn't hesitate to take the aim to the one in the middle, pulling the trigger over and over again, my arms resisting the gun’s kickback. The bullets went cutting through the air, piercing holes of the van until one finally broke through the skin of his shoulder. He struggled to reload his gun as his two partners jumped into the van. 

"(Y/n)! Get back!"

Bullets behind me came firing at the van, shattering the window of the driver. I kept firing at the already injured figure, his friends running to get him in the van as they were trying to flee. They pulled at his arms, dragging him into the van as he finished reloading. With a click of his ammo, he aimed his gun at me but I fired first. My bullet went right through his kneecap causing him to fall off the moving van. His partners had no option but to leave him behind.

"(Y/n)!" Namjoon yelled as my feet moved, sprinting, toward the man bleeding out on the street. 

He laid on his back, holding his disjointed knee in one hand. He wore a ski mask and black clothing. I kicked away his KG-9 with my foot and aimed my gun at him.

"Put your hands up! Put Your hands up!" I commanded. He followed them without hesitation. Namjoon and Taehyung came running up behind me. 

"Put the gun down, (Y/n)," Taehyung said calmly but I didn't budge. I could only stare angrily at the blue eyes I could make out through the holes of the mask. My hand began to tremble from rage. I wanted to shoot him, I wanted to shoot him so very bad. "People are watching, (Y/n)."

I glanced back at the house where people were gathering behind the broken windows. I took a deep breath, shaking to remain calm, and lowering my gun. 

Namjoon and Taehyung moved in, holding him down as they removed his mask. I didn't recognize him in the slightest, he was white, with thin white hair and ice-blue eyes, at least 40 years old. 

"I’ve got PB ink here," Taehyung said to Namjoon as he raised his arms to reveal tattoos. 

"Help! Please help!" A scream filled the night, coming out the front door was a woman. Her face contoured in pain as wails left her mouth. She held a young boy, pressed against her chest, drenched in blood. "My son, please!"

She begged as Jimin helped her hold the boy up. His hand was stained with blood over the wounds on his chest and abdomen. But the boy's body was unresponsive, lifeless, he was already gone. 

That's when everything went silent for me. My ears hollowed with a ring of white noise. I felt my hand loosen as the gun fell from my grip. As the metal hit against the street, I stepped back toward the gunman, trance-like. His eyes barely caught mine before I stomped my foot on his face.

"(Y/n)!"

I growled through my teeth as I felt the cartilage of his nose crack under my boot with the first stomp. The ones after that beat his teeth into his mouth. Gashes of blood leaked into the curves of his face. He begged and cried for me to stop but I couldn’t.  

Taehyung wrapped his arms around my waist, I fought back, but he lifted me and tore me apart from him. 

Masterlist ≽

[soheila-1996]

My story- part twelve

I have epilepsy. This details my seizures, I can’t speak for everyone, everyone’s seizures/ experiences are different. This is graphic. Seizures are messy. They aren’t fun and it felt wrong to make it out to be cute when they really aren’t.   Pretty much all the things that happen in the plot have happened to me. Well, I’m not married to a king or live in a palace so…there’s that but everything else is accurate.  There may be some jokes about it here because I do joke about it sometimes. It makes me more comfortable and I find it helps relax everyone around me. I’m also writing about it because there really aren’t that many fics written about it and I think it’s important to shine light on it.

Any feedback is really appreciated! :)

Tags: @kacie-0156 @texaskitten30, @cordonianroyalty, @kingliam2019 , @cordonia-gothqueen,   @bobasheebaby @losingbraincellseveryday  @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @flutistbyday2020 @debramcg1106 @anotherbeingsworld @leaharhys @cordoniaqueensworld @bascmve01

This is also part of wacky drabbles hosted by @wackydrabbles. The prompt this week is: #43: Is this a game to you? 

Paring: Liam and Riley

Warnings: Panic attack, bullying, blood, mention of miscarriage, suicidal thoughts. 

Word count: 7,699

Catch up here

(Josh’s POV)

My wife and I are currently wandering around a  Target, we’re here to pick up the last couple of items for our daughter’s birthday on the weekend. We were looking at some clothes that she had mentioned she liked. She’s turning five Saturday. It feels like it was yesterday when I was holding her in my arms- time really does fly by. 

My wife, Leah, took a pink and white striped shirt with a gold butterfly fly over the rack and put it into the cart after making sure it’s the right size. 

“Alright I’m going to the bath stuff,” Kate announced. I looked up at her with my eyebrow raised. 

“Do you need more bath stuff?” I asked teasingly, a smirk danced across my lips. 

“Do you need more pens?  I know you’re about to go and grab some  the second I turn my back?

“Point taken,” I laughed. I quickly gave her a peck on the lips. “ “Meet you in the middle when we’re done?”

“Yep,” Leah said as each of us took off in our own directions. 

I stayed by the clothing for a few more minutes picking out anything else I thought my little girl would like. I just can’t believe how much time has actually passed. Nearly five years. I don’t think words can explain how much I love her. 

Unbeknownst to me, there’s a girl a little bit away from me reaching for an item of clothing on one of the racks just next to mine. She can’t be much older than thirteen. School had finished a couple hours ago now. 

The girl stumbled forward as she reached out for something, she attempted to catch herself onto the rack but she fell anyway. 

I had just started to walk away from the clothes and towards the stationary aisle when I heard people yelling. 

“Oh my god!” A woman exclaimed.

I turned around and headed back to where I was. A bunch of people were now crowded around something, I can’t see what was happening and honestly I don’t really want to get involved. 

“She’s having a seizure!” one of the onlookers exclaimed.

Without thinking, I jogged over to the group and slipped past some of the bystanders. Like the woman had announced to the entire store, a girl was laying flat on her back and was having a seizure. 

I hesitated for a second, this reminds me so much of my little sister, Riley. I soon snap out of it and kneel down beside the girl. “Does anyone know if someone is with her?” I ask. 

The onlookers all shake their heads. “Okay,” I muttered before beginning a familiar routine. No one had any problem with me taking the lead.

I quickly moved away from the girl and retrieved a sweater off the display and slipped it under her head. Just then a saleswoman appeared, pushing past the interested bystanders. I read her name tag: Emily

I look up at her, “I need you to help roll her over onto her side,” I instructed. She nods and joins me on the floor to help me roll her. I pull out my phone from my back pocket and start a timer. 

Emily helped me recover the backpack off her back. While we were doing that I noticed a bracelet with a large red emblem on it- a medical alert bracelet I soon realised. 

I slipped it off the girl's wrist over her hand and read the back: 

Lacey Jones 

Epilepsy

And then a  number to to call in an emergency underneath. 

If only my little sister would’ve followed this Lacey’s lead when she was her age. It would’ve saved her a lot of trouble. 

“Can you call that number for me please?” I ask Emily as I hand the bracelet over to her. She nodded.  “-and ask if we should call an ambulance,” I add. 

I look down at Lacey as a man hands Emily his phone. 

I feel horrible for this girl. She’s so alone and so incredibly vulnerable. She honestly can’t be older than 13 at the least. I can’t help but think about Riley. 

“Isn’t she going to swallow her tongue?!” A woman exclaimed with great concern. 

“Does someone have a wallet or something?” A man asked. I looked up to see him patting down his pockets looking for something to put in the girls mouth. 

“No no, no, don’t put anything in her mouth,” I  respond quickly,” she won’t swallow her tongue.”

“You need to hold her down!” Another woman added. It’s honestly surprising how little people actually know about dealing with a seizure. 

“You’ll hurt her if you do that,” I explained. 

“Are you a doctor?” The same woman asked me harshly. 

“I’m not, no,” I respond, shaking my head. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” She asked, her voice hostile. 

“Yes, I do. My little sister has epilepsy and I kept her alive for most of her childhood so yeah,” I replied, running out of patience with her, “I think I know what I’m doing.” 

I looked up at Emily who was still obviously trying to get hold of whoever the number on Lacey’s bracelet belonged to. My statement had shut the annoying woman up at least. 

A little spit started to leak out of Lacey’s mouth, I used the sleeve on the sweater beneath her to wipe the fluid away. “You’re doing really well, Lacey,” I whispered to her. 

“It’s her mom,” Emily told me. “She wants to know how bad it is and then she’ll make the decision if we should call an ambulance. 

Dealing with a panicked mom is not my repertoire.  I can just imagine all the things he would want to know if he got the same call to say this was happening to Lana. 

“Okay, she’s breathing and one her side,” I glanced down at the timer, “And it’s started just over a minute ago.” Emily repeated all the information to the concerned mother on the other end of the phone. 

Emily informed us that we didn’t need an ambulance just yet. I ask her to ask what Lacey Is like after a seizure so I know what to expect in advance. It was about a minute later and Lacey’s movement’s started to slow down. 

“There you go,” I said gently  as my finger hovered over the timer to stop it. It was just a few seconds later and it stopped completely. I looked up to Emily to tell her to tell Lacey’s mother that the seizure had stopped. 

(Leah’s POV) 

I just picked up  a couple of things and now I’m walking back towards where I left my husband. I know what he’s like; he probably hasn’t moved from there yet. 

When I arrive there I don't see him but I do see a group of people crowding around someone. I can’t see what’s happening from where I’m standing so I move a little closer. I recognised the denim jacket my husband was wearing through the sea of people; my heart sank. Five minutes! I’ve left him alone for. Five. Minutes!

I pushed past some of the onlookers just wanting to get to my husband. I was instantly relieved  when I saw him kneeling beside a young girl. It’s not him that’s having a problem. 

The crowd parted when a woman’s voice calling “Lacey” was heard. A concerned, panicked looking woman came barrelling past the onlookers and knelt down beside my husband and what I presume is her daughter 

The woman thanked Josh and then he stood up and walked over to me. We moved away from the crowd a little bit. 

“What was all that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“I was just walking away and then I heard screaming- she had a seizure,” he explained to me. “She had a medical ID on and we called her mom.” 

“I left you alone for five minutes,” I mentioned with a smirk. He shrugged. “You don’t always have to play hero.” 

“No one else knew what else to do. They would’ve hurt her had I not stepped in,” he explains. “I know what to do so why not help?” 

I gave him a quick peck on the lips, “Let’s go pay, then we can pick Lana up from my mom’s and get home.” He nodded in agreement and so we headed towards the check-out. 

(Riley’s POV)

Liam and my parents have all thankfully stepped out and left me alone. I know that they all have good intentions but they are getting annoying. It’s like they believe that I need to be babysat when I don't. 

I want to be able to talk to them about what’s going on inside my head but I don't know how to. Talking about my feelings has never been something I’m good at. I find it awkward and it makes me think I’m bothering them with my problems. I’m always more than happy to help someone else with their own problems but when I have one I feel like I have to solve it on my own. 

Asking for help isn’t easy for me. It never has been and albeit that’s gotten me into trouble in the past. I have an amazing husband and a group of incredible friends who are more than willing to sit and listen to me vent but I just don’t know how to. My way of trying to sort through my emotions is to do it alone and push everyone away. I haven’t quite figured out that it’s never going to work.

Everything is a mess and I don't know how to get out of it. I’m not sure if it’s even worth it at this point. Every time I feel like everything is going okay, something happens to fuck it up and I’m back to square one. 

All of it swirls around my head,  knocking into each other and beating me down again and again. It’s like a chorus to a song on a constant, rapid loop. Sometimes it gets so loud that I can't hear anything else. It drowns everything else out until I can’t even hear myself think anymore. 

Everyone hates you.  

You’re useless. 

You’re a failure 

 It  all twists like a knife  and all sense of reality spins away for a moment. Every one of my insecurities, every scabbed over wound feels like it's all being torn open again and are left to fester. 

It all just keeps getting louder and louder and then...it goes silent. I’m left sitting in a room on my own that hasn’t changed even though it just felt like the walls had started to close in. There’s no one to talk to because I've managed to push everyone away. 

Liam and  my mom have suggested counselling but I’m not all that keen on the idea. I'm not stupid. A therapist couldn't care less about my problems. All they care about is getting their money at the end of a session. They’re paid to care. Maybe that’s just in my head too. I just find it hard to believe that anyone could actually give a damn about my problems. That’s partly the reason I’m not sold on the idea of venting to a stranger once a week, another part of that is if I can't talk to my family how can I talk to a complete stranger? The last time I had given it ago didn’t turn out so well. It didn’t help in the slightest. 

I’m tired of being tired. 

It’s been a really, really challenging few weeks. I don’t even know how long I've felt this hopeless. Maybe it never really went away to begin with. 

I climbed out of the bed and headed into the conjoining bathroom. I turned on the tap and splashed some water over my wash in the hope it would wake me up a little bit. When I look up at the mirror as the water drips down my face, down my chin and onto my shirt; I don’t recognise myself anymore. 

I don’t recognise my eyes, they're dull and no longer have  the same twinkle they used to; they make me look years older than I actually am. My cheekbones look sharper than they used to. Actually, all of me looks skinnier than I used to. 

I dry off my face and avoid looking at myself again. It only makes me feel worse but in a way it makes me understand why my parents and  husband are so concerned. I would be if the tables were turned.  I look like a zombie.  It’s so draining thinking that it’ll all get better but It just doesn't. 

I understand that life is made up as the bad and the good moments  but why does it seem like mine is only made up of the bad? 

All I really want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for days because life is just too hard. Surely my problems can’t follow me into my dreams, right? 

I want to get out of this hospital too. I just want to go home, back to my own bed, my own stuff and maybe then I’d be able to get some sleep. 

After my first miscarriage I wanted to die. I wanted for the ground to just open me up and swallow me whole. I didn’t know how to continue, how to move on after what had happened. Everyone had convinced me that it would get better  but...it just doesn’t. I’ve tried pretending that everything is okay for so long and I’m tired of pretending to be happy. All of this had just proven  that wishing it away doesn’t work.  

I’m not sure why but this all reminds me so much of what happened when I was seventeen with Ben. If I recall correctly that’s when I started to feel like this. I don’t think it ever really, truly went away. 

** I’m awake but I can’t open my eyes. I had tried but the lights stung them so  I opted to close them again. Physically I feel weird, I try to move but I can’t. 

Why can’t I move?

I’m trying. I’m really trying to get my body to move but it feels as if I’m paralysed. What’s happening to me?! 

Nothing makes sense. I don’t even know what the last thing I remember is because everything is foggy. 

I can’t think. 

I can’t move. 

My eyes flutter back open and this time I know to squint to avoid being blinded by the harsh lights above me. I let my eyes adjust a little bit, the room around me started to become clearer. 

I realise that I’m looking up at a ceiling- It’s white as most ceiling’s are. The room smells almost sterile...like a hospital. Am I in a hospital? I’ve spent enough time in them over the years to recognise this overwhelmingly sterile smell anywhere. 

Why am I here? I don’t understand. 

I feel myself beginning to panic. I just don’t understand anything….What can’t I move?! 

It’s a question I keep coming back to. I don’t understand why or how I’m here and what they’ve done to me. It feels like my body has been magnetised to the bed beneath me and there’s nothing I can do to free myself from it’s hold that it seems to have over me. 

I just need to understand what’s happening. If I could just start to remember something maybe I’d start to feel better. 

I want my mom and dad. 

(Karol’s POV)  I’m sitting beside Riley’s bed. She looks so much better now that she doesn’t have that tube shoved down her throat. She looks like she is actually alive. 

They had extubated her a short while ago and now we’re just waiting for her to wake up. Micheal and I are here after we had sent Josh home to get some rest. I feel so impeccably guilty that I haven't been here every minute of the last few days. The first time seeing her was...I’m not sure there are words to describe what seeing my little girl like that did to me. 

I’m sitting on her right and Micheal on her left. Neither of us know how to feel. We feel like this is our fault and the worst thing is that it kind of is. We should’ve noticed that Riley wasn’t taking her medication. We should’ve been more strict with her. We should’ve spoken to her about what happened with Ben… We should’ve done something If we maybe this all could’ve been avoided. 

The doctor’s words from the other day continue to echo in my head.  “In some cases of convulsive status epilepticus, particularly when it has gone on for this long, sometimes causes brain damage.” 

Brain damage? 

That could mean so many things. What if she does? What is her life going to be like? There’s so many things, so many consequences just those two words could possibly mean. 

All of this makes me feel physically sick. It’s the worst feeling in the world to watch your child go through something and you have no control over any of it. I wish it was me. 

I remember the day Riley was diagnosed and the neurologist told us that she would need medication, I was in a state of denial and maybe I still am. It’s hard to accept that there is something wrong and that I can’t do anything to change it. 

I’m scared. After I had gotten mostly past that state of denial; I became overprotective over my daughter. I was upset, It was like I was grieving for the loss of a ‘normal’ child, I hate that I felt that way. Of course, I would prefer Riley not to have epilepsy but she’s perfect the way she is. I didn’t let her do so many things out of fear that something would happen. I hate dropping her off to school in case she has a seizure and somebody deals with it incorrectly.  I didn’t let her go to camp during the summer or stay at friends houses in case something happened. I’ve babied her for so, so long and now I have no idea if she’ll be okay when she wakes up.  

Her life could potentially be so incredibly different...What if she can’t do so many of the other things that she could before this? What if she never gets to do the thing i stopped her from doing? I’m dreading finding out if she’ll have any lasting side effect from this. 

“Karol,” Micheal called, quietly. I looked up from my lap and looked over to him. He gestured to Riley who was just beginning to open her eyes. I stood up and moved closer to the bed, leaning over the rails to look at her as she sequined as her eyes fluttered open. “I’ll go get the doctor,” my husband announced as he stood and walked out of the room. 

I ran my fingers soothingly through her hair. Her eyes darted around the room. She must be so confused. “It’s okay,” I whispered, “You’re in the hospital but you’re okay, Ri. I’m here. Dad’s here too, he’s just gone to get the doctor,” I explained to her quietly. 

“C-can’t m-m-move,” She tells me. Her voice is raspy and quiet; I can barely hear her. I don’t really understand what she just said. 

“What Honey?” I ask as I lean in closer to her over the railing. 

“M c-can’t m-move,” she repeated. Panic immediately washes over me. I don’t understand what’s happening. 

Why can’t she move? 

I continue to run my finger through her hair. “Shhh...It’s okay, Ri.” 

Just then my husband re-enters the room with Riley’s new doctor, Dr Jane Stone, trailing behind him. I move away from the bed and take the doctor to the side. I signal for Micheal to just go over to comfort our daughter as I try to get to the bottom of this. 

“She can’t….W-why can’t she move?” I ask the doctor in great concern. 

She gives me a small smile. How is she being so calm? “This is a common side effect of coming out of a coma, Mrs brooks.  She should start to regain feeling very soon but she still will be weak.  Four days doesn’t seem like a long time but it is when you're constantly laying down and not moving,” Dr Stone explains to me but I’m not convinced. “She’s doing really well,” she added, “just give her some time.” She gave me a small smile but it did  nothing for my nerves. 

The doctor leaves after checking Riley’s vitals. Now I'm left with Riley and my husband. I walk back down to the bed and look down at her and run my fingers through her knotty, greasy hair. I can see that she’s scared by the expression she has on her face. I just feel so, so incredibly helpless. She’s my daughter, I’m her mother and yet I can’t do anything to make this better.  

“S-scared,” She whispered. She winces at the pain in her throat that the tube had caused. Her voice is barely audible. 

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” Micheal reassured. I can’t speak; I don’t know what to say even if I could. 

I can’t begin to imagine how scared and confused she is right now. She’s just seventeen years old; she doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does. 

“Tired,” She murmured. 

“Get some rest,” I tell her. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to flutter shut. After I'm sure she’s asleep I explain to Micheal about what the doctor said.

(Riley’s POV)  I open my eyes, thankfully the lighting is much dimmer than It was earlier. It still stings my eyes a little though. I blink a few times until my eyes adjust and I notice my brother sitting in the chair next to my bed, more occupied with scrolling through his phone than looking at me. 

“Josh,” I whispered. My throat feels like it’s burning; I wince at the feeling and bring my hand up to my throat which requires more effort than it should. 

Josh looked down at me and turned his phone off. 

“Hey,” he greeted, quietly. “The doctor said your throat will be a little tender for a while,” my brother explained to me after noticing my hand was still resting over it. “Don’t talk if it hurts,” he recommended. 

I vaguely remember talking to my mom earlier but I can’t tell if that was a dream or not. It felt real but everything is still fuzzy and doesn’t make sense. “W-what h-h-happend?” That’s new; why am I stuttering? It’s not because of my throat. A sore throat doesn’t make you stutter. 

“What’s that last thing you remember?” he asked with an almost sad expression on her face. 

“I-I d-don’t-” Why is this happening? I’m trying to think back but I can’t because I’m so focused on trying to figure out why I now have a stutter. I don’t remember having one prior to this.

I looked around the room. 

Where am I?

 I think it's a hospital room by the looks of it. There’s annoying beeping coming from just behind my bed. Talking of the bed; it feels like it’s made of nails. 

“You’re in the hospital,” Josh confirmed. I nodded; I’ve already figured that out but thankful for the confirmation. 

“W-why?” God my throat hurts. “I w-was a-at h-home…” 

“You had a seizure,” he explains, “it didn’t stop. I had to call an ambulance, they couldn’t get it to stop either and then the doctor’s had to  put you into a coma to stop it.” 

The last thing I remember is laying down on the couch to have a nap after I got rid of  Sally. I’m suddenly very concerned about Sally; I told her to leave me, I...Wait, Josh said he called an ambulance, how did he know? 

“W-what?” I question. None of this makes sense to me. I don’t even know how time has passed.

 Is it the same day? 

It is weeks later? 

Josh said I was in a coma but not how long it was for. I don’t understand any of it. The last thing I knew I was laying down for a nap and now I’m in a hospital. “H-how l-l-long for?” I ask, getting increasingly concerned and confused. 

“Four days,” he responded. 

Four days?! 

96 hours?! 

“W-wh-” I just don’t understand. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest; my breathing quickens. Fuck. 

A loud beeping fills the room and my brother leaps forward, putting down the railing so he can sit on the end of the bed. He takes my face in his hands to make me look at him. I can’t breathe. 

“Riley, it’s okay,” he tried to soothe but it’s not. It’s not okay. None of this is okay. 

My eyes darting around the room. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest! I’m trying to get air into my lungs but it seems like the harder I try, the amount of air I’m actually getting decreases. 

My heart is thudding against my rib cage. 

I’m scared. 

I’m confused. 

I look back up to my brother as my tears start to well up. I’m crying now; I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand how this happened. 

I can’t breathe. 

I’m now only able to take in a few strangled breaths. The panic I’m feeling has already gotten its vicious claws in and I can’t shake it off. 

I’m scared.

I can feel my brother’s hands on the side of my face but his touch isn’t doing anything to comfort me. 

“Ri, look at me.” My panicked filled gaze flicked up to meet him. “It’s okay. You’re okay,”he tried to soothe. “Copy me, okay?” 

I nod. I just want to be able to breathe properly again and to understand what’s going on. My brother took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled out of her nose for a few seconds. I tried to follow suit but I can’t. It’s too hard. 

There’s other people- doctor’s I presume but I can’t hear them. All I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears. I think they’re telling me to do the same thing my brother is, don’t they realise how hard it is? 

Telling me to breathe isn’t actually helping me too! 

I somehow manage to follow my brother’s lead;  following his breathing pattern. I feel myself start to calm down, the beeping stops and the other people disperse out of the room. 

My brother stays sitting on the end of my bed. I look up at my eyes welling up. “I-I d-don’t u-u-under-” 

“It’s okay,” Josh interrupts. “You’re okay; that’s all that matters.” 

“F-four d-d-days?” I ask. I need some more information. Finding out that I’ve been unconscious for four days is a pretty big, alarming shock. Josh said I had a seizure...was it really that bad? “S-seizure?” 

He nods, “Yeah, you had a seizure.” 

“H-how l-long d-d-did it l-last?” 

“Over twenty minutes,” he replies.  Josh explains the rest of it. Sally left me, apparently I called Casey, she called him and so on. I feel bad; I told Sally to leave and go to that party. In hindsight that was a spectacularly bad idea. 

By the time our conversation ends, I’m exhausted and just want to sleep. It’s so much information to process. I’m still not sure that I understand all of it just yet. 

** It’s a week later and I’m finally being discharged! No more hospital food. No more being woken up every few minutes in the night by the constant beeping or nurses coming in and out the room. No more sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital bed. I’m finally going home. 

Recovery is apparently going to take a little while. I’m still a little weak so they’ve recommended some physical therapy to regain a little bit of strength. I haven’t really been allowed to get out of bed since I woke, mainly due to the fact my legs felt really weird for a long time, and I’m still ridiculously sore from the seizure. 

Speech therapy is also another thing I’m going to have to do. My stutter seems like it’s going to be somewhat of a permanent fixture. It’s erm...it’s definitely not helping my confidence. I used to stutter a little when I was a kid and was bullied severely for it...I guess it’s a good thing that it doesn’t look like I’m going back to school for a little while. 

The last weeks have been one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me. It terrifies me how quickly things can go wrong. One moment I’m fine and the next I’m in the ICU in a coma and a tube shoved down my throat. It’s mortifying. I am so beyond grateful that I’m still here and that my brother was there to help me. 

I had managed to get my parents to lay off Sally a little bit. I convinced her to go therefore I should take some of the blame. Mom and dad didn't really agree with that but had left her alone. 

My mom had stayed the night and drove me home this morning. When we arrived back the house was quiet. Everyone else is apparently out doing their own thing. I’m happy about that; I don’t need everyone crowding around me like they had done in the hospital. I’m fine. 

That’s probably just me being stubborn though. Nothing’s fine. I had a seizure, which led to doctor’s having to put me into a coma and scared the undying shit out of everyone in the process. 

It's later the same day, everyone is home and we’ve just eaten dinner. I’m about to head toward the stairs and head to bed for an early night when my mom speaks, “Can we talk for a sec?” She asks as the entire family moves out the kitchen and into the living room. 

I look at everyone quizzically.  “Sit down,” my dad orders. He sounds serious. 

“O-okay,” I stutter and sit down on the couch. Casey sits beside me, Sally beside her and Josh, my mom and dad take the couch opposite. “W-what is t-t-this a-a-about?” 

“We just want to talk to you about something,” My mom explains. 

“We know that you weren’t taking your medication.” I nod, they’d mentioned it while I was in the hospital. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“Do you know how dangerous it is to just stop taking them?” Mom asks. I shake my head; I knew that if I stopped I'd probably have more seizures but I didn’t know that I could put myself at risk of Status epilepticus. “We need you to promise that you’re not gonna do that again. That you’re gonna take your medication.” 

I promise that I'll do that and then they finally allow me to head back up to my room and to bed. I’ve learned my lesson after all and  I’m exhausted. 

** - 2 weeks later. 

It’s just gone noon after my physical therapy appointment. It had gone well- I had so much more strength in all four limbs that I previously did. My mom and I have just stopped in a store to pick up some much needed groceries before we head to Macdonald’s for some lunch. 

Lately, I only get out of the house to go to my appointments. It’s not that I used to go out a lot before all of this but it’s the fact the choice has now been taken away from me. My already protective family had only grown all the more protective. 

Recovery is taking a long ass time. It’s annoying. I just want  my life to go back to normal. 

By now, everyone at school is aware of what happened. Jake- one of Ben’s friends lives opposite me and had apparently seen the ambulance that night. I’m not sure how everyone knew the details but they did regardless of how they had discovered them. Luna had told me about it when she came over the other day. 

My mom had kindly trusted me to go and get some milk. Seriously, I've barely been left alone since the incident. I headed down the aisle, opened up the refrigerator and took out a carton. I closed it then turned around about to head back to my mom when Ben and his goons rounded a corner. It’s  a Wednesday afternoon! They’re probably skipping school again. 

I try to get away quickly, however, I'm still a little sore from my appointment and so they see me. “Riley?”

That’s Ben I realise. I slowly turn to look around at him. He let out a chuckle at the sight of me. “So you woke up?” He asked with a stupid smirk plastered across his face. 

“Yes,” I said. Thank god I didn’t stutter. I wanted to punch him but hurting my hand isn’t worth it. 

“That’s a shame.” How did I ever have feelings for this douche bag? “You should’ve died because let’s face it your family would be much happier without the freak.” 

“S-s-s-shut u-up!” I exclaim. 

He raises an eyebrow, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “What?” 

“L-leave m-m-me a-alone.” 

He cocks his head to the side, “What? I d-d-don’t u-u-u-understand,” he responded, mocking me. 

I opened my mouth to say something but I don’t want to give him more ammunition so I shut it again. My stutter had become something that I do feel insanely insecure about. I didn’t ask for it like I didn’t ask to have seizures all the time. Over the last couple of weeks my family have gotten used to it but I haven’t. I hate it. 

“W-what g-g-got n-nothing else t-to s-say?” He asked. I shake my head; what did I ever do to him to make him hate me so much? I can’t think of anything. 

Maybe it was because I got some stuff on his carpet when I had a seizure at his house….

Maybe I’m not pretty enough or smart enough…

Maybe he’s lashing out because I scared him…

What did I do? 

I must’ve done something, right? 

I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes. I turn away from him as a tear slips down my cheeks making the boy erupt into laughter as I walk away. 

Why does that have to happen to me? 

I soon found my mom. I hide my now tear stained face for her as we pick up the rest of what we came for then paid. 

We found where my mom had parked the car and loaded out shopping into the trunk. When we were loading in the items my mom caught sight of my face. She stopped what she’s doing to look at me. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, confused. She had only left me alone for not even five minutes. 

“N-nothing,”  I muttered, defeated. I placed the last few items in then jumped into the passenger's seat. My mom soon joined me and turned in her seat to look directly into me. 

“Ri?” 

“C-can w-w-we g-go h-home p-p-please?” I ask. 

“You don’t wanna go get food?” 

I shook my head. “N-not h-h-hungry.”

“Okay,” She murmured and turned away from me to put the keys into the ignition. Thankfully she doesn't ask anymore questions on the drive home. 

Does my mom and the rest of my family wish I had died too? 

**

I’m in the garage, my fist is connecting with the hung up punching bag again and again. My knuckles stung as they made contact. I cried out in pain, frustration, annoyance as I continue to beat the shit out of the bag until my knuckles start to bleed unbeknownst to me right now. 

Stupid. 

Freak. 

Useless.  

You should’ve died. 

Ben’s words echoed in my head mixed in with my own thoughts. Both my hands continue to make contact with the bag only making the wounds that now little red my knuckles worse. I. Hate. Everything! 

Why can’t I be normal? 

Why did I have to get the fucked up brain? 

Why can’t I just be like everybody else?! 

I kept hitting the bag. Each question I came up with makes me hit harder. Harder and harder. I went to hit the bag again but someone’s hand clamped around my one wrist and pulled me away from the bag. I went to hit it again with my other hand but someone came to stop in front of me. 

“Riley, stop!” I looked up to see my brother looking down at me with concern written all across his face. “Just stop,” he said quietly. 

I yanked my arm out of his grasp then looked down at my now bloody knuckles. I had barely felt it. 

“What’s wrong?” Josh asked, prompting me to look up at him. 

“I-I s-s-s-stutter.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured. 

“N-n-no  i-i-it’s n-not! I-I s-s-stutter -a-and h-h-” I paused for a minute. Why can’t I just speak normally?! “H-have s-seizures.” 

“That’s not your fault. It doesn't matter. Riley, what happened?” he asked, “This isn’t like you.” 

I took a moment to figure out what I’m going to say in the hope that it would make a difference. “I r-r-ran i-in t-” I paused again; my strategy was making no difference whatsoever. The stutter lives on. 

Josh placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Take your time.”

He doesn't understand that I don’t want to take my time. I want to be able to have a conversation without it taking forever to say just one word. “I r-ran i-i-in t-to B-B-Ben,” I explain. 

His face fell. My family all knew about what Ben had done; how spiteful he is. “What did he do?” I can tell that he’s angry but he’s trying to hide it from me. I don’t answer his question; afraid of annoying him more with my answer or because how long it will take for me to tell him. “Ri?” 

“I-it d-doesn’t m-m-m-matter.” 

 “It does,” he insisted. I shook my head and tried to walk past him and into the house but he moved to block my path. “Talk to me,” he encouraged. 

I sigh. He’s going to find out one way or another. “H-he s-s-said t-t-t-t-that i-i’m a-a f-freak a-and t-t-that I s-should h-h-have d-d-died.” 

I see anger flashed across my older brother’s face because he takes on a more somber expression. “You know none that is true, right?” I don’t answer and choose to flick my gaze down to the floor. “Ri? 

“H-he s-s-said t-that you w-w-would all b-be b-b-better o-off,” I tell him. I can feel the hot tears pricking at my eyes once again. 

“Ri-”

“L-l-like I s-said i-i-it d-doesn’t m-m-matter,” I interrupted, matter of factually. I then moved around Josh and back into the house before he could respond. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s no point.

I just reach the stairs. I stay standing at the bottom when I see Casey come out of her bedroom and approach the top of the stairs. I wait patiently for her to walk down them. She raises an eyebrow when she reaches the bottom and see’s my bloody knuckles.  

“What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” I say, as I push past her, up the stairs and into my bedroom. Ben’s words continue to echo in my head. I’m angry, upset and I need to let my anger out somehow and so without thinking I decide to take it out on my wall. 

My first makes contact with the concrete wall and I immediately feel a fiery pain lacing through my hand. I’m not sure if my stomach flips because of the sight of my quickly swelling, bloody knuckle or it’s something else. 

I’ve been good with blood but I quickly decide that laying down is probably a good idea. I take a pillow off my bed and put it on the floor near where my head will lay, deciding if this is a seizure that going on the floor is better so I don’t fall off the bed.  I carefully lower myself down and lay on my side with my head resting on the pillow. My stomach flips again and my arm begins to tingle. 

Oh no. 

I feel sick but I know that I need someone to come and help me. I’m scared; I’m really scared because of what happened last time. 

I open my mouth and scream, “Josh!”

I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs and just a second later my door is pushed open. He kneels down beside me. “Are you going to have a seizure?” he asked me calmly. 

I simply nod in response to his question. “It’s another shaky thing,” I say as I try to breathe through the nausea. My voice is slightly slurred and everything doesn’t really make sense anymore. 

I start to try and squirm away. I don’t really understand why I’m on the floor. “Just try and relax, Ri. It’s okay. 

The last thing I hear is my brother reassuring me that everything is okay as the word fades to black. 

** I’ve just arrived back at the palace. I’m pretty sure my parents and husband followed behind me in a separate SUV. Discharging myself probably wasn’t the best idea but I didn’t want to be there anymore. Sitting alone in that horrible little room wasn’t helping me. 

I walk through the halls towards  the apartment. I pass Maxwell and Drake on the way...Since when do they hang out together? Anyway, I ignore them and continue on my way. 

I unlock the door and slam the door behind me and head straight into the living room. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see my brother sitting on the couch. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

He stood up and walked closer to me where I’m standing in the doorway.  “Is this a game to you?” He asked me, an unusual bite in his tone. “You can not play with your health like this, Riley. You fuck up and there are real like consequences…” 

“Josh,” I said, interrupting his lecture. 

He holds up a hand, “I’m not done. Listen to me; you’ve promised mom and dad, you’ve promised Liam and all your friends that you're going to stop putting yourself at risk like this and take your medication. You know what will happen if you keep doing this. People rely on you, people need you-” 

“No one needs me!” I yelled cutting him off, “I am fucking useless, Josh! Y-you can’t understand! You don’t live in constant fucking fear that you’re going to have a seizure. You don’t have a fucking disorder that makes you feel utterly useless or like your sick and need looking after. You don’t have to reassure people multiple times that you're fine before they even consider leaving you alone...You didn’t basically ruin your partner's dream of having a kid…”

“Ri?” he interrupts. 

“Just leave me alone,” I ordered as I set off toward my bedroom. I slam the door with an almighty bang. When is everyone going to stop treating me like I’m a baby?