#nd ALSO 'just us?' 'do we need any more?' SCREAMED MY LUNGS OUT

[littencloud9]

good morning i just watched bsd s5ep3 aka THE sskk episode and i am unwell! i hate life!

[officialleehadan]

Hood and Strike

Hello darlings! Today's prompt was brought to you by JDR, who requested fluffy humor, and what better than Beastly Familiars to deliver! Thank you for all your support darling. It means the world to me!

This story concludes Prompt month! I can't wait to see what you pick in June. Until then, there are plenty more stories coming!

Enjoy!

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(!!!)

“It’s not food.”

(…?)

“Seriously, not food.”

(?!?)

“If you bite my hand while it’s full of your poop, neither of us are gonna be happy.”

There were some perils to being bonded with a snake. Oh, sure, Bhavini loved her Naja, who was, mostly, both easy to deal with and sweet-tempered.

But cobras, especially manacled cobras, were significantly ‘bite first and ask questions later’ when something caught their attention.

The concept of ‘hungry’ didn’t translate terribly well into snake-thought. Even Naja, who was clever for her kind, thought in punctuation, which made communicating with her downright difficult.

Particularly when something caught her attention, and she did that very particular perk that always meant she was thinking about hooding up and striking.

Snakes.

So now Bhavini was splitting her attention between her decidedly interested familiar, and the truly horrifying remains of her familiar’s last meal.

Unfortunately, to Naja, movement ment food,a nd scrubbing meant movement.

Bhavini might be immune to her venom as a cheerful side effect of their being bonded, but a cobra bite was still a significantly unpleasant experience.

(!!!)

The hood came up, and Bhavini yanked her hand back just in time as Naja struck forward, transfixed by the movement of the scrubbing brush. Her aim was good, as always, but the pure profanity of a cobra who had bitten what turned out to definitely not be food was hilarious.

“I told you it wasn’t food,” Bhavini said, and waited for Naja to focus on her, or more specifically on the hand she raised, palm out, to catch Naja’s attention safely. “I’ll feed you tomorrow. We both know you’re not actually hungry.”

(….) Naja said, more feeling than actual concept. And which translated more or less to ‘no she wasn’t hungry, but food might be nice and the brush had looked like food’ in snake-speak. (…<3?)

Bhavini understood the thought for what it was and proffered her hand out now that Naja was reoriented and knew it wasn’t food. Naja immediately coiled out, a solid five feet of dusty-brown and black scales, marked by the gorgeous pattern, the monacle that gave her species their name, on the back of her hood.

(<3) Naja said as she burruwed inside Bhavini’s shirt and wrapped around Bhavini’s shoulders. Once she was comfortable, almost completely hidden and secure, she tucked her head up against Bhavin’s cheek, tongue flickering out in a snake ‘kiss’. Bhavini smiled and turn enough to kiss her familiar’s cool, scaly head. (<3<3<3)

“I love you too, little menace,” Bhavini said, and finished with the tank. It wasn’t locked, of course. Naja liked to sleep there, and enjoyed both her heating pad and her cave, but had mostly free run of the rest of the facility. Mostly, she preferred to ride in Bhavini’s shirt.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

The Brooklyn accent rang out down the hall, and Bhavini sighed even as her shirt, or rather the snake inside, hissed.

($%^*(*@^^%#(&#)*)

“In here, Grant,” she called over the angry snake-cussing in her head. It was always easier to just find out what the obnoxious man wanted so he would go away. Unfortunately, Grant seemed to think Bhavini would go out with him if he asked enough, and wasn’t that willing to take no for an answer. Bhavini tried not to be alone with him if she could. OS far he had been polite, if insistent, but there was not telling how long that would last. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But you’re just so sweet,” Grant said when he came into sight, his usual ‘I’m a god’ smile on his face. Bhavini resisted the urge to hit him with her bucket full of snake poop. “Sweetheart, I’m thinking dinner. You. Me. The Starlight Room. What do you think?”

“That I told you no.”

“Awe, come on. Just gimme a chance.”

The feeling of Naja’s cool scales against her skin gave Bhavini an idea, and she smiled all at once even as Naja, always clever and who did not like Grant, cocked herself just enough to peep out of Bhavini’s collar.

Grant, of course, didn’t like snakes in general any more than Naja liked him. He only came around when there was a snake that needed to be relocated, and didn’t want to do it himself.

“Oh Grant,” Bhavini said, still smiling in a way that made Grant, who was apparently not as dumb as he looked, stare at her with just a little alarm. “I’m sorry, but you see, I would need to get my familiar’s permission before I could ever go out with you. After all, it’s her life too.”

This was going to be brilliant.

(<3!)

Especially since Naja was absolutely on board.

“You’re bonded?” Grant, of course, had never seen Naja in any of his visits. The cobra disliked him enough to hide when he came around. “Well, introduce me! I can’t wait! You’ll see. I’m great will all sorts of cute fuzzies!”

Fuzzies. The poor darling. Bhavini almost felt bad.

(!!!!!)

But not bad enough to stop Naja as she let out a horrendous hiss and, supported by Bhavini’s shoulder, cocked herself out of the front of Bhavini’s shirt, hood spread gloriously and mouth open in a clear threat display.

There was really something very powerful about a solid five feet of deadly cobra coiling up around her shoulders and absolutely furious at someone else.

Grant let out a shriek that could have shattered glass, and toppled backwards, only to scuttle backwards like a crab as he tried to get away from the large, angry snake. Naja, for her part, hissed again, the low, rasping growl that was iconic to an angry cobra. He almost made it to his feet when she charged down from Bhavini’s shoulder to her arm, secured herself neatly, and struck.

She was well out of range. Even a big cobra had a specific strike zone and Grant was comfortably out of it. Not that Naja wouldn’t bite him if she got the chance, but Grant wasn’t in any real danger.

Grant, of course, didn’t know that. Unfortunately, this time when he lunged backwards, he also hit the switches by the door. Specifically, the ones attached to the ceiling fan.

Sudden movement in a room full of venomous, sight-hunting snakes got him a lot of attention all at once.

It also made every single rattlesnake, thirteen in total, go off at once. Even Bhavini, who was entirely used to them, felt a chill at the sound that was last warning any rattlesnake ever gave before it struck.

Grant, who was not at all used to the rattlesnakes, or the angry cobra in his face, screamed again and somehow managed to fling himself out the open door. The sound of gravel, and then of car tires squealing on pavement, told Bhavini that the obnoxious man was gone.

When he was gone, Naja lowered her hood and slithered back up to give Bhavini another ‘snake kiss’, tongue ticking against her cheek.

(!) Naja said, entirely satisfied with herself. (<3?)

“You are definitely the best,” Bhavini told her, and kissed the top of her head again as the cobra begged for snuggles and got them. “Come on. It’s getting hot in here, and we have work to do. And you know what, maybe I’ll even thaw you out dinner a day early. What do you think about that?”

(<3<3<3)

“Yeah, I love you too.”

+++

Beastly Familiars:

Animals will be animals, no matter how intelligent. Sometimes animals will be… well… Beastly.

Nothing but Trouble

Bad to the Bone

Oil and Water

Master of All

Hunting Practice

Under the Desk, Up on the Bookcase

Mouse Hunters

Hooter

Bandit

In the Walls

Stone’s Throw

Fish Bucket

Caterwaul

Tilting at Windmills (Subscriber Only!)

Blue Rings and Crabs

Pounce (Free on Patreon!)

Fruity Fruit

Eyes Up

On Emerald Wings

+++

MORE STORIES!

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[musashi]

Your author notes: Jessie is nuerodivergent! TV Tropes person: is this a joke?

RIGHT like………. its such a struggle because when writing a fantasy universe i don’t realistically expect them to use the same terms that we do here… i struggle esp w/ autism because i personally believe that the pokemon world is absolutely rich with autistics because its so nurturing of them and in fact it’s considered a blessing if you’re born autistic dfhfg… 

and also i just don’t see any point wherein the narration could really point out that jessie has BPD & james & ash are autistic…. in the case of all of them it is relevant to harry’s story but i feel as though those diagnoses are told plain and simple through the actions of the characters like. 

james can’t look people in the eyes, and it’s frequently pointed out as something unsettling when he does. he looks jessie in the eyes once and she immediately banks her fire because it’s so wrong, she knows he must be terrified. i don’t doubt i missed a few out of force of habit, but every time the romance calls for them to make passionate eye contact, the narration tends to point out that they’re looking past each other, and the intimacy in it is that jessie loves james enough to meet him at a level where he’s comfortable. 

bottlecap collecting is one of his special interests and when his parents invoked quiet hands on him he turned to the sounds & feeling of said bottlecaps as a way to stim freely & without being punished. there’s a whole ass paragraph in 12 about the physical rush he gets from doing this. he goes nonverbal in the beginning of 16, and jessie & meowth’s reactions to him going nonverbal pretty clearly imply that it’s a situation they’re used to–they have protocol for it, they know how to communicate with him, they work like a well oiled machine to do so.

his PTSD meshes with this and i literally refer to chimecho as both a service pokemon and an emotional support pokemon. james experiences flashbacks and triggers in detail, multiple times the narrative in front of him disappears and he finds himself back in a darker place and needs help to ground himself back in reality. james’ PTSD is a major plot point. it’s the main conflict between him & the single pokemon he raises from the ground up in DTE. i could not make it clearer that james has PTSD. i’m pretty sure i use the term ‘post-trauma’ in 11, actually.

jessie’s abandonment issues might be average on their own but when you couple them with all the other symptoms of borderline personality disorder i purposefully write them with it really takes a lot of balls to deny she has the disorder. it’s normal to, after being abandoned by more than a few people who love you, fear abandonment to a degree that it impacts you. it is not normal to completely cut off friendships and abandon your friends because you’re desperate to control the narrative. that’s what jessie does in DTE–she sees james talking to some other girl, one she’s never even seen before. the sight of this with no other factors panics her so much that she becomes completely delusional with the idea that she’s going to lose her favourite person, so she bolts in an attempt to lose him on her own terms.

her fierce self-love is a product of the world telling her that no one would ever love her. her anger is a shield, both to keep predators away and to keep anyone from loving her too deeply because god forbid she love them back, and god forbid they leave. her reckless belief that nothing can hurt her is a form of self-harm, unstable relationships are all she has in her past. she’s a beaten puppy who became a wolf–not out of preference, but out of necessity.

at the peak of jessie’s character arc she runs into the woods, screaming at the top of her lungs in utter and complete despair, and punches every tree in her general vicinity until her fists break and bleed. she cusses out all three of her best friends, threatens to hurt them, and then proceeds to literally attempt fighting a major deity. i get that i am writing in a cartoon universe, but i think i made it pretty clear that jessie is not neurotypical!!!! and any brief perusal of the DSM would bring you to her diagnosis pretty quickly. or at LEAST to cluster b as a whole, which she might as well be the poster child of.

it’s rough because i’ve never believed in authorial intent. i think that what is in the story is what is canon, and nothing i say outside of it is anything more than a headcanon any other fan could have. but it’s also a little frustrating to write IN DETAIL that my characters are nd, write from experience (i’m autistic and have BPD and PTSD!!!! and i wrote that into jessie and james on purpose!!!! and i always intended to!!!) and STILL have people be like “the author thinly implied that–”

it feels weird to complain about because the fact that i even have a TVtropes page is fuckin wild to me fdhgf like i should just be grateful people are talking about my work at all but… y’all i literally partially wrote DTE out of spite because i was mad that all the rocketfic was cishet & didn’t talk about how brainfucked they are. a huge part of writing DTE was me wanting to show that they’re Just Like Me.

[bboiseux]

The Grand Conclusion of the Traveler Presents the Cobalt Soul’s Kinda Annual Awards for Awesomeness in Fic!!!

[Remember to reblog to boost.  I’ll also be posting a list of all original nominations with finalists and winners for easy sharing tomorrow.]

Jester: [clapping] It's time!  It's time!  It's time!

Beau: Yeah, it's totally time.  All the results are in and we have our winners.

Jester:  Let me announce them!

Beau: [shrugging] No problem. [The hands Jester a pile of envelopes.]

Jester: [clears throat]

The Nominees for the Fic that Made You Laugh are ...

A Marriage of Convenience, Ch 1    (conceptstage)

Five Soda Maximum    (chaya)

How to Train Your Blink Puppy    (Angel Ascending)

Something New For Me And You, Ch 1    (sockablock)

There's a Ghost in My Lungs, Ch 15    (QueenWithABeeThrone)

Beau: This was a really close one, decided by the last few votes.

Jester: [tearing open the envelope with glee] And the winner is ... Angel Ascending for "How to Train Your Blink Puppy!"

Beau: Congratulations.  That's a pretty dope.

[There is wild applause from off stage]

Jester: [Clearing her throat even louder, several times] And now ...

The Nominees for the Fic that Gave You Warm Fuzzy Feelings are ...

A Mote of Possibility    (SwissArmyKnife)

Can We Stay Like this?    (cecilantro)

Familiar Comfort, Ch 1    (Angel Ascending)

High In A Blue Sky    (CrunchyWrites)

Something New For Me And You, Ch 13    (sockablock)

Beau: A lot of strong contenders in this category, but, in the end, there can be only one.

Jester: And the winner is ... [Jester struggles to open the envelope] sockablock for "Something New For Me And You, Ch 13!"

[More applause.  Just barely can be heard the sound of Nott shouting "It's great!]

Jester: [Clears her throat.  Then clears her through again.]

Beau: [Leaning over] Uh, do you need some water?

Jester: Nope!  And

The Nominees for the Fic that Made You Ugly Cry and Curse the Name of the Author are ...

I made the earth remember him    (brinnanza)

Ode to A Caged Bird    (Ara) Explicit

the mist upon the hill    (BucketofWater) Not Rated

This One's For Molly    (protectoroffaeries) Mature

We'll Carry On    (MeBeShe) Explicit

Where the Wild Song Echoes    (distractedKat)

Beau: Oof.  You folks like to cry, that's what I got from this.

Jester: And the winner is ... [She stares at the envelope for a second and then neatly opens it with a slide of her finger.  She proudly smiles at Beau.] And the winner is ... Ara for "Ode to a Caged Bird!"

[Raucous applause.]

Jester: [Clears throat deliberately.  Gives Beau a pointed look.] Next up,

The Nominees for the Fic that Made You Super Horny are ...

A Fur Lined Cloak    (chaya) Explicit

Moonstruck    (Moonybandit) Explicit

Stammtisch    (chaya) Explicit

Tactile Stimulation    (SnubbingApollo) Explicit

What the Water Gave me    (fiach_dubh) Explicit

Beau: Fuck folks, there's some good shit in here.

Jester: [Carefully opens the envelope] And the winner is ... chaya for "A Fur Lined Cloak!"

[Applause applause applause.  Wild cheering]

Jester:  [Holding up the envelope for quiet] And

The Nominees for the Fic that Made You Go "What the Fuck?" in the Loudest Possible Voice are ...

Carry It Until We Die, Ch 7    (Starkraving)

Eight of Swords    (SwissArmyKnife)

i broke the world for us    (freckledshoulderblades)

Something New For Me and You, Ch 25    (sockablock)

the mist upon the hill    (BucketofWater) Not Rated

We Circle By Night, Ch 11    (Insanity Silver)

Beau: A lot of definitions of "what the fuck?" in this category, bur you all deserve it for something.

Jester: [Pulls out the wand of smiles and uses it as a letter opener] And the winner is ... Starkraving for "Carry It Until We Die, Ch 7!"

[Is there enough applause for everyone?  Nope.]

Jester: Next!

The Nominees for the Most Epic, Heart-stopping Fic are ...

A house by the sea    (erebones, losebetter) Mature

Betrothed, Ch 1    (MeBeShe) Explicit

Carry It Until We Die, Ch 7    (starkraving)

In the Moments We Were Alone    (sockablock)

the mist upon the hill    (BucketofWater) Not Rated

Traveling Hearts    (CatKing_Catkin)  Mature

Beau: This?  This was contentious.  Out of 83 votes, the lowest ranked fic only got 6 less than then winner.  This was anyone's game.

Jester: [Rips open the envelope and stares at it.] Oh.  Oh!  This is new!  The winner, for a second time, is ... Starkraving for "Carry It Until We Die, Ch 7!"

[Cheers and applause]

Beau: Wow, that's quite an upset there.

Jester: Still, no time to dawdle!

The Nominees for the Fic that Gave You Sweet Sweet AU Feels are ...

Five Soda Maximum   (chaya)

Something New For You and Me, Ch 1    (sockablock)

Take your kid gloves off    (gealbhan)

The Descriptivist's Approach    (CrunchyWrites) Explicit

We'll Carry On    (MeBeShe) Explicit

Jester: [rip rip rip!] And the winner is ... CrunchyWrites for "The Descriptivist's Approach!"

[Someone screams in happiness from the audience!]

Beau: Looks like we've good a big fan out there.

Jester: Next up!

The Nominees for Favorite Ficlet (under 1,000 words) are ...

Deck of Many Things, Ch 79    (invoked_duplicity)

Through the Forests of Wheat    (sockablock)

To Have, To Hold    (AuditoryCheesecake)

what's in a name?    (thepensword)

"How come you've only got one arm?"    (sockablock)

"watching"   (xhorass)

Jester: And the winner is ... [ripping, so much ripping, the envelope is just confetti now] invoked_duplicity for "Deck of Many Things, Ch 79!"

[Applause, applause, and more applause]

Jester:  What do we have here?

The Nominees for Favorite Medium-Length (1,000 to 20,000 words) are ...

A Wizard Down    (Angel Ascending)

HOPSCOTCH (Traveler, Take the Wheel)   Mikkeneko

Miss the Sky    (AnaliseGrey) Not Rated

The Stars Between Bruised Knuckles    (sockablock)

We Belong Dead    (CrunchyWrites)

Beau: Another really close one.  What have we got, Jester?

Jester: [There's no way to understand how many little pieces of envelope there are now on the stage] And the winner is ... sockablock for "The Stars Between Bruised Knuckles!"

[Applause applause applause]

Jester: Aw, Beau that was a really sweet one.

Beau: I mean [shrugs] whatever, I guess it was alright.

Jester: ohhhhkaaaay [She suddenly gasps] Beau!  It's the last category ...

The Nominees for Favorite Long-Form Fic (20,000 words or more) are ...

A Mote of Possibility    (SwissArmyKnife)

Five Soda Maximum    (chaya)

The Descriptivist's Approach    (CrunchyWrites) Explicit

The Gay and Wonderous Life of Caleb Widogast    (erebones) Explicit

We'll Carry On    (MeBeShe) Explicit

Beau:  Well, this is it.  Everyone ready?  The longest fics.

Jester: And the winner is ... [there is not even any trace of the envelope anymore, it has evaporated] SwissArmyKnife for "A Mote of Possibility!"

[Applause!  Standing Ovation!  Cheers!]

Beau: Let's give another round of applause for everyone who was nominated from the first round on.

[More applause!]

Jester: [to Beau] This was so much fun!  We should do it again next year!

Beau: Eh, let's not get ahead of ourselves ...

[Winners: @angel-ascending​, @sockablock, @crunchywrites, @invoked-duplicity, @trashofboat, @fieldbears, @punishandenslavesuckers, @flightofstars

[thestorytellerofkpop]

Y.L.M

A/N: So...I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now and I finally got the time to execute it, thanks to the urge to also participate in @bang-tan-bitch‘s writing challenge! Some may know I have past experience in law enforcement, so this is a piece that’s very near and dear to me; some elements that I have been through are in this story. Rather than a typical “scary” Halloween story, I wanted to portray a realistic type of fear with the reader and show the adversity that can come in working in a job like this. I hope it’s enjoyable :)

Summary: It’s a quiet patrol day with your partner Hoseok and everything is good in the world. That is, until your radio goes off and you’re called into battle every child’s worst nightmare, but is it really real?

Word Count: 3,069

Rating: M for violent themes

WARNINGS: Gun use/gun violence, mentions of school shootings

Prompts used: Dialogue #6 “Did you hear that?”, Setting #12. School, Songs #11 “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People

“Forty-five.”

“Hobi- “

“Forty.”

“Hoseok- “

“Forty-three.”

“Officer Jung!” you finally lost your patience, your hands slamming on the dashboard in front of you. Hoseok jumped at your outburst, his eyes darting between your face and the device in his hands. You sighed, touching his shoulder in apology.

“There’s no need to say every car’s speed limit that the speedometer catches.” Hoseok smiled sheepishly, adjusting himself in the tight space of the passenger seat.

“Sorry, I just don’t want to mess up when our probation is so close to ending.” He chuckled and your lips pulled up into a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry Hoseok, I’ve been your training partner since day one, if I really wanted to fail you I would’ve done it long ago.” Hoseok just laughed, giving you a wink and retuning back to his work.

You and Hoseok had been assigned training partners since day one. Of course, the limited number of female police officers in the force left you the odd one out during partner assignments, leaving you to be paired up with one of the males. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Hoseok was ecstatic about your shared profession, and treated you the same as he would treat the guys. He constantly had to be doing something though; he was one of the fidgety types. So, on slow day-shift mornings, you were more than happy to take the driver’s position (you got more leg room as an added bonus) while Hoseok played with the speedometer as you waited in your patrol car for something to happen.

A long, drawn out beep rang throughout the car and Hoseok’s eyes trained on the communication radio.

“Hey, it’s a BOLO.” You commented, the sound all-to-familiar for your ears. BOLO’s usually consisted of stolen vehicles, missing persons, and occasionally runaway thefts; nothing major for you to speed towards if it wasn’t happening in your assigned part of the town. Although, the horse stuck in the middle of the road was certainly an interesting BOLO call to go to. Everyone in the Seoul Police Department went out to witness it, even your shift Lieutenant who just laughed and said:

“Now I’m no horse whisperer, but maybe animal control has one on duty tonight.”

“What does BOLO stand for?” Hoseok turned towards your frame in the drivers’ seat, turning up the volume of the radio. Quizzing each other on the fly was normal, as knowledge tended to get rusty on boring patrol days.

“Be on the lookout.”

“Very good.” he smiled, placing a finger to his lips so you both could hear the radio transmission.

“SPD to all units, we have reports of a 13P, male, near the corner of 43rd and 2nd streets. Witnesses believe him to be armed.” Hoseok’s face blanked and he looked over at you, your expression hard.

“That’s around where I went to secondary school.” Hoseok whispered. “It’s not that far from here.”

You handed him the radio mic, putting the patrol car in gear and speeding out of your hiding place behind a billboard and onto the road. You turned on your red and blue lights, speeding past the cars that let you over. There was probable cause, and even if it was just a false alarm, getting to the school before a possible shooting happened was pertinent.

“SPD this is Tango Unit 309, we’re 10-51 to the 13P’s 10-20. Any other intel on the suspect?” Hoseok spoke into the radio and almost immediately a frantic response came back through from the communication center.

“SPD to Tango Unit 309?”

“Go ahead.”

“Reports of shots fired are coming from the secondary school by civilians.” At those words you sped up even faster, making your sirens even louder to get people to move the fuck out of the way.

“How far out is the closest back up, SPD?”

“Closest backup we’re tracking is in the next zone over, about 10 miles out.” Hoseok cursed when you pulled off the main road and onto the side streets. You and him would be going into an active shooter situation alone. You turned off your lights and sirens when you were a block away from the school, jumping out of the car. Hoseok followed you and spoke into his portable radio.

“Tango Unit 309 to SPD?”

“Go ahead.

“We’re 10-97 on scene, requesting low radio traffic with high monitoring.”

“10-4 Tango Unit 309.”

You both approached the school quickly, the combat boots on your feet suddenly feeling heavier than before. The air was eerily quiet for an October morning. The Halloween decorations in the front windows of the school were almost satirical of the situation you and your partner were in, but you couldn’t help but crack a smirk at the poorly drawn skeletons and witches smiling at you through the glass. The doors of the school showed no signs of a forced entry. Which meant the shooter most likely just walked right in without a trouble, if he was in the school.

“Hoseok.”

“Yeah?”

“I can hear your nervous breathing from here, calm down.” Hoseok took a deep breath, his hand resting over the pistol on his belt.

“I don’t hear any gunfire.” Hoseok commented.

“C’mon, we should patrol the perimeter first, since there’s no gunfire, then we’ll enter and- “

The silence was broken when three loud pops sounded in the air. You heard rather than saw Hoseok draw his pistol and you did the same. Your trusty old 9-millimeter gun you called Stiglitz had gotten you out of more than one tricky situation, and this would have to be just another one of those times.

“Hoseok, on me.”

Hoseok moved behind you, grabbing onto your shoulder and squeezing it firmly to indicate he was ready to proceed. You took a deep breath to calm your rapid heartbeat and opened the front doors of the school, quickly moving into the immediate danger zone.

The main hallway was shaped into a three-way intersection, Hoseok quickly cleared the right side while you cleared the straight and left hallways. You exhaled.

Focus.

“Clear.” You told Hoseok.

“Clear.” He joined back up on you, his hand on your shoulder providing you stability as you went down the straight hallway. All the classroom door’s windows were covered in black paper, but scattered green dots flashed against the darkness and you reminded yourself to breathe. These students were safe. But where was that bastard? And why was it so quiet when gunfire sounded only a moment ago?

“Do you hear that?” Hoseok whispered. You quickly cleared the end of the hallway, the box-like design of the school making it easy to clear the building. You exhaled again.

Focus.

You tuned into the noise Hoseok was talking about and your eyebrows furrowed. Music. It was soft guitar with whistling echoing throughout the hallway, and it had popish undertones. It sounded familiar, almost as if it was a Top Ten hit at one point or another.

“It’s echoing,” you whispered; there was only one building you could think of that could echo like that.

“Hoseok, where’s the gym?”

Before he could respond another gunshot rung out, this time, accompanied by a scream.

You inhaled and you ran towards the noise, leaving Hoseok behind.

Run.

Run.

Run.

The long hallway seemed endless and you urged yourself to go faster with the pace of Hoseok’s thumping footsteps behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure standing in one of the adjourning hallways to your right.

“Hands above your head, do it now!” You yelled, and instantly the figure raised his arms high, his hands empty. He didn’t move towards you. Not a threat, most likely a student

Focus.

“Get on your knees and don’t move! Jung, one on the right!” you ran past the figure and trusted Hoseok to take care of the person in the hall. The music was getting louder, making you run faster; the cheerful melody and handclapping making your stomach churn. Suddenly the large double doors of the gym came into view as the music reached it’s crescendo. You burst through the doors, your gun drawn and ready to fire.

“Seoul Police Department, show me your hands!” you screamed as loud as you could. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears against the music, the sweat beading on your forehead from the exhortation of running when your eyes finally surveyed the scene.

Focus.

This was where the music was coming from, but the gym was empty, the bleachers were pushed into the walls, making the room seem much larger than it really was. You traced the perimeter of the room with your gun, every corner visible from where you stood in the only doorway. No one was in here. Nothing was in this gym except for a stereo player in the middle of the floor. You lowered your gun as you moved towards it, scowling at the machine as the song started to repeat itself.

You finally remembered why you knew the song. People talked about its controversy and fear when it had come out on the radio, and some even thought that it was what started the rise of serious mass school shootings. It made you feel sick and your head pounded.

You bent down and shut the music off, letting out the breath that you were holding in your lungs. Your senses were hyper aware as you stood and your eye twitched from scanning and rescanning the gym. You were prepared to go back out and find Hoseok when the doors of the gym slammed against the wall.

You turned around, the breath you took in whooshing out of your throat when you saw who it was. Everything around you seemed to move in slow motion. Your eyes trained on the shooter, and though his face was covered, his eyes told you everything. His wants, his desires, his dreams, and the woman in his grasp was struggling against him. You could see her lips moving and her eyes were frantic, but you couldn’t hear a word of it. The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat and the remnants of the music that was playing just seconds before.

“Yoongi?”

 ~*~

“Now, hold your hands steady.” Yoongi told you, his hands resting over yours against the gun. Even though you wore the protective sound-muffling headphones, you could still hear his smooth voice through the cheap plastic. Yoongi pressed his chest closer against your back, moving your arms up a fraction.

“You won’t shoot the target with your arms that far down; the gun should be eye level to you.”

“Eye level, got it.” You confirmed.

“Now, look down the barrel of the gun, focus on the target beyond it.” Your eyes trained on the cardboard cut-out forty yards away, the farthest you had gone out before. Most couldn’t get the forty-yard target straight-on on their first try. You were determined to be the first one in your class to do it.

“Breathe in.” Yoongi took in a deep breath behind you. “And squeeze the trigger slowly. Focus.”

You breathed in, focusing on the target in front of you. The hours on the shooting range and the bleating sun on your skin finally started to take its toll. Your khakis were much too hot, and your clammy hands made it difficult to keep the gun trained solely on the head of the target. You forgot to breathe out.

“Y/N, princess, you’re shaking.” Yoongi lowered your arms, keeping the ready-to-fire gun pointed to the ground in case your trigger finger slipped. You released the pressure in your chest, making your safety goggles fog just for a couple seconds.

“I can’t-“

“Now don’t you finish that statement, I know you can do this. You’ve shot perfectly every time at the twenty, thirty, and thirty-five-yard marks. What’s five more yards? Try again.” Yoongi held your arms up again.

You re-focused your sight on the target, taking a deep breath in.

“Now, squeeze, slowly.”

Your finger slowly pressed against the trigger until you felt the resistance of the final push to finally release the bullet from its chamber.

“Exhale, Y/N.”

And you listened to Yoongi’s words, making the final push as you breathed out. The bang from the gun made you jump after minutes of silence and you could feel rather than see Yoongi’s smile when he removed his hands from yours, squeezing you tight around the waist as you put the safety on the gun. You put the gun back into its holster on your belt, making sure it was secure before you turned around to return Yoongi’s embrace.

“I knew you could do it. I can’t wait to brag to my men that my girl was the only one in the new class to shoot the forty-yard on their first try, not to mention it was a perfect headshot.” He smirked into your hair and you smiled into his skin, despite the sweat dripping off of him.

“Yoongi. Thank you for always helping and supporting me.”

“It’s always my pleasure, Y/N.” Yoongi patted your back, placing a small kiss on your forehead before releasing you.

“Now, let’s get back to practicing Cadet.” He winked at you and you couldn’t help but giggle at his flirtatious smile.

“Of course, Officer Min.”

 ~*~

You saw the apples of his cheeks rise into a smirk, and his right hand moving towards his hip. Yoongi always had a quick hand when it came to shooting. You thought a second too long, you didn’t focus. You let your heart overcome your mind and you ducked once you heard the bang of Yoongi’s gun. But the shot still grazed your shoulder and you gasped at the sharp pain. You drew your gun as you fell back towards the ground, and once you felt your back hit the cold wood, you aimed.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Four rounds, all in the head. Just like he taught you how to do. You watched Yoongi fall to the ground, the woman he held ran away from him and towards you. You had shot Yoongi. Yoongi, the man you had loved. The man you loved more than life itself; you had shot him.

“Officer L/N? Hey, it’s done, it’s over.” The woman sat in front of you, helping you sit up.

“I sh-shot Yoongi. I shot Yoongi.” You mumbled.

“Shit, you’re going into shock,” the woman cursed, grabbing the radio off your hip. Suddenly the gym was too full, there were too many people, too many cameras and noises and Hoseok came running towards you.

“Hoseok, I shot Yoongi.” You told him as he pulled you into his embrace.

“Hey, don’t cry. We did excellent Y/N, excellent! The Lieutenant said our performance has been the best one yet, I’ll be surprised if we don’t get full marks.”

“Hoseok…Y-Yoongi, I shot him.” You sobbed and Hoseok didn’t know what to do with you. He turned towards the woman that stood beside you, his eyes frantic.

“Y/N, come sit down.” The woman led to you a seat they pulled out for you. With your eyes focused solely in her, her face was too familiar not to recognize “Y/N, breathe.”

You exhaled and looked up at her.

“Sarge, i-is Yoongi okay?”

“Of course he is sweetie, he’s just getting cleaned up now, a little got in his hair is all.” She laughed in a way to reassure you, but the clear panic and worry on your face caused her to stop.

“Y/N!” you looked up to see Yoongi running towards you, and even though your legs felt weak and your head was pounding, you ran towards him. Yoongi caught you in his arms, his hands running through your hair as you cried into his shoulder.

“Yoongi, Yoongi,” you repeated his name like a mantra, gripping onto him for your life.

“I’m here baby, I’m here and I’m okay. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.” He sighed into your hair. “They were just blank shots, they were not real. Look at your shoulder princess, look.” He pulled away from you and you looked down at your shoulder. There was blue ink splattered across your police department lapel. The area hurt like hell, but there was no blood, you were okay.

“See? You were just shooting blanks, just little paint ball bullets that sounded real. You did so good princess, you even got paint in my hair from missing the protective gear.” Yoongi chuckled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Just like how I trained you to do, you did amazing.”

“You’re okay?” you asked.

“Of course I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you I was in your final exam scenario, Sergeant Kim said if I did you’d refuse to do the scenario and fail the academy.” Yoongi pulled you back into his embrace.

You took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, your warm breath fanning over Yoongi’s shoulder. He was right, of course. He couldn’t have told you, it would’ve been unfair to your fellow students to have some sort of advantage to your final exam scenario. The scenario that counted for forty percent of your final police academy grade. The make or break point in becoming a real police officer. You looked at the gun on your hip, it wasn’t yours. Just a normal practice one. You were so caught up in the scenario, so worried about eliminating the possible threat, so involved in the situation you forgot it wasn’t real. It was just an exam, just a scenario.

You sighed. “Please promise me I won’t have to shoot you again, please?”

“Don’t worry baby, you won’t have to do that again.” Yoongi assured you, “Your scenario was great, we were all watching and evaluating and Hoseok did well as your partner. Don’t worry, you’re not going to fail this.”

“I hesitated though, when I saw you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you did it princess, you overcame that fear to stop the “shooter” from hurting even more people. You didn’t hesitate coming into the building, and you did everything by the book.” Yoongi caressed your cheek, dropping his voice, “You’re going to become an Officer, Y/N, I promise.”

“Officer Min and Officer L/N, partners in crime, right?” you smiled and Yoongi placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Partners in crime, I promise you.”

[stevesparker]

drunken confession (s.r)

synopsis: you get drunk with nat and wanda when the conversation about the hottest avenger arises. you start gushing over steve when, much to your dismay, he overhears.

warnings: drinking and a whole lotta fluff

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i highkey needed this in my life, so i had to write it! this is my first imagine, so I really hope you guys enjoy it! also, please send in requests! this can easily be made into a second part, so let me know if you’d like to see that ;)

“Come on, stop being such a wuss and take another shot!” My eyes dart up to the person who’s slurred words echo through the large room, my lips pursing immediately. My hand reaches back to find a pillow placed on the couch I am currently lounged on. After reaching around for awhile, my fingers find the square fabric as I bring it forward and place it on my lap. I hate being called a wuss, and the girl, who just so happens to be one of my best friends, knows this.

“This is my eighth shot Nat, I am not a wuss! I don’t even feel drunk!” As the words leave my lips, a hiccup closely follows, causing the two other girls in the room to burst into a fit of giggles. There is no denying we are all plastered, but none of us will admit just how much we are. The third and final girl, Wanda, just stands up, taking wobbly steps over to grab another bottle. She reaches the counter, grabbing both raspberry and peach flavored vodkas. The girl just stands in her spot, contemplating for a few seconds too long, before setting down the raspberry alcohol and bringing the peach over to us.

“All three of us will take another shot then. We’ll prove none of us are wusses by getting even more drunk,” Wanda announces, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. She begins twisting the cap off the bottle before setting it onto the table scattered with red solo cups and a couple empty bottles of liquor. The alcohol is barely on the table for a second when Nat snatches it up, pouring the crystal clear liquid into a shot glass. She takes the shot without flinching, practically slamming the small glass back on the table. The girl shoves the vodka into my hands, sitting back and waiting for me to pour a shot. My eyes flicker to the bottle, then between the two girls who are looking at me. My head is spinning, and my judgment is way past gone. My angels and demons are having an inner battle on whether or not I should drink more.

“Are you going to take a shot or not,” Natasha quips, her arms folding over her chest. The redhead can’t contain herself, a smile appearing on her face as she whispers a single word she knows will get to me, “wuss.” I just squint over at her, holding the bottle to my lips and tilting my head back as I flip her off. I take a few big gulps of the liquid, it burning my throat as it descends down. My face contorts as I disconnect the bottle from my lips, and set it back on the table. I suddenly flop back onto the couch, wisps of hair engulfing my face as I sigh dramatically.

“Uh oh,” Wanda begins as her hands fiddle with the blanket draped across her, “that sigh didn’t sound good.” I just lay in silence, my eyes following the spinning fan on the ceiling. My hands rest on my bare stomach, the fabric from my white t-shirt riding up, which I am much too intoxicated to fix. I’m not entirely sure why I’m sighing, or maybe I’m too enthralled with the fan.

“Who do you thinks the hottest here,” I blurt out suddenly, catching the two other girls off guard. Wanda immediately begins laughing, causing Nat to chuckle slightly with her. I flip onto my side, looking at the two others with eyebrows furrowed, “no, I’m serious! We’ve never really talked about this before!” The comment stops the laughing between the two girls, their wide eyes meeting. It takes only a couple of seconds for the giggling to resume, this time much louder. I grab the pillow, that was once on my lap, off of the floor, throwing it between the two. It hits Wanda in the arm, the giggling beginning to die down.

“Are you serious? We talk about it all the time! Especially your big ass crush on-“ I cut Natasha off, a loud yell escaping from my lips. The two others in the room stop laughing completely as their eyes bore into mine. I just fully sit up, my eyes wide and my jaw practically on the floor.

“What did we agree on! We never, ever, ever speak of that,” I exclaim loudly. I can tell the other two girls are attempting not to laugh, the look on my face being a dead indicator they should try extra hard. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, swinging my legs off the couch, “it’s ridiculous anyways, it’s not like he feels the same way!”

“Ste- I mean he, isn’t even here right now! You can scream it on the top of your lungs hun, only we’ll hear you!” I just stare at Wanda, my head tilting to the side slightly, it filling with all the thoughts I’ve been repressing. A small smile over takes my lips and a rosy color paints the apples of my cheeks just thinking about him. I’ve been swooning over him since I became part of the avengers. You wouldn’t believe how good I’ve gotten at hiding it. I lick my lips, grabbing a shot glass and pouring another shot, immediately downing it without a second of hesitation.

“You know what, you’re right! He isn’t here so why should I have to hide how dreamy he is? Or how perfect he is? Or how when he smiles I feel like my insides are pop rocks? Or, or, how all I want is to kiss his stupidly perfect face,” I take a deep breath, knowing my tangent is far from over. In fact, I am just beginning to list off the things that make Steve Rogers so perfect. My hand reaches for the bottle again causing Nat to reach forward and grab it from my grip.

“No more alcohol for you, I’m officially cutting you off before you plan your wedding with Rogers.” I just huff, my lips beginning to pout as Wanda takes the bottle from the other girl, and sets it on the table next to her. Deep down I know this is a smart decision, but alcohol would help calm my nerves and get me to vent without a second of hesitation. I decide to let it go as I sit deeper into the couch, my hands rubbing my face as I try to grasp onto a few words to say.

“He has no idea that I’m helplessly in like with him, and there’s no way I can tell him! I can picture it now… I’d tell him how I feel and since he’s so dumb, and perfect, and sweet, he’d try to turn me down in the nicest way possible! Then I’d have to see him all the time, and try not to stare at his stupidly perfect face! Guy’s I am so screwed, I’m so into Steve Rogers,” I open my mouth to continue when I notice Natasha and Wanda’s faces. Their eyes are the size of saucers, and they both look like they’ve just seen a ghost. My face contorts with confusion as I try to figure out what is going on with them. I’m snapped out of my wondering by a voice coming from behind me.

“My stupidly perfect face? That’s kinda an oxymoron don’t you think?” My hand immediately clasps over my mouth as I try not to freak out. I know exactly who that voice belongs to, and I know exactly what he just heard. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, hoping it will somehow help me figure out what to do. My eyes snap open at the same time I slowly stand up, turning to face the guy I just gushed over. He’s standing in the door frame, a smirk etched on his face. I stand in my place, pulling down the hem of my shirt before awkwardly crossing my arms.

“Oh, Steve! Isn’t that a coincidence! We were just talking about this guy that has the exact same name as you! Would you believe it” I manage to stammer out, the excuse sounding much better in my drunken head. He just chuckles, his hand scratching the nape of his neck. I gulp slightly, trying to keep my eyes on his face instead of his perfectly sculpted arm muscles.

“As much as you’d like me to believe it, I can’t say I do” he responds back to me, taking a few steps into the booze stenched room. I bite the inside of my cheek, my eyes darting to the two girls sitting on the couch. They haven’t moved an inch, and I know their help would be as useless as it gets. I look back over at Steve who I can’t help but notice has drawn much closer to me. He clears his throat, stopping dead in his tracks, “I’m not gonna lie, I had no idea you had any type of feelings like this towards me. I always thought you saw me as kind of a… father figure.”

I immediately burst into a fit of laughter, the alcohol making it impossible for me to hide any type of emotion, “a father figure? Hell no, I’ve always had the hots for you Rogers!” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I immediately regret it. Sure, he heard me talking about him moments before, but I just said I liked him... to his face. There is nothing I can do now. He smiles again, those feelings of pop rocks I was talking about earlier making an unavoidable appearance.

“Well, even though you won’t remember this in the morning, I’ve always had the hots for you too.” Before I have the chance to process what has just happened, a shriek emerges from behind me. I don’t move to see which one of the girls it was though, it doesn’t matter in this moment. I attempt to string some cohesive words together in my head, trying to find something witty that I would say when I’m sober.

“Well, even though I won’t remember this in the morning, it looks like we need to go on a date.” Steve just stands there, the smile on his face not faltering for a second. He nods his head, his hands slipping into his pant pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet. I just take a step forward, standing on my tip toes and planting a kiss on the boy’s cheek. Now that is something sober me would never even dream about doing. I retract back, a smirk of sorts on my lips as Steve just stands there in shock. I blink up at him, hoping my drunk actions didn’t scare the boy off.

“Don’t you worry about not remembering, I’ll remind you tomorrow,” he manages to say as he makes his way towards the door, his hand resting on the doorknob as he looks behind him, “I have to go meet Tony, but have a good rest of your night. Drink some water before you go to bed too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He walks fully out of the room, closing the door with a final smile and a soft thud. I am left staring at the door, beaming from ear to ear like a complete and utter lovestruck idiot.

“Oh god, please tell me I’ll remember this in the morning,” I whisper breathlessly as Wanda and Nat burst into a fit of girlish squeals from the couch.

[justsome-di]

Flotsam and Jetsam

Wow I’m actually posting a story. Here’s something I wrote for class last semester. It’s an intro to my lesbian pirate and siren characters. Enjoy! Please be gentle! 

Syan began staring at the ocean after one month. She stood as close to the edge of the ship as Andy would let her. Her hands occasionally lay on the railing, fingers avoiding the splinters of wood that had pierced everyone a hundred times before. Other times, her arms hung limp by her side.

Her eyes were always distant—never focused on the horizon, Andy noticed. They were glassy until she called for her attention. Andy would take her hand—a thin, soft, slightly unhuman hand in a rough, small one—and lead her to a meal or to bed.

                                                            ***

Andy was always willing to fight any man who tried questioning her captaincy. She had rightfully earned her role when she took over the ship, killing her captain and having the crew swear their loyalty to her. She was merciless. She had no reservations about pulling her sword out on a fellow pirate. She denied any femininity—keeping her hair cut short and her figure built with muscle and splattered with scars. She was well-known and well-feared.

Yet, she couldn’t muster any malice to the siren she was cutting free.

The siren’s distressed screams had been heard from a mile away. Unable to bear the echoing cries that made the crew feel as though they were being driven mad, Andy ordered the ship to follow the screams. By a vacant island they found the creature withering in pain, tangled in a heavy net, on the rocks by the shore.

“Be gentle with her,” she ordered.

Two of her crew held the siren’s arms down while she cut away at the ropes.

Andy had never been so close to a siren before. In her younger days when she was just starting out on a ship, she had heard stories of attacks from her captain, Eli. He taught her almost everything he knew when he believed her to be a young boy. Once, he had told her, he barely plugged his ears with wax before sirens pulled half his shipmates overboard. He said that they were demonic things.

Andy always imagined they were ugly. According to the books she studied, their tails were twice as long as their torsos and when they pulled themselves out of the water, they transformed into legs. They could almost pass as humans, but their faces were still slightly wrong. Their irises were reflective slits—like cat eyes—and their teeth were sharp. Humans were only disillusioned by their songs that entranced them, making them see sirens as the epitome of beauty as they were pulled into the waters. Eli said he saw their true form in his sleep every night, taunting him.

But the siren they were helping didn’t look like those creatures. She had a gentle face, human eyes, and her teeth were round when they bared in pain. Her tail wasn’t quite as long as Andy had expected, but it was still an impressive length.

“You’re almost free,” Andy said, sawing more rope.

She was never fond of Eli. His words meant nothing to her now.

Blood ran from scales that had been torn away. It covered Andy’s hands and knife, and she imagined that if it weren’t approaching total darkness, they would see the shallow water turn red as well.

The last of the net fell away. The siren’s tail started weakly thumping against the rocks. She winced and pushed herself further down into the water. Andy took a step back.

“I think we can leave her—”

She stopped when the siren pulled herself back up on the rocks, letting out an agonizing scream. In place of a tail were human legs. In the dark, Andy could make out the gashes and scrapes. The siren looked up at her, her eyes helpless. She looked so small. She would probably stand taller than Andy, but she still wouldn’t live up to expectations of her species. Maybe sirens were always like that. The books could have been wrong. Or maybe this one was a runt, finally left behind by her pack.

Andy was ripped from her thoughts when a handkerchief was shoved in the siren’s mouth. Andy’s first mate, Tobi, yanked her head back from the force of tying the ends of the cloth behind her head.

“What are you doing?”

“Gagging her. If she can’t sing, we all stay alive.”

Andy wanted to protest. She wanted to point out that it seemed unnecessary. The siren was obviously in no shape. It might have seemed liked an elaborate plan of attack to the crew, but Andy couldn’t see any malice hidden under the vulnerability of the siren. She was proud of her intuition, and she wasn’t going to start going against her gut feelings over her crew thinking a weak siren could overpower them.

“Why do you think she’ll sing?” she asked.

“It’s just a precaution. She can take it off when we’re far enough away,” he said, glaring at the siren.

“We’re not leaving her here. She’s hurt,” Andy said. “She’ll be stuck here, and you all know that the Navy goes through these waters. If they find her—”

“She’ll lead them to us… I didn’t think of that.”

That wasn’t exactly what Andy was thinking. The Navy was infamous for their treatment of sirens. They had captured groups over the past decade and subjected them to cruel tests. No one knew exactly what happened behind closed doors, but it made Andy sick. There was no one she hated more than the Navy. They killed her own and had no mercy on anything else. They were committing genocide and covered it up with the excuse of science. All the Navy cared about was themselves and their paychecks. Maybe sirens wouldn’t be so notoriously violent if they weren’t hunted.

“And we don’t want another victory for the Navy,” Andy said. “They’ve had enough. If we leave her here, we’re basically handing her over.”

“So, we take her as our own prisoner.” Tobi smirked.

                                                          ***

Andy woke in the dead of night. The water was calm, and her room was pitch black. She fumbled for matches and grabbed the candlestick she kept by her bed. Her hands were clumsy from sleep, but she managed to strike the match and hold the flame to the wick.

The cot by her side was empty.

She pulled on boots and walked up to the deck.

Bathed in the moonlight, Syan was standing against the rails. Her hair blew behind her, tangling and knotting in the wind. As Andy walked closer, she could see how pale Syan’s cheeks were.

“Sy?”

Syan turned her head slowly. Her dark eyes were vacant. The air was cold. Andy hid a shiver.  

“Let’s go back to bed, yeah?”

She took Syan by the hand and gently tugged. Syan took a step with her. Then another. Then another.

                                                                ***

The siren had been carried to Andy’s quarters under her instruction.

“We can’t just dump her anywhere. It’ll take a while longer to get to land, but we need to make sure she’s off our boat.”

She paced around the deck, watching over the crew as they were brought back up to the ship and pulled up any evidence that they had been there. Tobi followed her.

“How far are you willing to go for this little siren?” he asked

“We can handle being at sea for a little longer than planned. It should be plenty of time to get her back.”

“Our supplies are low.”

“We won’t be out for that long. We can make everything stretch by at least another month. It’ll be cutting it close, but we can make it work.”

Tobi hummed. A few crewmen threw the soaking, tangled net on the deck. It hit the wood with a disgusting splat. Andy wrinkled her nose.

“I’m sure it won’t be too difficult,” she said. “I’ll make peace with her, let her know we’re only interested in getting on with our own lives. Maybe she knows where her… pack went. We’ll spend maybe a week or two with her.”

“I’d be careful,” Tobi said. “If you keep these men at sea for too long, they’ll turn on you.”

He began laughing. Andy forced a smile, suddenly feeling cold.

***

Andy didn’t like to think that her morals aligned with empathy, but there was something about Syan that made Andy feel like she was staring at herself from years ago. She was raised in a Puritan community, stuffed into stiff, heavy black dresses, forced to read the Bible and attend church. Her father left for the sea often, transporting merchandise back and forth across Europe. Occasionally, she was allowed on the ship for brief moments before being reminded of her womanly duties by her aunt and pulled back into their house.

When Eli had learned that she was a woman after forcibly stripping her clothes away, she imagined sirens returning before he had a chance to kill her. In a daze as his calloused fingers scraped at her skin, she thought of a siren’s song drifting to his quarters and lifting him away. He would forget Andy and follow the song into a siren’s arms, succumbing to the icy water as it filled his lungs. His water-bloated body would be left to the dark ocean floor. But sirens never appeared, so Andy grabbed the gun he kept by his bed.

Andy had adjusted to her new captaincy quicker than she had expected. It wasn’t an intentional coup, she insisted, but she didn’t let the crew forget that she—a woman—had killed Eli so easily. She couldn’t feel sorry knowing it would have been her dead body dropped over railings if she hadn’t made such a hasty decision. She gained respected, but she also felt isolated.

Syan laid in her cot, staring at Andy from across the room. Andy recognized the vacant eyes.

                                                            ***

“I’ll take the gag off if you promise to keep quiet,” Andy said.

The siren nodded. She sat on Andy’s bed, legs dangling over the edge. Her bare toes brushed against wood floor. She wore a shirt from Andy’s wardrobe. The hems didn’t reach her wrists as they should have, and the shoulders were tight as the rest was baggy.

Andy untied the handkerchief from behind the siren’s head. She tossed it aside and dropped to her knees, taking the siren’s right ankle. Her calloused fingers prodded the soft, damaged legs, careful to avoid the rope burns and deep cuts.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the siren whispered.

Andy looked up at her. Her throat must have been raw for her voice was rough from the screaming. Her hands, also blemished with tiny scratches, clutched the edge of the mattress. Her face was ashen, and her breathing was quick.

"I won’t,” Andy said. She took a moment before she said, “so you can talk?”

The siren nodded.

“Do you have a name?”

The siren stared at her. Her eyes were wide, and she trembled.

“Syan.”

Andy grabbed a handkerchief and bottle of rum from her nightstand.

“I’m Andy. I’m the captain—you know what a captain is, right? I’m in command here.”

Syan nodded. Andy dampened the handkerchief with rum and kneeled back down to Syan’s legs. She examined the gashes again. They weren’t too deep. Blood was starting to clot on the cuts on her calves and red trails were left behind from the blood that ran from her scraped knees. Andy pressed the rag to a dark slice.

Syan whined and jerked her leg. Andy kept a tight grip on her ankle.

“Where did you come from?” Andy asked. “Where’s your family?”

It was the best she could do to keep Syan distracted.

“I’m lost. I was separated from my choir.”

That was another thing Andy could make a note of about sirens. They traveled in choirs. Not schools like fish or packs like wolves. She dabbed another wound with the alcohol-rag.

“I’m not as strong as the others,” Syan said. “I never have been. I don’t fare well in dangerous waters.”

“Where did you see them last?”

“I don’t know.” Syan took a deep breath and rolled her ankle, obviously trying to find some comfort from the stinging. “I didn’t think we were in dangerous waters, but your Navy showed up—”

“Wait. First, they’re not my Navy,” Andy snapped.

“You’re all humans. They belong to you.”

“Second, how much do you know about them? And humans?”

“More than you think. Your Navy—”

“The Navy.”

“The Navy has been invading our homes for decades. We’ve learned enough to stay away from them—from all humans—but they’ve been sailing deeper into our waters. We have islands that we know are usually safe, but they were along that shore tonight.”

“Was that their net you were in?”

Syan nodded. Andy scrubbed at her left knee.

"I’m not sure if the rest of my choir got away in time.” Syan’s voice was strained as Andy continued scrubbing and dousing the handkerchief in more rum.

“You’re not leading a Navy ship to us, are you? That’d be bad for all of us. We can help you find your family—choir—as long as you don’t start any trouble.”

“I don’t think it’s me that we should be worry about starting trouble.”

“Well, it’s not us that you have to worry about. There’s two types of humans on the sea: there’s the Navy and there’s pirates. Which one tried to kill you?”

Andy grabbed Syan’s legs and pulled them up to the bed, forcing Syan to turn until she was lounging, supporting herself on her elbows. The rational side of her said that Syan was just scared. The more dominant—aggressive—part of her that lead her to fights said that Syan was stubborn and unappreciative of the help.

“Sleep here for the night. We’ll find out what to do with you in the morning—even if it means throwing you back out in the water.”

                                                            ***

“How long are we going to keep her?” Tobi asked.

They were mapping out a new route. They sat at his desk, a map spread in front of them and a bottle of rum between them. Patches of sea had been circled and crossed out in messy ink. Corks and broken pens represented where they suspected the Navy of being.

Andy shrugged. “For as long as we need to.”

“You said a couple weeks.” Tobi leaned forward in his chair. “We need to return to land soon. Our supplies are running out.”

“I know.”

“And we’re wasting our time running around the ocean looking for creatures that might kill us or might be dead.”

Andy struggled to not scream. They didn’t have much time or supplies to spare. She knew that she was asking a lot of the crew, but she tired of reminding them every day that she was the captain. She was in charge.

She was exhausted. Her nights for over a month had been spent finding Syan out of bed, and her days had been spent arguing with the crew more than usual.

“Don’t worry about what I’m planning,” she said.

“We’re going to attract the Navy. It’s not safe.”

“We’re not attracting the Navy any more than we usually do.”

“And what if we run into them? And they find that we’re harboring a siren?”

“We’ll deal with it.”

“They’ll kill all of us.”

Andy slammed her fist on the table. Tobi didn’t budge.

“Do you really think I haven’t thought this through?” she said. “And are you really so scared of the Navy now?”

“No. But if they’ve been showing up where they shouldn’t be—”

"They’re going to always be showing up where they don’t belong. When have they ever stayed close to the continent?”

“Things are changing. Why are we risking our own lives to help a siren?”

Andy’s face burned. She had become protective of Syan over the months. There was nothing she could think of that would justify throwing any siren back into the water at this point. Especially if the siren was Syan. Sirens didn’t travel alone well, and Syan struggled even more. To dump her off, she would definitely be dead within a day.

“If you’re questioning my orders, you don’t have to be on this ship,” she snapped. “We can find a nice piece of ocean to drop you off in. Are you questioning my orders?”

Tobi clenched his jaw. His hands were balled in fists in his lap. He shook his head.

“Then why are we having problems?” Andy asked.

“We aren’t.”

Andy stood. “Good.”

She turned on her heel and left.  

                                                            ***

Andy didn’t wait for Syan to wake up before looking at her legs again.

She pulled the blankets away and sat on the edge of the bed. Syan gasped, and her eyes snapped open. Andy could see the damage better with the sunlight streaming down the stairs.

Syan’s legs were already scarring. There were permanent depressions and discoloration developing where the net had dug into her flesh.

Syan sat up.

“It’s not bad,” Andy said. “Do sirens heal fast?”

Syan nodded.

Andy wondered what her tail would look like. Scales could be lost forever. Maybe her tail fin would be torn.

“It hurts,” Syan said. Her hands went to her thighs.

“You’ll be fine.”

Syan traced a gouge that ran up to her hip. “Am I your prisoner?”

Andy looked to the ground. Her boots were dirty and stained from the seawater.

“No,” she said.

“Are you letting me go?”

“No.”

Syan pulled her legs to her chest. Her hand covered a rope burn on her shin.

“We’re keeping you for a while,” Andy said. “We don’t want you to draw attention to us if you’d be struggling in waters next to us. And, if you’d like, we can try to help you find your choir.”

Syan nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think that we’re doing this to be kind. We’re just stuck with you, and we’re trying to deal with it.”

Syan curled up a little more. “How do I know you’re not hunters? What if you find my choir and then—”

“We’re not the Navy. Unless you give us a reason to, we won’t hurt you. What would we even do with you if we killed you?”

“Sell us to the Navy.”  

“That’s a great idea. A ship of pirates selling a siren to the Navy. We’d be hanged with you. Find some pants. Get dressed, and come up on the deck. We’re putting you to work.”

                                                            ***

Andy found Syan on the deck in the moonlight again.

They sat together, watching the small waves approach the ship before feeling the gentle rocking.

                                                            ***

Weeks passed without any change.

Syan told the navigator everything she knew about the travel patterns of her choir, but nothing ever helped. They sailed as close as they dared to areas they knew were always occupied by the Navy. Andy grew anxious about that and put an end to it.

The crew was impatient. Andy had taken to staying by Syan’s side everywhere they went in fear that the men would throw her overboard. Or kill her. Or hold her hostage. Or harm her in any other way. Andy had threatened them in every way possible, but she also feared that they would grow to hate Syan more than they feared Andy if they stayed on the water too long.

Syan’s legs fully healed, but ugly scars still remained where the net had strangled them. Andy had caught Syan examining them when they were alone.

When tempers calmed down every night after another long day of searching, Andy would return to her cabin. Syan slept on a cot on the other end of the room. One night, Andy found her under blankets and curled up. She was about to blow out the candles when she heard sobs.

It was awkward. Andy didn’t know how to comfort a crying being, and Syan wasn’t exactly crying. Sirens seemed incapable of it. Her chest heaved, and her face screwed up in emotional agony, but no tears fell. Andy offered her a drink and a walk.

“I never believed in God. I didn’t buy into the Biblical bullshit that my family force-fed me. I left as soon as I could, and let me tell you, I’m better off alone.”

“You’re on a ship full of people you see every day. How are you alone?”

“I don’t think you understand humans as well as you think.”

They talked all night, first walking in circles around the ship and eventually settling back in Andy’s cabin. They took turns telling one another about options, and then about their lives. Syan taught her about sirens’ history from before the Navy existed. Andy told her about her mother’s baking—something she had never talked about before. They fell into a comfortable pattern of taking turns to share.  

“Even when I was younger, my choir thought of me as a burden. I was the slowest and the smallest, and I think the Navy found us because of me... Maybe they left me on purpose.”

“That’s brutal.”

“It’s cynical.”

They walked in silence for a minute longer. Syan stopped, suddenly, and turned to Andy.

Syan calmed in the early hours of the morning and slept through the afternoon.

Andy was oddly quiet the next day.

                                                            ***

“What if I never get back to my choir?”

Andy had thought about that. They had been searching for so long, and they should have stopped already. They needed to return to land soon, and what if Syan was still with them? Andy had made a plan in case that happened. Syan would need to learn about daily human life. They would need to find clothes for her and teach her how to be inconspicuous while they bought new supplies. It could be a potential disaster.

“They have to be looking for you, too,” Andy said.

“What if they’re dead?”

The sun would be coming up soon. They had sat on the deck for hours before Andy could coax Syan into talking.

“I don’t know,” Andy said. “What if they are?”

“I’d have nowhere to go.”

The stars looked like pinpricks in the black sky where the heavens could shine through. Andy could stare at the sky all night.

Syan watched the water.

“We’re running out of time. We have to return to land soon—and I mean very soon,” Andy said. “Do you want to give up?”

Syan said nothing. Andy nudged her leg.

“Give up, and you can stay with us,” she said. “Or give up and go on your own way.”

Syan’s hand went to her legs.

“It’s your choice,” Andy said. “But you’re welcome to join us. You’ve been here long enough.”

Syan looked back out to the water. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“I think I’m ready to go to bed.”

[haespoir]

honestly, i’d like to start this post off by saying thank you!!! never would i have thought that i would ever reach over 100 followers,,, so the fact that i’ve hit 1000 followers seems so unreal to me,, so thank you guys! for supporting my writing and dealing with my nonsensical rambling!! 

with that being said: in honour of reaching 1000 followers, i’ve decided to start a little series on my blog. i’ll be writing for five main groups: nct ( all units ), loona, twice, red velvet and the boyz. these are my favorite groups to write for though i’ve really only ever written publicly for nct. 

i’ve complied a list of 60 aus ( most are from this masterlist and i’ve just chosen the ones that i like ) and 20 songs so just pick one and send me a request! note: most things will be written in bulletpoint and this post will serve as a masterlist for everything! 

example requests: 

“competitive au #1 w doyoung?” 

“angst song #2 with sana?” 

if a prompt is taken, it’ll be bolded with the name of the idol next to it! i’ll also include who requested it uwu basically, it’s a first come, first serve type thing! you can also request more than once!

ok with that being said,,, have fun! 

songs

angst

01. [ younghoon | anon ] “love letter” jinsoul and kim lip 

02. “push and pull” kard

03. “rumor” kard 

04. “lady” exid

05. “see saw” gowon and chuu and kimlip 

06. “walkin’ in time” the boyz 

07. “hard to love” bol4 

08. “destiny” lovelyz 

09. “we were in love” t-ara and davichi 

10. “dont recall” kard 

fluff

01. “hi” lovelyz

02. [ donghyuck | anon ] “walk u home” nct dream 

03. [ heejin | anon ] “what is love” twice 

04. [ jaemin | anon ] “shine” pentagon 

05. “imagine” bol4

06. “nevermind” jeong sewoon 

07. “real man” the east light

08. [ doyoung ] “a girl like me” gugudan 

09. [ yuta | @jenofanclub ] “heart attack” chuu 

10. “the day of confessing my love” jo kwon 

aus

roommate aus

01. friend of a friend needs a place to stay before they get evicted

02. my roommate fell nd broke their arm in the shower,,, what do i do

03. [ yeri | @najaeminclub ] new roommate cooks for the first time and almost burns the house down

04. overheard you singing in the shower you sound angelic 

05. [ doyoung | anon ] your clothes ended up in my laundry and now im wearing your favorite tshirt 

enemies to lovers au 

01. you’re a jerk barista who purposely screws up my name when i order 

02. [ jihoon | @lovejihoonie ] you saw me crying and you weren’t supposed to,, why are u trying to hug me 

03. you come to the restaurant i work at and choose me as your server every time just to annoy me nd i can’t do anything or i’ll get fired

04. [ yuta ] look i know we haven’t said anything nice to each other for years and this is a bit sudden but can you hold my hand and pretend to be my partner for the next few minutes cause my ex is coming over and i can’t be on my own for this so lets just pretend we aren’t mortal enemies okay? omg, you’re saying nice things about me and your arms are around my waist and my heart is pounding in my chest and oh god no out of all the people i could crush on why you?

reincarnation aus

01. [ jaehyun | anon ] i meet and fall in love with you in every lifetime at the same age but your age is always different so it never works out and for the first time i’m meeting you when we’re the same age and i’m horrified that i might fuck this up

02. [ doyoung ] i skipped like four cycles of reincarnation and i know you’re pissed at me for leaving you all those lifetimes but it wasn’t my fault please please will you take me back

03. [ yukhei | anon ] i don’t know how to tell you this but the reason you didn’t see me in our last reincarnation cycle is because for some fucked up reason I was reincarnated as your dog

04. [ taeyong | @najaemini ] we keep reincarnating as people who speak different languages and it’s kind of pissing me off because i can never initially confirm if it’s you but at least i keep learning a bunch of cool new languages each lifetime

height difference aus ( specify who is the tol nd who is the smol pls !! ) 

01. [ jacob | anon ] you were trying to reach for a box of cereal and a whole shelf’s-worth of cereal boxes fell on you here let me help

02. [ jeno | anon ] we’re both baristas and sometimes i have trouble reaching for things and i show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU 

03. we’re in art class tgt and i just opened a cupboard to find a tiny person (you) squished inside and you just looked at and said “shh i’m hiding” we’re on the bus and im really not trying to take up your space im sorry i just have rlly rlly long legs 

04. [ juyeon | @jenofanclub ] you’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting vry suspicious

05. you’re super short and i’m sorry but it’s really really cute whenever you try to reach that book on the top shelf here lemme help you- oh no don’t be embarrassed, your face is all red and you’re even more adorable now i am going to die

competitive aus

01. [ jaemin ] we’re both ‘team leaders’ at a summer camp for little people and you may be hot but goddammit my collection of twelve-year-olds are going to beat yours into the dust

02. i used to be the best baker in the neighbourhood but then you showed up at Mrs Appleby’s 80th birthday with a stack of brownies which almost gave me an orgasm my honour is at stake and im going all out for the next event

03. [ renjun | @najaeminclub ] a mutual friend invited us to their laser tag party and we’re the last two alive on opposite teams and goddammit if im going down you’re going down with me

04. you’re going to be at the halloween party and you’ve won best costume for the past three years but this year i am wearing the best costume ever if you defeat me i will eat my - wait you actually look really cute when did you turn hot what the fuck um

05. [ donghyuck | anon ] we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and i feel really bad here let me look after you

06. did you actually just blue shell me on our date you fucker

college aus 

01. [ momo | anon ] excuse me, I know we don’t have assigned seats in college, but I’ve been sitting in this one for eight weeks and it seems you’re in my spot

02. [ lucas | anon ] bless the spring semester stage combat class for practicing on the North Lawn, because watching my crush get sweaty and worked up while pretending to fight people really Does Things to me, okay

03. i was abroad last semester and forgot to fill out the housing form, but your old roommate dropped out so hi, hey, how’s it going, I guess we live together now

04. both of us turned up at the wrong room for this lecture but don’t know where its meant to be 

05. [ lucas | @najaemini ] we live in halls opposite each other and i keep seeing you changing through your window 

witch aus 

01. listen, i know im new at this and all, but you screeching at the top of your tiny frog lungs isn’t going to help anyone, is it????? don’t you dare croak at me in that tone

02. [ jeno | anon ] we’ve been friends for years, so are familiars are really good friends with each other too. nd recently, while we’ve been doing witchy stuff, i’ve noticed that our familiars are growing extremely close and being affectionate towards each other. that’s weird because like our familiars are supposed to represent our subconscious and that’s not how we feel about each other at all… right?

03. [ seulgi | anon ] i borrowed the broomstick you keep in your wardrobe, and while i was cleaning up some lint; it suddenly shOT UPWARDS AND SMASHED INTO THE CEILING WHILE I WAS STILL HOLDING IT AND IT WON’T STOP MOVING GET ME DOWN FROM HERE I SWEAR TO GOD.

ghost aus ( in which one person is a ghost ) 

01. the neighbours asked one time if I had any roommates and i said no and they just looked really confused because they can always hear me shouting or talking to someone. yea, my neighbours think I’m crazy now, so thanks for that.

02. we’ve been arguing for a solid hour about whether Amelia Earheart actually died when the plane supposedly crashed; i don’t care if you met her one time when you were in purgatory. that doesn’t make a difference!

03. my ghost is really temperamental so i sometimes just scream “FUCK OFF” at it really loudly. it quietens down after that.

04. i’ve become so used to all the weird shit that happens in my house that when i invited people over and you were just throwing books around in the hallway, i completely forgot that they aren’t used to it like i am and now they just ran out of the house screaming. 

05. [ johnny | anon ] you’re a ghost and you scared me so much that i died and i literally rose out of the floor two minutes later as a ghost, now we’re stuck together for eternity and now i’m gonna beat your ghost ass.

06. CAN YOU NOT POSSESS DOLLS PLEASE IT’S NOT FUNNY AND IT”S JUST A DICK MOVE AND SCARES THE HECK OUT OF ME EVERY TIME

you know them but you don’t know them aus 

01. my friend can’t stop talking about how they want to set me up with their other friend so we start texting each other and they’re hilarious but shy about meeting and ALSO there’s a cute bike delivery guy who brings my mail at work and winks at me whenever i sign for a package 

02. [ sana | @jenofanclub ] i’m obsessed with a food blogger who writes about cheap ways to be gourmet in your 20s and i flirt with them over comments but they never post pictures of their face and ALSO there’s a really cute grocery bagger at the store down the street who teases me and always asks to join me for dinner and i definitely want to say yes

03. [ jaehyun | @jaehyunclub ] there’s an overnight IT person at school who always answers the phone when i call about a problem with my computer and i totally have a crush on their voice and their exasperation and ALSO the bakery down the street is always running out of my fave scones and the adorable person behind the counter can’t hide their amusement and i think it’s super rude but also super cute 

04. [ lucas | @najaeminclub ] my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick 

05. our kids are bitter rivals and the only time we ever meet is when we’re both called to the principal’s office and whatever maybe i think you’re kind of cute but your kid’s a monster and ALSO someone keeps buying the last everything bagel at my favorite coffee shop 2 minutes before i get there in the morning and has heard about my plight and has started leaving me bragging notes about it 

06. [ changmin | @lovejihoonie ] i hired a dog walking company and i’ve never met the person who comes to my apartment but they leave me really cute notes and they give my dog presents and i kind of love them because my dog does and ALSO one of the artists at this gallery opening is hella cute and i want them to paint me like one of their french girls

??? aus

01. [ jacob | @lovejihoonie ] im calling to cancel our date bc im actually in the er right now, sorry,,,, i mean,,, i guess u can come here,,,, bring me fries 

02. we’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up

03. a scary-looking person who unintentionally makes kids cry and a daycare volunteer meet at a children-filled park

04. [ sunwoo | anon ] you’re infamous for being an asshole nd i had to sit next you in class. turns out you’re kinda nice one-on-one. 

05. i let you cheat with my answers on a test and then you got the highest grade possible nd now you owe me a HUGE favour.

06. i just got bowled over by your huge-as dog in the park nd now you’re profusely apologizing while trying to hold your dog off 

07. [ kun | anon ] i kind of naturally spoil people and like taking care of them, you’re always getting sick in class / feeling down in class nd omg i think the teacher ships us???

08. [ yuta | @najaemini​ ] you always like to make me embarrassed by leaning in too close or hitting on me, but i’m used to it now nd one day i decided to retaliate

09. [ ten | anon ] ok so when we were little i accidentally mentioned that i had a crush on you but i always thought you didn’t hear me because you just looked at me weird and never commented but now we’re in high school and omg you just introduced me as your boyfriend/girlfriend/datemate wtf we never discussed this!!!

10. [ donghyuck | anon ] why are you so clingy people will think we’re dating- i know we are but you’re the one who wants it to be secret you moron!

11. [ taeyong | @najaeminclub ] i understand that you’re my bodyguard but that was a freaking FRISBEE not a nuclear bomb jesus christ- hey why are you still on top of me and why have i not noticed how beautiful you are? 

12. you’re so perfect and i’m in love with you but i’ve never actually met you and you keep avoiding meeting up, so i called nev and max to help me figure out whether or not you’re catfishing me

13. [ irene | anon ] you had a party and i got really drunk and stole your toaster, so i showed up the next day to return it and you were really hungover so i made you breakfast (but i burnt all of it)

14. [ jungwoo | anon ] you have dimension-jumping powers and you’re mad that literally EVERY OTHER VERSION OF YOURSELF is dating ( insert idol ). then ur idol asks u out and is confused when u screams ‘FUCKING FINALLY, JACKASS!’

15. [ hyunjae | anon ] i suggested we play spin the bottle so i could kiss you, but now everyone else is kissing you except me :/

[waywardnewcomer]

Reunited Part Eight

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long to finish! This idea is from @casiskween so thank you! I have big plans for this fic, however the last part didn’t get any where near as much recognition as other parts, so I have to ask do you still want me to continue? If you can please leave feedback and reblog, it always makes me smile. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: While on their family trip Y/N has a close call.

Warnings: Drama, heartbreak fluff

Pairings: Jared x Stepdaughter!Reader, Genevieve x Goddaughter!Reader, Misha x Platonic!Reader, Jensen x Platonic!Reader (side Jared x Genevieve, Jensen x Danneel, Misha x Vicki)

Word Count: 1.3k

Previous Part Series Masterpost Masterlist

As soon as Jared stopped the car at the cabin you jumped out. You ran towards your old bedroom and flopped on the bed. It hadn’t changed one bit. You looked to your left to see a picture of you, your Mom and Jared in the lake when you were little. This cabin had been your family’s for as long as you could remember. You had missed coming here each summer with them. You looked to the right to see a picture of you and your Dad on your 2nd birthday, cake smeared all over both of your faces. You’d missed this place, maybe this vacation wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“You okay bub?” Jared asked from the doorway he was leant on.

“Yeah, just glad to be back.” You smiled, getting up and grabbing your bag off him.

“Alright well unpack and change. Misha, Vicki and Danneel will be here soon and we’re going water skiing.” He grinned at you, knowing it was one of your favourite activities.

Your eyes lit up and you ran and hugged him. He laughed as he cradled you to his chest. You were so excited. It had been 5 years since you’d been water skiing with Jared and you loved the time you’d spent together in the water. You pulled away and walked over to your suitcase to unpack. Gen had packed mostly summer clothes with a few hoodies. Smart. You thought, it could get cold here on a night. You put on your bikini underneath a white crop top and black denim shorts. You wrapped a blue flannel around your waist in case it got cold before you went into the kitchen where Gen was.

“Something smells nice.” You smiled as you jumped on the counter in the middle of the room.

“I’m making some grilled cheese before we go out to the lake for the day, you want some juice?” She asked you, taking the food out of the oven.

“Yes please, I’ll set the table,”

“You need to set for 7 people, the others will be here any minute.” She smiled at you as she handed you your juice.

As you were putting out the cutlery and glasses the doorbell rang. Jensen ran in from the patio to open the door.

“I’ll get it!” He yelled as he sprinted to the front door, making you giggle.

“He’s so excited to see Dan.” Jared laughed, as he followed him inside.

You watched curiously as the two women you didn’t know walked into the cabin with Jensen and Misha.

“Hey, I’m Danneel, and this is Vicki.” Danneel smiled as she walked over to you. She gave you a quick hug before greeting Jared and Gen.

“Hi sweetheart, Misha’s told me a lot about you.” Vicki laughed as she also pulled you into a hug.

“Good things, I hope.” You laughed, walking over to hug Misha.

“Always giggles.” Misha laughed pulling you into a hug.

The seven of you sat down, eating the food Gen had made. You all got to know each other a little better and discussed the plans for the weekend. You really liked Danneel and Vicki, they seemed nice and they were making you laugh.

“Who’s up for water skiing?” Jared asked once everyone had finished eating.

You, Jensen and Misha cheered enthusiastically, whilst the women just laughed and turned their noses up.

“I think we’ll sunbathe and get to know each other.” Gen smiled at the two ladies, before ushering them up to their rooms to get changed.

“Right, just the fun ones left.” Misha laughed, throwing his arm around you.

You giggled as you leaned into his shoulder. You were fine with some father and uncle bonding time on the lake. You loved water skiing almost as much as you loved them. Jared led you all outside to the jets and strapped a life vest to your chest.

“Not losing you to the rapids.” He laughed, tightening the straps.

Once you all had life vests on, you got onto the skis and raced each other around the lake. You dodged in and out between Jensen and Misha, expertly. You had missed feeling this free. You stopped in the middle of the water and observed the people around you. They were all laughing and having fun. The boys looking so relaxed compared to when you see them on set. You looked over at Gen and the girls and smiled, seeing them bonding. You finally had your family back.

“Y/N WATCH OUT!” You heard Misha shout before you were plummeted under the water.

You tried to swim to the top, but your life vest was stuck to part of the jet. You were getting pulled under further and further with the weight of the jet and you were running out of breath.

Jared laughed at Jensen almost falling off when he heard Misha shouting. When he saw you topple off his world began to go in slow motion. He waited for you to reappear, laughing at Misha’s antics but when you didn’t his heart began to beat out of his chest. Why weren’t you coming up?

“Y/N?” He shouted, hoping for a reply.

“Y/N, time to come up!” Jensen shouted, also beginning to get worried.

“Why isn’t she coming back up?” Misha shouted, confused.

Genevieve heard the commotion and stood up immediately. She surveyed the water but couldn’t see you anywhere.

“Where’s Y/N?” She shouted at Jared, to see his worried face before he revved his jet.

“I think she’s in the water.” Danneel spoke, making Gen’s heart stop.

Genevieve’s eyes popped out of her head as she screamed at the lake hoping you’d answer. She couldn’t lose you.

Jared sped over to your toppled jet and dove into the water. He caught your body and untangled you from the jet, bringing you back up to the surface. You coughed and spluttered, allowing the water to leave your lungs. You flung your head back into Jared, incredibly tired. Your chest burned for breath as you gulped it in.

“Are you okay?” Jared asked you as he dragged you back to his jet.

“Need air.” You gasped, still coughing harshly.

Jensen and Misha looked over concerned as Jared sped you back to shore. They followed him at a slower pace and watched as he sat you on the dock next to Gen and into her open arms.

“Oh baby, are you okay?” She asked, stroking your hair and bringing you to her chest.

“Tired.” You mumbled, still confused as to what was happening.

You had wasted all your energy trying not to drown and now you needed a nap.

“Here.” Danneel smiled as she passed you a towel.

You wrapped it around your shoulders as you began to shiver. Jared was still crouched in front of you with a concerned look on his face. He rubbed your arms and kissed your pale forehead.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” Misha apologised.

“I should’ve moved.” You smiled at him weakly.

“I think you should go get warm and have a nap kiddo.” Jared looked into your eyes frowning.

“Yeah, okay,”

You gladly accepted Jared’s help in getting up once Gen had fussed over you a bit more. He lead you into the house and helped you change into a warm sweater and some leggings before placing you into bed. He tucked you in, just like he would when you were little and sat next to you.

“You gave me the fright of my life kiddo.” He chuckled, stroking your cheek,

“I’m sorry, Dad,”

“Don’t apologise.” He grinned, not being able to get used to you calling him Dad.

You smiled back at him before you fluttered your eyelids closed. He laid next to you, tracing patterns on your back allowing you to fall asleep, just like he did when you were younger.

“I never want to lose you.” He whispered, kissing your forehead once you’d fell asleep. “You mean too much to me.”

He got up off your bed and turned off your light. He took a look at you and smiled, relieved before closing the door and going back to join his friends. That was a close call, too close.

Next Part

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[enchantedsugden]

it's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime

ao3 link

 He wakes up slowly, legs tangled with Aaron and his face half pressing against his husband’s shoulder. He holds his breath for a second trying to listen to the noise, or in this case the lack of it in the house. Sure, the baby monitor would let them know if Seb’s awake but there are mornings that Liv is up early, rare, but they do exist, and she likes to take him downstairs to keep her company until he really needs his dads. There’s no noise downstairs however, it’s just one of those rare quiet mornings.

He raises his head a bit, trying his very hardest not to wake up Aaron.

Half past eight, he reads on the clock. He’s pretty sure his son will be reminding them all of his presence very soon, and he feels too restless now to try and get back to sleep. He kisses Aaron’s shoulder, smiles softly at the little noise his husband let’s out. He wants to let him sleep, Aaron had been up early yesterday and looked after Seb for the whole day, while Robert had meetings until late. And tonight when Seb screamed his lungs out it was Aaron who checked up on him, calmed him down, Robert protested but his husband insisted.

He now has to untangle his legs though, Aaron lets out a few murmurs of protest but he doesn’t wake up. Robert reaches out to grab his phone, scoots closer to Aaron again, pressing another kiss to his shoulder to let him know he isn’t alone.

He unlocks his phone and sees the date, he also feels his heart close to stopping. He can’t help it, he’s sentimental like that and knows Aaron is too. The 21st and 22nd are just special ok?

But especially today, the 22nd of August. It’s been six months, six months since they got back together. Robert’s breathe is caught in his throat. Six months since he got this back, waking up in their bed, close to Aaron, tangled up with Aaron. It’s really flown by, he guesses time really does fly by when you’re having fun, and when you’re settled, happy and finally back where you belong. Then he realises that for a man keen on celebrating anniversaries, he actually forgot this one, a pretty damn special one. He doesn’t know if Aaron knows, what if his husband planned something? He feels sick suddenly, sick and guilty.

He quickly works it out in his head, he will make Aaron breakfast to make up for it and then they can both decide what they want to do today, if Aaron hasn't got anything planned, that is. Robert is about to move again when Aaron opens his eyes, Robert can’t lie, he loves this, Aaron waking up, sleep soft, a slightly confused look on his face and then he smiles, sometimes annoyed because he is just like that, but often it’s just a soft smile, one that warms Robert’s heart.

“Hey.” He says softly

“Hey you.” Aaron says, eyes not leaving Robert’s face “what time is it then?”

“Half eight.”

“It’s quiet.”

“Yes, it’s nice, Seb will wake up soon though.” Robert sighs, can’t escape now so he just decides to ask straight out. “Do you know what day it is?” he whispers, sees Aaron looking slightly panicked which tells him enough really, “It’s nothing bad.” He laughs, he holds up his lock screen to Aaron, sees his husband squint.

“It’s the-“ Aaron cuts himself off, Robert watches it click for the next few seconds then he breathes “it’s been 6 months hasn’t it.” He states and Robert has to chuckle at his reply.

“Yeah, I forgot- I’m so sorry I don’t know how I could even forget-“

“Don’t I also forgot, or doesn’t that surprise you.” Aaron grins.

“No! that’s not what I meant I-“

“I am just joking Rob, it’s ok, we have the day off, so we can just do something nice, I do want to celebrate.” Aaron says, voice going soft.

“Yeah me too, I can’t believe it’s been 6 months, that’s half a year.”

“Best we have ever been really.”

“I think so too, so much has happened.” Robert says grabbing Aaron’s hand and squeezing it. It was true, a lot of things happened, they were a real little family, all settled and happy and they were getting married again. But there was also all the stuff with Rebecca, Liv in prison, a carbon monoxide leak, losing Gerry.

Aaron nods, squeezing his hand in reply “stop daydreaming you and kiss me.” Robert laughs and does exactly that. When he pull away he runs his hand through Aaron’s hair, and whispers “happy anniversary, I love you.”

Aaron is all smiley and happy under him “I love you too.”

“As much as I would like to continue this, unfortunately we can’t.”

“I know” Aaron sighs, “we can later though.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“So, shall I get started on my legendary fry up then, on this special day.”

“I like that idea very much Mr Sugden.”  Aaron wriggles, Robert still lying half on top of him, he will let him go but not before he gets to give him another lingering kiss, a promise for more later.

  When Robert comes downstairs Seb on his hip, all dressed and ready for the day, Aaron has already set the table.

“Hiya, it’s nearly done.” Aaron says and comes closer, giving Robert a kiss on his cheek and tickling Seb’s belly, “morning little man, and I also got your food ready.”

“It’s like he knows it’s a special day, giving us that little extra time in bed.” Robert replies.

Aaron laughs and orders for them to sit down.

“I’ll make us a brew.” Robert says.

“No, no it’s fine, I think someone is hungry.” Aaron says, nodding to Seb.

“Where’s Liv, is she still sleeping?” Robert asks, can’t really believe someone would sleep through the smell of his husband’s legendary breakfast.

“Left a note, she’s getting up to whatever with Gabby.”

“She’s missing out then.”

  When they’re all finished, Robert gets up to clear the table. “No, no it’s my turn, stay.” He orders and Aaron just laughs at him, and Robert wants this forever, gets to have this forever.

“What do you want to do today?”

Aaron biting his lips, shrugs, “I don’t know, we could always go to that new bar in town.” He grins and Robert scoffs, “shut up, we can always try and find a fair somewhere.”

Aaron shakes his head, chuckling, “no but we can go somewhere later, a drive out somewhere, have dinner.

Robert nods “yeah I like that, I’ll ask Vic if she can have Seb.”

  They spent the rest of the morning and afternoon pottering about in the Mill.

They watch a film Robert’s head on Aaron’s chest, they drink more cups of tea and eat loads of Aaron’s favourite chocolate biscuits. Seb’s amusing himself in his pillow fort, which is definitely his new favourite thing, thanks to Aaron.

After the film’s finished they have another two hours before they even have to get ready, Robert brings Seb up for his nap, Aaron still lazying about on the couch. Just when he’s flopped down next to him again, about to use their time wisely he hears the lock and seconds later Liv walks in.

Robert sighs against Aaron lips and the younger man can’t resist rolling his eyes.

“Good timing Liv.”

She laughs “so I can see, never said when I’d be back did I?”

“No you didn’t” Robert huffs, while he tries to get back into a more normal position.

“It’s our anniversary today.” Aaron tells her but she just frowns. “Well our six months anniversary, we got back together six months ago.” Robert adds.

“Oh” she brightens, “congratulations then, that means I’ve been stuck with you for six months” she nods towards Rob.

“Yeah, and you will be until you move out ey” Aaron surprises him by saying.

“Gross” Liv laughs.

  When Liv is upstairs, Aaron looks at him and sighs “later then” Robert rolls his eyes “later” and gives him a peck. They sit like that for a while longer, the tv showing something neither of them care about, they only care about enjoying each other’s company.

“I just can’t believe it’s been six months” Robert starts, shaking his head.

“I know” his husband replies, lost in thought, also thinking about how much has actually happened. “I am glad I didn’t have to do any of it alone you know, what with Liv and mum.” Robert pulls him closer, so Aaron’s head is now on his chest. “I know” he murmurs, “same here, I- I don’t even want to think about it, doing all of this alone, I am so glad I’ve got you again” he whispers “thank you.”

“Don’t” Aaron says and Robert smiles, he always does that, he doesn’t want Robert’s thanks, but he can’t help it.

“I am glad you came back you know, to Vic’s” Robert says, can’t keep it in, and he’s allowed isn’t he?  It’s been six months. Aaron reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly. “So am I. I- wasn’t sure if you’d open or- if it was going to work.” He laughs softly. “I just needed to make sure, you knew how much I love you and- well appreciate you Rob, you’re a good person, even if you don’t always see it yourself.”

Robert finds it hard to swallow, squeezes their hands. “You help” he says “I love you so much, and I’ve got everything back haven’t I, my best friend, my husband and my home.”

“You will always have a home with me now.” Aaron whispers and then he suddenly sits up and throws his arms around Robert’s neck and Robert responds by burying his face into his husband's neck.

    Aaron was always good at fixing Robert’s broken parts.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 2x13-- Day 492

FINALLY DONE WRITING THIS. Recap under the cut! Also, as soon as I post this, I’m going to work on updating my meta page where you can find links to posts about EVERY SINGLE EPISODE of TGW and TGF. 

Dear writers: I’ll forgive Timeline Fuckery when it’s beyond your control. I understand that you’re shooting outdoor scenes in March/April when in the show it’s supposed to be late May, so there’s snow on the ground and everyone’s in coats. Fine. You can’t change the weather. And I understand that the Day ### titles are more symbolic than literal. But what’s your excuse for opening this episode with the date (May 27th, 2018) when you didn’t need to?

For one, May 27th, 2018 is a Sunday—and thus not a work day. Any calendar will tell you this. For another, Lucca goes into labor “two weeks early,” we’re told. In 2x06, she said the birth date was scheduled for May 22nd. Why do you do this, writers?! You didn’t have to give dates. You didn’t have to OPEN THIS EPISODE WITH THE DATE. And, if you’re going to use dates, at the very least, write them down somewhere!!!!

See, now I’m starting off the episode in Nitpick Mode (to be fair, I am usually in Nitpick Mode) when I could be starting off the episode simply happy to see the wonderful Lucca Quinn.

Lucca’s in court arguing a case about filming in Chicago. We saw this client earlier in the season—he’s the one who thought Lucca kept needing to use the bathroom.

Lucca and opposing counsel are standing really close to each other and I don’t know why.

Maia’s on this case now, too.

Lucca stops mid-sentence because… she’s going into labor! The client thinks she has to pee, then he thinks it’s a lawyerly trick (Lucca screams in pain as she says “all white facilities!!” which is hilarious).

The judge asks if Lucca needs a moment. She pretends she doesn’t, but that lasts all of a second before she screams “Yes! Yes! Recess! FUCK! Fuck!” and grabs opposing counsel to stable herself. Ah, that’s why he was standing so close to her.

Now Maia’s speeding through the city, with Lucca in the passenger seat with her legs up. Lucca complains about all the cases she’d planned to work on this week as Maia frantically pushes buttons on a cellphone. Bluetooth, Maia. Use Bluetooth and then you can keep both hands on the wheel and look at the road.

Maia has, and is using, Lucca’s phone, and Lucca doesn’t know it. Does Lucca not have a passcode?

Maia calls Colin and instead gets Francesca because I guess Lucca’s number for Colin is not his cell but rather… his mom’s house? But I don’t care, because Francesca is in the practice of answering her home phone with, “Morello Residence, Down with Trump.” I know Colin’s not going to be a regular next season, but can we keep Francesca around as a guest star?

Francesca is shocked that Lucca’s in labor because she thought they were inducing in two weeks. Yes. Because babies always arrive exactly when you schedule them.

Next, Lucca wants to call Diane.

When Diane tells Julius that Lucca’s in labor, Marissa overhears and freaks out.

“Listen, can you take Lucca’s place on the Violence Committee?” Diane asks Julius. (Not going to find another associate to do it? Only a partner? I guess Lucca is doing very well.)

“No! I have to get to the hospital,” Marissa replies before Julius can say anything. This is so Marissa—thinking a question that is OBVIOUSLY not directed at her would be directed at her. “Not you! She means me,” Julius corrects, but Marissa’s already run off.

When did Marissa and Lucca become so close? I know Marissa/Maia/Lucca kind of have a Workplace Friendship Trio thing going, but I feel like we’ve had a lot of Marissa/Maia and a lot of Maia/Lucca, and not as much Marissa/Lucca. I’m accepting it only because I like the idea of the Workplace Friendship Trio and if the show wants to give me Marissa/Lucca scenes, it can go right ahead.

Diane, meanwhile, is being interviewed by FBI agents, one of whom is the Gravedigger from Bones/Rhonda Pearlman from The Wire. At first, it seems like a standard background check, since Kurt’s applying for a position with the FBI. But they seem to be fishing for something related to people who’ve spent the night at Diane’s apartment.

In the last 6 months, Maia spent a few days at Diane’s apartment during the scandal. What? Not only does that timeline not make sense, but shouldn’t we have seen it if Maia was staying with Diane instead of living behind a clock during the scandal? I’m more upset we were denied that than I am about the timeline. This season—and last season—needed more Diane/Maia scenes to make Maia’s presence feel necessary and believable.

As soon as the agents leave, the score from 6x01 kicks in and suddenly I’m having lots of Cary Agos feelings. Diane walks slowly down the hallway, caught up in her thoughts.

“Hey. Is Lucca really giving birth?” Liz stops her, overjoyed. Awww!

Diane asks Liz if she has a minute. She explains her situation with the FBI, says she’s worried about one of her answers, and then does that thing people on this show do where they exchange a dollar to hire a colleague as a lawyer. Then Diane tells Liz she’s worried about someone else who stayed overnight: Tully.

Diane calls the FBI agent and mentions other people who stayed in her apartment, then sneaks in Tully’s name.

LMAOOOOO GUYS THERE IS WHAT APPEARS TO BE A PORTRAIT OF COMEY IN THE BACKGROUND OF THIS SCENE AND HE HAS DEVIL HORNS AND AN EYEPATCH LOLLOLLOLLOLLOL

“You’re fine,” Liz tells Diane when she hangs up. Diane isn’t so sure.

A man talks directly into the camera. “Kill all lawyers. That’s been the anthem for six months of copycat killers and assaulters. Well, today that ends,” he says. That’s a little meta. He’s talking to Adrian and Julius, so I guess this is the violence committee that Lucca was meant to be on and now I wish we’d gotten to see it with Lucca.

The mayor’s put together a committee to address this. Apparently, the best people are on the committee. They’ll get to spend ten million dollars. When Adrian and Julius walk into the room, it’s not what they’d expect. It’s Trump Appointee Trig (incompetent judge), Mr. Elk (whose name is Ted Willoughby but I will forever call him Mr. Elk because of the time he said, “things of that elk”), and… wait for it… the Peter Florrick loving drama teacher. This show has never met a guest star it didn’t want to bring back. (Well, I suppose that’s a lie: there’s always Nick Savarese.)

Mr. Elk is now on Fox News, which doesn’t make sense given that he was introduced as someone who would be friendly towards the Florricks, but does make sense given… well, HIM.

Adrian and Julius quickly realize they’re in a room with a bunch of idiots, and they don’t mince words in saying so. Adrian literally calls them “functioning idiots”, which they are. (The drama teacher is the smartest of the three.)

Adrian’s advised to just go with it and persuade them.

Marissa runs through the hospital trying to find Lucca. When she arrives, Maia is on the phone with Colin, Francesca wants to know how Colin’s doing (no sense of urgency…), and Lucca wants drugs. Marissa cannot figure out how to use a door.

Colin’s now on his way to the airport. He swears out of frustration with the fact he’s not there. “God, it’s good to hear someone swear, other than me,” Lucca replies. “FUCKING HELL,” she exclaims in pain.

“COCKSUCKER!” Francesca replies. Maia, Marissa, and Lucca stare at her. “MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKER!” Marissa joins in. “Fucking asshole!” Maia says (she’s more hesitant than the others). Then they all start screaming cuss words and this is why streaming services exist, guys. To bring us hilarious scenes where women in maternity wards scream vulgarities at the top of their lungs.

Kurt’s being interviewed by the FBI next. First question is about the Rindell fund. Second is about the neighbor who spent the night. Third is Tully. They make a point of mentioning he stayed overnight. “Does this apartment have more than one bedroom?” they ask. Oof. They aren’t even trying to be subtle.

Diane’s at aikido and she has a missed call from Kurt and a mysterious letter in her bag. “Conspiracy carries a life sentence. If you want my help, leave a flower pot in your office window and I’ll meet you at your parking space,” it reads.

Diane asks Liz if she’s noticed the Trump mask people. “They dance, and have sex wearing Trump masks.” Liz doesn’t believe her. “I think that’s an insurance firm,” she laughs. Who knows, these days? (That’s the point!)

Then the phone rings. FBI again. They want to ask Diane a question in person.

The FBI agents aren’t thrilled to see that Diane’s brought along a lawyer. “This isn’t adversarial,” one says. Right. That’s what they always say.

Their question: Tully’s made threats against the president and wants to know what Diane knows. They won’t reveal their sources. And they’ve subpoenaed Diane to testify at a grand jury.

Back at the office, Diane picks up a vase of flowers and the camera follows it to the window. Once Diane sets down the vase, it morphs into the vase from the credits. Of course it does. Robert King directed this episode. (This isn’t as awesome as the graphic match in 5x01 (Alicia in profile) but it’s still pretty damn cool.)

The cast list for this episode is insanely fantastic.

The violence committee is exactly as farcical as you’d expect. Killer bees, fake news, a rendition of Annie Get Your Gun with puppies instead of guns… yeah.

Adrian’s idea: a gun buyback program. No one understands this (except maybe Julius). Trig instead wants an “I HEART LAWYERS” ad campaign. Oh my. Mr. Elk suggests a jingle, and No 1 Florrick Fan begins to sing. “I love lawyers. They’re employers.”

There’s calming music playing in Lucca’s hospital room now, but it’s not working. Oh, and Lucca’s mom’s on her way. Francesca’s excited to meet Lucca’s mother, and Lucca’s not at all excited.

Maia tries to change the subject to make Lucca feel better, and Marissa provides a new discussion topic: Lucca moving to D.C. Lucca says she’s not sure she’s going and Francesca acts like it’s a done deal.

Diane goes to her parking spot for her secret meeting. Her new friend announces herself with a ringtone that goes “Fuzzy fuzzy cute cute” because… the Kings wrote this episode.

Diane’s new friend—a young, well-dressed blonde—tells her she’s being targeted because of her firm’s involvement with the impeachment suit and the pee-pee tape. (Side note, I discovered a few days ago that two of my friends had never heard of the pee tape???? Sometimes I think I underestimate just how niche the audience for some of the jokes on TGW/F is.)

“So, what do I call you? Deep Throat?” Diane asks. “No, I don’t do deep throat. Just double penetration and girl-on-girl,” she replies. BWAH. “You’re a porn star?” Diane asks. “I direct now,” she replies. Diane starts to turn away, but New Friend has a point. Trump is terrified of her, and she’s covered by an NDA. “Follow the women,” she advises. The women are the weaknesses of powerful men. Diane looks around and she’s gone. Only not really, because she’s just made her exit to the wrong side of the parking garage and has to double back. Heh.

Liz finds Diane’s mysterious encounter hard to believe. “I know. I’ve spend the last six months in a haze of not knowing what was crazy and what was not. I still don’t know,” Diane states.

Jay shows up, asks about Lucca, and then switches over to helping Diane (continuity is good). Diane notes that the same prosecutor (though I thought he was an ICE agent last ep?) who tried to deport Jay is working on this. Looks like RBL is a target.

Jay’s task is to follow the women.

Tully pulls Diane aside before she testifies and gives her more talk about being rebellious. “Everything I said I am proud of,” Tully offers as an explanation for why he waived attorney-client privilege. The thing about people like Tully—and I don’t mean this because Tully is a radical but rather because Tully is an entitled asshole—is that they don’t care how their actions affect others. Does he care he’s making Diane’s life difficult? Nope.

“Now go give ‘em hell, gorgeous,” Tully says in closing. Adding “gorgeous” really endears me to him. (Just kidding, it makes me loathe him even more!)

Is there some sort of symbolism to Diane’s last name being Lockhart while the prosecutor’s is Basehart? Some kind of doubleing thing?

Diane puts on her Grand Jury face, but it doesn’t work for long because Tully is the worst and also surveillance is everywhere… including Diane’s bedroom. The prosecutor has a recording of Diane and Tully’s conversation about loaded guns from a few episodes back.

And it looks quite incriminating. Diane is pissed. She accuses Tully of taping it, and Tully says Diane has been bugged. Maybe they were listening through her cell phone like they used to listen to Alicia! This is Diane’s next thought too—maybe not the Alicia part, but the phone part—and she destroys her phone’s SIM card.

Jay thinks he’s found a woman to follow. It’s a good start.

“Is this the plan? Blackmailing him?” Liz wants to know. “Yes. Why?” Diane responds like it’s nothing. “Well, it just seems a little sleazy,” Liz warns. Aren’t you the one who suggested making up lies to impeach Trump? (I do not mind Liz being contradictory, because the very first thing we learned about Liz way back in season four of Wife is that she is very good at justifying the things she does while believing everyone else is in the wrong. This isn’t a strategy she concocted, of course she’d question it.) (Also it is sleazy. But not too much sleazier than other things that’ve happened on this show.)

“They’re out to destroy us. If ever there was a time for situational ethics, it’s now,” Diane adds. Did anyone else feel like this episode was dramatic but also not the most dramatic despite how high the stakes are? Maybe it’s just nine years of this or the lack of build-up to this episode or the fact that situational ethics are the bread and butter of this show. (Situational “ethics” perhaps because sometimes… yeah.)

Here’s a fun thought-starter: Imagine a The Good Fight/Wife crossover with The Good Place. Specifically, imagine how Chidi would react to this (or, honestly, any episode).

So I just mentioned lack of build-up, and I didn’t mean that (necessarily) as a bad thing because I think thematically the season was building towards this, and Tully’s been annoying me with his presence since episode 4. On the other hand, the stakes get very high very fast and that never makes it easy to fully understand and embrace just how bad things might be. A fast-paced episode of twists and turns is exhilarating to watch but it never makes me think about just how much all of this would weigh on a person. I’m not really thinking, “wow what would happen if Diane goes to jail” because I doubt that will happen, and I’m not really thinking about how Diane would experience this. Instead I’m thinking about ethics and how often powerful men are skeezeballs and surveillance. And I think the writers are probably more interested in those topics than they are in Diane.

I dunno, maybe it’s just me and my attachment to Alicia Florrick, but I just can’t get inside the minds of any of the TGF characters for more than a few minutes. Diane has been hard to read this season, for me, because so much of her plot is more the Kings reflecting on Trump than an arc for her (and the writers really wasted what was a good arc for her in season 1). Maia’s not interesting enough to spend time analyzing—she’s not inconsistent but I just do not care about her other than to insist that she spend more time working. Lucca and Liz are, I think, the characters I’ve found the most compelling this year… but I want to see more. 

What I loved most about The Good Wife was (obviously) Alicia’s journey. I was attached to the other characters, too, but not in the way I was attached to Alicia. And that was fine, because they were supporting characters who got just enough development that I could analyze their character arcs without feeling they were under-developed. And I LOVED the world TGW built and the questions it posed about structures and politics and technology and the present day. I still love that world.

I guess where I’m going with this is that TGF gives me a lot of things I love—mainly more of the TGW characters and world but adjusted for the Trump era—but it doesn’t deliver the same kind of character development. That’s fine. I don’t need TGF to have an Alicia; it’s a different show focused on an ensemble rather than one lead. I still love The Good Fight a lot and I think it’s great television. I just don’t feel the same connection to it that I felt to Wife.

I have no idea how I ended up on this topic. But I think where I’m going with this is that it would never take me three weeks to write a recap of even the most boring TGW episode, and I’ve been putting off writing this. I feel like I have much less to say about Fight than Wife, and most of the times I get carried away writing things that aren’t rants about Maia are times when I’m comparing the shows or… talking about Alicia, a character who was mentioned a total of one time in season 2. I’m sure part of this is that I’ve changed (when Wife was on, I was in college with lots of pockets of free time, a pretty small social life, a much more active fandom to participate in, etc.; now I work full time and don’t always feel like writing long recaps after a long day of work (and I also rarely start up my personal laptop anymore now that I don’t have to write papers), I have friends I see frequently, fandom is like four or five people these days), but I think most of it is that the show isn’t delivering the thing that motivated me to start writing these long-ass recaps.

… and another week has passed. How am I not finished with this yet?

The FBI agents are back for Kurt, along with Basehart. I’m distracted by two things in this scene: the flowers on the trees outside, because they look enough like cherry blossoms to remind me of BrainDead, and the fact that Alicia’s teal box with the white dots on it is for some reason in Diane’s living room. DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE.

The agents want to know about a gun that Kurt gave to Diane. Kurt, instead of answering, stands up and says “I have no more answers for you.” “Your wife is about to be indicted,” Basehart says. That’s new.

“I don’t like to swear, so understand this is purely for emphasis: Get the fuck out of our house. No. I mean it. Get the fuck out of our house,” Kurt yells at Basehart. Hee.

Kurt phones Diane, and Diane heads home.

In the Violence Prevention Committee, Mr. Elk is showing the others a clip from his show that I’ll call Elk & Friends. He explains that on Elk & Friends they’re told to address Trump because he watches.

Adrian’s almost convinced Florrick Fan to vote with him when Rahm’s advisor guy whose name I’ve forgotten because I started writing this a month ago adds someone new to the panel: a woman who works for the NRA. L O L

Lucca’s doctor arrives at the hospital looking for Lucca’s room. Francesca immediately hugs her, assuming that any black woman looking for Lucca must be Lucca’s mother. “I was just wondering whether your family is from Tanzania or Nigeria,” Francesca says as a greeting, which… oof. “I just got back from a luxury safari in Tanzania,” she adds. Of course she did.

“Here she is, safe and sound!” Francesca loudly announces to Lucca, Marissa, Maia, and… the woman who actually is Lucca’s mother. That’s when Lucca’s doctor finally has an opportunity to introduce herself.

“Oh! You’re not Lucca’s mom?” Francesca asks. “No, that’s me,” Deirdre Quinn says. They got Judith Light to play Lucca’s mom. This show has the best casting. “I don’t think I understand,” Francesca says because she does not understand that it is possible to be biracial.

“Put her out of her misery, mom,” Lucca chimes in. “Danny, we have someone who needs visual evidence,” Deirdre snarks. You can tell this has happened before.

“Hi. Danny Quinn,” Lucca’s father (who is black) introduces himself. “Now I see the resemblance!” Francesca responds because her default mode is casually racist. “I mean, not that there needed to be a resemblance,” she adds.

The doctor asks for some people to leave the room, so Maia and Marissa head back to work. (The captions identify Maia as saying “we have to get back to work” but, fittingly, it’s actually Marissa who says it.)

“Fuck!” Lucca exclaims, and Francesca dives right back in to screaming MOTHERFUCKER even though the only people who understand what she’s doing have already left. I love Francesca. She would drive me crazy. But she is so amusing.

Julius is on Adrian’s side in the Violence Prevention Committee. How long is it before Julius becomes a liberal?

NRA Lady insists that the problem isn’t just guns: a lawyer was also killed in a hit and run. “Majority were shot,” Adrian notes. NRA Lady says she likes the ad campaign but she wants to spend the money to arm and train lawyers. OF FUCKING COURSE SHE DOES, SHE WORKS FOR THE GODDAMN NRA.

NRA Lady has a video to show the men on the panel. It’s a woman in a bikini with a gun. Great point. Trig, Mr. Elk, and Florrick Fan all stand up to watch the informative video. “It was a very hot day, so they had to make do,” NRA Lady adds.

She also has a bullet proof briefcase, which totally would’ve helped Adrian… not. UGH.

At their apartment, Diane warns Kurt not to talk. They turn on loud music and Diane whispers to Kurt, “I think I’m being bugged.” They decide to talk on the computer instead. I would maybe opt for pen and paper here?

“FBI says you will be indicted.” Kurt writes. Diane takes the keyboard: “Grand jury questioning me again in one hour.” Kurt: “They asked me about your gun.” Diane: “What did you say?” Kurt: “Go to hell.” Diane: “I want to fuck you right now”.

UGH I LOVE THEM A LOT AND KURT NEVER CHEATED THAT NONSENSE DIDN’T HAPPEN BECAUSE LOOK AT HOW GOOD THEY ARE TOGETHER.

“Kurt. They may ask you about someone named Tully,” Diane says later, in bed. Doesn’t Kurt already know about Tully? Didn’t they discuss Tully by name two episodes ago? “I need to tell you…” Diane adds. Kurt says no, she doesn’t need to tell him because they’re starting over. Yes, please.

“Epidural. Epidural,” Lucca can’t stop saying. “Those are pretty words.” Her dad corrects her: it’s one word. Heh.

“Are you and mom intentionally not fighting because of me?” Lucca asks, and suddenly I understand a lot more about Lucca’s life. “No, we don’t fight anymore,” her dad responds. “Why’s that?” Lucca asks. Her dad deflects and instead chooses to focus on how Lucca helped Dominic. “That was a bad segue,” Lucca remarks. But she changes the subject, too.

Outside of the room, Francesca and Deirdre are discussing Colin and Lucca’s relationship. “So they’re not getting married?” Deirdre asks. Francesca confirms that they’re not, but “it’s a different time.” “Why is that?” Deirdre asks. Francesca thinks (and I agree) that Deirdre is just looking to fight.

Deirdre is not without her reasons: Francesca immediately asked Deirdre her opinion on Black Panther and sang a Tanzanian song. Francesca remains clueless and asks Deirdre if she’s seen Get Out.

Back at the grand jury, Diane’s asked about her gun. She says she had it melted down after Adrian was shot, and adds that she wanted nothing to do with guns. “I saw what one did to my partner.” (Which partner do you mean, Diane?)

Next question is about representing the DNC, and if Diane argued for the violent overthrow of the government, complete with a recording of 2x07. (No, Maia’s sex tape isn’t mentioned in this episode. Maybe in five seasons.) (While I’m on that note, have I mentioned that I don’t think we need to hear about the tape to hear about Maia’s relationship? I don’t really care if there’s a tape we never hear about again… I’m much more upset that Maia cheated and that was the last thing we got to know about her relationship.)

Liz informs Ruth about the leaked recording. Ruth isn’t surprised. (Ruth is SO good on TGF.) In fact, Ruth was the one who leaked the tape because she’s playing the long-game. She’s basically making an example of Diane in order to show the DNC isn’t biased.

“You fucked her!” Liz accuses. “No, we acted responsibly,” Ruth argues (ummm). “She fucked herself. I’m sorry for your friend, Liz, but I want to win. The Democrats need to stop being such pussies. We have to win.” Ouch.

Colin finally gets to the hospital! Just in time! “Where’s the epidural?” Lucca’s asking. The doctor explains they’ve curbed the effect because it’s time to push. “You motherfucker! You bring the drugs back!” Lucca screams. Hehe. “You cocksucking asshole!” Francesca chimes in. I bet Lucca’s son’s first word is going to be “fuck.” And I don’t think Lucca will mind if it is.

Apparently Lucca’s family is religious, or at least Francesca has reason to believe that.

Oh, yes, they are: Lucca’s mom wants the baby to be baptized and has chosen now to tell Francesca. Colin jumps into action and kicks the parents out.

And Lucca doesn’t seem opposed to the idea of a baptism either, which caught me by surprise (I assumed she was an atheist) but doesn’t really sound too off.

The partners are waiting up to hear if Lucca’s given birth yet. It’s been 14 hours of labor. Why are they waiting for a phone call that might not even come that night? Why would they even expect to be notified the minute the baby was born and not the next day?

Either (a) No one at the firm ever has children so this is a huge event or (b) Lucca’s an extremely important employee. I’m hoping option b is the explanation here.

Marissa and Jay are still working—it’s gotta be midnight by now; maybe the partners are gathered because of Diane’s legal trouble and are also expecting a call from Lucca? Sorry, I am stuck on this. After the way the partners reacted to Lucca’s pregnancy earlier in the season, I would not expect this kind of reaction from them.

Anyway, Marissa and Jay followed the women and found out that Basehart is a good guy (or at least was being a good guy when he helped the pretty young blonde).

The phone rings. Adrian answers. It’s Colin. “Lucca wanted me to call you and tell you that… we have a son.” Congratulations, Lucca!!!! (And Colin lol. I am reading this over and I have realized I congratulated Lucca and not Colin.)

Lucca and Colin’s son, Joseph Quinn-Morello, was born at 1:15 am. Awwwww.

The partners toast to Joseph, and to the future. “May he make a change for a better world,” Diane says. “God knows we need it,” Liz adds. I still don’t buy that this is happening but it’s so sweet I’ll set aside the nitpicking. This scene also contains continuity (I think it’s later that someone comments the champagne is left over from the poorly attended party in 2x04) so yay!

Colin and Lucca discuss how crazy their parents are. “I don’t think I’ll like DC,” Lucca says next. “Give it a year and I bet you will,” Colin says. Lucca doesn’t respond, but she’s not convinced.

The bottle of champagne is gone and Adrian suggests going home. “You know, a year ago… we were looking out at a blacked-out Chicago and I was depressed, and you said to me that the only constant that we have is the law. We’re not a country of men and women; we’re a country of laws. Do you still believe that?” Diane asks. “Yes,” Adrian replies. “That took you a while,” Diane comments. “It’s been a very odd year, Diane,” Adrian says as Liz takes a seat and joins the conversation. (I guess Julius went home to his, er, SIX CHILDREN).

“Yesterday I read that an undocumented pregnant woman was sent back to the country where she was born. There were death threats against her there, and within six months, she was murdered. It was the law to deport her, but, I mean, it wasn’t…” Diane remarks. “Just,” Liz finishes her sentence. “Exactly. What does it matter if we’re a country of laws if the laws aren’t just?” Diane wonders. “What option do we have?” Adrian asks. “Placing justice above the law?” Liz suggests. “Doesn’t justice define the law?” Adrian counters. “Mmmhmm. Conscience does. It has to,” Liz replies. “So then… it’s okay to break the law?” Adrian wonders. Liz and Diane consider this. “If it offends your conscience, yeah,” Liz concludes.

SO MUCH to unpack here. None of these are ideas we haven’t heard before from this show, but they’re coming together in new ways. Diane is well aware that the law is not always just. She’s counted on that to win cases. Wasn’t she always telling Alicia in the early seasons that they follow the law? That their duty is to represent their clients blah blah blah? But she didn’t find it to be a moral offense then—just part of the job. But now Diane questions the structures. I don’t think many of us thought that our systems could fail in the way they’re starting to. And I don’t think many of us were aware of how backwards some of our laws are. Certainly, The Good Wife often hit on that theme (remember how the NSA came to listen to all of Peter Florrick’s calls because Nisa once left a voicemail in tears on the Florrick family’s answering machine?). But there’s a difference between encountering instances of unjust laws and realizing (or coming to feel) that the entire system is unjust. I am not sure if I completely agree with Diane and Liz, but I understand where they’re coming from and why their positions have changed.

(I say changed because I don’t think either Diane or Liz would’ve ever talked like this pre-45. But I do think Liz especially felt this way before. The ends justify the means, and all that.)

(Also, “an odd year” (or “a weird year”) is a line that has been uttered like twenty times on this show. And the idea of ignoring rules that you find unjust is something Alicia LOVED to do, albeit in a different context. I could expand on that comment but then I’d end up writing an essay on Alicia Florrick’s morality, which has nothing to do with the discussion Diane/Liz/Adrian are having and nothing to do with the current political moment.)

One more thing on this scene: I love that Liz is included!!! Liz has worked so well as an addition to this cast.

Diane gets an idea: Lying. She asks Adrian to give Ted Willoughby some scoop at the next committee meeting

NRA lady gets her way (ugh), but Adrian agrees to write the proposal, thinking no one from the committee will actually read it so he can just write his own policies. This seems dangerous, but alright.

Then Adrian slips Mr. Elk the scoop. He knows it’s false, but leaks it anyway to help Diane. I know this is the result of a conversation about ethics and lying, but no one’s lying in court AND this is reminiscent of so many other manipulations on TGW/F that I’m not really sure it feels as monumental as it seems? I’m 99.9% sure Diane’s done stuff like this just to win cases. And if Diane hasn’t, Will definitely did. Isn’t it a very common strategy (on this show) to suggest in court that affairs there’s no evidence of were going on? And didn’t they literally create fake news to sway a jury twice this season? I don’t even have to go back more than a couple of episodes to find an example!  

Lucca’s heading home from the hospital. “So, Colin, huh,” her mom says. “Well that sounds critical,” Lucca replies. “No. He just seems a little more white bread than your usual guys,” her mom observes. Lucca calls him a good guy, and her mom is like, but he wasn’t here when you were in labor. YEAH. TWO WEEKS EARLY. OF ALL THE THINGS TO HOLD AGAINST COLIN WHY THIS ONE?

“I’m going to give you some advice, Lucca. It’s the garage door test. My mom gave it to me, and I’m going to give it to you. Now, if you want to know if a relationship is working, when you drive home from work and you open the garage door, are you happy when you see his car parked there, or are you disappointed?” Deirdre says. “I live in an apartment,” Lucca retorts. “Don’t be contentious. If you see his car parked on the street, are you happy or sad? Do you want to come home and be alone or be with him?” Deirdre continues.

“Mama, I don’t like coming home and seeing anybody there, ever,” Lucca explains. “Well, then there’s your answer,” Deirdre says. “What? That I should be alone for the rest of my life?” Lucca wonders. “No. Wait until you’re happy to see someone’s car,” Deirdre explains. Good advice. And I bet Lucca’s heard it before, because it’s the exact same advice she gives Alicia in the TGW series finale. (I’m not upset that Lucca’s mom is giving her advice she herself has given to others before. I think it makes sense. She had to get that idea from somewhere, and her mom’s probably talked like this many times before, just not directly to Lucca.)

“Are you and dad getting divorced?” Lucca switches the topic. Deirdre’s silence is all the answer she needs. “I love you,” Deirdre says.

On the drive back from the hospital, Lucca looks sad. She’s lost in thought, and she’s realized at once that she’s not with the person she wants to spend her future with and her parents are splitting up.

Colin tells Lucca that Maia and Marissa want to stop by. Lucca smiles at that. And, indeed, there they are, in Maia’s car (just in case it wasn’t clear that they’re the ones happy to come home to!). “I can get rid of them fast,” Colin offers. “No! I want them here,” Lucca decides. “I just realized I want them here,” she says to herself. YES! YES YES YES!

I’m much more invested in Lucca’s friendships than in her romantic relationships. One of the first things we learned about Lucca was that she didn’t have friends, and it means a lot that she’s finally found people who make her happy. Friendships can be fulfilling. Not everyone needs a romantic relationship to be happy, and I love that the show is finally acknowledging this. The idea of a life without a romantic partner that’s still happy and fulfilling isn’t really one Wife ever allowed Alicia to explore for long (if at all), and I’m glad to see that Fight has given its most guarded character the chance to realize there are different paths to happiness. Wife did allow Diane to have a fulfilling life before Kurt came along, but there’s a difference, I feel, between starting off a character in that spot and having a character actively choose friends over a relationship.

(Yes, I’m still bitter that the TGW finale spent so much time having Alicia choose among Peter, Jason, and somehow inexplicably Will when she could’ve chosen herself or her friendship with Lucca. The TGW finale sidelines Lucca when I think it should’ve doubled down on the importance of her friendship with Alicia—which, tbh, I bought a hundred million times more than any of Alicia’s romantic feelings towards Jason.)

Mr. Elk runs the story—we see Diane watching it. Also on the Ted & Friends homepage? “Darkness Before Noon Season Finale Flops.” If I squint, I can read some of the text of the article: “The ??? ??? (highly literal? Liberal??) streaming show found it’s [sic] season finale to be a ratings failure, despite the streaming service not releasing ratings. Inside sources claim the show is on the bubble.” Soooooooo the writers didn’t know if they were getting a season 3, is what I’m getting. Sneaky.

(ALWAYS READ THE TEXT THAT’S ON SCREEN BECAUSE YOU’LL GET SNARK AND ALSO DELICIOUS LINGUISTICS.)

One of the hosts suggests that the president fire Basehart. Diane and Liz smile. Diane moves the flower pot back to the window: “This past month, I’ve been feeling at peace and in control. And I realized that’s not enough. Because people are out to get me. It’s time to fight.”

Soooo the case against Diane is wrapped up if you want it to be and open if you don’t, and there’s a suggested arc for season 3 if you want there to be (a more rebellious Diane). This is classic season-or-series finale writing. If the show stopped here, with Lucca choosing her friends and then Diane declaring “it’s time to fight,” it might not be the best ending but it would feel like an ending. But if the show goes on from here, there are still stories to tell. Between that Darkness Before Noon article and the way the end of this episode feels, I would bet that the Kings didn’t know if the show would be renewed when they wrote this episode.

The closing shot of the season is all of the partners going into a meeting while a computer plays a clip announcing that Kill All Lawyers has given way to Kill All Reporters. Y’all, this is pretty much how they ended BrainDead: suggesting that the main arc was concluded (bugs eating brains of politicians) but there could be more to come (bugs on Wall Street). To end TGF, though, we get an ominous clip of Trump referring to an upcoming “storm.” I don’t know what to say about that, but it’s terrifying!

I’m sure I’ve said this before, but season 2 of TGF feels, at times, more like BrainDead than The Good Wife, and that’s a good thing. I’m eager to rewatch BrainDead. I have a feeling it’ll play differently now than it did in summer 2016.

One final thought: Have you guys heard of something called Trumpy Bear? The other day, I was watching an episode of Younger On Demand, when all of the sudden, what looked like an ad for religious programming came on. “A storm is coming. You cannot defeat the storm. I am the storm. The great American grizzly,” it began. (I think this is a reference to the same quote the TGF finale ended on!) Then confetti poured down the screen. Turns out this wasn’t an ad for a religious show: it was an ad for a stuffed bear with Trump’s hairdo. The bear contains an American flag blanket. The ad shows a bunch of white people cuddling with the bear, taking it golfing, and brushing its hair. I swear to you I did not make this up. You can go on YouTube and find ads for this. It really exists.

But it took me at least fifteen minutes to acknowledge that I hadn’t accidentally taken some of Diane’s psilocybin and hallucinated it. I rewound the program and took a video on my phone. I sent the video or a link to the infomercial (once I found it) to at least ten people. I needed others to tell me this was real because I was staring at the screen in disbelief. When I sent it to some people, I made the TGF reference. To others, I just said, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” and three people (100% of the TGF viewers I sent it to without the upfront joke) replied with their own TGF references.

My point here? The Kings are on to something. This season of TGF captured exactly how it feels to be living through these times.

Also, I still need people to tell me that teddy bear is real. I am SCARRED. 

[books-n-wine]

~**~ Release Blitz for Chasing A Legend by Sarah Robinson w/ Excerpt & Giveaway ~**~

Today we have the release day blitz of Chasing a Legend by Sarah Robinson! Check out the release day festivities and grab your copy today!!

Title: Chasing a Legend

Author: Sarah Robinson

Genre: August 22nd

About Chasing a Legend:

The most soulful Kavanagh brother tackles the challenge of a lifetime—with a little help from the girl of his dreams. “Fans of Lori Foster’s SBC Fighters series will love the MMA atmosphere of [Sarah] Robinson’s Legends.”—Library Journal A topnotch manager and agent, Quinn Kavanagh pictures a life outside of his family’s renowned MMA gym. Beneath his sleek exterior, Quinn has a secret passion for sculpting. But after a nearly fatal motorcycle accident, he’s struggling just to walk again, let alone get back to the studio—and it doesn’t help that the doctor in charge of his physical therapy is his childhood crush. Quinn’s always ready for a fight, but the bittersweet sting of unrequited love has him begging for mercy. Dr. Kiera Finley is determined to make her medical residency a success. Six years ago, she gave in and shared a single passionate night with Quinn. Now she’s just hoping the cocky lover from her past doesn’t derail her plans for the future. Little by little, though, Kiera gets to know another side of Quinn. She knew he was a family man, devoted to his parents and brothers, but he’s also a free spirit trapped in a cage—and only she has the key. To heal both Quinn’s body and soul, Kiera’s tempted to give him a special kind of medicine.

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  Advance Praise:

"Robinson concludes her Kavanagh Legends contemporary quartet (after Becoming a Legend) with a perfect blend of smoldering heat and gentle tenderness. After an accident, mixed martial arts fighter Quinn Kavanagh is placed under the care of physical therapist Keira Finley, his first and only love. She has no idea that she broke his heart when she left for college six years earlier. They’d been best friends since they were kids and never experienced life without each other’s unwavering support, but when Quinn didn’t ask her to stay, Keira needed to prove to herself that she could make it on her own. Quinn’s emotional scars run a lot deeper than the physical ones. He’s afraid to open himself up to Keira again, but with the encouragement of his boisterous, fun-loving family, he learns to give to himself as freely as he’s always given to others. This endearing story showcases Keira and Quinn’s easy banter, familiar warmth, and unquenchable heat. Quinn is the last Kavanagh brother to meet his mate, but subtle mentions of potential future love matches among their friends will leave readers eager for spin-offs." - Publisher's Weekly

Exclusive Excerpt:

“I’m leaving Legends now. My bags are packed, so be ready to go as soon as I get there,” Quinn said into the phone, his thick arm flexing as he twisted it to look at his watch. “UK, here we come!” his older brother Kane shouted through the line. Quinn could practically see him fist-pumping the air. “You’re the best manager ever, Q!” “Better believe it, Killer.” Quinn laughed before disconnecting the call and pushing his phone into a small interior pocket of the leather jacket that fit snugly over his chiseled back and broad shoulders. Straddling his prized possession, a classic Ducati he’d kept in pristine condition for years, Quinn pulled on his helmet and gloves. His shaggy black hair peeked out from under the edges of the helmet, framing his face. Though covered in leather, glimpses of his love of ink showed on his neck and hands. What could not be seen was how the tattoos continued onto his chest and back as well. He loved the images, and each one had a special meaning to him—a falcon across his chest in midflight to symbolize his yearning for freedom, a dragon wrapping his arm to mark the fire in his blood, the Kavanagh family crest and motto in Gaelic on his back to represent family pride, along with phrases and names of people and moments that had made him who he was. But the small metal bar through his eyebrow, or the piercings in his ear? Those were just for fun. The motorcycle roared to life beneath him, easily heard from blocks away, as he pulled out onto the main street and headed for his parents’ house to meet his brother. He might not live there any longer, but he’d grown up in that house, and it would always feel like home. The whole neighborhood was his home; he knew everyone there, and everyone knew the Kavanaghs—for better or worse. Quinn rode past the quaint houses in the Woodlawn area of the Bronx, going through a mental checklist of everything he needed to do before Kane competed next week. The International MMA Championship, held in London this year, was the biggest mixed martial arts competition in the world. Kane had won that championship the last two years, giving him the title of World’s Greatest MMA Fighter. Kane planned to win a third time next week and Quinn was eager to stand by his side when he did. It’d been three short years since his brother had been thrust into the public spotlight after winning his first U.S. National Championship in Vegas. Quinn beamed proudly at the memory. Even though he wasn’t the one in the cage, he still felt a part of his brother’s success, having managed his entire career from the beginning. Kane’s win was Quinn’s win. It was a win for all the Kavanaghs—something they each really needed after everything the family had been through. As he approached his parents’ street, he signaled with both his right hand and turn signal that he was switching lanes. A large truck whistled past, completely ignoring his signal. Quinn yanked the bike to the left, narrowly escaping a collision as his heart leapt into his throat. Asshole. Taking a deep breath to calm the adrenaline shooting through his body at the close call, Quinn carefully looked around, and once he’d confirmed that the right lane was clear, he again signaled his intentions. Sliding the bike into the right lane, he accelerated, eager to get to his childhood home. That was his last thought before it happened. His family. How happy he was. How much he loved his life. A silver sedan parallel-parked against the curb nosed out into the right lane, directly in front of Quinn’s bike. His eyes widened as the air left his lungs, and he attempted to swerve around the sudden obstacle. But there was no time. There was no space. The front wheel of his bike slammed into the front wheel well of the sedan, and Quinn was weightless. He barely had a moment to blink before he was twisting through the air—over the handlebars, over his bike, over the sedan. He heard the impact before he felt it. His body skidding over the unforgiving pavement as wind rushed past him—a crunching, tumbling screech. Car horns firing, people screaming—or was he screaming? The echoes inside his helmet both muted and deafened. But then he felt it, and it was fucking hell. The crack of bones, a searing pain shooting through him. Every nerve ending in his body set on fire at the force of impact, consuming him till he was certain he couldn’t stand another second of it. Sliding across the pavement, his skin burned against the grating asphalt, his leather gear no match for the unforgiving surface. And then it was quiet. So fucking quiet as he stared up at the sun and waited . . . for what, he didn’t know. He wasn’t connected to his body, but somehow trapped inside it. Quinn tried to call for help, tried to get up, but his lungs and limbs ignored his commands. Just as his eyes began to flutter closed, the pain overtaking him, pushing him beyond what he could ever handle . . . he saw her. Her strawberry-blond hair falling down past her soft pink cheeks, the sun creating a halo behind her. Her fingertips grazed his face, and she whispered to him so softly he barely made out what she said. Light blue eyes, nearly translucent in their brightness, told him to just hold on . . . don’t let go . . . don’t give up. And then she was gone. And so was he.      

About the Author:

Aside from being a Top 10 Barnes & Noble and Amazon Bestseller, Sarah Robinson is a native of the Washington, DC area and has both her Bachelors and Masters Degrees in forensic and clinical psychology. She is newly married to a wonderful man who is just as much of an animal rescue enthusiasts as she is. Together, they own a zoo of rescues including everything from mammals to reptiles to marsupials, as well as volunteering and fostering for multiple animal shelters. Subscribe to her newsletter at www.subscribepage.com/sarahrobinsonnewsletter Visit the author's website for more information about Sarah and her books: http://booksbysarahrobinson.net/  

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[lilyb-ouat-spn-who]

Trailers, Papers, and Weapon Makers

This is something I wrote a while back, and it’s basically so that people know how I write, and stuff like that. I can write a lot of different genres, and of course different fandoms, but I thought this one would be the most appropriate for a starter fic. If anyone does read this, I’m sorry for the length of it, and you don’t have to read all of it (unless you like it ;D). Anyway, I hope to get some imagine ideas and thanks for reading!

Also, I know the plot’s a stretch. It takes place after the Scorch Trials and is basically an alternate ending to it. I wrote it before reading the Fever Code so some things might not line up with the book. 

Ok, I’ll leave you along :) Injoy!

He didn’t know why, but he was cold. So very, very cold. There was no light apart from the the bright splotches that danced across his eyes, as if he had just looked up at the sun for a very long time. He couldn’t feel his limbs… or what he thought were his limbs. And then he saw a light overhead and mumbling voices. The clattering of metal on metal rang through his ears like bells. Fuzzy images started to form into moving shapes as people bustled around the table. He tried to move, to say or do something, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even twitch to give them some sort of sign that he was awake. He saw them nod to one another, and one picked up a scalpel. He tried screaming, thrashing around, but couldn’t even move his pinkie. It was hopeless. His lungs constricted in terror as the knife dug into his exposed head, and a blinding white light pulled him out of the room.

Thomas woke up panting in his bed. He found that his sheets and pillow were drenched in sweat. The room was pitch black, and no sound was made except for the gentle snoring coming from a sleeping Mino. Thomas ran his hands through his sticky hair and threw his legs over the side of the bed. When he got to the bathroom he turned on the faucet and closed his eyes as his hands brought cold water running down his hot face.

“Another bad dream?” He heard a voice behind him say. Thomas’s eyes jerked open as his lungs filled with alarm. His eyes traveled to the mirror which revealed Newt, who was leaning against the door frame; his hands crossed across his chest in a nonchalant way. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face his old friend. He nodded and walked over to where Newt stood.

“You need to stop doing this to yourself mate. It’s not healthy for ya.” If Thomas hadn’t known any better, he would have sworn he saw a flicker of remorse in Newt’s eyes. Newt quickly shook it off though, and went back to being a concerned friend.

“ What was this one about?” He asked as though it was nothing to big.

“I… I don’t know. It was mostly a blur. I was on a table, and I couldn’t move, and I… and they… they were cutting into my head. I couldn’t warn them. They were cutting me open, and I couldn’t warn them…” Thomas’s voice trailed away into silence. Newt’s eyes were filled with worry, and he pulled Thomas into a hug.

“It’ll be alright Tommy. Don’t worry. It’ll be alright.”

The next morning Thomas watched as the rest of the Gladers woke up. Minho grumbled, sitting up in bed and giving his hair a quick toss. Looking over to Thomas staring at him, he cracked a sly smile.

“Like what ya see?” He joked. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? You’re the ugliest shank I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” Minho gave a huff and rolled off the bed.

During breakfast, everyone was gathered around the small table in the trailer. The smell of Fry Pan cooking bacon wafted around the room like a fog. The table was full of laughter and talking. It was so peaceful and wonderful, it was easy to forget about WICKED. About what was going on in the world.

Fry Pan, one of the Gladers, had made a special breakfast considering it was medical day. The deal the Gladers had made with WICKED was that they could live happy and peaceful lives as long as once every week they sent them a vile of blood from each Glader. That was the deal. Thomas and the rest of the boys had been living in the trailer given by WICKED for 4 weeks now. It wasn’t the biggest home in the world. There was one bathroom for the boys to share, and two bunk beds. The Gladers took turns sleeping on the floor. Towards the front of the car, there was a small kitchen with a faucet that barely worked, nd a gas stove. A breakfast nook sat in one corner, and a large foldable table stood in the middle of the room. It was there that the boys were now waiting for their breakfast to be made.

“It’s about time WICKED sent over some good food,” Winston yelled over the commotion. “I thought I was gonna turn into the likes of one of those cranks out there!”

“What a load of klunk!” One of the boys countered, “you’re already past the gone!” Everyone laughed, although the joke was not that funny. Thomas gave a half-hearted chuckle and looked down at his hands. He could still feel the fear that had overtaken his body as he watched the scalpel get closer and closer. He put a hand to his chest and felt another hand on his back.

“You alright Greenie? You look like a pile of klunk,” he heard Minho say to him as the bacon was set down on the table. Thomas nodded, shook Minho’s hand off, and reached for a piece of meat.

Thomas was sitting on the bed. He had always been a sap for needles, so the blood taking was left to Minho and Newt. The boys stood one after the other in two lines. They each sat on the bed one at a time, and let either Minor or Newt draw a vile of blood. The two Gladers each had a cart filled with needles, and blood bags which were labeled with the boy’s name, and shipped off to WICKED for testing. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was good enough. It just so happened that Thomas ended up in Newt’s line. His stomach was twisting in noughts about talking to Newt after last night, and as he got closer and closer, the more nervous he got. When it was finally his turn Newt put on a pleasant smile and patted the empty space on the bed next to him. Thomas tentatively sat down on the covers, and Newt got right to work, tying a rubber string around Thomas’s forearm, and feeling for a vein.

“So Tommy, how are ya feeling?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Alright, I guess. Tired is all.”

“What was that about last night? You’ve woken up at least 4 times this past week. Is there something going on in that head of yours?” With this, he shoved the needle into Thomas’s arm. He winced, but that was all.

“I just keep having these nightmares… about WICKED,” Thomas told him, watching as the vile slowly filled up with his blood. Newt nodded, and  told him,

“Why don’t we go outside after this. Just to talk.” Thomas nodded and scrunched up his face as Newt tugged out the needle and handed him a cotton ball. Thomas met his eyes one more time before turning around and heading towards the door.

The morning air smelled of fresh morning dew. The sun towered over Thomas, showering him with sunlight. There was a slight breeze, which made his newly combed hair toss around in the wind. The grass was planted about a half a mile out in a perfect circle. At the end lay a clear forcefield of a bubble that kept people out, but also kept the Gladers in. This was one of the very few places that WICKED was able to protect before the outbreak truly started. Thomas sucked in a deep breath and stepped off into the grass. He heard the door open behind him, and Newt sat down on the wet grass next to him.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” Newt said staring off into the distance. A crank was visibly seen beyond the wall. He walked in twitching motions, and every time he got close to the clear force he would reach out his hand and jump back in fear when something stopped his arm. Newt’s attention turned back to Thomas, who was absentmindedly picking at a blade of grass.

“So greenie, about these nightmares.” Thomas took a deep breath and swung his head in Newt’s direction.

“They started about 4 weeks ago.”

“About the time that WICKED gave us this trailer…” Newt thought out loud. Thomas just nodded and continued his story.

“They started small at first, just glimpses. And it was as if I was a person, looking in. And then they got bigger, and more clear when I started to become the person rather than just watching what was happening. But last night… last night, I felt something. I felt what was happening as if it was actually happening in real life. It was real Newt. I felt it.”

“Tommy it was just a dream.” Thomas could feel that Newt knew more than he was letting on behind those eyes, but he just couldn’t place it.

“No. I really felt it. It didn’t feel like a dream. Newt you have to believe me! It was real!”

“ I know Thomas, you made that perfectly clear.” Newt looked down at the brown soil and traced his hand over the tips of the blades. Frustration pulsed through Thomas’s veins, and he looked up at the great big blue sky.

“Why don’t you go inside and make yourself a coffee. You look like a bloody crank,” Newt chuckled. Thomas couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his friend’s expression, and soon Newt joined in. And there they sat, in the tiny field, with the crank pacing just outside the barrier; on the steps to the tiny trailer that they called home, rolling with laughter.

Back inside the trailer, everyone was muffling down whispers and snickers as Thomas came back into the room. Minho was trying to quiet the boys, but nothing prevailed.

“What are you all bloody staring at?” Newt asked everyone, shooting death stares at anyone who tried to speak. The trailer was deathly still as Thomas walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, trying not to feel the overwhelming amount of embarrassment washing over him as he downed the stale liquid leftover from breakfast. He didn’t show it, but he was glad Newt was there for him. Although they were nearly the same age, Newt had always acted like a brother to Thomas. He was his first caring friend in the maze, and he had been there for him when they had gotten out. He had cared about him so much, and Thomas was grateful for him.

Newt was now scolding all of the boys who even looked in Thomas’s direction. Thomas gave a little wave to Minho who smiled back, and then continued his work of taking blood from all of the boys lined up. Newt stood up and walked over to Thomas. All eyes followed him as he grabbed the pot of coffee from Thomas and poured it into a cup for himself. He took a small sip and then turned back to the boys.

“Don’t just stand there! Be about your own bloody business.” There was a moment’s hesitation before they all started to return to the present.

When Minho was done with all of the boys It was finally Newt’s turn. As he sat down on the bed Thomas sat down next to him. He didn’t feel quite ready to leave his side just yet. Thomas knew that it was childish, but he wanted to be by Newt. When Newt was done He stood up and patted Thomas on the back.

“Let’s go greenie,” He said, strutting towards the door of the car.

“Where are we going?” Thomas complained, stumbling to catch up to Newt.

“Us? We’re going on a bloody walk.” And with this, he stepped out of the door and was gone. Thomas stood there in a state of bewilderment for several seconds before reality hit him, and he stumbled out of the trailer after his friend.

…

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked Newt, whose face was stricken in determination.

“I wanna show ya something.” This was all he said, but Thomas decided not to push further. Instead, he trotted after his friend. They were nearing the barrier that separated the Gladers from the outside barren landscape, and Thomas opened his mouth in an attempt to warn his friend, just as Newt abruptly stopped. They were in the middle of the wide open field. The clear blue sky encircled them, and Thomas had to squint to see against the blinding sunlight that was magnified in the almost glass-like barrier.

“We’re here,” Newt said, getting down on his hands and knees in a spot in the clearing. Thomas looked down, confusion plastered on his face. Until he saw what Newt was digging up. A little mound of thrown up dirt was built upon the ground. It was difficult to make out with all of the grass and weeds encircling it, and you would never have seen it unless you were looking for it. Thomas got down on his knees and started to dig with his friend. Before long they struck something. It was hard and rough, almost like old wood. Newt looked up at Thomas. A look of fear and knowingness was stuck there, and it made Thomas feel insecure. If Newt was afraid, Thomas had every reason to be. Newt looked back down into their one-foot deep hole and started to dig under the solid structure. Thomas watched in awe as he witnessed Newt pull out an old weathered chest. As Newt pulled it up onto the ground he brushed off the last of the dirt covering the box.

“I found this while I was out on the patrol rounds. I didn’t want to bring it back, but I wanted you to see it.” With this, he unhooked the small latches on the chest and opened the top. It made an awful screeching sound as the hinges were put into action, and Thomas cringed at the loud sound. He looked down and his eyes widened at what he saw. Papers upon papers were overflowing the chest. On closer inspection, he found that they were all documents and birth certificates for each of the Gladers, dating back to the beginning. Back before the maze, and WICKED, and the flares. There were certificates and papers for people Thomas had never met or even heard of.

“I want to sort them. Give them out to the Gladers. Maybe they can learn a thing or two about themselves. He paused, almost readying himself for what he was to say next. “And then there’s you.” He dug deep into the box and pulled out an old manila folder overflowing with papers. Newt looked at the loopy letters of Thomas’s name on the front and handed it over to him.

“I read a couple of them. There are letters and documents, and… and I think they’re from WICKED.” Newt looked at him dead on, and Thomas couldn’t help but let out a shudder. He had known he had helped WICKED a long time ago, but he never liked to think about it. There were so many things wrong with what they were trying to do. Not only had they made the disease and spread it across the world, they had dragged a bunch of kids in to help stop it. It was awful, and humiliating to think that he had once supported this idea. He opened the folder and pulled out a page displaying everything about his family in bold letters.

“I have one too,” Newt said before Thomas could read the old leathery paper.

“My Mum was named Alice, and my Dad was Eric. She named me Simon. Simon Kelly. I had a little sister. She was taken. By WICKED.” Newt was quite then.

“I… I’m sorry New-… Simon. I had no idea.” Newt looked up at him and with a voice so full of morning agony and remorse that it shook Thomas to the core he responded,

“Neither did I.” Thomas could feel that black sadness creeping up on him. Like a lion pursuing its prey. He had never been good at saying sorry or goodbye, and this was no exception. With this Newt sniffed, making the feeling settle down, hiding for later. Letting out a sigh he looked at Thomas.

“What did your family look like? What’s your name?” Thomas looked back down at one of the papers and read off his family history.

“My name was… is Stephen. Stephen Parkins. My Mom was named Sally, and my Dad left when I was three. I lived in California, and I had a big brother. He… he was in the war, and he died in an explosion. That was all that was on the paper, but that was all he needed to hear.

“At least he didn’t suffer,” Newt offered quietly. Thomas’s eyes lowered in sadness, and even though he didn’t remember them, even though he never got to meet his family, he still felt a pang of remorse roll around in his stomach. Thomas wiped his cheek and turned toward where they had come from the trailer.

“I guess we should head back. Give the boys their papers and all that.” Newt just nodded and didn’t say anything as the two of them hoisted up the heavy chest, and started the trek towards the trailer.

Back at the trailer Newt and Thomas explained what had happened, and what they had for the Gladers. They then handed out the different documents and papers and soon each Glader was either crying or on the verge of tears. When everything was said and done, Thomas went over to a corner of the trailer over by the bed and opened the folder. No one questioned him as he pulled out the first letter from WICKED directed to his mom.

Dear Ms. Parkins,

We are writing to inform you of the upcoming events in you and your child’s future. As you are aware, we have been in contact with you and your family for several months, and we have to come to a decision.  

You are aware of the Flare, and the effects that it has had on humanity. There has been no solution, until now. We are trying to gather all immune children from around the globe in an act of trying to save humanity. We think that your child is a vital asset to this program called WICKED. We will inform you further with the details, but we will be sending people to come pick you child up between the dates of February 12th - February 20th. Thank you for your understanding and continuous support in this program.

Sincerely, Councillor Paige

Thomas read the words over and over again trying to let them make sense, make them makes sense. But he just couldn’t grasp it. His mother had let him been taken. She was a part of this. All this time he had thought that he had been stolen deep in the night with his mother and father asleep in their bed; and when they couldn’t find him they had wept for months and months, searching high and low for their lost son. But no.

An overwhelming sadness filled Thomas’s heart, and he dropped the folder on the floor, not daring enough to read another. Thomas looked over to where the rest of the boys were reading their letters. Newt was one of them. He was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, his brow furrowed in concentration, or possible sadness as he flipped through the old weathered pages. Thomas thought about going over to talk to him but instead walked over to Minho, who was sitting in stoned silence.

“Hey Minho, are you alright?” Thomas asked. He knew it wasn’t the best of questions, but at least it was something.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Mino replied, staring blankly out behind Thomas. He nodded, not knowing what to say, or what to do. Thankfully Newt walked over and put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

“How ya doin Tommy?” He asked, sincerity showing in his voice.

“I… I’m fine. Just trying to make sense of all this klunk.” He stared at the letter that he still held in his hands, but the words that were printed in ink did not change. Facts were still facts.

“ I’m sorry Tommy. I truly am.”

“ It’s fine,” Thomas told them, even though all three of them knew it wasn’t fine. Not fine at all.

…

Thomas went the rest of the afternoon going through the motions. Talk with the Gladers, but only when you’re talked to. Yell at them to settle down, but not too harshly. Fry the potatoes, but don’t burn them. Wash the dishes, but hand them to Albert to put away. Run around and play, but don’t run into the wall. All the while the only thing he could think about was reading more of those letters. Finding out what had happened all those years ago. Back when his life was just as predictable and familiar as the sun coming up in the morning and going down again at night. Now, even that was uncertain.

When the sun was a slew of colors across the sky Thomas and the Gladers headed out to watch it sink into the earth. A sunset is what WICKED had called it. Of course, that was a silly thing to call it. Thomas would have much rather named it a painter’s sky. Because that’s what it was. It was as if a man had smothered his brush in thick paint and drew it across the world. No matter what was going on, Thomas knew he would always make time to watch the painter’s sky.

“Bloody beautiful sunset isn’t it Tommy,” Newt asked, breaking Thomas from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh… yeah, I guess.” Newt wasn’t convinced.

“Oh come on Greenie. Talk to me. What’s on ya mind?” Thomas didn’t look up at him and instead traced his eyes across the sky.

“Well, we just found an old box filled with all the information about our family and letters from WICKED, and we have no idea how these things got here or why they would want us to see them.” Thomas almost had to smile at the mystery of it. He heard Newt draw in a breath, but before he could make a sound one of the Gladers let out a cry, pointing at something on the other side of the force field.

“It’s WICKED!” Thomas heard Minho yell as every jumped to their feet. Thomas whirled around to look, and what he saw was not anything to make his day brighter. Men covered head to toe in yellow rubber suits jumped out of the back of 4 white vans, and they outnumbered the Gladers 3 to 1. They carried launchers on their backs along with pointy spears with electricity sparking between two prongs.

The Gladers were starting to get into a panic. Most rushed inside, grabbing whatever could be useful in a fight. Some reached for their newfound papers, not taking their eyes off the workers. Thomas was one of these people. He watched as one of the men tapped a few times on the forcefield, pausing every once in a while to turn back to another man and exchange a few words. When he was done another man in a white suit stepped out and took the place of the worker. Suddenly a voice Thomas knew all too well spoke out over the field. The words bounced around, causing the ground to rumble as the man spoke. Thomas could only steady himself and listen to what came next.

“Hello boys, I hope you’re all doing well. Some of you might remember me. My name is Janson, and I have some news for you.” He paused, almost to compose himself before continuing.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but what I’m about to say won’t be easy. I request that you remain calm until we can take care of the situation.” Another pause. “A select couple of you, the control subjects if you will, have the Flare. It has been decided that you will be evacuated from this site, and placed in a more… suitable environment. This order takes effect immediately. I’m sorry.”

[leckied-archive]

Mourners

(Okay, so this got A LOT longer than I originally thought it would. It’s just over 2000 words, and I honestly have no idea what it even is anymore. I always had the intention of making it a bit sad with mentions of dead friends, but I never intended for it to be this way. I do hope it’s okay to read though, because I know my writing is terrible, and it’s probably not that good. 

Anyway, the entire thing is under the cut, and I’ve also tagged the people who showed interest in this, which I hope is okay! Otherwise, feel free to just ignore it)

@really-itshotinafrica @malarked @roedoe-boe @eugenevroe @please-remember-meee @teslasassistant @aeonsfromthesun

---

The sky was sprinkled with stars, tiny specks of light which were peeking through the bare branches of the trees. Claire could barely even remember the last time she had seen stars, so used to the thick fog which usually blanketed the Ardennes during the night. It made it impossible to see the stars, and now that they were once more there for her to see, she wished the fog would return to cover them back up. She had remembered them as a comforting sight from when she had watched them back in Oregon, but now they felt cold and distant. They hadn't changed, while she had, and that made it feel like they were mocking her. Mocking her for being so weak, so incapable of doing what she was supposed to do.

She was supposed to be a medic, a saviour of the wounded and dying, but that was far from what she felt like. Whatever had been said to her when she had been picked out for her role felt like lies now after everything she had experienced, and now she felt nothing more than hatred for the red cross wrapped around her upper arm.

Eyes fell to the snow-covered ground as she dragged the cold air into her lungs, well aware that her current position would only result in her getting shot. She was supposed to be huddled in a foxhole somewhere, catching a few hours of sleep before the artillery came flying again, but yet here she was, out in the open just waiting to get shot. At least she didn't have a cigarette lit – that was just asking for it.

In truth, she was just up there to kill time. She rarely slept much anyway – too many nightmares had led to her almost avoiding it completely – and if she wasn't, she could just as well keep some kind of watch.

“Hatch! Hey, Hatch!” The low voice calling her name caught her off guard, body tensing as if expecting an attack before she managed to spot the dark haired man calling her name. He was crouched over, dark eyes sweeping the frontline precariously as he waved her over. “Goddamn it, Claire, what are you doing?” It wasn't until she crouched down next to him in the shadows that she realised how exposed her previous position had been, the moonlight falling through the trees practically illuminating the spot.

“Just felt like a walk, Gene.” Despite the realisation of how stupid she had been, she managed to shoot him a grin, hands digging into the pockets of her thin jacket, as if that would make a difference to the lack of feeling in them. No one had gloves or proper winter clothes, but in a way, she doubted that would have made much difference anyway with the biting cold. “What are you doing yourself?” She already knew he wasn't fond of her nightly walks – especially after the time she had almost stumbled into a German foxhole by mistake – and she knew the best way of avoiding the subject was to change it completely. At least that way she didn't have to see the disappointment in his eyes over how little she cared about her profession.

“Was looking for you. Malarkey was askin' for you.” Her smile faltered at his words, eyes shifting to the distant German line across the field as if that would erase the memories flashing through her mind at the mention of the redhead. “Thought I'd find you for him to keep him from doing somethin' stupid.”

“Don't think I can keep him from doing somethin' stupid even if I wanted to.” Her voice was lower now, more serious than before when she had tried to act as if nothing was wrong. In truth, everything had been wrong for months, and there was no reason for her to deny it when everyone knew they had all gone through terrible things.

Blood colouring the snow a deep red, weak fingers closing around her own and a familiar voice screaming for a medic. He had been another person she had failed to save, and she would always blame herself for that.

“I know, but he needs you.” Gene's hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present, her eyes turning back to his. She doubted what he was saying – after all, he was the more capable medic out of the two – but she decided not to protest. For once, she didn't even want to.

“Let's go, then.” Staying somewhat crouching to keep somewhat hidden in the dim forest, she started off back down the line. Gene's footsteps behind her told her he was following in much the same way as her. She had had enough of testing fate for one night. Now it was all about making it back to the more inhabited foxholes without being spotted by any trigger-happy Germans...

–

The change from deserted forest to Easy's inhabited foxholes was abrupt, always catching Claire off guard had she not been so used to how quickly things could change out there. It was the same during the times she had gone in to Bastogne, with how the town suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Had it not been for the road leading there, it had been almost impossible to find it, especially with the snow.

“Malarkey's over there.” Coming to a halt, Gene gestured further down the line, eyes shifting to her own for a moment before he cracked a weak smile. “Bet ya already knew that, though.”

“Guess I did, but thanks for remindin' me.” Shooting him a smile in return, she turned on her heel, snow creaking under her boots. “Gonna let you get back to what you were doin', then. Sorry for wandering off, again.” She knew he had risked his own life coming after her, and with it not being the first time, she couldn't help but feel guilty. “Gonna go get my fuckin' sense back. Can't leave you and Spina to do all the work, after all.”

“Just be safe, Claire. That's all I can ask.”

“I will, and you be too. Ain't draggin' your ass back to the States if you get yourself killed out here.” Ignoring the worried look in his eyes, she shot him a wink before she turned on her heel to continue on her way. She knew he was bound to have other things to do while the calm lasted, and she didn't want to hold him up more than necessary. Not when he had already gone out of his way to find her.

–

It only took her a few minutes to locate Malarkey's foxhole, her feet practically taking her there on her own after how many times she had gone there after Skip and Penkala's deaths. In the beginning, she had barely dared to approach her friend, well aware of what he must be going through, but she had soon realised he might be in need of someone. If anything, she would have been there if he ever felt like talking, which he yet hadn't.

“How ya doin', Don?” Her voice caused the man to flinch, his eyes tearing from the burnt rosary in his hands to turn in her direction as she slid down to sit next to him. “Heard you were askin' for me. Anythin' you want?” Her tone was more upbeat than she had expected it to be, making it all sound much more carefree than she had meant it to. Malarkey almost looked taken aback, a frown creasing his brow as he closed his fingers around the rosary in his hand.

“Just... felt like some company. That's all.” Shrugging, he shot her a faint smile, eyes still serious and dark, every emotion he was trying to keep hidden so very obvious in their depths. “Gets cold at night, you know.”

“I know.” Shooting him a smile, she reached into one of the front pockets of her jacket. “I've got something to show you, though.” She wasn't sure what gave her the courage or determination to do it, but suddenly the battered knitted hat was resting in her hands, and she was holding it out for Malarkey to see. “This is Mick's kippah. He was my best friend back while I was still with the 502nd.” Dragging a deep breath into her lungs, hands closing around the kippah for support as she spoke, telling the one thing Malarkey still didn't know. The reason why she had been the one transferred to the 506th, rather than any of the other medics from her company.

“He was killed a few weeks ago, right before I was transferred here. I had known him since we were kids. First friend I made after we moved from England, and the best friend I ever had. Met him again when we both joined up, and we stuck together after that.” There was another deep breath, this time shakier than the first. “We were headin' to get some chow in the morning when the shelling started. First shell got him, blew his side right up and knocked me off my feet. Second shell got me as I was trying to get to him. Nothing as serious as his wounds, but I couldn't get up, and I could only lay there listening to the idiot yelling for a medic. Convinced the bastards to get me out first, and that's the last I ever saw of him. Woke up three days later in an aid station with a busted shoulder and this stupid thing waiting for me.” Brushing her thumb over the knitted fabric in her hand, she shot Malarkey a quick look, still not entirely sure why she had even told him. It was not as if it would make either of their losses any easier to handle. “He asked me once to deliver it back to his ma, wanted me to stay alive to do that, and now I don't have much of a choice. Got to make it back to the States, and I hate the bastard for it.”

“Shit, Claire.” Malarkey's voice was low, his own hand tightly closed around Skip's rosary as if it was his only support.

“Thought you should know. You know, since both of us now carry religious symbols belonging to our lost friends.” It was obvious she was trying to shake the emotions swelling up, a smile flickering onto her lips despite the heavy feeling in her chest. She had always hated showing any emotion, and despite Malarkey being her friend, she still didn't want to burden him with any of what she was feeling.

“Got something in common there, then.” The way he spoke and the words coming from his mouth almost took them both off guard, that being more than what he had said to anyone in days at a time. “Think Skip and Penk would have liked that. That I had someone with something in common.” Claire could almost already guess how hard the words were for him to say, and without thinking she reached out to reassuringly grip his shoulder. It was almost as if she was trying to show that he had more support than the frail rosary in his hands.

“Think Mick would have liked that too. He was always silly like that. Goddamn Irish bastard.” Despite the harsh words there was a fondness in her voice, and a genuine smile tugged at her lips as her eyes fell back to the kippah in her hands.

“Guess it must be an Irish thing.” Malarkey's eyes was back resting on the rosary, his voice low with a genuine smile of his own creeping onto his lips. “Or Skip just rubbed off on me too much.”

“Could be both.”

“Yeah.”

And with that the two fell silent, eyes fixed on the keepsakes which had once belonged to their friends. With their attention focused elsewhere, neither noticed the faint outlines of three men in the shadows, watching in silence until sleep crept over the foxhole, and then disappearing into the gloom to leave the mourners in peace...

[chrisrunsthemarathon]

How I (hopefully) ran the Marathon. Part iii

Right, the third instalment…

I know The Empire Strikes back gets widely lauded as the best, but Return of the Jedi has always been my favourite so let’s hope this is the same.

Well,  f#*k me, what a nightmare. I’ve never been a big believer in fate, or luck (you make your own right) and I’ve never been superstitious but I’m beginning to think this whole thing is jinxed…

The whole superstition/fate thing is a load of bollocks in my book, how can three lines that Mystic Meg writes in the paper fit for a 12th of the population or to put it into numbers, about 5 million people within the UK. Although I have to admit it is ironic that my Gran was a Cancer given the way she died, she was mauled to death by a giant crab. As I’ve said above though, I can’t help but think this whole thing is doomed to fail.

So, an update on how the running has been going since the last entry…… I haven’t done any. Nadda. None. Nil. Nope. Not a single run at all. Not the ideal preparation and not quite the stage that I wanted to be at. I guess I should explain why.

I finished work for Christmas and was looking forward to some family time, not to harp on about it but it’s not been the easiest few months as anyone who’s read the other entries will know and we thought, “yep, that’ll be good, let’s do some fun stuff”. I managed the Panto on the Friday afternoon which was ace but started to feel a bit rough on Christmas Eve so went off to bed with a couple of Paracetamol thinking I’d be fine when I woke up in the morning. What actually happened was that I woke at 3am so cold my teeth were chattering but I was dripping with sweat at the same time, a full on fever. All of Christmas Day I felt awful, like proper awful. I managed to get downstairs for the kids to open their presents but it was game over after that. I did make it to my sister’s house where I slept on the sofa for an hour and a half before heading home to bed, 24 Pigs in Blankets especially bought in for me untouched. I believe they’re still there..

I laid in bed for the next three days pretty much unable to move just assuming I had flu. Blokes are supposed to get it really bad right? So I figured this must be what they talk about when they say ‘man flu’. I’m really not one to cry wolf with illness or make a fuss so I just sucked it up. Tash moved my lamp into the spare room for me and I lay there for a few days. After a consultation with a student with a ring binder on the 111 service on the fourth day who told me they thought I was fine and just to rest I gave up and went to the doctor. The doc spent two minutes having a look and sent me to the hospital having diagnosed Pneumonia saying I needed IV antibiotics and fluids. This contrasted quite significantly with the diagnosis from my dad when he was driving me to the aforementioned appointment who told me I needed to “get up and about” and “show some mental resolve”. Then as I stumbled/limped/fell into the waiting room, literally feeling on the verge of death he commented “see, you look better already for the fresh air” You can take the man out of Yorkshire….

So without going into too many details, I spent 5 days in the hospital on various drips for fluids and antibiotics and oxygen masks etc trying to recover from the Pneumonia. I don’t know if anyone reading this has had it but I can see how it finishes off the elderly as its bloody horrible and I felt awful. Truly awful. I got sent home on New Years Day (oh yes, my New Years Eve was a belter, particularly when the dickhead in the next bed started making calls to people very audibly at 1am to say hello and the bloke opposite decided to pull out his own catheter and then started screaming “my willy’s bleeding”. He was a lovely old bloke opposite though, very caring, he even got up and tried to help the bloke next to him have a drink. Of course the poor bloke next to couldn’t sit up and would have drowned if the nurses hadn’t stopped him but it was a lovely gesture. You could write a great sitcom about life in an NHS hospital. In fact I should have done to stave off the boredom. Loads of the patients I saw are such ar*eholes. The bloke next to me on my first visit was shouting “lady, lady” all the time at the nurses and all he wanted was for them to plug in his mobile phone. Who needs to plug in a phone at 3am?! Then of course the nurses get distracted as they have 700 things to do and people calling them and go off. After the second time he stopped me getting pain relief by distracting the nurse to get his phone plugged in I had to politely point out that if he interrupted for something so menial again he’d never have to worry about charging his phone again after I’d shoved it where…… I know I know, I’m punchy but it’s been a tough 5 weeks….

To put it into context for those who think I’ve been soft, you get an infection marker in your blood (CRP it’s called, look at me, I’ve got all the medical terms now) and it should be between 0-5 usually. When I was admitted to hospital mine was 450 something.  After 6 days at home where I felt a bit better, but not good I went back to the doctor who said I should be better by now given the drugs and time and so he did another blood test and my CRP was still 170 odd so he sent me back to the hospital where I spent another 4 days. Fortunately not on the acute medical ward this time (well, I was for the first 24 hours and then I got moved) so to be honest the second stint on an different ward felt like I’d been moved to The Hilton. I had a chair, a bedside table and a window…! It turns out the fluid on my lung from the pneumonia hadn’t drained away and had become infected and caused my lung to partially collapse. Oh yes, I’ve been having all the fun….

I was told I’d need either a chest drain to get rid of the fluid or be moved to Southampton hospital for surgery, fortunately for me I only needed the former and after that, coming home and another couple of weeks R&R I’m starting to feel human again………..but I haven’t been for a run yet.

You also start filling the days with meaningless and pointless things in hospital as well. Like going to the toilet far more frequently than you need to because you get to walk there and it’s something to do. Then you spend a good 5 minutes determining if your stools are a type 3 or 4 according to the chart on the back of the door and should you be worried or not (surely they should just stick a newspaper in there). It really is/was that bad. Not to be cliché either but the food really is almost inedible. I know they cater for large numbers, and on a budget, but still, how people ever get better eating that is a mystery. Its worth publicly commenting Berni Hampton that the Spaghetti Bolognese you made me on my second stint in hospital saved my life. It was easily the best Spag Bol I’ve ever had and sitting there chatting to Grant while I polished it off was the best I’d been in 3 weeks, a real turning point.

Tash should get a shout out here as well. I’ve cited in previous entries about her ability to cope and get on with it but bugger me she really is awesome. As well as everything she has going on, and spending Christmas solo with the kids (family obviously but in terms of looking after the little one’s) she managed to do a month’s worth of early wake ups, breakfast shift, get them dressed, bath time routines, bedtime routines all on her own and still cope with work, general life and fit in coming to see me every day, bring me Smarties, deal with my moods about the whole thing and cheer me up/tell me to man up where appropriate. I’ve promised I’ll make it up to her. I won’t put my trainers on until I get out of the house now.

So far this has all been pretty depressing hasn’t it, it’s like an entry in Adrian Mole’s diary “today I measured my pecker, still fuc*ing small”…

So the marathon………and running and where I’m up to with that. Well,…… I’m still convinced I can do it. Various members of my family, friends and most importantly my wife have told me that there’s no chance and I’m an idiot for even considering it. I’ve spoken to Rebecca at Anthony Nolan and they’ve been brilliant and told me I can defer and do it next year for them if I want to and just continue my current fundraising but with no pressure to do two lots (ie. For two years entries). I guess I won’t be the first person to ever pull out should I have to. I should note at this stage that I definitely will do it, even if I have to defer and do it in 2018. People have been amazing with their kindness and generosity for the charity and that’s not been missed and this isn’t a ‘get out of jail card’ for me, I will do it and I will make sure I put myself through it for those donations. Every penny is vital and I want to make sure I’ve earned it. Especially when you look at some of the incredible donations like that anonymous one for £1,000. Ha ha, anonymous, yeah right, we ALL know who that was (love you mate, can’t wait to get back in our favourite restaurant). That one also specified I had to do it in 3 and a half hours or pay it back and that target time might be beyond me this year now I’m 6 weeks behind schedule and my lungs are still like that scene in the The Matrix when Neo is reborn and comes out gasping for air.

So I’ve decided I’m going to let the professionals make the decision. I have a follow up with a respiratory consultant on Monday and they’re going to X-ray my lungs and see how I’m doing. I’ll ask them outright if I can run and if they say no, it’ll be put back to 2018. Definitely not the outcome I want, possibly for the best but I’ll be desperately disappointed if that’s what they say. Having been so ill however, I don’t want to go through that again and if they tell me my body can’t cope in three months time then I won’t risk it. Hopefully they’ll tell me I’m good to go and I can pick up the training. Otherwise I’ve got a hotel room going spare on the 22nd. There’s no point using it on Marathon Day otherwise, it’s packed and you can’t get anywhere…

In a bit of good news, all of those emails and looking for contact details finally paid off. The bloody nice people at the Manchester United Foundation sent me a signed football that turned up in the post the other day. All I have to do is send them details of what I do with it/how much I raise and they’ll forward me on a certificate of authenticity with it as well. What a nice bunch and a terrific gesture from the League Cup Runners Up 2017. Looking at it, I think if I auction it I’ll raise less than if I raffle if as I’m reliant on one person paying lots at an auction so I’m going to advertise it as far and wide as I can at £1 a raffle ticket. I’m film it all and make it all visible so if you’re interested in a ticket, two or more let me know and I’ll work out the best way to collect the money etc. It goes without saying that 100% of the money taken will go to the charity. There’s no fees, costs anywhere, they gave me the ball for nothing so it’s all going to Anthony Nolan.

Running wise I’m going to give it a go at the weekend with a slow/short run just to test the water. I gave 9 holes a whirl this week and that felt OK (other than the fact my putting was dreadful but that’s to be expected after 5 weeks). I had a little bit of pain in my back where the drain was the next day but it’s cleared up pretty quickly. I guess we’ll just have to see if I make it back from my run on Saturday morning. Hopefully I’ll feel fine, trample mud all through the house and we’ll be back to normal.

And that’s where I’m up to. I’m sorry it wasn’t very funny, or cheery, or positive but it’s reflective of the past 5 weeks for me. I’ll keep you posted with a short entry early next week on the verdict (if anyone is even reading this..) In the meantime, if you want to sympathy sponsor me the link is still in the first entry on this blog page. I try to keep a positive outlook if I can and I always like to look for a silver lining, I lost loads of weight over Christmas (almost two stone in that first week of illness), I didn’t spend any money and if you notice, I haven’t moaned once about the pain in my legs………

Love,

Chris x