#remember when i lost the charging case to my old ones on the plane to tampa

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Fun fact I lost my wireless earbuds again

[springlock-suits]

Just a quick little thing a wrote in like an hour. It would've been awesome to have gotten more Steve Raglan in the movie, so here's a quick extra little interaction between him and Mike!

It's not that long, but I'll put it under a readmore just in case :>

---

Mike fidgeted nervously, gently bouncing his leg in the suffocating beige office of one Mr. Steve Raglan. The silence was starting to make him sweat as he avoided looking at his career counselor's face.

After being reprimanded by officer Vanessa for sleeping on the job and forgetting to lock the door. He could've sworn he did though-. Steve, can he call him Steve? Had called Mike, asking to meet him back in his office. Mike wasn't sure what for then, still not entirely sure now, was this normal? Do career counselors call people back to fire them? Maybe, maybe not. It felt likely to Mike, considering Freddy's, especially since he has yet to meet the owner, he doubted he ever will. Steve was fully in charge of hiring nightguards, maybe he was in charge of firing them as well

Mike flinched a bit when Mr. Raglan suddenly hummed, Mike started to bounce his leg some more and looked for a clock, how long had it been? Minutes? Seconds? He couldn't tell. After Mr. Raglan asked him about the pills and the break in, Mike felt he had no choice but to go into detail about Garrett and his dreams for the second time that day. And now he was waiting. Hoping the older man wouldn't fire him for being a headcase.

"Michael"

Mike jumped when he heard his name and looked back at Steve Raglan, who was seemingly waiting for a response. Mike's throat felt dry. "I, uh, yes? Sorry I.. got lost in thought."

Steve smiled at the response, Mike looked away from him again, trying not to be obvious that he was focusing on the wall behind instead of the olders teeth, he couldn't place it, but something about the smile unnerved him. Steve started to speak. "I simply asked you what your brother was like."

Mike wasn't sure how to answer that. Wasn't sure he wanted to. He fumbled for his wallet and pulled out an old, slightly torn picture of him and Garrett, he gently placed it on the desk, hoping he wouldn't be asked to speak.

Mr. Raglan seemed fine with his silence however, and picked up the picture, studying it. "That plane must've meant alot to him if he managed to sneak it into a family picture."

Mike swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah.. It was. It was his favorite toy. He was playing with it when.. It.. I.." Mike tried to breathe calmly. "I lost it the same day I lost him."

Steve Raglan smiled again. And handed the picture back to Mike. "My little girl used to have a plane exactly like that when she was a kid. Its been collecting dust in the attic for years now, I know she wouldn't mind if I were to let you borrow it." Mr. Raglan had a strange glint his eye when he said that. Mike twitched slightly. "Really?"

"Of course. I'll leave it on your desk before your shift starts. Familiar sights and sounds are the goal aren't they? And even if it doesn't jostle something up there, I'm sure it'll be nice to have it, something to remember him by..."

-

Mike recalled this conversation after helping Abby build her little sleeping fort in his office. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten. But the red and white toy plane still stood there proudly on the desk, innocently looking at him, waiting for him. Mike's hands shaked slightly as he picked it up. He had to remind himself it wasn't actually Garrett's plane, just another toy that belonged to a young girl who he didn't know. A piece of plastic that ultimately didn't have anything to do with the toy his brother loved. Mike set it down shakily, and sat in his chair, staring.

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

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[songbirdsingingthings]

Chilled - Spencer Reid x Reader

WARNINGS: I mean, this is a cm fic so theres gonna be some gore involved, but nothing too insane. If you do get squeamish really easily though, this might not be the fic for you? 

The air finally started to have a certain chill to it, one that no matter what you wore, you felt it in your bones. That paired with your day job left you feeling no warmth, not even if you were lit on fire yourself. And now, in the middle of January, you and the team have to travel to North Dakota, of all places, for a pretty touchy case. Since it was an above average winter, snowstorms were pelting the state at a quite alarming rate. This posed the perfect opportunity for the unsub they were hunting - as they would dump the bodies in huge snow drifts. The local authorities only started to find the bodies when snow started to develop an off putting color.

“Remember to bundle up my lovelies, you are going to be braving some serious sub zero tempetratures! I don’t want any of my favorite agents turning into popsicles.” Garcia says as she’s handing out the files to everyone at the round table. Peeling back the manilla folder, you almost wish you hadn’t. The discoloration on the snow was perfectly nauseating and what made your heart drop more was the shape that the corpses were in. There was clear evidence of asphyxiation and stab wounds on the body and, however, something didn’t feel perfectly right about the way that the person died. Not being able to put a finger on the thought, you slid the manilla folder into your bag and stood up like the rest of your team.

“C’mon, Y/N/N, better get going, yeah?” Derek asks, waiting for you to start walking. You nod and start walking out with everyone else, only for you all to get stopped by Erin Strauss. “Hello agents, before you leave, we wanted to leave you all with something.” Standing up on your toes to peer over the guys in front of you - seriously, did Hotch, Morgan, and Reid have to be so tall? - you get a look at what she and some of her own agents were holding. Pristine new FBI jackets with those classic faux fur lined hoods were folded in her hands along with what looked like windbreaker sweatpants. “So you don’t get cold.” Erin states plainly, passing the clothing out to the squad.

“Wow, these are great!” Emily said excitedly,  threading her fingers through the faux fur. 

“And to think I packed three different windbreakers,” you joke, taking your time to unzip the jacket and slide your arms through it. You sigh and as the material instantly makes you feel a lot cozier.

“Jackets like these were actually first invented somewhat recently in 1936,” Spencer starts.

“‘Recently’?” you quip, flashing Spencer a smile.

“They were invented by a man named Eddie Bauer who almost lost his life to hypothermia when he went on a mid-winter fishing trip.” Chuckling a little, Derek patted Spencer on the back and jogged quickly to the plane due to Virginia’s January chill.

“If you're cold now, Morgan, I don’t know how you’re gonna react when we step out of the plane in North Dakota!” JJ laughs, earning a nudge from Emily.

Finally, everyone piles onto the plane, taking up seats and instantly turning on the seat warmers. You settle gently in the window seat of the two-seater, and Spencer quickly joins you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, motioning to the seat to your left. 

“Not at all,” you smile. Both you and Spencer considered the other as good friends, maybe even best friends. You started a mere two years after Spencer did. Since the two of you were around the same age - him a few years older - and were newer to the force, you found instant solace and comradery in the other. Over the years, you and Spencer became a lot closer. Whether it was caring and being there for him when he had his dilaudid scare or either of you sleeping over at the other’s houses when the nightmares became too much, you developed a strong relationship full of trust.

“All I’m saying is that if we get there and it looks like the frozen planet Hoth, I’m going to be pissed.” You joke as the plane starts its descent. 

“Oh come on Y/N, pretty boy will wrap you up in his jacket to keep you warm.” Derek said, ruffling Spencer’s hair. A light blush graced both of your faces as you began to gather any strewn files.

“Let’s not tease, Morgan, Capisci?” Rossi says, giving you a gentle smile. Rossi was always nice to you. He provided a much needed parental figure at the BAU, giving you tough love or a gentle guiding hand when needed. Soon enough, the squad was able to leave the place and be driven over to the local police precinct. The details that the police chief had were dished out to the team and talked over multiple times. It was tough, to say the least. They had no leads, no suspects, and no new facts.

= 3 Days Later = 

Energy for the team was at an all time low. The heating was starting to slowly die, new bodies kept showing up everyday, and you were still no where close to finishing this investigation.

“Let’s go over everything again.” Hotch begins, his statement being said for the third time within 2 hours. “The victims are buried beneath at least 2 feet of snow, it takes between 1 and 3 days for anybody to recognize anything’s up, and there are stab wounds and evidence of asphyxiation…” Hotch droned on which led you to faze out a bit. All you could think of were your cold body, your cold feet, and your cold ass fingers. That’s when you realized something.

“O-oh my God.” You say, standing straight up as you re-examine the pictures. All eyes in the room turn towards you, curious. You start to pace the room as you hold the crime scene photos in your hands. “I know that there are stab wounds and asphyxiation evidence, but neither of those are what killed them. The wounds are in non-fatal areas of the body and the asphyxiation wasn’t severe enough to fully kill them.” You say, your mind going miles a minute.

“So what are you saying killed them?” JJ asks, leaning forward.

“Hypothermia,” you breath out, “the stab wounds prevent the victim from getting anywhere too far and look at the frostbite on the hands,” you say pointing to the darkened limbs.

“It’s progressed far enough to make your hypothesis possible.” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“Okay, so where could the unsub be keeping his victims in a place remote enough to leave them out in the cold?” Rossi asks, looking between you and Hotch.

“Garcia?” Hotch simply says, listening into the speaker on the table.

“Already there captain, I’m sending you the locations now.” Penelope sends three different locations to the squad making everyone gather around the computer.

“Alright Prentiss and Morgan go to the first one, Reid and L/N to the second, and Rossi and I will take the third, let’s move!” He says quickly. Everyone gathers their things and you and Spencer share a look and nod. Each duo climbs into their own car equipped with cold weather tools and sped off to the different locations.

“Great find Y/N,” Spencer says, giving you a reassuring look. You flash a weary smile at him and step on the gas, speeding off to the location.

The place looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie. There’s an old raggedy windmill on the left of a shabby wooden cabin, bordered by huge fir trees.

“My God, this place is terrifying.” You murmur, pulling your gloves on and your gun out of your belt. Spencer is on your right as you start to slowly make you way towards the building. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a tiny little shack just south of the windmill. “Spence, you take the house and I’ll take the shack, okay?” you whisper, making sure that no one else but him could hear you. Spencer looks a little shocked at you.

“Y-Y/N, are you kidding? We need to stick together on this!” He says quietly, grabbing your hand. For some reason, neither of you are shocked at his action. You only squeeze his hand tighter.

“I’ll be fine Spence, I promise. We’ll get a cup of hot chocolate after this, okay?” You say, giving him a small grin. Spencer nods back giving you a smile as well.

“Yeah but you’ll just ruin yours with too much whipped cream and cinnamon. It totally defeats the purpose of the hot chocolate.” He quips back. You give him a quiet laugh and nod, squeezing his hand one last time before you head towards the shack. It was a ways away from the main house making your trek a little longer than Spencers, but you finally made it to the small wooden building. You drew in a breath as you began to see footprints with small bits of red in them. Your gloved hand reaches for your flashlight. You jump as you hear increasing steps behind you and turn around quickly, aiming your gun and squinting your eyes until you realize it was nothing but a deer passing by behind you.

Be cool, Y/N, you’re fine. You’re good.

You kick open the door to find the unsub about to attack a near naked girl, knife in hand and a wild look in his eyes.

“FBI stop what you’re doing right now, drop the knife!” You yell. The man turns around to face you, knife still in hand and charging towards you. You fire a quick shot to his leg making him stumble, kick away the knife from his hand, and cuff him. You finally turn your eyes onto the girl who was terrified. “It’s okay, you’re okay now,” You say, helping her stand. That’s when you notice the condition that she was in. Her lips were almost purple now, the rest of her skin turning blue. You shrug your jacket and long sleeve shirt off of you as fast as you could putting both of them on her. You stuff your gloves on her hands and shimmy out of your windbreaker pants, leaving you in nothing but athletic shorts and a tank top. Screw it, you could bear these sub zero temperatures in these clothes for a few minutes, this girl needed warmth. An instant chill settled into your bones making your teeth chatter in seconds. You shout for Spencer as you help the girl to the door and make the unsub stand up, dragging him in front of you. Your friend finally came into view, running at full speed towards you.

“Y/N, oh my god, are you okay?” He asks you. You nod as you let out a sigh, already knowing that your lips are starting to stray towards periwinkle. You could see the rest of the team running towards the shack. Derek took care of handling the unsub while Emily helped the girl back towards the vans, surely to help try and heat her up.

“I’m pissed,” you chatter out, causing Spencer to raise an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and start rubbing your hands along your bare forearms, trying to generate any kind of warmth. “This place looks exactly like Hoth, and Morgan is gonna end up being right because I would kind of love to have your jacket right now.” You chatter-laugh, one of the weirdest sounds to ever come out of your mouth. Quickly nodding, Spencer starts to shed his jacket off of you, but stops halfway. “Spencer what the hell are you doing, my fingers are all already numb, it’s gonna hurt like hell to warm them back up.”

“I actually have a more efficient idea, but we might want to go into the car first.” Giving no complaints, you and Spencer raced back to the backseat of a car, waiting for him to blast the heat. He does so, but it’s still not warming you up.

“Is this seriously what you had in mind? Because I’m still feeling like a popsicle and Garcia will be very made to hear that.” You say chuckling nervously.

“No, it’s this,” Spencer says, opening the front of his jacket. He brings you close to him and rezips the jacket, making you pressed right up against him. Not that you would go around talking to it about just anyone, but he was built underneath that cotton gray shirt.

“Sp-Spence what are you doing?” You whisper-yell quietly, your cheeks burning up. 

“Skin to skin, it’s one of the quickest ways to get warm.” What was interesting was that you weren’t really opposed to being in this position with Spencer. Actually, you kind of really like it. You get to feel his heartbeat and snuggle your head under his chin, which makes Spencer flush this time.

“Spencer,” you whisper, causing him to glance down at you.

“Yeah?” He murmurs back. You feel his heartbeat quicken, affirming what you were hypothesizing.

“Can you hold me?” You ask. He had never heard your voice speak so softly and so… lovingly. He felt special being able to hear you like this, seeing you like this. He always loved the fact that the two of you were such great friends and were able to confide in eachother, but he wanted more now. He wanted to see you like this a little bit more. So, he did as you asked and wrapped his arms around your cold frame, dismissing the cold that transferred into his body from yours. After a few minutes you were starting to feel a lot better but made no effort to leave. Instead, you snuggled into him more and let your hands splay out against his chest. You heard him hum lightly, pressing you further closer to him.

“Y/N.” He whispers this time.

“Yeah?” You respond, looking at him. The two of you make eye-contact and make no effort to break it.

“Can our hot chocolate outing be considered a date?” He asks, his face now mere inches away from yours. You nod instantly and bring your face closer to his.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, bringing one of your hands to cup his cheek. Spencer doesn’t even wait to nod, he just closes the gap in between you. The kiss was sweet and tender, like gingerbread cookies right out of the oven. Spencer now brings both of his hands to your cheeks and deepens the kiss, making you melt into him. Things were starting to get a little more intense, that is, until the door to the car opens causing snow to blow onto the seats.

“HEY! IT IS FREEZING OUTSIDE AND-” You cut your words off as you see Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss looking at you and Spencer, all with smirks on their faces. You see two faces turn a little more frustrated, digging into their pockets and fishing out twenty dollars each. Emily smirks and takes the bills from JJ and Morgan, earning groans from the two of them.

“Y’all seriously couldn’t pace things?” Stumped, you look at them with your mouth hanging open.

“You bet on us?” Spencer says, his voice raising in volume.” Chuckling, the three of them close the door to the car leaving just you and Spencer, flabbergasted.

“So how about that hot chocolate now?”

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend? 

W/C - 2.6k 

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real. 

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already. 

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him. 

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again? 

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder. 

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.” 

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago. 

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador. 

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home. 

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers. 

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud. 

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet. 

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?” 

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job. 

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’. 

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other. 

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring. 

#

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. 

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter. 

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve. 

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you. 

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport. 

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be. 

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does. 

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.” 

 The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown. 

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket. 

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood. 

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch. 

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him. 

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to. 

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke. 

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call. 

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.” 

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him. 

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough. 

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is. 

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you. 

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks. 

[fishmongeringstudies]

the year i turned twenty i stopped waiting for someone to save my life and started eating more vegetables

in the winter of 2018 i got a root canal done on the molar in the upper left-hand corner of my mouth. it had been on the verge of death for a while now; two years prior to that a visiting government-sponsored school dentist had taken a look at it, frowned, and then spent the next two hours wheedling all the rot out of that tiny black hole with a drill. unfortunately the solution he imposed was both extremely painful and temporary, and so two years after the initial incident i found myself once again at the dentist's (this time at a clinic; school dentists don't like to deal with the extra-gritty stuff and are not paid enough to do so). they stuck a needle in my gum, numbed three-quarters of my mouth, then drilled a hole through the center of my tooth and ripped the withering shred of nerve-tissue right out of it.

my dentist helpfully explained all of the above to me during our consultation session in the same office in which he would rip the top half of my tooth off a week later. he was a balding, smiling man whose speech did not, unlike many medical professionals i had met over the years, have an edge of condescension to it. i liked him. i would have liked him more were he not planning to essentially castrated my tooth.

several weeks later i went to another dentist who specialized in helping people in post-root canal limbo, and she stuck a shiny metal crown on what was left of my molar. we then scheduled a series of check-ups to ensure that the crown had not flown off its liege while i attacked an ice cube or something similarly bad for my teeth and mental health, which stretched on for so long that she became, more or less, my primary dental care physician. at first the check-ups were a month apart. then two. time passed. her hair grew longer and our conversations less awkward; she was beautiful and snarky and looked like she would shoot god without hesitation if he stepped into range of her gun. she wore her hair short, red tinged with gold, in a pixie-cut that fell over half of one eye. for a while i thought i was in love with her.

'do you floss?' she asked me on my second check-up.

'no,' i said.

'well.' she broke off a length of dental floss and began to wind it around her fingers. it looked like a death threat and she looked ready to kill, though her eyes were smiling. 'you should.'

for the first year after having an utterly destroyed tooth brought back from the brink of death via a grisly temporary solution that would, at best, buy me one or two decades of peace, i didn't. i didn't floss because when she did it for me in her tiny examination room my gums bled so much it took hours for me to wash the bitter taste of iron out of my mouth. blood is a nice concept and a nicer motif in writing. but it smells awful, and it's worst on the tongue. so i didn't floss my teeth, and i went through life with the kind of casual detached disinterest with which i had approached most things up until then. at my next check-up she asked once again if i had been flossing and i lied that i had. after poking and prodding around in my mouth for a few minutes and taking a scan for good measure she gave me a look and said dryly, 'you haven't been flossing at all, have you.'

disappointing your parents, your favorite high school english teacher, or even your best friend is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment that comes from knowing your beautiful dentist asked you to do the bare minimum, and you failed to deliver. her voice was arid but we had known each other for long enough by then for me to detect a thin undercurrent of disappointment. i had done it. i had lost the support of the only person in my life who could be counted on to support me. because i paid her for her services. and she was also very funny in a quiet sarcastic way. and she was beautiful.

having had my ego wounded beyond description i resolved to floss from then on and succeeded in dragging my poor aching gums past the bleeding stage to a point where they were merely post-workout sore. then i lost interest and forgot about the white, sterile-smelling clinic that was a fifteen minutes' drive from my house and the little pack of dental floss on the bathroom counter faded into obscurity. two weeks before my next appointment in 2020, an alarm on my phone went off to inform me of the approaching day of judgment. i panicked.

'have you been flossing?' my dentist asked as i lay back in the faded green chair and she put on a pair of new gloves.

'yeah,' i said.

five minutes later, she removed her army of dentistry equipment from my mouth with a satisfied hum. 'i see that you have.' her eyes were smiling. 'your teeth look fine. i'll just clean them a little for you.'

i celebrated impressing my favorite dentistry professional in singapore by forgetting to floss for the next two months. soon after that i got on a plane to america, and then two more for good measure in case i hadn't grown sick of sitting and burning in my own skin already, and then twelve weeks of insanity ensued, the details of which we are surely all acquainted with by now. late nights, walks in the forest, afternoons spent in the sun. mismatched footsteps and strange acquaintances. an elaborate circus act staffed entirely by misguided but well-meaning teenagers. a ring of fire.

two weeks ago i bought a box of dental floss for ninety-nine cents. i think this might be what the anthropologists call 'adulthood'. i was at target with a friend and we were getting toothpaste, which we had both nearly run out of, when i saw the little flat box of dental floss hanging from a hook on the wall. my teeth weren't particularly disgusting (they haven't been, not since i learned how to brush them properly), but they weren't beautiful. it had been a while since i had been on my own mind. for the last three months, others' pain had been my main priority, and now that we had eliminated most of them from the picture, i found myself with more time in the mornings to stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how, exactly, i was doing.

how are you doing? i asked. and the answer was i felt like shit.

while i've stayed in dormitories before for extended periods of time i always got out of doing laundry by either submitting my dirty clothes to an on-campus service which disappeared them into a hole in the fabric of reality and returned them to you a day later, cleaned and folded outside your room so the first time i did laundry by myself in america, a week after arriving on campus, i felt invincible. buying an iced chai from the cafe on a thursday morning and then settling down to work on my laptop until my first class started at noon, i felt like a character in a career advisory ad, like someone who knew where they were going and how they were going to get there. standing in front of the bathroom mirror of my summer dorm, winding a strand of dental floss around my fingers, i felt like i had aged fifteen years in the span of just one, and that just this once, it was for the better.

according to my adult friends, no one ever fully feels or recognizes that they are an adult. adulthood is an ideal that all grown children strive towards the way body-builders aim for more and more muscle mass until there's nothing left of them but a pair of well-toned biceps. there are several industry-approved ways to be an adult, but there are no suggested ways to feel like one. this is part of the gaping maw of inadequacy our generation has fallen into. this afternoon i melted butter in a pan and beat two eggs, milk, salt, and garlic powder together in a bowl. pouring the egg mixture into the pan i began to scrape the edges frantically towards the center with a spatula. the whole process took no longer than two or three minutes. by the end of it my hand was shaking.

according to my adult friends you just wake up one day and start looking for ways to re-organize your pantry and that's when you realize: i'm getting old, aren't i? and i'm getting old, aren't i? twenty's just the start of what a friend recently told me her parents refer to as 'the decade of pain'. but the beginning of something is included in the timeline of its accomplishments, too, and it takes more blind faith to start something than we give ourselves credit for. i have never used a saucepan up until today. in my younger years i often boiled broccoli or cauliflower in a small pot over an electric stove. but the butter, the eggs, the smell of fat sizzling on a pan- this is new to me. this entire life is new to me.

leaving the familiar warmth of your family home, it suddenly occurs to you how fragile life is. how everything your mother has done for you until now has kept you on the path forward, and now you have been given the keys to the basement you have to remember to buy laundry detergent before you run out. it all comes together like this: the humming laundry machines, the hand towels, the fridge full of fruit and cheese. it keeps you alive.

and it's awful. our generation doesn't know what self-care is because we're too busy trying to care for a world which tries, time and again, to kick us off the carousel of life and move on without its ephemeral teenage charges. we are bad at this 'living' thing because we often forget that we are alive at all. look out the window and the world's burning. look into the kitchen, and- quiet. this past year has done nothing to improve the paintings on the wall. we've all known hopelessness. we've all known what it's like to wake up and feel nothing at all.

and yet my flatmate has a new york times cooking subscription that she says we're welcome to borrow if we want to look up a recipe for something like paella, brownies, whatever. the other day she made shrimp scampi and when she knocked on my door and said 'i made food, if you'd like some' i remember thinking living with other people was worth it if you could sit around a table and twirl pasta noodles around your fork in silence. tomorrow i think i'll go to target again and see if i can find more acai. i miss it. i miss singapore's overpriced acai places and their stupid too-high chairs.

and i am living life clumsily, but who cares? a life is a life; all you have to do is live it. the rest can come later, after the dust has settled on the windowsill.

06.09.21

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous; liberties taken with Gavial and the Great Chief Returns’ plot)

“We’re going to Acahualla?” Gavial beamed at the mission dossier. “I haven’t been home in awhile.”

The Doctor shrugged, looking around the room of gathered Operators. “I figured it’d be a nice place for a vacation.”

“Vacation?” Ceobe was confused - weren’t these brown envelopes supposed to have work in them?

“Yep, a vacation.” He stretched his arms behind his back, letting out a long yawn. “I’m not getting any younger, and you only get so many chances in life to romp around in the jungle with your friends and coworkers, so I figured I’d make up an excuse to take some folks with me to Sargon. Gav’s from Acahualla, so we’re going there. Any other questions?”

Blaze raised her hand. “Should we bring swimsuits?”

“I will literally buy one for everyone here who doesn’t have one. Yes, Utage?”

“We’re still bringing our weapons, right?” The Nue patted her sword, leaning against the table next. “It’s not a vacation if I can’t take Shishiou with me.”

He chuckled. “I mean, if we don’t, Kal’tsit might catch onto us, so don’t forget your gear...but I know I’m changing on the plane to save the time later. Anything else? No? Alright, we meet at the airstrip at 0900. Let’s make this a ‘mission’ to remember!”

Of course, things didn’t entirely go to plan - for one, a certain fat-tailed Archosaurian managed to locate a rocket launcher, and for another, she managed to land a shot on RI’s expensive airplane - but despite the crash landing, the group did end up roughly where they wanted to be, in Acahualla proper. All they had to do now was get to a lake and-

“GAVIAL IS BACK!!!” Unfortunately, the natives had other plans.

“Hey, put us down!” The Doctor couldn’t really be heard over the roar of excited Archosaurians, to be fair. “Hey, Gav, are you really this popular?”

Being right next to him in the crowdsurf (by choice), she could easily reply, “I guess they missed me...Unless-”

“Gavial!” A particularly thick-tailed Archosaurian approached, leading to the crowd setting their ‘guests’ down.

“Damn.” He turned to the Medic. “Friend of yours?”

She nodded. “Tomimi. I’ve known her for a long time now.”

“Gavial, you’re back! Who are these folks?” The newcomer gestured to the arrayed Operators.

“They’re from the company I work at, Rhodes Island. We’ve got Ceobe.” Here the Medic started going down the line. “Blaze, Utage, Lancet-2, Dylon, and my fiance.”

At ‘fiance,’ the Doctor waved at Tomimi. “Nice to meet ya.”

“...Fiance?” The Caster cocked her head, tapping the stick in her hand on the ground a few times.

“Is that a problem, Tommy?” She looked back at their plane and frowned. “Hey, where are those guys taking our engine?”

‘Tommy’ pointed at the Doctor with her stick. “I’ll fight you for her.”

“You. What.” So many things for Gavial to pay attention to, so little time.

To his credit, the challengee was game for it. “Sure. Right here, right now?”

“No, it’s not the right place.” Tomimi looked at her cronies. “We’ll take them to Mahuizzotia.”

“The Mahuizzotia?...Do you all still not have a chief?”

One of the guards walking next to Gavial shook his head as they began the escort mission. “Since you beat everyone, and then left, we haven’t had one.”

“Hmm.” The Medic glanced around their group. “Anything stopping me from teaching Tommy a lesson, then?”

“Yeah: I wanna do it.” The Doctor cracked his neck as he said it.

She sighed. “Doctor, no offense, but you’re not a brawler.”

“I’m not?” He chuckled. “So last night wasn’t a brawl, then?”

“Not the way it would’ve been if I was serious.”

It was at this point that a smaller group of Archosaurians, along with a few Pythians, sidled up to Tomimi’s human procession towards the back. “Hey, you. Come with us.”

“Me?” Dylon couldn’t look ahead, thanks to the number of tails in between him and the Doctor, so he looked at Lancet-2. “What do you think they want from us?”

“Data insufficient. Excuse me, but where will you be taking us?” The robot turned her camera to the one who’d asked for them to split off.

The Python gestured behind them. “Chief Zumama loves machines. We think she’ll want to talk to you. She also has your engine.”

“Our engine?!...Hey, Doctor! Lancet and I will meet you back at the plane when you’re done!”

“Sure, Dylon!” The Doctor had more pressing issues on his mind. “So, Tomimi, you think that if you win, Gavial will want you instead?”

The Caster nodded. “That’s how it works.”

“Uh-huh. Who told you that?” A sideways glance at his fiance told him she didn’t know.

“I read it.” That elicited a stifled gasp from Gavial. “Inam’s given me all kinds of books to read.”

The Medic groaned as the dots connected. “Of course it would be her.”

“Gotcha. This is gonna be a straight hand-to-hand fight, right? A proper duel?”

“I was gonna use my stick,” Tomimi admitted, “but we can do that. As long as I win.”

The Doctor smirked. “Now that’s a tagline if I’ve ever heard one...Speaking of, where’d Kay run off to? Blaze?...Utage?”

“Did they all leave?” Gavial didn’t think it was that easy to get lost in the jungle.

“I guess so. Ah well.” He looked back ahead to the Caster. “Say, Tomimi, what’s your favorite thing about Gavial?”

The Gavial in question gave her fiance a sideways glance. “Doctor.”

“I...How do I choose?! Wh-what’s your favorite thing about Gavial, Doctor?”

“Her attitude.” She elbowed him, and he chuckled. “What? I’m serious. You’re the kind of person who knows what they want and doesn’t beat around the bush. Besides, no matter how tough you are, you’re a total sweetheart, too~”

Tomimi nodded. “She really is. Back when we were younger, she saved my life.”

“Ohhh. So this is who you were talking about all this time, then? Huh. I can definitely see it.” The Doctor laughed at the dagger-eyes his fiance gave him.

“She talks about me?” Tomimi’s procession stopped in its tracks to hear the answer. “What did she say?”

The Medic shout-whispered, “Don’t do it, Doctor.”

“Gavial told me the reason she became a medic was because she realized after saving your life that helping people was much more worth her time than hurting them - even if she does plenty of that still. Oh, and she mentioned your tail, which now that I’ve seen it for myself, I can see what she meant, but Gav, I still stand by what I said.”

“You really went there.” She sighed. “Just so you know, Tommy, the Doctor’s a thick-tail guy.”

Where the procession had stopped to listen in before, they were now stopped to freshly hash out the debate as the Caster turned around to face him, knocking over two of her tribesmen in the process. “You are?”

“Any tail’s a great tail as long as the person it’s attached to is awesome...but if we’re talking about preferences?” He’d caught himself staring a couple times on their walk already, and he didn’t stop himself now (partially to make his point...partially).

“O-oh.” Tomimi looked from one to the other before settling on the Doctor. “B-but isn’t mine too much? I mean, it’s so hard to make it look good.”

He cocked his head. “You think so?”

“You don’t?”

“A thick tail’s a beautiful thing on its own - no offense, Gav.” The offense had been taken before this conversation started, don’t worry, Doctor. “I imagine it’s a burden at times, but...can I touch it?”

As the Caster gasped, Gavial smacked him on the back of the head. “Babe!”

“What? As if you didn’t tell me about all the times you did.” Now they were facing each other, enthralled in an old argument.

“So? I used the past tense for a reason.” She glanced over at Tomimi. “Then again, it has been a while...”

Then the Doctor, surrounded by brawling Acahualla natives and in full view of his fiance, walked over to their ‘captor’ and lifted her off the ground. “Wow. Gotta be real careful where I put my hands, I guess.”

“Eeep! You’re a lot stronger than you look!” Tommy was holding onto him in turn - because she was scared she’d fall, of course! No other reason!

“He’s the kind of guy who just sweeps you off your feet if you’re not careful,” Gavial admitted. “Hey, are we going to Mahuizzotia or not?”

Tomimi and the Doctor looked each other in the eye as he told his fiance, “I don’t think we have anything to fight about anymore. Say, Gav...Can we take her back home with us?”

“You want to introduce the rest of RI to your vacation girlfriend?” The Medic had to admit, it would be nice having her around again, but honestly, could he be more obvious right now?

“Girlfriend?” The Caster’s eyes lit up. “If I’m Gavial’s fiance’s girlfriend, does that mean...I’m also Gavial’s fiance?”

Her carrier looked back to the third party in this negotiation. “I mean, she does make a fair point, Gav.”

“...Alright, but only because it’s her, okay? This wouldn’t be okay with anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t dare with anyone else.” The Doctor licked his lips. “This is a very special case.”

At this point, Dylon and Lancet arrived with another contingent of Archosaurians and Pythons led by another person that made Gavial gasp. “Great news, Doctor! We got our engine back!”

“And we recruited someone. Zumama, this is the Doctor, and you said you know Gavial already?”

“I do.” The engineer looked from her to her fiance, whose attention was entirely on their new third wheel. “They told me the designer of this amazing Lancet is back at Rhodes Island, yes?”

The Medic shrugged. “Pretty sure that’s Closure, yeah. You’re coming with us, then?”

“Mhmm. Is she?”

“Mhmm.” Man, everything was coming up Gavial today. “Well, now that that’s figured out...Doctor, you wanna find a pool to cool off in?”

He nodded. “Whoever can take us there, lead the way. Except you, Tommy.”

“Okay~” Why would she want to, anyway? She was perfectly content where she was.

Zumama took charge, leaving her entourage to take care of Tomimi’s crew (most of whom were unconscious by this point) while taking their guests to a waterfall with a crystal-clear pool beneath it. “Here we are.”

“Awesome.” The Doctor, who’d carried the Caster all this way, finally set her down. “Can you swim in what you’re wearing now? I have a couple spare swimsuits if you need one.”

“Will any of them fit me?” Her tail slapped the ground, sending dust flying as it did.

The Medic waded into the water, followed soon after by Zumama, Dylon, and- Ceobe? “Oh, Kay, there you are. Everything okay?”

“Thirsty.” She dunked her head into the pool for a bit before shaking herself off. “Thirsty.”

“Oh, hey, there they are!” Blaze and Utage cannonballed in from near the waterfall, followed by a Liberi and a few others.

Gavial looked around the gathering before focusing on her fiance. “This the vacation you were hoping for, Doctor?”

“Hell yeah!” He was waiting by some trees for- ah, there she was. “Everything feel alright, Tommy?”

“It was made for me. I...I feel pretty.” She twirled around, knocking over a thin tree in the process.

Best. Vacation. Ever.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Coming back' : new chapter of "Redemption of a Spirit in a Cold War" out !

Chapter Summary :

After evading the CIA team charged to bring her to Adler, Bell decided to take some times to think before going back to fullfill her most important goal......

Words : +3900

To read it on AO3, click here !

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

Well, I'm back on the loose again. I've just spent more than 3 days having every of my moves, speech and choices controlled by multiple CIA teams tasked to lead me to West-Berlin and I was once again free from them. At first, I thought that they will bring me to safety in one of their hideout in the city but I didn't have in mind that it was going to be the same place I was 3 years ago.....well, I should have think of that at the moment when I was given from Belikov to the CIA and when I put my feets inside that plane before I left Moscow.

Since I've killed 2 Perseus agents back in Moscow, it served as a good reason for Belikov that I needed to be extracted very fast but I think that it indeed attract attention from Adler himself since he was the one who wanted me to be brought to him by his team with what I heard from the CIA team I have just disposed of. Hopefully for me and bad for him, he was unaware that he was me, 'Bell' that succeeded to take care of 3 high-trained CIA agents inside one of their cars and get away from the scene before problems happen to me.

Before I left the scene, I decided that it was better to take some of their money with me because the rest of my money I had left from the Soviet Union wasn't going to help me a lot around and also disposing of their guns inside a manhole cover. Once it was done, I left quickly the alley with only one goal : go back at the E9 Safehouse and find Park. But, I couldn't go right now to that place. After what happened, Adler and the others in West-Berlin is going to be alerted that one of their teams got a little problem on their way meaning that I had to lay low for the day.

I needed to go at the safehouse in the start of the evening, awaiting for the right moment and Adler's suspicions to get low too. I knew exactly where the safehouse was located and how I could infiltrate myself inside but first, let's discover what changed in the world in 3 years. Even out of the Soviet Union, I couldn't have any chances to see what was happening in the world in terms of everything so when I was able to buy some meds with the stolen to heal that cut I had on my cheek and some painkillers for my arm still hurting like a rock, I decided to go buy a newspaper and something to eat too.

Once I had bought that newspaper and eat something, I preferred to continue to walk around the city until I could find a perfect place to read it as I didn't want to read it while walking, fearing to enter into someone. I then realized that I was just near the Tiergarten park just at a few hundred meters from the Wall and I decided it was a perfect place to rest and profit from the calm while no one...I hope.....will not disturb in my reading....and maybe also if I either take a nap or having one of my memories back.

I found a empty bench away from the others sight deep inside the park and it was the place for me to settle in for the afternoon before I could go to the safehouse. I sit on the bench and I start to read the news : the Iran-Irak war is still going on in the Middle-East since it started in 1980, there's some disaggrement about the British budget rebate between the European Economic Community and the British Governement leaded by....oh, Margaret Thatcher is still in power....Incredible....I don't know how she is in terms of politics but it's new to see a woman in lead of the United Kingdom.

Then, I could find something talking about what the CIA was saying when I heard them : that foiled operation that happened in Afghanistan leaded by the CIA and the MI6. Apparently, it was saying that it was a complete slaughter for the troops supported by the West and there were only a few survivors that got out. All of these were Perseus work but the newspapers were talking about a Soviet attack, knowing that Perseus prefer to do his dirty work in the shadow.

After that, there were things talking about the releases of movies and some hit songs but nothing so much important that could have helped me know more about what happening in the world. I put the newspaper in my backpack, keeping it in case before I started to realize that I have now nothing to do.....apart from having a rest for the moment or trying to find something about my old life. The second option was better even if I risk to be disturbed by someone else. I installed myself well in the bench and closing my eyes trying to think.....

The first thing I could see when I opened my eyes was seeing me sitting on an bench, looking at the Moskova in Moscow and then, at some fireworks getting shot in the skies above the Kremlin. At my left side on that bench, there were Zasha with me, also looking with me at the fireworks. Our looks in our face was sort of happy but each one of us were like hiding something.

"Happy New Year 1979 !" Zasha said to me with a lazy voice

"A new year for our lifes, great." I told them with the same voice, I pulled one of my arms on the bench top at my right, getting comfortable on it. "Like every year since 4 years, gonna be the same thing we're gonna do each year : decrypting, encrypting, do some missions for Perseus and repeat again." I added, rolling my eyes

"Even you is kinda tired of doing the same thing each day." Zasha looked at me with an raised eyebrow

"Yeah, I would have like something else in my life." I responded to them "I just wanted to be an normal person living an normal life with someone at my side everyday."

"But something is avoiding you to do it." They told me, guessing my next words as I nodded.

"Perseus." I said with an cracked voice.

"I know, it must be hard for you to saw that you didn't have a choice to follow him." They looked at me with an grin on their face before looking away "I need to tell you something about our work."

"Go on, tell me." I said with an smile.

"I....I never wanted to work with Perseus." At hearing this, I looked at them but not in anger, more curious. "I took the job because I had no choice."

"For your brother, Dedov ?" I asked them. They nodded.

"I lost my parents when I was 11 and then 17, leaving me to take care of Dedov on my own. I took the job because I knew that it could help me and Dedov to stabilize our situation." They replied, their voice filled by emotions by saying that.

"I know about Dedov, how did he see the situation ?" I asked a second question. Their grin disappeared to have a sad look.

"Even if the job help me, when I came back each day from work, he can see that work is difficult for me but I'm doing this for him." They responded "If one day, I can help him achieve his dream."

"Which is ?"

"He want to go either to Harvard in the US or to Oxford in England, away from the Soviet Union and Perseus." They said, giving to me a small grin again. But then, I was the one to become sad.

"You know....." I started to said "I never believed in Perseus ideas." At hearing this, Zasha looked at me surprised.

"Really ?" They asked, stunned.

"He maybe raised me as his daughter along with Freya but I was never really behind him, approving each of his decisions." I first respond before taking a breath "Some part of me want to flee too but by staying here, I can help my friends in needs and protect the innocents from his brutality."

"I always thought that you were loyal...." They started to said before I cut them silently,

"Loyal to my goals, not to his ones." I admitted, looking at Zasha "After what happened to me in my early days, I'm doing everything in my power to save the innocents. I'm not an brutal killer, I kill only those who harm my friends." I put my hand on their shoulder "My friends.....is for me, my real family I never had."

"Me ? You saw me like family ?" They said, amazed and I nodded

"Freya, you and my few friends....is my family, Perseus was never a father to me." I then removed my right hand from the bench to put it on my legs.

"Can I say that....I see you like a sister now ?" They asked with a laugh, I nodded.

"You can !" I replied, laughing before with my right hand, I put it inside my pocket to grab something : a envelope. "Something for you." I handed it over to Zasha.

"What's this ?" They took it in their hands before looking at me, discovering the weight of the envelope. "Don't tell me that...." They opened the envelope, discovering moneys in it.

"It's something for you, Zed." I smiled at them "To help you and your brother !" I was surprised when they put their arms around me for a hug but I reciprocated the gesture.

"Thanks you, Yirina !" They said, moved by my actions, tears started to fall on my face and I was happy to help them,

"I'll do everything for my friends !"

I wasn't an monster at all while I was an Perseus agent ! That memory gave me something that helped me feel better as I could feel some tears on my face. I saw my friends as the family I never had and I'm still am. The people I remember in the safehouse were like a second family for me but not everyone of course. I was so helpful to Zasha and their brother I just discovered right now. Right now, I just wanted to hope that they're safe somewhere not in Russia and maybe that Dedov did achieve his dream. However even with that, I was still in needs to find more and to redeem myself more further.

When I opened my eyes back into the real world, I realized that....oh fuck, already ? Did I dream of that memory for hours ? It was already the evening of the day but it was the perfect time for me to get on walk. Before I do that, I decided to write the past two memories in my book I did have today and once it was done, I've got everything packed up again in my backpack and I got up, ready to go to the safehouse....and find Park again if it is possible.

I walked back on my steps, taking the same path I used to get to the park and I even passed the alley where I left the CIA team in that car. I took a quick look at the scene : there were nothing else anymore : no more car and no CIA team as the day has passed very quickly for me, there were still tire brands showing where the car has gone before crashing down on the wall at the end of the alley. Well, it's better to stay on my way as I could recognize some people who was there when they saw me leave that alley earlier.

The night fell on the German city as I was getting close to the safehouse located inside the Grunwald forest at the outskirts of West-Berlin. A perfect place for the CIA to hide but not so perfect.....because I remembered exactly where it was. I walked inside the forest with some things inside my mind : I remember that there were some CIA agents walking around disguised as normal civilians to protect the place and that I needed to watch out for them because it could be anyone.

However, bad luck with them : I could easily pass their little patrols before I arrived behind the safehouse unguarded. The place didn't changed at lot in 3 years but then, I started to hear some noises inside of it, meaning that they were people inside. I needed to get an viewpoint on the inside as I remember that they were a part of the ceilling with windows. I found a pipe which I used to climb on top of the safehouse without making any noises at all....thanks because I thought that the pipe was going to crash on the ground with me on it.

I made it out alive from that pipe as I get discreetly next to the part of the rooftop where I could see in the inside...Yeap, didn't changed at all ! Same desk positions, the dashboard with more things on it. I could discover the CIA team I disposed off wearing bandages and dressings. There were here entirely but in bad shape and then.....I could see him....Russell Adler standing in front of the dashboard, smoking....I was feeling my rage getting up inside my body as his sight. I wanted to act but I need self-control.

"So...." Adler started, looking angry "Three high-trained CIA agents are neutralized by an unknown russian woman in their car and she succeeded to got away !" He wasn't happy at all. "Can you explain to me again how did this happens ?" He looked at Walter

"Like we said to you, sir." Walter firstly said "I saw her unbuckling her seatbelt and then, she nudged me, getting me unconscious before attacking Terry."

"She tried to strangle me as I tried to shoot her." Terry continued after hearing his name "But my gun fired during our struggle and it hit Sawyer in the hand, causing him to crash the car and allowing that girl to get away."

"Do you realize that she stole your guns and your money ?" Adler asked in desesperation "That's the biggest humiliation you can have !" He added, blowing smoke out of his mouth, spreading his arms to the ground "Did you know who was that girl ?"

"Well, we didn't see her face since she was using bandages to cover it." Sawyer said, holding his wounded hand "We tried to saw it while she was asleep but she was very cautious towards us."

"Yeah, the other team tried too but they didn't succeed either to do it." Terry exclaimed as Adler decided to move to get closer to him "Hey, it's not our fault if...." Then, Terry was directly slapped by Adler himself, surprising the others....and me, looking at the scene silently.

"It's your fault that we have now another problem to deal with." Adler poked at Terry, looking at him furiously "Now, we have maybe an Perseus agent in the wild in West-Berlin as we're trying to recover from our operation in Afghanistan." He got back, still looking at his team "You had just one fucking job to do !"

Shit....it was almost the trigger phrase that could have make me passing out in that rooftop but it was close. When I heard this, I cover my ears as I was starting to feel like something ringing in my ears....like a bell. I could feel my face going white from that and I realized that I was able to control myself to not pass out but not my envy to get it done with Adler. I took the M1911 I have hidden under my jacket and somehow, I was going to prepare myself to aim at him, ready to finish him until......

"You pulled quite an stunt today !" An feminine voice could be heard inside the safehouse and I realized that.....Park, it was her. Seeing after all these times.....shit, it was so strange. She had longer hair than before : a ponytail. "Every MI6 agents in the city is talking about what happened !"

"Oh shit, not her !" Terry whispered and I heard him well as Park arrived to get next to Adler.

"I thought it was just routine for you." She said, looking at the team with crossed arms and a smirk on her face

"Miss, we couldn't expect that from her." Sawyer tried to explain with an sorry look "She was very evasive in her answers and we tried to know more about her, we just thought that she didn't wanted to talk because of the shock she got."

"He's right, we only wanted......"

"Wait a minute !" Terry cut Walter straight before leaning from the table he was on "I remember something well from that russian." He pointed at Park "She had an picture of you !" He exclaimed, causing her to step back. Damnit, he remembered my picture !

"Me ?" She said, shocked

"Yes, I'm not fucking blind." Terry replied "She had a perfect picture of you with your stupid smile on it !" He added, showing to her his anger and making me angry too. He moved to face her and Park was clenching her fists.

"Better for you to use another tone with me....dick !" She told him, biting her bottom lip

"Or what ?" He spreaded his arms "You're gonna do what you did to Hank ?" He smirked at her.....Please, Park, do something !......until in only one second, he make the biggest mistake of his life by spreading his legs too...allowing Park to kick him violently in the nuts with her knee....fuck yeah !

"How did you like that, you miserable twat ?" She replied in anger as Terry fall on the ground, holding his private parts with difficulty as his friends arrived to help him

"Ok, that's enough." Adler walked to get between Park and the team, he was rather angry with the team than with Park "You three are coming with me."

"But....."

"There is not but ! " Adler cut Sawyer straight "Help this fool to get up, we're going back to Langley." The two complied and helped Terry get up before walking outside the safehouse, leaving Park and Adler alone. "Can you just control yourself, for sake ?" He asked her

"I'm not someone to have problems with." She responded, still angry

"I know that since years." He added before looking at outside "I will get these fools back to Langley and I will return with Sims, Woods and maybe Mason if it's possible."

"Leaving me in charge of the place ?" Park said and he nodded

"We're back tomorrow night and we will focus on that woman who escaped them." He blew the  smoke of his cigarette away from her "She might be useful for us if we can capture her."

"Then, we have no choice." Park put her hands on her waist before the two walked next to the garage door, Adler stepping outside as she stayed inside. "Have a good flight to the US."

"Goodbye, Park." He told her before walking away from the safehouse, laziness in his voice. Park walked next to the door control panel where she closed the door.

"Bloody hell !" She exclaimed as the door was fully closed before she started to walk back to the same office she had.

At this moment, I withdrawed from the windows to look at the sky. I wasn't believing it at all : I saw Park after 3 longs years spent inside a hospital bed in Moscow. I saw her with my eyes again and she was still looking beautiful but looking more angrier & changed. It was so hard for me right now to see her in that state. I know that she was believing in me but my 'death' did have an effect on her. I can fix that mistake by seeing her but am I really ready for this ?

I just saw Adler in real this time and I was so troubled about what I needed to do right now. I was mixed between seeing Park and getting an revenge on Adler by shooting him. I needed to make the first choice. I didn't came back in that place because I discover that Perseus was still around, making his evil plans but I did all of this because I'm so in love with Park that I needed to see her again, that was the first thing I said when I left that hospital : I will do everything for her.

I let some 5 longs minutes before I decided to get down on the ground level, determined to do what I needed to do. I used the same pipe to get down before I walked to the unguarded back door of the safehouse. When I put my hand on the door handle, I knew that I couldn't go back : I was now back inside the fight against Perseus.....and now back with Park. Without any hesitation, I opened the door silently and I walked inside the safehouse, closing the door behind me.

Park wasn't looking at all, her heads was inside her arms who was on her desk....she....she was crying but she did hear me arrive.

"You forgot something, Adler ?" She said in a broke voice and by hearing that voice, I was overtaken by the emotions and because of it, I fell on my knees in the middle of the safehouse, holding back my owns tears, awaiting for her to look at me but that moment never came, I had to do something.

"I....I'm sorry about everything." I broke the silence, saying a part of the letter she left for me back at that hotel in Moscow. "And....I hope you will be able to forgive.....because right now, you have a big place inside my heart." When I was done, tears started to fall down on my face and at this moment, I could see Park looking at me on my knees, her eyes filled with tears.

"B-Be-Bell ?" She said, looking at me, stunned and.....shocked to me, she got up from her seat, walking slowly.

"I'm sorry....about everything." I looked down, wanting to hide my tears with no effect at all "You have a big place inside my heart." I repeated again before she get on ker knee too in front of me.

"It's.....it's you !" She whispered, tears coming down at her side before putting one of her hands on my right cheek "You're here !" She grinned, filled with emotions before I do the same and put my hand on her left cheek. My arms were shaking at touching her again after 3 years.

"Park....I....." I whispered but I was so much lost in my words, starting to cry. Then, at the same time, we both started to put our arms around each other and we were both crying in each other shoulder.

After 3 years, I was now back with Park again.....back in her arms and she was back in mine. I thought that it was just a big dream but everything was so real for me. It was real, she was really there, hugging me and we were very close to each other. I was happy and so troubled after all these times. It's been 6 days since I was now back alive and what I wanted to do first was done : I was back with Park again ! We were so shocked to see each other and we were so relieved to see each other again.

"I....came....back !"

[avengersassemble-fics]

But Not Us

part 03/?? “an agent of shield”

previous part // next part

word count 4k

an: there’s a lot of background info in this one, with only a couple mentions of steve. so sorry for that but :3

May 2014

What should have been the greatest experience for a newly assigned SHIELD agent turned into the world’s first global (known) alien invasion. A select few were stationed at the Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility in the Mojave Desert in New Mexico, where the only information the average agent had was to protect the scientist, and any and all information at all costs. Serving alongside Hawkeye, Phil Coulson, and seeing Director Fury almost up close and personal would have made your friends still awaiting assignment at the Academy jealous.

But when an Asguardian almost single-handedly leveled the facility, some not making it out or even barely, those who risked their lives demanded an answer. It was one of your golden experiences at SHIELD, and what may have gained you notice from the Phil Coulson. So they revealed the truth: known as Project PEGASUS, SHIELD had been in possession of an otherworldly power source, and was analyzing (and eventually) weaponizing the power it emitted. You, along with the other six agents who had demanded answers, were brought along for the next wild ride. A helicarrier awaited and there was an elite team being brought in.

The Avengers Initiative had been a ghost story at the Academy. Theories of who was being scouted, where the idea had come from, who was behind it.. During your years every theory had been tossed around it seemed.

I heard Fury created it because some alien invasion inspired him in the 90’s.

What? That’s not true! We would’ve heard about an alien.

That’s literally the point of SHIELD. Secrets. We hide ‘em.

They had a point now that you thought back on it. SHIELD was all about hiding knowledge and keeping people safe from the knowledge. How else were they going to explain that JFK was actually assassinated by a ghost story named the Winter Soldier?

Forget you just read that. That’s classified.

Regardless, seeing the likes of legendary Natasha Romanoff, the brilliant Bruce Banner, and chivalrous Steve Rogers aboard that helicarrier that day should have been momentous. But from the moment they stepped on board things had taken a turn for the worse. Hours were spent trying to locate the Asguardian who you heard was named Loki, but when he finally popped up in Germany, none other than Steve Rogers was sent in to apprehend the God. Did anyone expect Tony Stark to swoop in? Or Thor, the God of Thunder? Loki’s “adopted brother” as others heard him say.

As you did your sweeps that day, it honestly felt a little too easy.

You had only met Steve Rogers on one occasion, and that was on this day, right before Barton’s attack on the Helicarrier. You were doing a sweep on one of the lower levels, when you passed by a hallway that led down to a door that from the corner of your eye looked.. Open? Other agents passed you without even a glance to what you were seeing, so with a deep breath you walked down the white hall, and examined the door. You could hear the quiet sound of someone inside and knew what needed to be done. The door was pried open just enough for someone bigger than yourself to enter, so you managed to slide through the door and into the holding compartment.

Crates among crates were stacked on top of one another, almost every single one had the PEGASUS logo next to the SHIELD logo. The closer you got to the sounds of shuffling, you undid your holster on your leg, resting your hand firmly on the hilt of the standard SHIELD icer given to every agent. When you rounded the corner and were met with the back of Captain America himself (who wouldn’t know that iconic blue-starred uniform?) you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t even know what overcame you to speak to him.

“Didn’t have to break the door y’know,” you said to him. You remember his shoulders tensing, setting something down in a crate he had opened and slowly turning to face you. Your hand still rested on your icer, while your other motioned back from where you both had come from. “It’s gonna take them a couple days to fix that.”

“I’ll send my apologies,” Steve said back to you. He glanced you over, not without noticing your loose grip on the weapon at your side. His eyes hovered there before he spoke again, and his piercing blue eyes met yours once more. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“No,” you didn’t hesitate in answering. His shoulders relaxed, but it looked like confusion was replaced in his scowl. You relatched your holster, and took a couple steps back with some final words. “I just hope you found what you were looking for.”

October 2013

You had come a long way since that first assignment.

You never saw Steve Rogers again, or any Avenger for that matter. Your encounter with the super soldier was soon cached as a one off meeting. He was a hero, you were an agent. And as before, you were following a lead on a secret the world wasn’t ready for yet.

For several months there have been missing person cases worldwide, but there was a catch. They soon turned up found, but encased in rock. SHIELD was called in immediately, and you were assigned to a task force to investigate. Research showed that after time the rock began to crumble, and the person was gone, dust if you will. There was nothing that could be done to save them, no matter what was attempted on the rock formations.

Your task force was a shadow team similar to Phil Coulson (who was alive, but that’s classified. Only a select few know, his team, and now the one you served on). Communication was erratic between his team and yours, but his scientist couldn’t find anything different than yours could.. This was the mission that changed your life.

Locals had come across a set of crystals during an excavation of a nearby temple. The report had said that one of the explorers touched the crystal, and was petrified within seconds. Luckily, for the first time ever, SHIELD was able to finally see what was causing these unnatural phenomenons. You remember it was hot, and being lowered by a rope into the hole the locals had cut out. When you removed yourself from the harness holding you, you examined the explorer before looking to the crystal formation in the middle of the room. It was unlike anything you had ever seen.. It was beautiful. And to this day you swore it had whispered in your ear.

You weren’t sure who knocked the crystals to the ground. Everything had happened so quickly. A blueish-grey mist evaporated into the air, and every agent, you and three others, were frozen in place. Something began to cover your body, unlike the rock that you had seen it didn’t feel rough, or scary. As the solidifying cocoon enveloped you it was as if a voice rang in your ears that you’d be fine.

And a month later, you were. Or at least you thought you were.

You don’t remember falling out of the enclosure, but they told you you did. You remember waking up in a medical room, the sound of different beeps monitoring different things in your body was evident. The first face you saw when you came to was actually Maria Hill. You should’ve known her presence was going to be followed by Director Fury, but you chalked it all up to formalities. Every test the ran on you pointed to you being fine, but you didn’t feel fine the more time that progressed.

It was January 2014 when you got into your altercation. Being back in the field was hard, you were struggling to handle your anger when someone on your team merely bumped into you. But that was it, you remembering blacking out and suddenly being on top of them, their blood covering your knuckles. An hour later, Director Fury himself was signing your suspended leave papers.

You were even more pissed off, upset that SHIELD essentially told you to handle your issues on your own. Ever since that damn mission you didn’t feel the same, something just didn’t feel right to you. You were angry, skittish, and it began to take its toll on you and your family. They didn’t know how to help you, and neither did you in all honesty. One night after having a shouting match with your father, you packed a bag and took the next plane out of there. And it didn’t matter where it went.

There’s a blank between that and when you met Gordon. You could blame it on the transition, or really just blame it on the way you took to bar hopping to mash that anger down to something else. You had managed to piss off a small group of motorcycle men (you didn’t mean to knock their bikes over, it just kind of happened), and when backed into a corner a blue field appeared before you. It shocked not only your pursuers, but you thought you were dreaming. Gordon offered you his hand, and you took it with no hesitation.

Inhuman. That’s what they said you were. A race of altered human beings that were the result of experiments on ancient humans by an extraterrestrial race who embedded their genetic code the potential to transform and/or acquire superhuman abilities through a process known as Terrigenesis.

In all honesty it was a mouthful, and a lot to accept all at once. But it.. Made sense in a way. The woman in charge, Jiaying, asked you if you had ever come in contact with a crystal, which she showed you rolled up in a small handkerchief. You recited your story, a bit modified, about coming across crystals in an old temple, and someone knocked them over by accident. You lost two months, and haven’t felt the same since. She told you that you would be taken care of, and you were safe now.

You met Lincoln a couple days later. He told you that acupuncture was supposed to help your body adapt to the Terrigenesis, but because you were going on three months since your transformation, it was going to take time. You warned him you weren’t an overly patient person, and he laughed and said he wouldn’t be going anywhere. After your first session, you didn’t feel much of a change besides the pain your neck disappeared, but the anger lingered.

You went weeks without knowing what your “superhuman ability” was, and everyday you got more and more irritable.

“Why am I even here,” you expressed to Lincoln and Jiaying one day. You clenched your fist as you paced before them, and motioned towards them. “All I feel is just pissed off because I don’t know what I’m even doing.”

“We just haven’t had a breakthrough yet,” Jiaying explained. “Everyone is different when it comes to this process.”

You couldn’t accept that. You didn’t show up for your next acupuncture appointment with Lincoln, and within 10 minutes he was knocking on your door. You tossed your pillow back to your bed, and stared at the door. Maybe if you were silent--

“I know you’re in there,” Lincoln said to you. You narrowed your eyes at the door when he spoke again. “I’m opening the door.”

“No you aren’t,” you told him through clenched teeth. When you saw the door slowly inch forward you exploded. “I said no you aren’t!”

The room shook, the door reclosing in a loud smack. You weren’t sure what had happened but saw the lingering blue ripples of energy that danced over the walls. You huffed and looked down at your hands, which were enveloped by the same blue energy. The door flew open and you looked up to see the shocked look of Lincoln. He later told you your eyes looked like they were glowing blue, but after you took him in it all disappeared.

You hadn’t gotten far on controlling your powers (you could turn invisible too, how cool was that?) when Jiaying and Gordon found out who you worked for. Lincoln was the only one who fought for you to stay at Afterlife, he said your ties with the organization didn’t mean you’d turn them in. You were one of them now. And he was right, it hadn’t even crossed your mind of turning these people over to SHIELD.. They were there for you when SHIELD wasn’t. But it didn’t matter. You suddenly shunned from this new community with the promise you’d never return, and never expose their secrets. Those last few weeks were.. They weren’t the best. Your only solace was found in Lincoln, growing closer to one another with every moment you spent together, but before anything could happen you got the phone call that changed your life. Again.

July 2014

It rained that day. The ground was soft and still had little specks of water on them. You only remembered that because your sister pointed out that everyone’s shoes were dirty. You also remembered that she tucked away one of her blankets with your mother, because she didn’t want her to be afraid. She was more wise than you were. You remembered the soft and grainy feel of the dirt you tossed onto both caskets, and when you placed your clean hand on your sister's shoulder you hadn’t noticed Lincoln step to your other side. Not until he grabbed a hold of your damp hand. The light electricity that spread over your palm was welcomed, enlightening warmth in you for the first time in days.

You didn’t see Phil Coulson and Melinda May had been in attendance in the back.

The wake after wasn’t your idea, it was your grandmother's (paternal, ever the doting family figure, god rest her soul) and that was when Coulson approached you. He was more stoic, even had a bit of stubble on his face, and asked you to speak privately. When you were able to slip away and talk outside on the porch of your family home, he offered his condolences. You remember he kept glancing May’s way, hesitant on what he was going to say, but he was very careful. Calculated you could say.

That same year Steve Rogers had exposed Hydra for having deep roots within SHIELD, and Coulson was the new Director. All he offered was that Fury was indisposed at the moment, and he offered you your position back. You wondered now if he knew what you were, what had happened. If Lincoln had any intelligence with SHIELD it had to be someone on Coulson’s team. But you were getting ahead of yourself. He said to take some time to think about it, to process your loss, and told you that you’d know where to find him. With a final goodbye, the two agents left.

Lincoln went back to Afterlife. You took full custody of your sister, and though she didn’t know why you disappeared, your grandmother did. The three of you lived comfortably in your family home (to not disrupt your sister’s life) and when you had to be off on a mission, your sister was always taken care of. Four years of never missing her softball games, listening to her awful Clarinet playing (it wasn’t bad, you just liked to tease her), and being there for any of her questions. Life was good. It wasn’t too hard to balance your work life and personal life.

Two years after accepting Coulson’s offer, you were forced to resign indefinitely. The Sokovia Accords were wanting any and all SHIELD agents who were Inhuman (thanks to the database SHIELD had collected) to sign and continue to serve, or face time in The Raft. Neither was an option you were going to accept, so a compromise was offered to those who refused. The Accords and world nations would keep their own database of Inhumans, or any enhanced individuals, with the notion that if these persons were found to be using their powers, it would be a charge of criminal negligence. And if you were assigned to any government agency (SHIELD, the FBI, anything) you were to resign immediately. All on the down low of course. Reluctantly, you agreed, along with anyone else who didn’t want to be used as an on call superhuman soldier.

It was freedom at a price. But you weren’t leaving your family. Not again.

May 2018

Your sister shut the door to your car abruptly. You remembered how she nearly raced to the bag to grab her gear from your trunk while you shut the engine off. She was eager to get inside and shower after her teams win for the week, even racing past your grandmother who sat on the swing on the porch. You remember feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, news of Tony Stark’s disappearance was everywhere. Being out of the game for two years now made you feel out of touch, only getting the same information as everyone else. But you tried your best not to stress about it too much, for your sister’s sake. You remembered your grandmother offering to make a roast that night, but you thought it would be more fun to have your sibling choose - a post game tradition and an excuse not to do dishes that night. You nearly tripped over her duffel bag while trying to set your bag down and sighed.

“I thought we had an agreement about putting this away!” You called out.

“Sorry! I needed to get some water, it’s too hot,” she replied. You pushed her bag out of the way (the last thing you needed was your grandmother taking a fall like last time) and walked further into the house. “(Y/N)-”

“You’re lucky it was me and not--”

You stopped mid sentence when your gaze landed on her. She was terrified, and you felt like you had no time to process what was going on. It started from her feet, inching upwards in a dim cloud and she was evaporating before your eyes. You rushed over, but by the time you got there your fingers only barely touched the dust. You were sick, falling to your knees as the sounds from the outside world flooded your home. Your eyes never left the spot where the dust collected, not when far away booms were heard, voices yelling into the air, and you looked back to the open door.

“Nana?” You called out. You stood and rushed over to the door, rounding the archway abruptly. You saw her standing and looking back out to the road, and wanted to cry out.

She died six months later. You boarded up the house and all the memories it held and headed back to New York City. You haven’t been back since. You were able to get a small place in the city, and isolated yourself from the world. That was until Lincoln came knocking on your door. You weren’t sure how he found you, but it didn’t matter in the end, or really that moment. You didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Dancing on the edge of friendship and something more, Lincoln became an integral part of your life. So when people began to go missing, and you both quickly realized they were Inhumans, it felt as if that responsibility fell on your shoulders now. You had a purpose again: helping people.

You know the rest. You began to go to Steve Rogers meetings, and when he didn’t recognize you you were in the clear it felt. He wasn’t overly nosy, didn’t push you to reveal much, really he let you do things at your own pace. You told yourself you went to his meetings to see if you could slyly get information out of him, but really you did enjoy them. They often made you feel better. Not much, but enough to where you didn’t want to disappear yourself.

The fogginess in your mind was replaced with something else. You didn’t know if it was fear (probably) or not, but your exhausted body wasn’t prepared for this fight. You had been followed for a half an hour now when you were on your way to the community center. You tried to shake them, but it wasn’t working. They knew where you were headed and when you lost a pair, two more took their place. You weren’t making it to Steve’s meeting that morning.

Adrenaline laced with fear coursed through you as you rounded a corner. It took all the concentration in you to mask yourself with your abilities. Out of sight you quickly slid your way into the opening of an alleyway and watched as the two men on your tail walked by without even a glance your way. You should’ve known it was too easy, you shouldn’t have let your guard down so fast. Maybe it was the exhaustion gnawing at you, but you took careful steps back towards the other end. If you could get there then you could see about making it to the center.

You were still invisible when a shock was sent through your body. Little jolts of electricity worked its way through you and the sudden attack made you reappear as you fell to your knees. The smell of burning rubber filled your senses first, followed by the sound of boots on the ground. You forced yourself to look up, only to find yourself surrounded by figures behind dark grey skull masks. You grimaced as one lowered themselves to look you in the eye, though you were only met with your reflection.

“Too easy,” the voice said. You took a shaky breath, the electricity not making anything easier for you, and clenched your hands at your side.

“I’m not done fighting yet,” you warned.

With a thrust of your arms, a shield like barrier exploded out from around you. Those closest to you were sent the furthest away, except for the one who spoke to you. Whatever was shot into your side evaporated, and you stood freely bracing yourself against those who were able to get back on their feet quickly. You dodged and countered punches until one grabbed the bag on your back, pulling you towards them. You spun out from the straps and with your hands enveloped their feet with your powers, throwing them away from you. Two more came from your side and you grabbed the arm of one burrowing for your body and shoved them back into another foe.

There were too many, but you couldn’t give up.

The bigger one who spoke to you managed to push their way through the group, facing you head on. You were breathing heavy, you didn’t know how much longer you could fight them off. Maybe if you could hold them off a little longer, Steve normally passed this way, just a few more minutes.

“You’re surrounded,” the deep voice said. You didn’t know if it was their real voice or something modulated, but they began to circle you. “Stop fighting, and we won’t make this hurt.”

“Yeah I don’t think so,” you replied. You cemented your feet into the ground, and it took all the energy in you to produce the blue energy around your hands. In this state your eyes turned the same blue, but it didn’t seem to stop them from coming at you quickly. You redirected their moves, one arm one way, the other in a whole other direction. There was a click too fast for you to catch, they fought your manipulation and grabbed you from behind, arm trapping you around your neck and it made you gasp. All at once your powers disappeared as you grabbed at their arm. There was no way they did that.. Something disrupted your energy.

The sting of a needle into your neck made you push against them. Their stance didn’t falter, and an overwhelming pain began to spread through you. All you could seem to manage was gasp for short breaths as the person eased you down to the ground. You watched the sky grow bleeker, and the last words before you were met with darkness was an order to get you into the truck.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 4)

Warnings: addiction, mentions of murder

Author notes: therapy starts for Ogawa and a new case comes up... I have to admit, the idea for that part came to me as I was writing! In fact, I have the feeling that the characters controlled me when I was working on the chapter, rather than being written by me... Anyway, I hope you’ll like it!

"You have three choices." Yosano-sensei told me that morning.

It was early, yet I had slept incredibly well, in my windowless bedroom. At last, I did not have to suffer from the daylight anymore and could wake up peacefully without having to deal with Dazai every morning…! Although he was my friend, it was an understatement to say he could be bothering. Besides, following Uemura-san's teaching, I had been able to cook myself a proper breakfast for the first time, and had realised that going to work with a filled stomach was much more comfortable than having it empty. All in all, my first morning in my home had been a success.

Before me, the doctor was presenting me the different therapies I could follow to finally be sober. I could stop taking morphine at once, which would result in excruciating withdrawal syndrome. Or, she could give me a similar molecule, yet less efficient, which would make me stop progressively. And, last but not least, I could lower my doses slowly, without any guarantee to ever be freed from my addiction. My choice was quickly made.

"Until my trip to Hokkaido, I'll have the substitute." I told her "But once I'm back to Yokohama, I'll stop everything."

Her eyes widened.

"Are you sure…?"

"You'll be there for me either way." I smiled "I won't be alone, and, truly, I want to stop taking drugs. It makes me feel dirty all the time… I want to start another life."

"I see… I understand." She nodded "Let's do that, then. However, if I ever think that you can't stand it, I will change the therapy to a softer one."

"Sure." I agreed.

"Well, that's good. Let's start today. If you crave morphine, you can have these pills instead." She put a box in front of me.

"Thanks, sensei." I took the box "I'll do my best."

"Of course you will. Now… I think Kunikida wants to see you. He's quite panicked that you'll leave for Hokkaido at the end of the week." She chuckled.

"I see. I'll talk to him, then." I grinned "Thanks again, sensei…!"

I quickly headed towards the office, heels hitting the floor confidently as I did. My fingers played with the new bottle of pills, then shoved it in the pocket of my old trench. Yosano-sensei had not said a thing about it, but I could have seen the questioning look she had given me upon noticing I had not changed my outfit. I could understand, since she had shown it to me just the previous day. However, I wanted to be completely free of my past to wear these new clothes the Agency had gifted me. They had become a new motive to stop morphine as soon as possible.

When I pushed the door, I was welcomed by the quiet and serene atmosphere of the Armed Detective Agency. I still was not used to the sunlight gently bathing the entire room in the morning, nor was I accustomed to the charming plants adorning the offices. I greeted the clerks cheerfully, before going to Kunikida. He was anxiously — and very rapidly — typing on his keyboard. I glanced at his screen. He was answering several emails, most certainly from clients, to decline the case. And he was right ro do so; who would hire a governmental agency to find a lost cat?

"Good morning, Kunikida." I put my hands on his shoulders to surprise him.

"Ogawa?!" He jumped "Why must you scare me so early in the morning?!"

"I'm sorry." I laughed "I tend to forget you're sensitive to that kind of things~"

He clicked his tongue.

"I suppose Dazai is not coming today?"

"No, he's not." I told him without parting with my smile.

"Do you know the rea — forget it." He gave up when he looked at me "I heard you are going to Hokkaido?"

"Yes, indeed. A friend asked me a favour, and I couldn't refuse." I said.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll simply add it to the schedule… What are the details for the case?"

"May we take a seat?"

I explained to him that I would have to guard a scientist working on a petrol formula, which created an instant glare on his face.

"The government agreed to that kind of polluting business…? That's irresponsible… And to do that in Hokkaido, too…" He groaned.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? But since I owe my friend, I cannot turn him down."

"I see… Well, the Agency will take care of your plane ticket and the hotel for you. Just go, find the mastermind behind the assassination attempts, arrest him, and come back." He demanded "For now, can you work on that other case?"

"Thank you, Kunikida. And, sure, give it to me. I'll handle it."

After taking a look at the case, I blinked, then turned towards him.

"Are you sure you want me on it…?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're the most efficient one when it comes to interrogating a suspect." He answered without even sparing me a glance.

"Do you remember the very first case I solved…? The maid…?" I questioned, dumbfounded.

"I do, but you're still the more suited of us all. Since you have your ability, you know?"

I blushed slightly, embarrassed.

"Did you really think I'd ask you to torture the man…?" He sighed "You should go, now. The police officers are waiting."

"Yes, sure." I rubbed the back of my head nervously "See you later…!"

The policemen were, indeed, waiting for me in front of the Agency. But when I told them once was the detective in charge of interrogating the suspect, most of them snickered contemptuously and started whispering behind my back. Who did they expect? A tall man with broad shoulders and muscles? I rolled my eyes and got into the car, ready to face one of the longest and most lonely drives of my existence. I would do the job, interrogate my suspect, then leave. It would be quick, and simple. I twirled the box of pills between my fingers, hesitating. My body trembled when I stared at it too much, and I wanted to take it, but in front of the gentlemen, I would have to refrain… It was never pleasant to have an addict sitting close.

When, finally, the car stopped, I was so nauseous that I could barely open the door by myself. An officer had to help me out, not without looking down on me for being weak, but I paid no attention to him and simply followed in the station, where I was brought to the interrogation room. Inside, a rather young man was sitting, back leaned on the chair and wrists handcuffed on the table. As I was about to sit in front of him, however, a policeman took my place.

"I'm sorry, what are you doing?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Secretaries should simply take notes. You've got a chair in the corner, there." He smirked.

I scoffed.

"I'm a detective from the Agency, I don't think you can afford to call me a secretary."

"All of our men were unable to make that guy open his mouth, how do you expect to succeed?" He huffed "Know your place."

"Mmh… Yes, you're right, I should know my place…"

His satisfied expression made me want to punch his face. Without a word, I walked towards him and, effortlessly, kicked him from the chair. His dumbfounded look made me smirk.

"I do know my place, and it is on that chair." I said "Get out of the room and leave me alone. I have a suspect to interrogate."

I could read frustration and humiliation in his eyes as he pitifully crawled to the door. Next to us, the suspect had not budged, only slightly turning his lips upwards in what seemed an attempt of a smile. At least, that pathetic comedy had amused him… I put the file on the table, then sat down to analyse the man I would have to question. He looked… Average, at best. Already, I knew that he would not talk, yet I did not want to use my ability for the moment.

"What's your name?" I asked him, crossing my arms.

I did not even earn a glance.

"Alright… I've been warned you were not cooperative anyway… Why are you here?"

Silence.

"I see… Homicide… The victim was a perfect stranger to you…"

Not a word.

I sighed and closed the file, shifting my attention on him. Strange… Usually, my suspects would move a bit, at least unconsciously, indicating they felt my words did not sound unfamiliar to them. Behind the mirror, I could feel the judgemental presence of the policemen… I had to quickly come up with something.

"You know, silence doesn't work on me. I have an ability, you see, so I can simply look into your thoughts to get my answer. But we wouldn't want that, would we?"

He did not even shake. Thoughtful, I stood up, grabbed the chair, and threw it on the ground, creating a sudden noise that would have made anyone jump. He did not. I barely contained a smile, then pulled out a piece of paper from the file, as well as a pen. There, I wrote:

"I'll question you like this. It is no use hiding anything from me, I can read your thoughts."

The man read my words, then looked at me and nodded, simply. Triumphantly, I smirked towards the mirror. To not even know that their suspect was deaf, and perhaps even mute… How incompetent were they? It was no wonder why they had never been able to catch me when I used to be a mafioso…

Interrogating the man was not a difficult task. The suspect was deaf-mute, so he could neither hear me nor talk to me. Nevertheless, I easily managed to gather information thanks to The Sweet Appeals, which allowed me to read his thoughts as accurately as if he were speaking to me. It seemed he had been an unlucky scapegoat in what appeared like a murder planned out for days, if not weeks. Because of his handicap, he had lived a poor life, abandoned by his parents during his childhood, then surviving the best a kid could. He had found work as a gofer for a rich man who had pitied him upon literally stumbling onto him in the streets. With time, he had learnt to write and read so he could better communicate with his fellows. Besides, because no one would spare a minute to write an order for the gofer, he had quickly gained the skill to read people's lips to an extent. He understood simple orders, but some words remained obscure to him. However, he had noticed that his rich benefactor seemed suspicious. He would often invite other wealthy men to his place to discuss business with them. One day, he had read the word "kill" on one's lips. He had first believed that he had wrongly understood "milk", which had resulted in the terrible mistake of serving the guest's tea with a drop of milk. After being scolded for his fault, he had realised that he had, in fact, gotten the right word, and that these people were actually planning to get rid of someone. Even so, what could a poor gofer like him do? Despite knowing his master's intentions, he had kept serving him earnestly, only caring about his own survival — which was understandable. Thus, two days ago, when the businessman had demanded him to deliver a letter to his associate, he had not pondered too much on the matter… Until he had come face to face with a puddle of blood, in which a man was laying, face towards him. He was still breathing, so he had immediately kneeled down in an attempt to save him, but it had been too late. The victim had let out his last breath, and, at the same moment, policemen had entered the apartment, as though they had been called in advance. The unfortunate gofer had been arrested, accused of murder, and, unable to say a word, had been detailed in that interrogation room since, with only a glass of water from time to time to hydrate his sore throat.

I had listened to him attentively, taking notes and mentally cursing against the master who had made him go through so much trouble, but I could not let him go just yet. His fingerprints had been found on the corpse and on the murder weapon, which was an evidence against him. Once I was done, I assured him that I would at least get him something to eat, before saying goodbye to the nameless gofer. The policemen were waiting for me outside, all traces of contempt gone from their face.

"That was great…!" One of them even complimented me "How did you know he was deaf?"

"... Are you serious…? You don't need to be a skilled policeman to know that…! You just observe the man…!"

"Damn, if we had known, we wouldn't have asked for a detective…"

"And how did you understand him?"

I sighed.

"As a detective, I have an ability. I can read people's minds." I explained "Here is the report. Don't forget to feed him. Can I go now? I believe we should investigate the true culprit as quickly as possible…"

They did not let me leave.

"Wait. Reading minds…? That's impossible…! You just made it up because you found him pitiful…!"

That was the man I had kicked earlier. I crossed my arms.

"What about I tell you what you're thinking about?"

"Try me."

I activated my ability and… My hand flew towards his cheek. My own ones were coated in bright red when I pushed him out of my way to exit the police station. At the very least, they all knew that my ability was not a lie… But was that truly my win…?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Unfinished Business: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

On the plane, Max just wanted to jump into it by immediately talking about the case. He didn’t even wait until it got off the ground to start. You appreciate his enthusiasm, but he seems too eager for this. It might impair his judgement later if he thinks the Keystone Killer is within the team’s grasp. You’ll keep an eye on him, though. Hotch patched Penelope through so she can be part of this conversation since he gave her some tasks to do while they got ready for the plane.

“Philly PD confirmed that Carla Bromwell's been dead less than twelve hours. She was forty-seven,” Penelope says.

“The victims are getting older. That is unusual,” Derek frowns.

“Victimology rarely changes.”

“Her hands and feet were bound with flex-cuffs,” Penelope also adds.

“Flex-cuffs? No ropes?” you ask.

“That's what they said. They're waiting at the crime scene for you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Derek grins.

“If you need me,” she grins and ends the video chat.

Spencer reaches into his bag and youpeek over to see him take out your note. He opens it and immediately blushes when he understands what it means. You have to hide the smile so you don’t give anything away, and you lean over slightly. You two are sitting on the couch while the rest of the team takes the airplane seats that crowd the only table on the plane.

“What do you got there?” you whisper ever so softly.

“I found this in my bag,” he whispers back and shows you the letter.

“You must have a secret admirer.”

You lean away from him and look at Hotch who is focused on the case and what Penelope said.

“So we have older victims and a different mode of binding and killing.”

“Maybe the note just means we have a copycat on our hands,” you theorize.

“The copycat who just happens to have Amy Jennings driver's license? No! No, it's the Keystone Killer,” Max gets angry.

He gets up and heads over to the small kitchen to get more coffee, and your eyes widen at his outburst.

“How are we supposed to work with him? Gideon, he is not even an active agent,” Derek whispers to him.

“He's here because he knows this case better than any of us. We're leading the investigation, he's only consulting.”

“Anyone tell him that?” you ask and peek over at Max who just pops a pill into his mouth.

You can sense his frustrations and anger for this case, and he’s having a hard time not making it personal. This is the only killer who has taunted him and kept being a problem in his whole career, and then when he disappeared, Max just stewed in his anger. You know he wants this to be the real Keystone Killer, and you just hope that it is. You don’t want him to suffer any more than he already is.

As soon as the plane landed, Max wasted no time in going to the new crime scene. He’s too eager, and that makes him arrogant and cocky. You’re sure he is a nice guy, but his need to catch the killer is overshadowing any good parts about him. He’s obsessed, but you hope the rest of the team can keep him grounded.

The house of the most recent victim is shrouded in sadness and darkness. There isn’t an inch of happiness anywhere in the foundation, and you try your best not to become overly emotional with this. The victims need you to bring them justice because you can see more than most. You have a feeling Max Ryan isn’t a man to believe in what you can do, so you never told him about any of it. He seems too caught up in his own problems to see that he has a whole team to rely on.

“FBI? Detective Charles Santangelo, Philly PD,” the detective in charge greets you when you arrive with the whole team.

“Agents Gideon, Y/L/N, and Greenaway,” Gideon states.

“You actually think the Keystone Killer did this?” Santangelo asks.

“Yes, we do,” Max butts in.

“Agent Ryan.”

“Detective.”

“So, I guessed you'd show up sooner or later,” he chuckles.

“He's consulting with us,” Gideon says.

“CSI's done processing the body?” you wonder.

“Yeah, we'll get out of your way.”

“Thanks. This is his eighth victim,” Max informs as he steps inside the house.

You’re immediately slammed with visions of the victim going about her daily life in spurts. She is going about her life, giving you bits and pieces of who she was right before she died. To get the best results, you go up to the body to see if you can get anything off her body, or maybe see the murder happen. Carla lays on the bed with her eyes open and mouth closed. She looks so scared, but you have to stay away from them. The eyes are the worst thing about a dead person. They reveal more than they know.

“There is no bruising on the wrists, ankles or neck. Just a good size blunt force head wound,” you note.

“Yeah, probably a surprise attack,” Max states.

“Well, the puzzle said no fight.”

“I know what the puzzle said,” Max snaps.

You look between him and Gideon, but you let this one go.

“The head wound is extensive. Level of violence is escalating.”

“This bedroom is in front of the house, and a puzzle mentioned a rear window—maybe he left a print,” Elle suggests.

“No way,” Max shakes his head.

“Well, I think I'm going to check it out anyway,” she sighs.

“You do what you want to do but believe me, you're wasting your time.”

Elle just shakes her head and leaves the room, and you look at Gideon with raised eyebrows.

“Elle's good at this, Max.”

“Did I say she wasn't? I haven't had a feeling like this around a dead body in eighteen years.”

“I remember what you said to me on my first day. Don't lose your objectivity. This isn't personal.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not for you.”

“Look, Max, I know you want to catch this killer because he escaped your grasp and outsmarted you all those years ago. Don’t deny it because I know it’s true. But you have a whole team to lean on, and let me tell you that we’re pretty damn good. I don’t mean disrespect, but you got no right to talk to any of us like that. We’re your partners, not your enemies.”

You don’t want to be in a room with him anymore, so you quickly look at Gideon before you leave the room. You spot Spencer in the farthest room from where you are, so you quickly head into that room to see he is with Hotch.

“Was I like this when you met me?” you ask the men, and they just stare at you in confusion. “I mean, was I like Max? A know-it-all?”

“You could be, yes,” Hotch chuckles.

“I am so sorry.”

“Actually, I didn’t think you were a know-it-all,” Spencer smiles politely at you.

“Well, still, I apologize,” you blush.

“What do you think of Ryan?” Spencer asks Hotch.

“He hasn't changed much.”

“I think we can learn a lot from him,” Spencer beams.

“What could you possibly learn that you don't already know?”

“Hotch, repetitive thinking is the death nail for the brain. For complete brain usage diverse stimulation is the key,” you defend the genius. Spencer and Hotch look at you, but they both have very different reactions. Hotch is more surprised, and Spencer is more proud. “How do you think I got two PhDs? I know a lot more than you know.”

Hotch just shakes his head dismissively, and Spencer canvasses the room when he spots a piece of paper on the dresser. It must be another note because it’s a word search puzzle. Carla could have had a puzzle book, but you know that this isn’t it.

“Look at this,” Spencer says and grabs it with his gloved hand.

“Let's go show this to everyone,” Hotch orders. You three walk back to the bedroom where Carla, Gideon, and Max are. “Found another note.”

“Let me see that,” Max says and practically snatches it out of Hotch’s hand. He skims the words before reading them out loud. “In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present.”

“He's quoting sir Francis Bacon now,” you say.

“I used this specific quote on—”

“—in your book on page 184. I read it on the plane,” Spencer interrupts him.

“And you remember the page number of the quote?”

“Don’t ask,” Derek shakes his head.

“He says to expect another gift in two days.”

“A gift?”

“He calls his victims gifts,” Gideon explains.

“Gifts for whom?” you wonder.

“For me,” Max sighs.

It’s time for another note for Spencer to read, and you have to do it now before he spots you. This time it reads, “In a room full of art, I’d still stare at you”. It’s true because it wouldn’t matter who or what is in a room, if Spencer is there, then you would only look at him. You slip it into his bag so he can find it later on.

Right now, you’re giving the profile to the police department despite them already having one. New victims means there is an opportunity for the profile to change, especially after all that time between killings.

“A lot of things have changed in twenty years including the age of the Keystone Killer's victims,” Hotch begins.

“He's older which means his victims are older. Makes sense to me,” Santangelo shrugs.

“Most unsubs have specific fantasies. This is as if they're killing the same person over and over again. This man clearly had a preference for young brunettes, and now he's switched to older women.”

“Well, what does that mean?”

“Ted Bundy only killed women that looked like his fiancee. Then, he devolved and brutally attacked a house full of sorority sisters that looked nothing like his previous victims,” Spencer babbles. “He went off script. His final victim was a twelve-year-old girl. When the police found the van that he used to kill her, the amount of blood revealed that he had lost complete control. It was that devolution that eventually led to his capture.”

“He could be devolving into a frenzy,” you add.

“So, you mean he's about to mess up?”

“Keystone Killer's devolution is only a theory. We need to be prepared for anything, and if he is in a frenzy, there's no telling how quickly he'll fall apart or how many more victims he'll take with him,” Derek says.

“So, we're going to go over anything we know—old and new—and hopefully we find him before we find another body.”

“We'll start with agent Ryan's original profile. Max, you want to present it?” Gideon asks.

“No.”

Max leaves the room, and Hotch immediately steps into his place to get the ball rolling. Gideon follows his old friend to see what exactly is crammed up his ass. You know, but he has to admit it if he wants to get any better.

“We're looking for a white male in his late 40's. The controlled crime scenes, the meticulousness, and the collection of trophies suggest a possible military background. We believe he’s been living in the same geographical area for his entire adult life.”

Max’s old profile wasn’t long to begin with, so you’re done earlier than you thought. Spencer immediately heads over to his bag, and you rush over to JJ to pretend like you never put the note in his bag to begin with.

“What’s going on?” she whispers.

“Just pretend like we’re discussing a file,” you rush to get out.

You peek over the file and see Spencer reading your note. JJ snickers when she sees this, but you shush her instantly. He looks up and around the office, but you’re quick to look back down at the file.

“You’re unbelievable,” she giggles.

“This is fun,” you whisper.

Spencer has no clue who is leaving these notes for him, but he knows it’s someone from Quantico. He got a note on his desk back in the office, and it followed him all the way over here. So, he knows it has to either be you, JJ, or Penelope. However, someone could be leaving them for someone else, then that puts him back at square one. He likes getting these notes and feeling this way when he reads them, but he really wants to know who is writing them. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, so he can’t determine it by that. He could use a fingerprint kit to see who exactly is handling these notes, but that is a little extreme in this case. There’s something about being anonymous that gets his heart pumping because it could be literally anyone.

He wants to think more about it, but he has a case to work on. He pockets the note and heads into the conference room where the rest of the team is. There are a bunch of boards with notes and puzzles and evidence that he has to somehow go through and make sense of. You and JJ follow him into the room and get down to business.

Spencer is already at the white board with a marker in his hand while he tries to analyze the new word search, but your eyes are drawn to the way he is holding the marker. Is it weird to think that’s cute? Get it together, Y/N.

“Alright, let's focus on the differences in the crimes. What's he doing that's new?” Hotch asks the group.

“Well, his latest victim was hit in the head. That's new,” you point out.

“In the word puzzle, he said she didn't fight. So, why hit her? Scare her? Show her he's in charge?”

“Well, he never did that before, and a blow that hard wouldn't scare her but probably just knock her unconscious.”

“In order to control her?” Hotch asks.

“Why switch from ropes to flex-cuffs? The intricate knot was a part of his signature.”

“Flex-cuffs are easier. It probably saved him time.”

“No no no, there's more than that. The rope was meticulously tied, intimate, and completely unnecessary,” Gideon sighs.

“Plus, he abandoned the rope and the use of his bare hands which makes his kills less personal and less controlling,” Elle points out.

“Okay. Seriously, guys, let's just abandon all this. Let's just treat him like he's a new offender,” Derek suggests.

“He isn’t,” Gideon sighs.

“Guys, I have a name,” Spencer interrupts. “Nibrahs. That's a name? From what country?”

“That’s backwards, Spence. S. Harbin. There was a Scott Harbin particulate on Max’s original suspect list,” you say.

“It's not Scott Harbin. Harbin went to jail in 1988 for stabbing a guy while he was trying to escape during a home invasion. The guy later died. Harbin didn't even know there was anyone at home at the time he broke in,” Max shakes his head.

“How long did he get?” Derek wonders.

“Thirty years.”

“So, it makes him a little more than a half way done unless he's been paroled.”

“No. No, it's too easy. I interviewed Harbin, twice. He's a pervert. He's a small time burglar with a fetish for lingerie. I mean he's a creep, but he is not the Keystone Killer. Believe me. Our guy has not been in jail for all these years,” Max refuses to believe it.

“Alright, I'm going to call Garica. See what she can dig up on this guy,” Derek says.

“He’s not the guy!” Max screams and slams his fist against the table.

Everyone stares at him in complete shock, and he just scoffs as he leaves the room. You know he is frustrated, but he doesn’t have to take it out on everyone else.

“Jason, what are we doing here?” Hotch asks after a few moments in silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Is Max interested in catching the Keystone Killer, or just proving he’s right?” you ask for Hotch.

Gideon doesn’t say anything as he gets up and leaves to talk to Max, meanwhile, Derek is already on the phone with Penelope. He puts her on speakerphone so everyone can hear what she has to say.

“Scott Harbin was paroled three months ago.”

“Oh yeah? To Philly?” Derek asks.

“Yeah... looks like it. Hey, guess what. Bad boy missed his last appointment with his parole officer,” she chuckles.

“Well, that right there makes him a wanted man, doesn't it?”

“Uh-huh uh-huh, and I have an address on him.”

“You are amazing.”

“You have no idea,” she flirts back.

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[baddadjokez]

514 Dad Jokes

What do you call a fake noodle? An Impasta.​I would avoid the sushi if I was you. It’s a little fishy.​Want to hear a joke about paper? Nevermind it’s tearable.​Why did the cookie cry? Because his father was a wafer so long!​I used to work in a shoe recycling shop. It was sole destroying.​What do you call a belt with a watch on it? A waist of time.​How do you organize an outer space party? You planet.​I went to a seafood disco last week... and pulled a mussel.​Do you know where you can get chicken broth in bulk? The stock market.​I cut my finger chopping cheese, but I think that I may have greater problems.​My cat was just sick on the carpet, I don’t think it’s feline well.​Why did the octopus beat the shark in a fight? Because it was well armed.​How much does a hipster weigh? An instagram.​What did daddy spider say to baby spider? You spend too much time on the web.​Atheism is a non-prophet organisation.​There’s a new type of broom out, it’s sweeping the nation.​What cheese can never be yours? Nacho cheese.​What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school? Bison.​Have you ever heard of a music group called Cellophane? They mostly wrap.​Why does Superman gets invited to dinners? Because he is a Supperhero.​How was Rome split in two? With a pair of Ceasars.​The shovel was a ground breaking invention.​A scarecrow says, "This job isn't for everyone, but hay, it's in my jeans."​A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog stand and says, "Make me one with everything."​Did you hear about the guy who lost the left side of his body? He's alright now.​What do you call a girl with one leg that's shorter than the other? Ilene.​I did a theatrical performance on puns. It was a play on words.​What do you do with a dead chemist? You barium.​I bet the person who created the door knocker won a Nobel prize.​Towels can’t tell jokes. They have a dry sense of humor.​Two birds are sitting on a perch and one says "Do you smell fish?"​Do you know sign language? You should learn it, it’s pretty handy.​What do you call a beautiful pumpkin? GOURDgeous.​Why did one banana spy on the other? Because she was appealing.​What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.​What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef.​What do you call a cow with all of its legs? High steaks.​A cross eyed teacher couldn’t control his pupils.​After the accident, the juggler didn’t have the balls to do it.​I used to be afraid of hurdles, but I got over it.​To write with a broken pencil is pointless.​I read a book on anti-gravity. I couldn’t put it down.​I couldn’t remember how to throw a boomerang but it came back to me.​What should you do if you are cold? Stand in the corner. It’s 90 degrees.​How does Moses make coffee? Hebrews it.​The energizer bunny went to jail. He was charged with battery.​What did the alien say to the pitcher of water? Take me to your liter.​What happens when you eat too many spaghettiOs? You have a vowel movement.​The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray was a seasoned veteran.​Sausage puns are the wurst.​What do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear.​Why shouldn’t you trust atoms? They make up everything.​What’s it called when you have too many aliens? Extraterrestrials.​Want to hear a pizza joke? Nevermind, it’s too cheesy.​What do cows tell each other at bedtime? Dairy tales.​Why can’t you take inventory in Afghanistan? Because of the tally ban.​Why didn’t the lion win the race? Because he was racing a cheetah.​What happens to nitrogen when the sun comes up? It becomes daytrogen.​What’s it called when you put a cow in an elevator? Raising the steaks.​What’s america’s favorite soda? Mini soda.​Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing.​What kind of car does a sheep drive? Their SuBAHHru.​What do you call a french pig? Porque.​What do you call a line of rabbits marching backwards? A receding hairline.​Why don’t vampires go to barbecues? They don’t like steak.​How do trees access the internet? They log on.​Why should you never trust a train? They have loco motives.​Is your refrigerator running? Better go catch it.​The future,the present and the past walked into a bar.Things got a little tense.​I saw an ad for burial plots, and thought to myself this is the last thing I need.​I just found out I'm colorblind. The diagnosis came completely out of the purple.​I'd tell you a chemistry joke but I know I wouldn't get a reaction.​Have you ever tried to eat a clock? It's very time consuming.​I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.​Read enough of our funny puns, and you'll be punstoppable.​Yesterday a clown held the door for me. It was a nice jester.​I used to go fishing with Skrillex but he kept dropping the bass.​The wedding was so emotional even the cake was in tiers.​What does a house wear? A dress.​Why can't bicycles stand up on their own? Since they are 2 tired.​I owe a lot to the sidewalks. They’ve been keeping me off the streets for years.​Imagine if alarm clocks hit you back in the morning.It would be truly alarming.​Why is a skeleton a bad liar? You can see right through it.​What do you receive when you ask a lemon for help? Lemonaid.​A man sued an airline company after it lost his luggage. Sadly, he lost his case.​What does a dog say when he sits down on a piece of sandpaper? Ruff!​What do you call crystal clear urine? 1080pee.​At my boxing club there is only one punch bag. I hate waiting for the punch line!​An untalented gymast walks into a bar.​Einstein developed a theory about space, and it was about time too.​I was accused of being a plagiarist, their word not mine.​My friends say they don’t like skeleton puns. I should put more backbone into them.​Let me FILL you in on my trip to the dentist.​Why does the singer of Cheap Thrills not want us to Sia?​Traveling on a flying carpet is a rugged experience.​Cartoonist found dead in home. Details are sketchy.​The old woman who lived in a shoe wasn’t the sole owner,there were strings attached.​Did you hear about the crime in the parking garage? It was wrong on so many levels.​My new diet consists of aircraft, its a bit plane.​Have you ever tried to milk a cow which has been cut in half? Udder madness.​Why are there fences on graveyards? Because people are dying to get in.​Why do trees have so many friends? They branch out.​Models of dragons are not to scale.​Never discuss infinity with a mathematician, they can go on about it forever.​Why don’t some couples go to the gym? Because some relationships don’t work out.​Don’t trust people that do acupuncture, they’re back stabbers.​A persistent banker wouldn’t stop hitting on me so I asked him to leave me a loan.​I ordered a book of puns last week, but i didn't get it.​People say i look better without glasses but i just can't see it.​Don’t judge a meal by the look of the first course. It’s very souperficial.​I heard Donald Trump is going to ban shredded cheese, and make America grate again.​I relish the fact that you’ve mustard the strength to ketchup to me.​What do you call a young musician? A minor.​Police were called to a daycare yesterday, where a 2-year-old was resisting a rest.​If artists wear sketchers do linguists wear converse?​I changed my iPod name to Titanic. It’s syncing now.​Jill broke her finger today, but on the other hand she was completely fine.​I smeared some ketchup all over my eyes once. It was a bad idea in Heinz- sight.​I flipped a coin over an issue the other day, it was quite the toss-up.​I got hit in the head with a can of soda? Luckily it was a soft drink.​I heard that the post office was a male dominated industry.​Why isn’t suntanning an Olympic sport? Because the best you can ever get is bronze.​What do you mean June is over? Julying.​Why is Kylo Ren so angry? Beause he’s always Ben Solo.​These reversing cameras are great. Since I got one I haven’t looked back.​The candle quit his job because he felt burned out.​Our maintenance guy lost his legs on the job, now he’s just a handyman.​Going to bed with music on gave him sound sleep.​A magic tractor drove down the road and turned into a field!​I met some aliens from outer space. They were pretty down to earth.​The plane flight brought my acrophobia to new heights.​My phone has to wear glasses ever since it lost its contacts.​I, for one, like Roman numerals.​How do mountains see? They peak.​The show was called Spongebob Squarepants but everyone knows the star was Patrick.​This is not alcohol, water you thinking?!​Novice pirates make terrible singers because they can’t hit the high seas.​I told my friend she drew her eyebrows too high. She seemed surprised.​The earth's rotation really makes my day.​If I buy a bigger bed will I have more or less bedroom?​Two peanuts were walking in a tough neighborhood and one of them was a-salted.​Two ropes were walking in a tough neighborhood and one of them was a-frayed.​What kind of shoes do ninjas wear? Sneakers.​I got a master’s degree in being ignored; no one seems to care.​After eating the ship, the sea monster said, I can’t believe I ate the hull thing.​Smaller babies may be delivered by stork but the heavier ones need a crane.​A bartender broke up with her boyfriend, but he kept asking her for another shot.​I had a pun about insanity but then I lost it.​He couldn’t work out how to fix the washing machine so he threw in the towel.​Why does the man want to buy nine rackets? Cause tennis too many.​Why don’t cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny.​If I got paid in lots of Pennes I would make loads of pasta.​I thought I saw a spider on my laptop, but my friend said it was just a bug.​A doctor broke his leg while auditioning for a play.Luckily he still made the cast.​The tale of the haunted refrigerator was chilling.​Why are frogs so happy? They eat whatever bugs them.​If you wear cowboy clothes are you ranch dressing?​I was addicted to the hokey pokey but I turned myself around.​Simba, you're falling behind. I must ask you to Mufasa.​I bought a wooden whistle but it wooden whistle.​The bomb didn't want to go off. So it refused.​The sore mummy needed a Cairo-practor​I feel sorry for shopping carts. They’re always getting pushed around.​The display of still-life art was not at all moving!​On Halloween October is nearly Octover.​Pig puns are so boaring.​Why couldn’t the dead car drive into the cluttered garage? Lack of vroom.​What do you call Samsung's security guards? Guardians of the Galaxy.​What does Superman have in his drink? Just ice.​How does a penguin build it’s house? Igloos it together.​Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.​The safe was invented by a cop and a robber. It was quite a combination.​What do you do when balloons are hurt? You helium.​One hat says to the other, "You stay here, I’ll go on a head."​How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh? Ten tickles.​When does a farmer dance? When he drops the beet.​When the scientist wanted to clone a deer, he bought a doe it yourself kit.​If people ask how many puns I made in Germany I reply, "nein"​Did you hear about the invention of the white board? It was remarkable.​If Donald Trump becomes president, America is going toupee.​Can February March? No, but April May.​I hate Russian Dolls, they are so full of themselves.​What do you do to an open wardrobe? You closet.​The magazine about ceiling fans went out of business due to low circulation.​So what if I don’t know what apocalypse means? It’s not the end of the world!​Some aquatic mammals at the zoo escaped. It was otter chaos.​A backwards poem writes inverse.​Getting the ability to fly would be so uplifting.​I asked my friend, Nick, if he had 5 cents I could borrow. But he was Nicholas.​The soundtrack for Blackfish was orcastrated.​Where do you imprison a skeleton? In a rib cage.​There’s a fine line between the numerator and the denominator.​I used to work at a hairdresser but i just wasn’t cut out for it.​Why is metal and a microwave a match made in heaven? When they met, sparks flew.​The lumberjack loved his new computer. He especially enjoyed logging in.​Garbage collectors are rubbish drivers!​When the church relocated it had an organ transplant.​Lettuce take a moment to appreciate this salad pun.​The scarecrow get promoted because he was outstanding in his field.​Sleeping comes so naturally to me, I could do it with my eyes closed.​I never understood odorless chemicals, they never make scents.​What do prisoners use to call each other? Cell phones.​Why was dumbo sad? He felt irrelephant.​When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.​Old skiers never die. They just go down hill.​Did you hear about the pun that was actually funny? Neither have we.​You know why I like egg puns? They crack me up!​Want to hear a pun about ghosts? That's the spirit!​I used to make clown shoes… which was no small feat.​Did you hear about the human cannonball? Too bad he got fired!​What happened when the magician got mad? She pulled her hare out!​Did you hear about the circus that caught on fire? It was in tents.​The one day of the week that eggs are definitely afraid of is Fry-day.​A hen will always leave her house through the proper eggs-it.​The man who ate too many eggs was considered to be an egg-oholic.​All the hens consider the chef to be very mean because he beats the eggs.​Eskimos keep all of their chilled eggs inside of the egg-loo.​Under the doctor’s advice, the hen is laying off eggs for a few weeks.​I had a real problem making a hard-boiled egg this morning until I cracked it.​The best time of day to eat eggs is at the crack of dawn.​The chicken coop only had 2 doors since if it had 4 doors it would be a sedan.​Crossing a cement mixer and a chicken will result in you getting a brick layer.​That reckless little egg always seems to egg-celerate when he sees the light turn yellow.​Hopefully this egg pun doesn't make your brain too fried or scrambled.​Don't ever have multiple people wash dishes together. It's hard for them to stay in sink.​People using umbrellas always seem to be under the weather.​I dissected an iris today. It was an eye-opening experience.​What was Forrest Gump’s email password? 1forrest1.​What planet is like a circus? Saturn, it has three rings!​Before my father died he worked in a circus as a stilt walker. I used to look up to him.​Why did the lion eat the tightrope walker? He wanted a well-balanced meal!​I really look up to my tall friends.​I hate negative numbers and will stop at nothing to avoid them.​Long fairy tales have a tendency to dragon.​It takes guts to make a sausage.​Why shouldn’t you give Elsa a balloon? Because she’ll “Let It Go”!​What do you call cheese that’s not yours? Nacho cheese!​How do you make a tissue dance? Put a little boogie in it​What do you get when a witch goes to the beach? A sand-witch!​Where do cows go on Friday nights? To the mooooo-vies!​What did the mommy tomato say to the baby tomato? C’mon, ketchup!​Why did the banana go to the doctor? Because he wasn’t “peeling” well!​What did one snowman say to the other? Do you smell carrots?​Why didn’t the skeleton go to the dance? Because he had no body to go with!​What is a pirate’s favorite letter? Arrrrrr!​What does a piece of toast wear to bed? His pa-JAM-as!​What does one eye say to the other eye? Something between us smells​Why did the chicken cross the playground? To get to the other slide!​What happens when an egg laughs? It cracks up!​What do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear!​Why didn’t the teddy bear want dessert? Because he was stuffed!​Why can’t you tell a joke while ice skating? Because the ice might crack up!​What do you call a pig that knows karate? A pork chop!​What’s mommy and daddy’s favorite ride at the carnival? A married-go-round!​How did Cookie Monster feel after eating all the cookies? Pretty crummy!​What do you call a skunk who flies in a helicopter? A smelly-copter!​What do you get when you shake a cow? A milkshake!​How do you catch a squirrel? Climb up a tree and act like a nut!​Why did the bee get married? Because she found her honey!​What did the ocean say to their airplane? Nothing, it just waved!​Where do eskimo pigs live? In pig-loos.​What’s a dinosaur called when it’s sleeping? A dino-snore!​What did the cookie say to the annoying cookie? Crumb on!​Why did Mickey Mouse go up in space? To find Pluto!​What does Olaf eat for lunch? Icebergers!​What letter is always wet? The C!​How do you throw a space party? You planet.​How was Rome split in two? With a pair of Ceasars.​Nope. Unintended.​The shovel was a ground breaking invention, but everyone was blow away by the leaf blower.​A scarecrow says, "This job isn't for everyone, but hay, it's in my jeans."​A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog stand and says "Make me one with everything."​Did you hear about the guy who lost the left side of his body? He's alright now.​What do you call a girl with one leg that's shorter than the other? Ilene.​The broom swept the nation away.​I did a theatrical performance on puns. It was a play on words.​What does a clock do when it's hungry? It goes back for seconds.​What do you do with a dead chemist? You barium.​I bet the person who created the door knocker won a Nobel prize.​Towels can’t tell jokes. They have a dry sense of humor.​Two birds are sitting on a perch and one says “Do you smell fish?”​Did you hear about the cheese factory that exploded in france? There was nothing but des brie.​Do you know sign language? You should learn it, it’s pretty handy.​What do you call a beautiful pumpkin? GOURDgeous.​Why did one banana spy on the other? Because she was appealing.​What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.​What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef.​What do you call a cow with all of its legs? High steaks.​A cross eyed teacher couldn’t control his pupils.​After the accident, the juggler didn’t have the balls to do it.​I used to be afraid of hurdles, but I got over it.​To write with a broken pencil is pointless.​I read a book on anti-gravity. I couldn’t put it down.​I couldn’t remember how to throw a boomerang but it came back to me.​What did the buffalo say to his son? Bison.​What should you do if you’re cold? Stand in the corner. It’s 90 degrees.​How does Moses make coffee? Hebrews it.​The energizer bunny went to jail. He was charged with battery.​What did the alien say to the pitcher of water? Take me to your liter.​What happens when you eat too many spaghettiOs? You have a vowel movement.​The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray was a seasoned veteran.​Sausage puns are the wurst.​What do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear.​How did Darth Vader know what luke was getting him for his birthday? He could sense his presence.​Why shouldn’t you trust atoms? They make up everything.​What’s the difference between a bench, a fish, and a bucket of glue? You can’t tune a bench but you can tuna fish. I bet you got stuck on the bucket of glue part.​What’s it called when you have too many aliens? Extraterrestrials.​Want to hear a pizza joke? Nevermind, it’s too cheesy.​What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.​What do cows tell each other at bedtime? Dairy tales.​Why can’t you take inventory in Afghanistan? Because of the tally ban.​Why didn’t the lion win the race? Because he was racing a cheetah.​Why did the man dig a hole in his neighbor’s backyard and fill it with water? Because he meant well.​What happens to nitrogen when the sun comes up? It becomes daytrogen.​What’s it called when you put a cow in an elevator? Raising the steaks.​What’s america’s favorite soda? Mini soda.​Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing.​What kind of car does a sheep drive? A lamborghini, but if that breaks down they drive their SuBAHHru.

[blissfulparker]

Not another trick→p.p.

Parings: peter Parker x Stark!reader

Warnings: ⚠️FFH SPOILERS⚠️, angst, fluff at the end

Summary: when peter calls and ask you and Happy to come pick him up. You don’t know how broken he is until he breaks down hoping for you to save him

A/n: so an anon sent in this concept and it was super cute that I got their permission to write it into a fic so thank you anon for your permission. Also this has been tagged as ffh spoilers and under the keep reading are spoilers! I gave you all the warnings so you can’t get upset!

After one distress call from one distraught peter in god knows where Europe, you fly over with happy to save him. He was supposed to be in Rome, maybe Italy, you had no idea since the last time he called was on the plane saying how it’d charge him for the minutes he used to talk. You told him it was okay, to enjoy his vacation while you fix up your still broken family after your father had passed.

He was scared, hurt, confused, upset, you understood how scared he was and you wanted to help him, he was your boyfriend after all.

“Uhh, are you sure this is it?” You look at Happy seeing how you’re landing in a tulip field in a small town.

“This is the where he said and I traced the call and it’s here.” Happy shrugged as he landed in the field.

You are quick to hop out of your seat and look for peter but he’s standing in front of the plane. His hair a mess, face cut up, he’s limping, looks cold, as if he was on the verge of dying. A look you never had seen on peter before.

“Tell me something only you and I would know!” He shouted with his hands out and you give a confused look.

“What?” You call out and he backs up when you try and come closer.

“I said, tell me something only you and I would know!” He was serious. Happy gave you a look telling you that you need to say something, do something to get him on the plane and some help.

“Uhh...once we were making out in my room and my dad walked in and instead of hiding you in my closet I threw you on the ceiling—” before you could finish the story he sighs and runs over to you pulling you into him tightly.

He was cold, loosing blood is what you thought. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and getting beaten up. You felt horrible, like you should’ve known sooner.

“Tell me something else.” He mumbled into your shoulder. He didn’t need reassurance anymore, he just wanted to listen to you talk. He missed the sound of your voice so much.

“You sold your Star Wars toys to take me on our first date, we saw a scary movie and my dad had Bucky Barnes come spy on us.” You laugh and so does he remembering the first date, the two of you saw the movie IT and your dad sent the super solider to come spy on you two. The date didn’t end well although you did sneak peter a kiss.

And he did, he sold most of his Star Wars toys to get the tickets and snacks. He wanted to impress you the most. Although at the time you didn’t care about a movie or snacks, peter was the first boy to muster up courage to ask you on a date. That impressed you the most.

“What happened to my boy?” You look at his broken face and he sighs. He looks over at Happy who gives him a sorry look.

“Everything.” He whimpered letting a couple of hot tears fall and you look over to Happy and the two of you are quick get peter back up into the plane.

Once he got seated and you got him some water and fruit from the back to make sure he gets fluids and food in his system. Happy got busy with working on the gash on Peter’s back, the huge gash needed attention but peter needed you.

“Why aren’t you in Paris? Or London? Or wherever you were supposed to be?” You ask holding his cold, beaten up hands. He cringed at the feeling but then relaxed knowing you were trying to help.

“Mysterio? Have you heard of him yet? The guy who’s been saving the earth?” Peter said the last part as a joke. You could tell he was mad at something, more sounded mad at himself.

“Yes, I know of him.” You encourage him to speak.

“He’s a liar, everything that’s been happening is a fraud. He faked the weather things, he faked being a superhero, everything was a lie—ouch!” Peter cried as happy stitched up his back. “I gave him the only thing Mr. Stark gave to me.” He said the last part quietly with tears running down his face.

“Peter, we’ll get everything under control I promise. I understand—” you start and he scoffs and shakes his head.

“Happy! Please!” He snaps a bit and then looks at you. “That’s the thing, (y/n), you don’t understand! I wanted to have a peaceful summer and hang out with my friends in Europe and not have to deal with any superhero stuff! But I did! And where does that get me? In a stupid town I cant even pronounce with god knows how many miles away from my class and I got here by getting hit by a freaking train! It’s easy for you to be relaxed about this because you get the ‘my dad just died I can’t be a superhero right now’ card!” He snapped, his face beet red and his eyes spilling tears. Too many tears he can barely see. you look at Happy shocked, shocked that this is what peters been boiling up inside of him.

You were upset too, still grieving over your dead father who died from saving the world. But understood, no one expected anything from the starks right now. In fact, no one expected anything from any sort of avenger right now.

You more understood peter. Everyone turned to him after almost all of the avengers shut down. Nat was gone, Tony was gone, Steve is old, hulk doesn’t fight anymore, Clint went home to his family, Wanda is taking the break she deserves, Bucky and Sam we’re doing their own thing, gaurdins were off world just like Carol. No one was here expect Spider-Man. Spider-Man was the worlds last hope in case anything happened.

“You don’t understand, I—i—can’t be what everyone wants me to be. And I miss him okay? I messed up and he wanted me to be the new him and I-I can’t do that.” Peter let’s the last of it out and you joined him on the couch.

“He didn’t want that, do you really think my dad wanted to put all the pressure and stress of being him on a 16 year old kid? No. He knew you were the only person with a pure enough heart to take over, and he knows it’s going to take time.” You let your hand find his. He takes it and squeezes it to remember you’re real and not another trick.

You let him just hold your hand. You’re lost for words since you’ve never seen anything like this. Yes, there was Dr. Strange but he didn’t do stuff like this. This man was much worse and was fooling the whole world. No one knew If he had more people helping him or what his intentions, he was brand new and dangerous.

“Tell me one more thing so I know you’re real?” He mumbled and you pull his head to rest on his shoulder.

“My mothers greatest failures in life was to get my dad to take a break. When he did he saved the world but it costed him his life. Nothing has to cost you your life, you can rest, the world doesn’t need you all the time.” It was true, he knew that all tony did was work and never slept. You always complained about it and now you’re at peace knowing he doesn’t have the world to carry on his back. But peter doesn’t have the world to carry on his back either.

“Also, you’re allergic to short haired dogs and cats and not long haired ones. Because when Morgan brought home a short haired dog you couldn’t stop sneezing and I had to take you to the doctor.” You tell him and he smiles truly knowing it’s you.

“I missed you.” He cries into your shoulder and you pet his messy brown curls. You give him a kiss on the top of his head to let him know you’re here for him.

“I missed you too.” You tell him and look over at happy asking for him to give you a few seconds alone.

“Now look at me,” You wait until Happy is gone to talk. “I don’t really know what to say to someone who just got manipulated so badly the walked in front of a train and got hit by it. But I do know one thing, you’re not the next iron man, you’re not the worlds next leading avenger, you’re not the next anything! You’re just a kid from midtown who collects Star Wars LEGO toys and lives with his aunt. That’s it. That’s who you are. So stop listening to what people are telling you.” You tell him and he stops for just a second to hear the sound of your beating heart, when he was stressed you would let him lay on your chest and listen to the sound of your heart. With being bitten by the spider it had enhanced his hearing and he loved to hear the thumps your heart made.

“Please...please never leave me.” His voice breaks and he let’s a few tears fall onto your shirt and you hold him tighter. Your heart hurt at hearing the sound of peter break.

“I would never leave you.” You whisper letting a few tears fall yourself knowing how all the stress affected him, it affected you as well.

“Now,” You sniffle and wipe your tears before peter can see. “Go Get a suit, kill Mysterio, and send me a postcard from France.” You hold his face and let your thumb graze his dirty cheeks. He press his lips into a thin line and smiled.

You don’t hesitate to kiss your boyfriends lips that you missed ever since he left. He winced a bit in the kiss as his lip was still cut and his whole body still ached. But he relaxed, something he hasn’t felt in ages. You made him feel relaxed and he couldn’t wait until he got home and just fell into your embrace and do nothing.

“I love you.” He whispered loud enough for only you to hear. You smile and kiss the part of his cheek that wasn’t cut up.

“I know.” You nod and let him go.

He takes a deep breath. Knowing everything he’s going to take on he’s going to need it. He reminds himself that everything will be okay in the end, because in the end he has You.

[skiesdweller]

It's not about glamour it’s about guts.

1 | Solo | Form my childhood I was attracted to aeroplanes of all kinds, largely due to family. My Grandfather was US Navy Pilot shot down over Vietnam.

My father was an Aviator with USAF and has flown B-52 Stratofortress and presently a successful airlines company CEO and Chairman. Now it was my turn. They say Fighter Pilots are not born, they are built and this is place where they make them Naval Air Station Kingsville

The Advanced flight training starts with a 900 page manual of F/A 18 he first Fighter Jet I will qualify on. Here we have already done our Introductory flight screening (IFS)

and Primary flight training. It also includes Centrifuge tests which simulates the conditions of stress and gravity inside fighter aircraft. The tighter the turn, harder the gravity pushes on him,  which in technically called pulling Gs. And fighter jets do it more brutally than any machine on earth At 2G a 200 pound man can easily feel twice his weight. Take it upto 5g and the flight suit feels like 1000 pounds of lead. Once you start pulling Gs its like bench pressing your chest, everything is pulling down and its very hard to breathe. Under G load blood drains from the head and pools in the legs leading to tunnel vision or verse G lock i.e G induced loss of consciousness. Survival depends on mastering the Anti G Straining Manoeuvre, the trick is - tense the leg and stomach muscle so as to prevent the blood from hitting south.  And to breathe in short quick burst. Abs tight, but tight and lift yourself from the seat. The G suite that I was introduced too basically had bladders in thigh muscle and abdomen which inflate under G forces at varying pressure to squish your lower extremities to keep the blood in your head. But for centrifuge test, the suit will not inflate, I need to prove that I can sustain high G forces completely on my own. I had to complete a series of tests culminating in 8Gs for 15 long seconds. My turn I witnessed the heavy pressure and pull, it was difficult to breathe but I heard be “aggressive.. be aggressive” clearly and altered my pace likewise. When I finished it I was already a little white but I passed it. Good Stuff, the instructor commented. Two veteran pilots lost the test. One at 8 seconds and the most experience at 14 seconds. So being a pilot is no guarantee you will qualify. So Mike lost by just one second, its harsh but it would be fatal in F/A 18  rushing towards ground at hundreds of miles an hour. It took Mike 3 seconds to recover but that threes seconds is the time a fighter pilot does not have, especially if he supersonic. It could mean entering in enemy territory, getting shot by sam for failure to evade, or crashing. None of which is acceptable. Mike will have another shot at this test. I was in for my next challenge. The Seat from hell. The Fighter pilot’s ticket to survival. In a F/A 18  it is Martin-Baker Mk.14 NACES (Naval Aircrew Ejection Seat ). These seats are fitted in 200 fixed-wing and rotary types with the most recent being the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II programme.

A pilot is snared in belts and buckles, four straps for the leg another six for the torso, pin a pilot to the seat during violent manoeuvres. They also prevent him from being torn apart if he has to eject. The Ejection seat may be a pilot’s lifeline but it will be most violent and terrifying rescue imaginable. Pilot and seat literally explode out of airplane, when they are clear, another charge blows the seat belts and deploys the parachute. It all happens in just two seconds. One of my greatest fears was having to parachute in open waters and its is critical to know exactly what to do in first few seconds after hitting the war. So as test I had get free from the harness after been thrown into Olympic pool before I get to pulled to the pool. Then get out from under the canopy before it pulls me under. 

It was easy in the pool but imagine it in freezing Atlantic water. At this point everything I do is making life and death decisions automatic. After learning to survive and passing this phase and before spending time in a real cockpit of F/A 18 I will have to spend hours in simulator. Instructors throwing emergency after emergency, while I struggle to keep up, but eventually these procedures will be seared into my brain. While others went for Lunch one day I made a beeline for an open cockpit. I was going to save sitting in fighter aircraft for my first flight but there was too much to know. At the top of my list were critical emergencies that require a pilot to react instantly, the so called RED PAGES. In a machine as complex as F/A 18,  failures are inevitable. Red Pages emergencies are inherently fatal. Things like Engine Fire that will cripple the jet; A fuel leak, Landing gear failure or a cockpit that suddenly fills with smoke, blinding the Pilot. Better to know where the switch is, if a lot has to think before acting in these situations, he will be hole in ground before he remembers the answer because if you are in supersonic fighter the question is not if the trouble will find you but when. In a life of fighter pilot there are no secrets, even if there is, there is always a witness. Every time a fighter aircraft leaves the ground the mission is tapped. The Heads up Display or HUD shows the pilot things like Speed, Altitude and G Forces. Everything a pilot sees is recorded and everything he says. Also my ride I discovered I had a companion, a computer one, and soon discovered that fighter pilots call it bitching Betty. More common are the troubles that a pilot runs into when he pushes the jet too far. The same traits that make fighter jets agile and manoeuvrable also make them extremely twitchy   When they are driven to the limit. Once the plane looses control it will not be safe to control it until it reaches certain speed in situation where the plane does not reach that speed, all a pilot can do is take hands off the controls and wait, it’s ultimate faith and belief in a machine. The instructor talking about his experience when he recovered 2000 ft above ground and 3 seconds from oblivion. His HUD was a case study. This is the stuff we live for. Living life on the edge. Anyone can shoot bullets, but only few can call themfselves fighter pilots. The first test was pushing all of us Aviators to the limit. Last minute brushing up of details, sleep deprivation, stress. Unlike other exams in this exam the pass mark is 100%. For instructors demanding perfection is not unreasonable, it’s personal. After having cleared the test and surfing three weeks, it was time for some celebrations No G suites today, instead, I was siting up for our official welcoming party. Being a fighter pilot isn’t a job, It’s Life Walking through Air Worthiness check of F/A 18, every Pilot must know by heart. There are 155 checks before one even climbs into cockpit. When you sign on to fly jets it means a life time of sacrifice. Suiting up for F/A 18, is like gearing up for super bowl, it makes everything else you have flown seem like training wheels. And it was about to happen the first flight in Fighter Aircraft, but first I had to prove I have memorised the external safety checks, all 155 of them. Covering Everything from mechanical to animal. Then there are another 194 cockpit checks. As I climbed up the cockpit ladder, I was feeling a soft breeze behind my neck, a feeling of something important about to happen, a feeling one cannot imagine.After 194 checks, I had to 76 more checks before I even started the engine. And starting the engines involves 45 more, I felt I could get old waiting around for this. An Experienced Fighter pilot can knock off the whole work in under 5 minutes. Student Naval Aviators like me usually take three quarters of an hour. I took 38 minutes on my first and It was situation where I could not afford to make a mistake. My instructor in back seat is watching like a hawk. And Upfront the Heads Up Display (HUD) tape is recording every move I make and everything I say. “ All Set, 222 Taking Off my” first ever Fighter Callsign on a Fighter Aircraft. “Show me your Stuff man” The Air Controller replied to my information.”  Pressing the throttle forward, this was the moment I have been waiting all my life. As the afterburners lit the tarmac up. “Nozzles Good , 100 Knots and takeoff”

“Good Job” The instructor sitting behind me said as the wheels left the tarmac. “All’s Up regain 220” Right away I was expected to master the basics. “I will try a roll” And I did.. Yeehaa..I could not control my excitement. “I’m gonna do one more.” My instructor just laughed. Rolls, Climbs, Stall Even though I was getting the most thrilling experience of my life, instructors were looking for discipline and level headed guy which is required in combat and it was just business for us. But at this stage, flying is an easy part, for an inexperienced pilot bringing an F/A 18 back to earth is the most dangerous and difficult part of the flight. For  44 years F/A 18 has proven its ability in combat theatres around the world. And it is dual engine plane, only experienced pilots gets to touch them and qualified ones get to fly them. It is whole lot different than F-16, but in hands a SNA  ( Naval Aviator) on windy day it can also be treacherous. On the HUD on the left was the E bracket which tells the pilot, plane’s angle on landing, how high the nose is, E bracket helps insure a smooth landing.  I landed a little harder than my instructor would have liked but I got it done without drama, and completed it successfully. After very flight there is a debriefing. This course is marathon and we athletes/ pilots have just begun our race. There are never enough serviceable jets and never enough time. One of the exercise I did was practise engine restart, the drill is straightforward, shutdown one engine, accelerate to 350 knots and relight it, at that speed air is driving the compressor like a windmill, so when the engine is reignited the turbines are moving fast enough to blow the heated air out of exhaust. If You fly too slow in this exercise, the hot air blast will be trapped and engine will overheat. Two cadets made a mistake, Mike was flying too slow so he had to do emergency landing with only one engine. The engine was unhinged and taken to sick bay for inspection, luckily for Mark, it did not suffer any damage. For Tim his missioned was cancelled as he dropped his ball pen into cockpit. That 10 pence plastic could jeopardise the entire flight safety, so the plane was rotunded till the pen was found. That means somebody else does not get to fly, due to Tim’s mistake. So around here we have rule, one pilot’s mistake is everyone’s lesson. Time for Solo flight, for pilots, they count their flying hours, for me this was hour one, minute one for a solo flight. “Alright Nose and Wheel Sten is up. I’m good to go” “Cleared to Take Off” Came the reply. That was what we had all prepared for Solo Sortie “EGT, Fuel Flow Nozzle, oil is good, Going to burner, Here we go Lift off” And I was wheels up in the climb “Gear flags up, 220” “Eat your heart out..this is fucking awesome”..I commented up in air. It was my first solo flight, at 20000 Feet. If anything goes wrong help I long far away.The Mission went smoothly I did all the patterns I had to complete and pulled in a little extra and landed safely. Right before Thunderstorms filled the sky. Flight Tradition Dictates that the a Pilot goes solo, he earns himself a callsign - a nickname that symbolises his identity. Squadron tradition demands a well stocked bar and well used gun barrel from nose of a jet. Getting a call sign is like Christening there it was “Hammer” and I had no say in it, and it was decided by mob rule by Instructors. Only in movies you get cool callusing like “Maverick” and “Iceman” here In this batch I was lucky.  

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 39

Yoongi comforts you, and you sit down for the interview.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

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“I have to go,” you mumble, shivering. From thousands of miles away, you hear the clattering of your phone to the floor. You feel cold, so, so, so cold. Sure, you haven’t heard from her today, but on Friday, yesterday– she picked you up from work. How could so much have gone wrong in such a short time? You have to go… but where?

“Y/n.”

And Lisa, the one friend who’s been with you through it all, who forgave you so easily for every single lie and secret; the best friend since forever, who got you all your acting jobs, protected you, helped you during that icy near-death night–

“Y/n, open your eyes.” She seems to know you better than you know yourself, always able to read your mind, that Lisa, your Lisa, your best friend…

“Y/n.” You feel a strong hand grasp your chin and you gasp, eyes flying open. You don’t remember closing them, and now you find yourself face-to-face with Yoongi and his eternally deep brown eyes. You’re so used to seeing Yoongi’s expression clouded by amusement that the worry now evident in his gaze seems out of place. Ever so slightly, he tilts your head up just a little, until all you see is him. “It’ll be okay.”

Tears fill your eyes and quickly spill over. Yoongi’s your friend too– what if he goes missing as well? “She’s gone. Fuck, she’s gone. She’s gone, and– what if it’s my fault?” You move away from him, burying your face in your hands, allowing the fear to overwhelm you. You’re crying, scared, cold, alone. And Lisa… “She’s gone!”

“Shh…” Yoongi leans forward and wraps his arms around you. He’s warm, and it takes you a moment to realize you’ve stopped shivering. “It’s no one’s fault. Did you hear me, y/n? Lisa’s an adult. We don’t know what happened yet. The police are taking care of it, you heard that detective. Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try to draw in a shaky breath, but it proves too much for you: short, shallow gasps are all you can manage as you feel the tears continue to roll freely down your cheeks. “I can’t– I can’t. Yoongi, if she’s hurt, if she’s worse–”

Yoongi flinches, as though you’ve struck a nerve. “Believe me, I know how you feel… not knowing if someone is okay. Blaming yourself. Scared that you’ve lost her, scared that you can’t help.” As he continues to speak, your hear his voice changing into something softer, more raw. “Scared you’ll never see her again.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes. The last time you saw Yoongi so sorrowful was… well, that night.

Yoongi shakes himself out of his stupor. “I mean… she’ll be fine. Just tell the police what you know, stay in the loop. There’s nothing else you can do.”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.” You rub your eyes furiously, willing the tears to stop. Breaking down now won’t help Lisa. You’ll take the morning off from filming Moon Over the Sea tomorrow for your interview with Detective Kang– she can’t really be missing, you saw her yesterday. What on earth could have happened?

She’s gone. Could it have been your fault? No, no, listen to Yoongi. It’s no one’s fault. But… did she run away? Was she kidnapped? How will you sleep knowing she could be in danger?

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” even to your own ears, your voice sounds small. You don’t know the last time you felt such dread– and you don’t want to be alone. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Yoongi rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “Of course. You want me to set up the extra bed in Jungkook’s room?”

“No, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Yoongi’s unwavering voice is so reassuring, and while you’re still stressed about Lisa, it’s nice to know you have another ally at your side. 

“Whatever you want. The guys should be back soon anyways– we’ll all be together, just like old times.”

Just like old times… the first time you slept over here was the night after Xiumin cheated on you. You went so hard on the vodka that you barely remember the evening at all, which is probably a good thing. Your memories flicker to the dream you had that night– it was so vivid that even after all this time, you remember that perfectly. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything.” You yawn, your eyes stinging with the memory of your tears. Lisa… 

“You don’t need to thank me, dork,” Yoongi ruffles your hair, pressing his lips together in a half-smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Mm.” You yawn again. “I once had a dream that I kissed you.”

Yoongi freezes. “Uh, what?”

“What?” Wait, did you– did you really just– fuck. “L-Like in Moon Over The Sea!” You squeak, fumbling for your phone. Why did you say that? “I had this weird dream about our characters, and uh… the other members and Lisa were in it.” You feel a pang at the thought of your friend. All that should matter now is Lisa. So why’d you have to embarrass Yoongi?

Dammit, y/n, you can’t fuck up this friendship too. “It was crazy, um, I could fly, and you turned green, and–”

“Y/n.”

You gulp, too nervous to meet your friend’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“You made up the rest of that, didn’t you? it’s okay. It was just a dream.” Yoongi chuckles a little. “Plus, it makes sense– you used to be a fan. You don’t have to worry, and–” he tweaks your nose. “Even though I know your damned instinct is to lie, I’m glad you told me.”

“Why?”

Yoongi shrugs. “More material to tease you with.”

“Hey!” You punch him playfully, feeling some tension ease from your shoulders. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep tonight after all. 

Yoongi seems to sense the same, standing up and stretching. “Get some rest. I’ll text the guys that you’re staying over. Want me to come with you to the police station tomorrow?”

“No, you still need to be onset for filming, and I–” your breath catches in your throat. “I have to do this alone.”

Yoongi snickers. “Drama queen.”

You laugh weakly, grateful for his efforts to distract you. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Sleep well, y/n. I’d say dream of me, but…” Yoongi winks. “I guess you’ve got that one down.”

~~~

You spend the night tossing about restlessly, catching only hours of sleep at a time, your mind a foggy mix between reality and dreams– and at some points you can’t tell which is which.

~

Taehyung and Jimin walk in. “Is she sleeping?”

“I think so.”

~

Yoongi is pressing you up against a wall, his mouth an inch from yours, one hand on your waist and the other on the wall. “What do you want, y/n?”

~

Lisa pokes you in the cheek. “When are you going to come find me? This is all your fault, you know.”

~

You’re falling, falling eternally, the darkness beneath you echoing the sounds of notifications, the sounds of hatred. “Worthless…” 

“Talentless…”

“Social-climbing slut…”

“Kill yourself…”

~

“Hey, do you think this would explode if I microwaved it?”

“Dude, no! She’s still asleep!”

~

All seven members sit at a long desk, and you stand in front of them nervously. 

One by one, each extends a hand and shows a thumbs-down. Last to go is Yoongi, who sighs. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.” And he, too, flashes you a thumbs down.

~

“Do you think she’d like some eggs?”

“I dunno, man, I think she’s crying.”

“So… yes to the eggs?”

~

“Come find me…”

~

“Gah!” You shoot into an upright position, your heart beating dangerously fast.

“Y/n!” Seokjin says brightly from the kitchen. “You’re awake! Want some eggs?”

“I, um…” you sniff, wiping your eyes. Have you been crying? “I’ll get something on the way. I have to go.”

“Do you need to borrow some clothes? I think either Yoongi or Jimin-ssi’s shirts will fit you– I’ll go grab you one, okay?”

You nod gratefully at the eldest member as he pads down the hall. You’re going to be interviewed by Detective Kang today– and you don’t know what to expect. But surely if you tell him you saw Lisa just two days ago, he’ll understand that this must be some sort of misunderstanding, right?

You’re quick to arrive at the police station– hair brushed, eyes dry, shirt smelling faintly of Yoongi. You forgot to eat anything, but how can you be hungry when Lisa needs your help

“I’m here to meet with Detective Kang?” You ask the man at the front desk, who points you towards an office door labeled MISSING PERSONS UNIT.

You knock cautiously, and the door swings open to reveal a burly man who would seem intimidating, if not for his warm smile. “L/n y/n? Come on in.” You enter, settling into the chair across the desk.

“Let’s get right down to it,” Detective Kang says. “This conversation is confidential to the public– you may not disclose details of this case. If I feel your testimony may be relevant to the inquiry, I’ll record it. Finally, you may have a lawyer present if you wish, and you are not legally required to be here– you may leave at any time.”

You nod. “I understand.”

“Alright. Two weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s mother reported her missing. The Seoul Arts administration also attempted to report her disappearance by calling her emergency contact– but, Ms. L/n, Lalisa Manoban’s emergency contact was listed as you.”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“And we found this information had been changed recently, within the last two months. Do you have any idea why this might be?”

“N-no.” You shake your head. “Her parents should have been her contacts. They have a good relationship– she didn’t even tell me she made me her emergency contact.”

“Have you been contacted by the Seoul Arts administration?”

You look down guiltily. You muted calls from admin a while ago, since they were usually automated calls about some event or fundraiser or another. “I... haven’t checked.”

“I see.” Detective Kang makes a note before continuing: “Three weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s credit card was used to book a flight to New York.”

“What?”

“But she never boarded the flight. She is, by all accounts, still here in Korea.”

“Wait, can’t you, like, track her phone? Trace her credit card?” How could she have been reported missing a fortnight ago when you saw her on Friday?

“Well, the thing is, the last charge on her credit card is that plane ticket. Two weeks ago, a card was found on a side street and confirmed to belong to Ms. Manoban. And her phone has been turned off since the report, although we got some activity on it two days ago. The problem is before yesterday, the last location we could trace it to was a pawn shop outside of Seoul, known for dealing in stolen items. So… well, it’s very likely that the activity wasn’t hers.”

“It was,” you interrupt. “Two days ago, Lisa called me. And I saw her in person.”

“What?” The detective’s jaw drops, and you see him work to regain his composure. “Hm- are you sure?”

“She’s my best friend,” you reply defensively. “I’m sure.”

“That… that changes things.” Detective Kang rubs his chin thoughtfully. “May I know the circumstances of your last interaction?”

“Well, on Friday she picked me up from work to take me to another job. I’m an actress,” you add hurriedly, “And Lisa’s been working like my manager, basically.”

“I see. Go on.”

“She called me after work– must have been six or seven in the evening– that she had a project that she needed to work on and couldn’t pick me up.” You hold out your phone and show him your call history. “Then on Saturday, yesterday, I didn’t hear from her. That’s when you called–” you shrug. The rest is history.

“So she’s still got her phone, then…” Detective Kang is quick to type something into his computer. “Miss L/n, I’m going to show you photographs of the locations in which Miss Manoban’s credit card was found, and her last phone activity. Can you tell me if you recognize these places?”

“Uh, sure,” you reply, watching as he slides his laptop over to you. You don’t have any clue how it’ll help, though. Detective Kang pulls up several images. 

“This is where her credit card was found, and here’s the location we traced her phone activity to on Friday. Do you recognize either area?”

Your eyes widen. Oh, shit.