#through that shit into tts and just about died from how long it kept talking

[stemroses]

So my almost 8k fic has been rearranged and deleted two whole chapters and now I’m back to 5k. :/

[wordstro]

[8:32 PM] + hero/villain au + "you'll help us change the world, whether you want to or not." + part 2

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

@thelargefrye you inspired me to write more of this au TT thank u

-

the aftermath of wooyoung, yeosang, jongho, and seonghwa's betrayal was worse, you think, then the initial betrayal.

"do you think we'll be okay?" you'd asked when you were finally alone with what was left of your alliance, your team.

san gripped the arms of his chair and grit his teeth. yunho closed his eyes. mingi pressed the heels of his hands to face, and kept them there. hongjoong said, with all the anger and grief and brokenness and helplessness you were feeling, "i don't know. i think it's going to get worse. not just...not just the betrayal, but everything."

wooyoung always complained about hongjoong’s realism, his need to explain and analyze outcomes, and you hated that you thought of him still, even after all that happened.

the way wooyoung had left you, trapped under a building with severe burns around your neck, his eyes unrelenting, cold despite the fire curling around him, had remained etched in your mind. to this day, the way hongjoong had pulled you from the rubble with glassy, broken eyes, stayed with you. the memories fueled you when you thought you could not go on. during the press conferences, the attacks on civilians, the moments when you would need to tell someone their loved one was dead because you couldn't protect them, you clung to your need to never see that look on hongjoong's face again.

a year passed since then, and your grief fell way to resentment.

the underground villain organization hit mainstream news every day. they broke into government facilities and banks, leveled entire cities, and at first it was petty, understandable even, but then you stood at headquarters and watched yeosang saunter into a government laboratory with a megaphone and demands anyone who heard him had to oblige to. he walked out with tests, serums, research, and equipment you knew could only mean something sinister. you watched jongho break into a high-level holding facility, bullets bouncing off his skin, and free the most dangerous of superpowered criminals, all with a charming smile on his face as he waved to the security cameras. you could no longer convince san that they would change their minds and come back. they were in this for the long haul and the fighting would go on.

you were so fucking furious, you wanted to join san in his anger, in the way his fingers curled into fists whenever he reported his run ins with them, yeosang and wooyoung especially, and he fought them with a vengeance you never knew existed in him. heroes were not allowed to kill, however, and they all knew that. hongjoong reminded them of it everyday. san despised it. you despised that terror you felt at the idea of killing any of them, wooyoung, yeosang, seonghwa, and jongho. most of all, you despised how much you missed them.

"excuse me? are you getting on?" the bus driver's voice cuts through your thoughts. you tear your eyes off the wanted posters pinned up against the bus stop, apologizing as you hurriedly board the bus.

you take a seat at the back of the bus, as you always do. your phone buzzes in your pocket, a text from mingi lighting up your screen.

as you read mingi's rant about the latest episode of a show you're both watching during your downtime, someone takes a seat behind you. you barely spare them a glance.

that was your first mistake.

the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. before you can react a soft, sweet voice murmurs, "put down your phone and do not move."

your hands drop to your lap and your muscles seize with how quickly your body adheres to his words. you can't even speak.

it's yeosang.

when you first met him, years ago, he swore he would never use his powers on any of you. your heart sinks to your stomach.

there's a small laugh. shuffling. you don't look up from your lap, from the way mingi's name lights up on your screen as he sends another text. you can't. sweat beads along your forehead from how hard you're trying to break from his persuasion. yeosang's thigh comes into view, right beside yours, as he takes a seat beside you. he reaches over, turning your phone off and dropping it on the floor with a dull thud. then he pats your knee as he murmurs, "now, sleep."

and, you do. you have to.

~.~.~.~.~

"morning, sunshine."

you wake to the sound of metal clanging against metal, your shoulders aching from the way your arms are angled behind your back. it takes a moment to remember yourself and the events that perspired before you fell asleep, but the moment you do, you jolt, pulling against your restraint. your super strength does nothing against the restraints. you can hear them creak and groan as you thrash, but you're chained down to the ground and they know your personal weight records. they know how much resistance it takes to contain you. you can't move your feet at all, since they're encased in heavy metal. they even secured your head. seonghwa has endured one too many headbutts from you during your choreographed fights for him to forget about that. you're trapped.

"are you done?"

you look up, and wooyoung stands with his arms crossed. yeosang sits on the desk beside him, swinging his legs. seonghwa and jongho are nowhere to be seen, but you're almost glad. the way your stomach flips at the sight of wooyoung and yeosang alone makes you want to throw up. you don't think you could handle being in the same room as all four of them. not like this.

beside yeosang stands a masked man with a lab coat. he holds a giant needle and it takes you another moment to register that you're in a makeshift laboratory. your stomach flips once more.

"what the hell is this?"

you can't control the anger in your voice. you hadn't encountered wooyoung since that day, a year ago. san had. mingi and yunho and hongjoong had. but not you. you'd gotten into a brief fight with seonghwa's army of the dead once, during an altercation in busan. you'd fought jongho a few times. but you've mostly encountered other villains working alongside them. never them. everyday, you secretly thanked your luck for that, but it seems your luck has ran out.

wooyoung only looks at you with blank indifference, and your heart twists. your gaze flickers to yeosang, and he looks away the moment you meet his eyes, scratching at his chin in a pointed gesture of nonchalance.

"this is eunwoo," wooyoung says, gesturing at the masked man with the lab coat and large syringe. "he used to work for the Hero-Villain Alliance. not our division of course, but in the biochemical weapons sector. you should say hi."

you grit your teeth, your anger overwhelming. "i don't care who or what he is. what the hell do you want from me?"

"would you believe me if i said i wanted a little reunion?" he raises a brow.

you glare and wooyoung lets out a small laugh. he says, "didn't think so. well, if it's any consolation i really didn't want to do this. i kicked your ass hard enough to last you a lifetime already. it's only poor sportsmanship to remind you of it every time you see me."

"fuck off."

he snorts, "whatever happened to our patient sweet little y/n? yeosang, you sure you got the right person?"

yeosang lets out a small laugh, but it dies quickly when he looks at the masked man - eunwoo - and a chill runs down your back. you're not sure what they're planning, but it can't be good.

"it's been a year, wooyoung. if you think i'm the same person, you're a fucking idiot. both of you."

yeosang looks to his shoes, and wooyoung's jaw clenches, his lopsided grin slipping from his face. the vindictive parts of you relishes in their reactions.

wooyoung merely waves a hand, and eunwoo steps forward. he's tall, too tall, and the way he looms over you makes you involuntarily recoil.

wooyoung joins eunwoo's side, crouching in front of you until he's at eye level with you. you don't look at him, ignoring the way your heart races a tad faster, warily watching eunwoo.

"long story short: the government has been experimenting on our kind. eunwoo here was a part of it. he was one of the experiments. he had a team, too, like us, until some experiments went wrong. that's the shit you uphold."

had. you look up at eunwoo, as best as you can with your head secured, and your heart twists at the thought. you...never knew.

"i...i'm sorry," you say, looking at eunwoo. "but, i can fix it. hongjoong's been advocating and it's working. we want the same things and -"

"shut up."

your mouth clamps shut, not because of yeosang's powers, but because eunwoo's voice is raspy, and so, so angry. it holds the same kind of vengeful anger san's does on the nights you sat with him and tried to talk him out of it. it's terrifying. you unconsciously lean away, closer to wooyoung, and you hate yourself for it.

"do you know why our cause is backed by so many and hongjoong's isn't?" wooyoung asks.

your nails dig into the palms of your hands. you hate how vulnerable you are, restrained here.

"because we are willing to die for our cause. we're willing to make sacrifices. you aren't."

"you're traitors," eunwoo rasps.

"i just want the fighting to stop," your voice cracks, you can't help it, "i want to stop fighting, stop having to tell people that their loved ones are dead, stop fucking trying to piece together the hearts you broke. I want it to stop."

you think of hongjoong and yunho and mingi and san and your attempts to fix something that's only crumbling with each passing day. you think of all the death you've seen. all the destruction. you know, deep down, that they're right. you've attended vigils for your kind, killed out of supposed fear. adults and children, alike. you're angry, yes, resentful even, but most of all you're exhausted.

"if you join us, it can stop."

you blink.

wooyoung merely stares at you, unwavering. the last year has changed you immensely, but you hadn't thought of how much it must have changed them too.

anger surges inside of you.

"join us," he says, so sweetly. your stomach churns when he reaches out and presses a hand to your cheek. a year ago, you might have fell for it. you know it, and so does he. he's always known it, that you were weak for him, for any of them really.

that's what drives you to glare. that's what makes you spit in his face and growl, "no."

something flips in wooyoung's eyes then, his jaw setting in a way where you know you've set something off in him. heat rises from him, burning your skin, reminding you of the burns he left on your neck.

"i wanted you to make this choice freely, but i guess that's not going to happen," he grits, "too bad. you'll help us change the world, whether you want to or not."

wooyoung waves his hand, and eunwoo moves, pulling down the collar of your shirt. wooyoung's gaze flickers to your neck, to the burns he left you, and his eyes soften for just a moment.

you thrash, you scream and yell obscenities, but it's fruitless. eunwoo easily injects with the syringe, right in the heart.

your chest heaves and the injection site burns and eunwoo walks away, shrugging off the lab coat as he goes. you're left with wooyoung and yeosang, your eyes prickling with unshed tears born of anger more than anything.

"what did you do to me?"

"it's a power enhancer we stole from the experimentation trials. we laced it with my powers. in an hour, you'll be unstoppable. a weapon, really," yeosang takes pity on you, his quiet voice ringing throughout the laboratory.

"and under your control," you say aloud what he doesn't say, slumping in your chair.

yeosang merely nods.

you look from yeosang's pitiful gaze to wooyoung's clenched jaw.

"you both really never cared about us, did you?"

yeosang blinks, but before he can respond, before he can give you even the smallest bit of hope, wooyoung answers, "no. never."

your heart withers, breathing shaky as yeosang says, "sleep, y/n."

it's mercy, you realize, yeosang's gentle way of giving you reprieve for a brief moment before everything goes to shit. your eyes grow heavy, even as you see blurry figures reach for you, as you feel hands wiping at the tears on your cheeks. you think you hear wooyoung murmur a soft sorry. but it could also be wishful thinking.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

[tellywoodtrash]

Hi TT,

I'm so glad that your lbs are back🥳🥳.

So much has happened in immj2 land after the vihaan track.Your lbs were the only source of immj2 for me..so when u stopped the lbs at the point where vihaan was revealed to be vansh only and he started playing mind games and revenge revenge with a clueless ridhima...Uske baad kya hua till the events in this lb I have no idea.So can you pls do a KAHANI AB TAK from the point where the lbs were on hold till now?

Love

Ratna.

Hi hi!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖

Oh boy, tbh, this show is bonkers crazy and I don’t know how to sensibly explain what the fuck went down, but I shall tryyyyyyy:

Ok so we left off at Vansh telling Riddhima to murder Kabir. She obviously can’t do it coz she’s a weakass bitch (warna kab ka Vansh ko hi maar deti uske anginnath chutiyaape ke liye............) Kabir gloats about it to Vansh and also lets slip that they were in a relationship before she came into V’s life, and how he’s just not fated for love, is he. Vansh gets hella mad at this and instead of going to therapy about it like a normal person, decides ki I have to get revenge from Riddhima for this. They go on some dhaarmic vacation where he abandons her and when she finally makes her way back everyone’s like “Hein tum kaun????????????/ Vansh ki biwi toh Ahaana hai.” So basically Riddhima; whose whole identity is just being Vansh’s wife; ka account deactivate ho jaata hai, like Trump’s twitter. Siya meanwhile starts yelling in her coma for Riddhima Bhaabi, so Vansh has to let R stay. There’s some stupidass competitions and shit between her and Ahaana and R is finally like ok you know what I’ve had enough of this and leaves. Siya finally wakes tf up and tells everyone the truth. V like OHNOE!!!!!!! I’M A DUMBASS!!!!!!! (yeah, we know.) and runs behind R and stops her from leaving. R usse bhi badi buddhu and actually gets back together with this fucking crazy man and his nonsense family. Ab aata hai track where Kabir starts sending Riddhima clues about her past and R finds that her parents didn’t actually abandon her at the anaath-ashram but actually died in some accident. She finds that around the saaaaaaaaame time, teenage V was in juvie. Snooping around, snooping around, as per usual she wants to know if V’s connected to her parents. Because no one taught her ki correlation =/= causation. V plans elaborate second shaadi to keep her from snooping but Riddhima apni multitasker max hai! Manages to get through 4098340239480 shaadi rituals and also do her jasoosi, finds out he was in juvie for a car accident that killed a couple. V lies to everyone that the couple he actually killed was Kabir’s dad and aunt. Yeh sunke K ki khisak jaati hai, but then he actually overhears V and Ishani talking ki that was a lie and it was Ishani who killed Riddhima’s parents and V took the blame for her. Kabir doesn’t like being taken for a fool and is like bitch imma burn this shit to the ground now and get my girl back too. Meanwhile V is having issues with his diamond smuggly business and is like “omg I have such a dangerous line of work I can never have a family of my own.” Well, yeh khayaal thoda late aaya coz guess who’s been regularlyyyyyyyy tapping it without wrapping it??????? Yeah, this dumbass who doesn’t want kids. K ka dariya dil is like “arre waah ek se saath ek muft muft muft? I want R and baby also!” V is a pissyass bitch about R getting pregnant as if she did it all on her own with no contribution from him. Anyway, thanks to his diamond smuggling fuckery someone shoots during a family event and Ishani loses her baby. Not the best time for everyone to find out R is pregnant, and people start trying to murder her and baby. Someone keeps sending her warning letters about it tho. K keeps saving her ass and V is just like meh who cares, mereko toh bas apni padi hai. AnuMom makes a comeback here and adds to the fuckery and K is like SO HELP ME GOD, DON’T YOU HURT MY GIRL AND BABY, and she’s like “hein yeh kya ho gaya, I was literally not here for a few weeks and ladka haath se nikal gaya.” Anyway, long story short, turns out it was the random uncle (Aryan’s dad who shows up only once in 6 months) who was looking out for R and baby and saving them via warning notes. For that nek kaam, AnuMom murders the fuck outta him. Tbh by this point I stopped even keeping up with the show and someall fuckery happens with the diamonds and all, but at some point V realises ki “oh mere ko bhi chahiye apna crotch-goblin” and accepts the consequences of his non-condom wearing actions. By this point Kabir is trying to get the diamonds and the girl + baby and idk man.......... Kuch ka kuch ho jaata hai and they all end up in a forest where Kabir seems to have murdered V (but he’s saved by AnuMom who’s like FRIENDSHIP ENDED WITH KABIR, NOW VANSH IS MY BEST SON) , and is all ready to marry R but V comes outta nowhere and haathapaai ensues and this leads to V/R jumping off a cliff and hiding but he gets shot and sends Riddhima off to safety.

Now we’ve moved to Voot. V wakes up 6-7 hours later in the forest to find Angre there; Angre says R is home and sent him to come get him. V comes home to find new and improved Riddhima who is veryyyyyyy horny all the time (not unheard of with pregnancy hormones.) Meanwhile entry of sasta!Vansh who R has some deal with and she keeps doing shit like steal the diamonds for him and some khaandani rifle (they keep calling it a “SNIPER RIFLE” but it legit looks like Vasco De Gama ki gun from Andaz Apna Apna.) Dadi on the other hand has turned into this major Gangster Grandma who’s ruthless as fuck and is all about the Raisinghania naam and power and mafia business or whatever and she’s like I can’t take it how V and R are fucking up the name of the fam for their do takke ka manhoos pyaar, I want them murdered, esp. R. V finds out that sasta!V’s wife (whom he claims to have murdered) looks exactly like Riddhima and is now convinced ki yeh jo mere ghar mein hai is a duplicate, and they have kidnapped my real pregnant wife. Anyway, he’s like fine Dadi, I’ll murder R for the khaandaan. Takes her to the jungle and shoots her in front of Aryan. But V is puraana paapi who is expert in making it look like he’s murdered the love interest of the season and hiding them from the whole world, so yeah............... Keeps R in some room somewhere and interrogates her every day but she’s like OMG *I’m* your wife, dumbass. Udhar Siya’s traumatised by bhaiyya’s wife-murdering ways and is now falling for sasta!Bhaiyya and gotten a makeover and discovered teenage rebellion; while Ishani’s realized how hot her husband is and is constantly wanting to sex him. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand now the non-Rrahul dude has gotten COVID irl, so I guess he’ll be off the show for a bit, and my cyuuutoooo Kabir (who’s being kept captive somewhere by Riddhima????) will finally be back? One can hope. I miss Kabir and this show is absolutely nothing without him.

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

cut + burn chapter 3

Pairing: Colossus/You -  Playlist

Summary: Wade decides that sixteen years of mutual pining is long enough. He’s appointed himself your new wingman, and he’s the best in town (or so he likes to think). Or, how the compound effort of Wade Wilson and total romantic frustration gave way to getting exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

Chapter 3: I’m on Fire

Author’s Note: From here on out, it’s smut and good feelings and a little bit of angst. But really, if you’re reading this, you already know.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection  @emma-frxst  @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu  @chromecutie  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @hazilyimagine  @lenavonschweetz  @nu-tt  @rovvboat  @i-write-fanfic-not-essays  @giruvega  @multi-blogs

---

Sixteen years, you'd imagined this moment. No, really, perhaps it was closer to twenty years. Honestly, you couldn't remember a time when you'd been anything but head over heels for fucking Piotr Rasputin. 

 Fourteen years old - sent to the mansion for causing an electrical shortage that put out power to half your tiny town. No one to talk to, no one to go with you to the mansion. And he shows up to guide you through the school, show you around. He said he got stuck as the welcoming committee, but he was glad that he did.

 Sixteen years old - a silly thing, jaded without reason, surly and altogether adolescent. You'd convinced Colossus to follow you and Kitty out to the forest behind the mansion after curfew and gotten the three of you in such deep shit. He took the blame, but everyone knew it was your idea. You'd been so reckless, had such a disobedient streak - sometimes you couldn't believe anyone had ever let you be in charge of anything.

 Eighteen - sodden, drunk, laughing at Kitty for drunkenly falling in the lake while Colossus took shot after shot with frickin' Wolverine, who you'd somehow convinced to smuggle you a bottle of vodka. You'd gotten sick near the end of the night, vaguely remembered falling in the lake and being plucked out of the icy-cold water by large, silver hands. You'd never seen him touch another drop of alcohol.

 And about five minutes after you'd turned eighteen, you'd been assigned to your duties and effectively ripped away from a future that could have already started. Maybe you were partly to blame for that - you could have asked to be transferred to a different task team after five years of your cleanup assignment. But you were stubborn and relentless, and your powers were good for fuck-all else than mopping up wreckage and your personality only good for wiping up everyone else's mess.

 But here you were, sixteen years to the day you'd left home, ripping off Piotr frickin' Rasputin's pants like it was a goddamn race to see who could get naked faster.

You don't know how many times you'd imagined this over the years: Colossus, in your bedroom, hands sprawled out across your back, touching and tugging and tearing at you, ready to do nothing short of wear your ass out. How many times had you woken up from a dream only to realize it was a dream - that you would have to take care of it yourself. How long had you been pining daydreaming fantasizing? In every different scenario, every dark corner and bright place in your little reptilian brain - you'd agonized and brutalized trying to decide on what this would be like. 

You'd always suspected tenderness - gentle hands, rocking hips, flushed skin and awkward giggles. You'd finish and wake up next to him, damp and doe-eyed and drowsy with unbidden lust - all that romantic crap. 

This… was not that. This was better.

Tenderness was laughable, gentleness altogether forgotten. There would be time enough for tenderness later, maybe in the morning after you'd gotten all you could take and were just jonesing for the cherry on top. A long, drawn-out affair, capped off by sweet words and chills down your spine. 

But this was so much better.

This was heat. This was desperation. This was his teeth on your neck and your tongue in his mouth and your nails down his back, nerve endings scorched and flayed open by sheer need. This was the accumulation of two decades of absolute want, wanton desire, and pained frustration. This was long nights wondering if you'd come home a broken mess, if he'd make it home from his mission, if his last soft message would be his last to you. This was anger - that you'd kept running off on mission after mission. This was sheer elation that he'd made it to your bed - and that your bed would be the only one he'd sleep in again.

Stitches popped as he pulled your shirt over your head and threw it into the corner as if it personally offended him. You refused to detach yourself from him long enough to let him get your pants off - you dropped them yourself.

"Off - this needs to come off," you commanded, tugging at his shirt. He fumbled, jerking his shirt up over his head. You run your hands along the hard planes and lines of his chest, the softness of his stomach, and wrap your arms around his neck. "Bed, please."

He scooped you up into his arms and you swooned. Thank fuck for superstrength.

Colossus dropped you on the bed (gently) and stepped between your legs. You clutched at his belt, unlooped it from his waste, and dropped it to the floor with every other scrap of clothing. His pants and underwear were next, leaving him totally bare. He was all thick, bulging muscles; softness around the waist; strong chest and arms; and clear, unfiltered desire. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, and you would have drooled if it wouldn't have been totally gross.

You silently thanked whoever was listening in the Great Upstairs for this gift of a man.

You pulled him down to your level, arms around his neck, and all but hauled him onto the bed on top of you. He hovered carefully, taking absolute care not to squish you. Nevertheless, that's where the gentleness ended. You'd coaxed out all the desperation and raw hunger he held in his body, and you were very much pleased with the result.

You had never been one to let someone toss you around. You preferred to give the orders and be the one in charge. That hadn't changed and wouldn't, not even for this man. But this was no time to dwell on the intricacies of the ebb and flow of power; you needed him like you'd never needed another human before. Tenderness and an equal exchange could come later - now, you just needed him.

Colossus kissed you, cupping your chin in his hand. With one arm, he held himself steady so as to keep his weight off of you. With the other arm, and without breaking the kiss, he slid his hand down to your waist to pull you in closer. You needed to readjust, but he obliged for you and shifted you up closer to the head of the bed.

"Is this okay?" he asked. Good lord, if his dick alone wasn't enough to get you going, his voice surely was. It rumbled deep in his chest, low and thick with want. It didn't matter what he was saying - his tone was enough. "It's not - I'm not too rough?"

You took his face in your hands and pulled him back down so that his forehead was pressed against yours. "Believe me, I'll tell you if you are. No, this is perfect."

"As long as it pleases you." He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "What would you have me do next?"

"Well," you began, very much aware of what you wanted him to do next, "you are not a small man in any context. You've got some work to do before you're going to get that in."

He pressed another kiss to the line of your throat. "Then I shall get to work..."

Colossus shifted further down towards the end of the bed. His hand ghosted over your side, making you shiver, and came to grasp at the breast closest to him. His fingers trailed over your skin in slow, circular patterns, tickling you until your nipples peaked. He took the one closest to him in his mouth, sucking and flicking at it with his tongue. You grabbed at his shoulders, squirming underneath him. He pinned your hips down to keep you still - to keep you from gleaning any satisfaction before he could give it to you - and looked up at you, still rolling your nipple around his tongue.

"Who's wicked now?" you huffed. He moved to your other breast, taking your nipple between his teeth and nipping gently, gently. He worked his unoccupied hand down between you, cupping your hip. "Seems like it's you. Never imagined you'd be a tease."

Colossus moved lower so that his shoulders were positioned squarely between your thighs. He trailed his tongue down the line of your stomach, dipped into your navel, and looked up at you. "Normally, I am not. But I've..."

"Been waiting a while?"

"Yes," he hummed, working lower. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting your legs over his shoulders. "I have thought about this for a long time."

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that right? And what did you think about?"

He sucked a slow bruise onto your inner thigh, then licked it to soothe the ache he left. "Taking it slow, mostly. I had hoped you would want it like that."

"I do."

He trailed his mouth a little higher, right to the juncture of your thighs, and looked up from his position. You could have died happy right there, with him looking up at you like he had torture on his mind. "I can go slow, if you would prefer?"

"Nope, nuh-uh, I will not last long enough for you to do that."

"Next time, then."

"Next time, any time, every time. Just not this time." 

You sat up on your elbows so you could watch him tongue the line of your slit. It was a simple movement, but from it bloomed the worst itch, like an unending, twisting fire brand to every single nerve. Your muscles tensed, hips flexing, but he held you steady. 

"Wicked, wicked man."

"Not for long, I promise."

Colossus trailed his fingers down your slit just behind his tongue. He dipped a single digit in and found you absolutely leaking for him already. He pushed a finger in, then two, chasing it with his tongue, licking and sucking until you could only groan his name.

You tapped his shoulder like you were tapping out of a fight, warning him to stop. He thankfully, yet still somehow unfortunately, obliged. His mouth was wet from you, his fingers soaked, but he really, really didn't care. He crawled back up your body and claimed your mouth, easing you on to your back.

You felt a bit guilty that you'd hardly done anything for him. "Get on your back and I'll-"

"You are already so close, and I cannot deny you relief after I took my time," Colossus said, hitching your legs up around his waist. You were struck by the heat of his voice, the barely-contained power behind his words. "Next time."

"Lot of next times on your mind?"

He pressed his forehead to yours and took your hands in his, lifting them above your head. "I have dreamed of you my entire adult life. I will take as many next times as you are willing to give me."

"I have a list."

"I will be overjoyed to hear every single item on it."

Keeping your hands trapped underneath one of his, he worked his other hand down to find the base of his cock. He dragged the tip along your slit until he found your opening, teasing you with the head of his cock. You bit your lip as he pushed in, every single inch of him filling you up. The groan of relief he made was unbelievable, low and deep in your ear and positively filthy.

He stilled just long enough for you to stretch comfortably around him, then pulled back and thrust back in. His pace was slow for fear of hurting you, but his control wavered as you lifted your hips to meet his. His thumb pressed against your clit, teasing the nub until you were all but biting into his shoulder to keep from crying out.

You were at the point where you could feel your hips giving out, but Colossus was clearly there, too. His quick, controlled pace started and stuttered, his grip a little too tight. Your name rolled off his tongue, broken and pleading, asking if this was okay, if you were ready. You clenched around him, falling off of that edge just before he did. He pulled out and came on your thigh, rutting against you as he rode out his own orgasm. 

It was a solid minute before either one of you could move. Colossus maneuvered you onto his chest and kissed the top of your head. You splayed out on top of him, unwilling to move more than absolutely necessary.

Five minutes of silence, five minutes of Colossus rubbing your back and pressing his nose into your hair, and you finally moved so you could look up at him. His eyes were soft, and he watched you as if he couldn't dream of looking anywhere else.

"We should probably shower."

"Yes."

"You may have to carry me."

"I will."

"You may have to hold me up in the shower."

"Assuming I can also stand."

"You can fuck me against the shower wall, if you want."

Colossus chuckled softly in your ear. "Language, love."

You kissed along his collarbone, right up to his ear. "You weren't complaining about my language when I was begging you to-"

He kissed you to cut you off. "Shower first, then tease."

"I can do both at the same time, you know."

“Of course you can, love.”

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

I tried to be where you are

Summary: I was not part of the 43 that were born on October 1, 1989. I was born 8 years later gifted with the power of telekinesis and the ability to control the weather. I was adopted by Reginald Hargreeves when I was 2. Ironically my new name became the same number as the year difference between the other seven and I. As I grew up I became closer to number 2 and number 5. But when 5 disappeared I became close with number 7. Not long after that everyone chose names for themselves and slowly left the umbrella academy leaving luther and I. Then luther left leaving just me. But now dad is dead and I have a feeling everyone is going to be coming back.

It was five. He was back. But he hasn't age since the day he went missing. He pushed passed us and went inside. "What the hell." Luther said. We all followed him. It wasn't until we followed five into the kitchen did I noticed that Diego and I was holding hands. Vanya took a seat on one side of the table and allison stood behind her. Both klaus and Diego sat on the table. I sat in a chair beside Diego and he put his legs in the chair where I rested in between them. Luther sat in the chair in front of me. "What's the date? The exact date?" Five asked. "The 24th." Vanya said. "Of what?" Five asked. "March." Vanya said. "Good." Five said. Which caused us all to give him a weird look. "So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" Luther said. Five ignored him and continued to make his sandwich. "It's 17 years." Luther said getting up to face five. "It's been a lot longer than that." Five said and used his powers to get marshmallows. "I haven't missed that." Luther said. "Where'd you go?" Diego asked. "The future. It's shit by the way." Five said and used his powers to come back to the table. "Called it!" Klaus said. "I should have listened to the old man. You know jumping through space is one thing jumping through time is a toss of the dice. Nice dress." Five said as he started to make his peanutbutter and marshmallow sandwich. "Oh well danke!" Klaus said. Diego then rested his arms over my shoulders and I grabbed ahold of his hands. "Wait how did you get back?" Vanya asked. "In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time." Five said. "That makes no sense." Diego said. "Well it would if you were smarter." Five said. Diego leaped up from the table and was careful not to hit me and started to go after five but again luther stopped him. "How long were you there?" Luther asked. "Forty five years give or take." Five said. That answer made Diego and luther sit back down. "So what are you saying? That you're 58?" Luther asked. "No my consciousness is 58. Apparently my body is now 13 again." Five said grabbing his finished sandwich. "Wait how does that even work?" Vanya asked. "Delores kept saying the equations were off eh. Bet she laughing now." Five said and started to eat his sandwich. "Delores?" Vanya and I both asked. “HM. Guess I missed the funeral.” Five said picking up a paper about dad’s death. “How’d you know about that?” Luther asked. “What part of the future so you not understand? Heart failure huh?” Five said. “Yeah. No.” Both Luther and Diego said. “Hm. Nice to see nothing’s changed. Well beside that Kelsee has breast.” Five said as he left the kitchen. I bit my tongue and took a deep breath. “Uh that’s it? That’s all you have you say?” Allison asked. “what else is there to say? The circle of life.” Five said leaving us. Then we heard a crack of lighting and five yell out in pain. “People need to stop pointing out I have boobs.” I said calmly. Diego playfully nudged me. “Well that was interesting.” Luther said. 

We went off to do our own thing. I went to my room to change for the service. I took off the clothes I was wearing and went over to my closet and grabbed a black dress. I was about to put my dress on when my door open. Diego walked in. He eyes widen once he’s he saw me in just my bra and underwear. “We...wer... Were about t..tt. to start.” Diego stuttered out. “I be out in a second.” I said. Diego nodded and left my room I quickly put on my dress and shoes. I made my way the meet the others as we grabbed umbrellas and headed outside. I was stand next to Diego and Allison. Both Diego and Luther were not using umbrellas. “Did something happened?” Mom asked. I looked at her very confused. “Dad died. Remember?” Allison asked. “Oh. Yes of course.” Mom said. “Is mom okay?” Allison asked. “Yeah Yeah she’s fine. She just needs to rest. You know recharge.” Diego said. “Whenever you’re ready dear boy.” Pogo said and looked at Luther. Luther took the lid off of the ern that held dad’s ashes and dumped it on the ground. “Probably would have been better with some wind.” Luther said. “Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asked. But no one said anything. “Very well. In all regards. Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone I shall be forever in his debt. He was my master and my friend and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy.” Pogo said. “He was a monster.” Diego interrupted. That made Klaus laugh. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.” Diego said. “Diego.” Allison said. “My name is number two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had mom do it.” Diego said. “Would anyone like something to eat?” Mom asked in hope everyone would calm down. “No it’s okay mom.” Vanya said. “Oh okay.” Mom said. “Look you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.” Diego said. “You should stop talking now.” Luther said clearly angered by what diego is saying even though he was right. “You know you of all people should be on my side here number one.” Diego said. “I’m waring you.” Luther said. “Ok enough stop it right now.” I said. “Shut up Kelsee.” Luther said. this angered Diego more. “Don’t you talk to her like that. After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.” Diego said as he walked closer to Luther. “Diego stop talking.” Luther said. “That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego said and poke Luther in the chest. That’s when all hell broke lose and the two stared to fight. Everyone backed up but me. “Boys stope this at once!” Pogo shouted. “Come on big boy!” Diego yelled as they continued to fight. “Stop it!” Vanya yelled. “Hit him! Hit him!” Klaus started to chant. “You’re not helping Klaus!” I yelled at him. Luther threw Diego close to Ben’s statue and they continued to fight. Luther grabbed Diego and held him back. “Get off me!” Diego yelled. Diego punched Luther in the face and walked away from him. Both of them were panting now. “We don’t have time for this.” Five said and walked away. “Come here big boy!” Diego yelled. Luther ran toward him and was ready to punch him but Diego moved and Luther instead punched Ben’s statue knocking it over breaking it. I threw my umbrella to the ground. “Enough!” I yelled. Diego and Luther were flung away from each other. “That is enough do you hear me.” I said as I got the space between the two to keep them from going at it again. “Oh.” Klaus said, “And there goes Ben’s statue.” Allison. “Diego no!” Vanya yelled Luther started to make his way over to Diego but has I turned around to stop him I felt a knife grazed my arm making me scream in pain. Luther rushed over to me putting his hand on my wound has he rushed me inside. “Come on let’s go get this clean up ok.” Luther said as he took me to the infirmary part of the house. I sat on the bed as Luther went to get the rubbing alcohol. Then mom walked into the room. “Let me sweetie.” Mom said as she took the bottle away from Luther and walked back over to me. I winced once I felt mom start to clean my wound with the alcohol. Luther grabbed my hand. “Oh dear. Looks like this needs stitches.” Mom said. “I’m going to kill him.” Luther said. “No you’re not Luther. It was an accident ok.” I said. “Bullshit.” Luther said. “Excuse me.” I said. “Children please don’t fight.” Mom said. “You can go now Luther. I can handle this myself like I have been.” I said yanking my hand from his grip. Luther sighed and left the room. “I’m sorry mom.” I said. “It’s ok sweetie. Would you like me go get Diego before I start he feels awful that he hurt you.” Mom said and smiled sweetly. “I would love that mom.” I said smiling. “I’ll be right back. Keep pressure on it till I get back ok sweetie.” Mom said as she handed me a bandage to hold against my wound till she returned with Diego. Once she returned Diego gave me a sad smile as he came over to me. “Kessie I'm so sorry.” Diego said as he grabbed my hand as mom started to stitch up my wound. “It’s ok Diego I should have known better to get in between you two but I wanted you to stop fighting.” I said. “I let Luther get under my skin didn’t I.” Diego said. “Yeah you did.” I said. “All done sweetie.” Mom said as she put another bandage around my arm. “I’ll take you to you’re room.” Diego said as he picked me up and started to carry me to my room. I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried. He gently laid me down on my bed. “You’re leaving again aren’t you? Every time you leave you always carry me to bed.” I said looking down. Diego sat down next to me on my bed taking my face in his hands. “You know that I have to. Now that dad’s gone you can finally leave too.” Diego said. I gave him a small nod. “I’ll take care of you. I’ve always took care of you.” Diego said kissing my head before getting up. “I’ll miss you D I always do.” I said. “Think about it Kessie. I love you. Diego said. “I love you too.” I said as I watched Diego walk out of my room. I couldn’t help but start to cry. But unknown to me Diego heard me cry.

[katiebug445]

Katie says goodbye to the Supernatural cons.

Alright, so, I’ve been putting off writing this post for a couple days, because exhaustion hit me like a freight train and I’ve been feeling icky and sickly for awhile, so bleh. But okay. Time to get emo on main. 

So about five years ago, around this time of year, actually, i finally got the chance to go to my first ever convention. me and some friends at the time were all planning on going to the Salute to Supernatural convention in Minneapolis, Minnesota in August of 2015. I was so excited to finally get to do this, because I’d been wanting to go to a con since 2011. This was my chance to finally go, and see Richard Speight Jr, and make a dumb dream that kept me alive for a long time come true. And it was, without a doubt, the most magical, and important experience of my life to date. 

Around this time, I was beginning to come up in the fandom. i had a really good following, my fics were getting a lot of attention, i was in with a group that was insanely popular, and life was actually really good. The show was the most important thing in my life, and i had countdowns going until it came back on in the fall. i was in very deep in the fandom, and it was my main source of happiness, so going to this con was going to be fucking HUGE for me.

^^ freshly turned 20 year old Katie out there living the best life she could at the time. she was trying her best. 

So we get to Minneapolis on that Thursday, and we’re walking around, and it hadn’t exactly sunk in yet that I was there. Like, I knew I was going, and I knew what was all going to happen, but I hadn’t been like “oh god this is happening” as of then. 

I remember the moment that it did sink in, though. We were sitting in our seats, Richard and Rob were up on stage doing the rules and regulations, and I kind of came back into my body and realized that i was shaking a LOT, and i just remember looking around the auditorium, and then back up to the stage, and hearing Richard’s voice. I thought to myself “You did it. You made it here. You stayed alive for this moment right here. You fucking did it.” and that’s when everything sunk in completely for me. 

i remember crying a lot after that. 

The con was everything I imagined it would be. I laughed a TON, i got to spend time with some - at the time - really good friends, and I was very swept up in the magic of the whole weekend, and I never wanted that feeling to go away. 

Then on Sunday, I got to meet Richard in person. 

I won’t go into details, and I’ll spare the sob story that lead up to all of it, but I will summarize and say that Sunday at Minncon 2015 remains one of the most important days of my entire life. there was so much personal feelings wrapped up in all of that, and I still have no clue how i managed not to break down crying as soon as i saw him. 

I love that man more than just about anything else, even to this day. richard is still a driving force to me to keep on going with life no matte what happens, and i owe him so much for that. 

anyways, i loved the con. I loved the show, the cast, the whole experience. I walked away from that with some of the best memories that i will keep with me forever. I’ve said this a thousand times before over the last several years, but Richard Speight makes those conventions an incredible experience. The effort he puts into them, the way he treats his fans, all of it makes the cons so special for me. I thank him so much for being such a wonderful person, and making me want to go back again and again and again. 

And i wanted so badly to do just that. I wanted to see Richard again. I wanted to do the cons, and hang out with friends more, and just do the whole fucking thing. Because that was peak happiness for me. it still is, in some ways. 

Between the ending of 2015 and the beginning of 2017, i had a bad falling out with the people i went to Minncon with. i lost a lot of my popularity, i backed way off of all of the corners of the fandom that I’d made a name for myself in, and i kept my head down. I did and said some really stupid stuff that I’m not exactly proud of, and I paid the price for it. As a result, i started backing off. 

But I still loved Richard, and i wanted to see him again. 

So I saved. And saved. And saved even more. And in February of 2017, I got the chance to do it all again. I got to meet and hang out with a BUNCH of friends on that trip, and I got to spend a lot of time with two people who have become so important to me, and who I love dearly. 

i owe that to Nashville. 

^^ 21 year old Katie, had experienced a lot of bullshit and was living a her goodest life, but not her best. Still trying to get through some shit and attempting to grab life by the balls once more. 

Nashville was... an experience.

the company that puts on the cons ended up doing a mega price raise, and everything went up by a lot of dollars (i’m too tired to math now, but it was a fucking LOT of money and even more stress by the time i got to buy tickets). I was really mad about it, and decided that nashville would be my second and last con. 

i decided to go ahead and go all out with it since nobody would ever see me again. 

I got to see richard right out of the gate again on that Friday, and actually got the chance to talk to him for a moment (i use that term very loosely, seeing as my “talking” is just me stuttering out two or three words and running away)  and by some fucking miracle, richard actually fucking remembered my dumb face, and that made my entire life up to that point worth living (still kinda does tbh). I hurried out of the autograph line with my buddies, found the nearest chair i could plop down into where he wouldn’t see me, and i cried. i cried real ass tears (thanks for putting up with me, that day, christy!)

I actually got called up to do karaoke this time with one of my absolute best friends and favorite people, and we fucking rocked it. for four minutes, we were rockstars and it was fucking great. we got to act like idiots and get yelled at by Matt Cohen (KAZOO KREW FOR LIFE!) and ugh. it was just incredible.

Saturday was good. tt’s kind of a blur of ups and downs and photo ops, but overall, it was a good day. Same with Sunday. I know a lot more tears were shed by a lot of people in our group. And christy and brandi screamed at misha collins. That was fucking hilarious. 

Nashville was a fucking great con, and despite all the crap that happened during and after, i wouldn’t trade it or change a single thing about it. I loved that con, and the people i got to go to it with. we all had an incredible time. 

And part of me still, despite everything i told myself, wanted to go again. 

Between February and May of 2017, i underwent a huge change in my life: I somehow got talked into watching anime with a - at the time - good friend of mine, and realized “wow. this is actually a lot better than what spn has done for a long time.” and it kinda pissed me off because WOW THIS IS WHAT SHOWS COULD BE LIKE WITH WELL WRITTEN FEMALE CHARACTERS THAT DON’T DIE!!!!! (thank you, fma for helping me see that light!). i was mad, but i was still devoted to spn, and yadda yadda yadda. 

in May of 2017, i watched the finale of season 12 at my friend Cas’s place, and the finale left such a bad taste in my mouth, that i decided that was it. i was angry, i was hurt, i was completely done. i stepped completely out of the fandom, i muted all the fan accounts i followed on twitter, i spent that whole summer getting farther into the weeb side of life, and farther away from my spn roots. 

and i’ve never fucking regretted it since. 

I started looking into conventions for anime around my hometown, and ended up finding one that looked fun. And Ohayo was a fucking BLAST - but that’s a post that’s been sitting in my drafts since january that i haven’t written up yet. I’ll finish writing that eventually...

but i was so done with spn by that point that i wasn’t even upset that nashville was the last con for me. 

I had started getting back into the fandom during s13, started writing fic again, and THEY ACTUALLY BROUGHT MY HONEYBEAR SON, MY PRIDE AND JOY, MY EVERYTHING, MY FUCKING WAFFLE CHILD BACK AND EVERYTHING WAS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD. I WAS HAPPY. I WAS BACK. I WAS LIVING MY BEST FUCKING LIFE. 

and then... then they took him away from me again. for nothing more than shock value. 

and then i said nope fuck this im out im done fuck you all i’m going full ass weeb. FUCK IT ALL. i doubled down on my belief that i was doing no more cons, no more anything. 

And then the fuckers announced that there would be a convention in cleveland, OH. Which I had been single-handedly campaigning for a con here for YEARS. When I finally get out of the fandom, they give us one. Absolute bastards! 

So, with a defeated sigh, i decided “one more. one more and then it’s over for real.” 

besides, i really, really, really, REALLY wanted to see richard again. 

So i decided, why not get the remaining members of the gang back together, and go out with a fucking blast? that kinda worked. i got one member of the gang to come with me, and the other was there in spirit. 

Richard cancelled about a week and a half before, which meant that my main reason for going was gone. and then misha cancelled until sunday, which meant my other reason for going was gone. but i still wanted to go and say goodbye to the cons and what little bit of the cast was there.

so we get there on friday, knowing full well friday is the only day we’re going, we didn’t buy tickets, we didn’t do anything to give creation our money, and we went in AOT cosplay because we’re cringy cool like that. and it was... surprisingly freeing.

^^ 23 year old Katie, who at this point has seen so much shit it doesn’t phase her anymore. Living an even better life than 2015!Katie. much more confident in herself, and a lot happier in general. Still trying her best. 

the con itself was a shitshow. it was an absolute shitshow. but i had every bit as much fun hanging in the lobby with my friend as i did actually doing the panels and stuff. i knew this was my goodbye, and having the con be so higuhgieh actually made it a little easier to say goodbye to it. karaoke was a fucking blast, and i shouted and danced the entire night, and my poor voice suffered. 

you’d think i just saw my best friend get eaten by a titan right in front of my eyes by how gone my voice was by the end of the night. -cough-

on the way back to the hotel is when it hit me that it was officially over. i cried the whole 20 minute drive back, knowing that this was the final time i’d ever see any of it. my last karaoke. my last chance to see everyone. my last spn con.  it was so bittersweet, because i had such a blast, but it was done. it was all done.

and i didn’t even get to say bye to the man that i owe everything to. that’s what hurt the most about the whole thing. 

i wouldn’t trade the cons for anything. i spent some of the best (and worst) years of my life doing them. the experiences and memories i have from these conventions are ones i wouldn’t give up, even if i could spare myself some heartache or stress. i am so grateful for these opportunities to meet these incredibly talented people, and get to see my friends there, and just have the time of my life. there isn’t one thing about any of those cons that i regret. 

i am so sad to be giving them up, but i know it’s for the best. the prices keep going up, and it would take even longer to afford them, and i just can’t keep doing it to myself. the stress is crazy enough as it is, and there’s a lot i’ve missed out on trying to afford these things. 

Not only that, but I’ve grown and evolved so much from that 19 year old doing everything she could to save back for her first con - and out of state trip. i’m not anywhere near who i was back then. i’ve gained much more confidence in myself, i’ve gained much more self worth, learned to control my anxiety/depression, and learned what i will and will not put up with from people. i’m a MUCH happier person than i was back then, and i’ve gained a lot of life experience and a lot of new interests over the last few years. so much has happened so fast, and almost everything has turned on its head. 

but one thing that hasn’t changed for me is my love for Richard Speight Jr. I have said it in this post alone several fucking times, but i adore Richard. He is without a doubt one of the funniest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he makes these cons so special for a lot of people - myself included. he’s the reason I kept wanting to go back, the reason that i kept pushing through the bad times, he’s been my reason to “Always Keep Fighting”. I am so blessed to have so many memories with him, and they’re the ones i talk about more than anything when talking about the cons. He will always have a huge and special place in my heart, and he will still continue being one of the big reasons why I keep pushing, and keep going, even when i don’t want to. he has absolutely no idea how important him just existing has been for this dumbass, and i really wish that he did. i hope that he knows the impact he’s had on my life, and that he’s always been my favorite since the trickster first announced that he had more ass than a toilet seat. richard has been one of the biggest inspirations to me for the last 6 years, and i literally owe the man my life. i’m so happy that he exists. it makes things a little easier knowing that he does. 

I’m going to miss him so much that it hurts, and I hate that I didn’t get to see him or get to hug him one more time. that’s the hardest part for me about saying goodbye to the cons. 

it’s so bittersweet going forward now, because there’s this huge part of my life that’s over, and i don’t know how to fully express all of it, but im so glad that i got to be on the ride as long as i did. 

hopefully in the future, things will continue to be as fun as the last four and a half years have been. i can’t wait to see what future conventions hold for me and my friends. 

[sanctuaryforalluniverses]

Indeed, THAT episode. Sorry TT-TT - still crying. Crying forever. (number-challenged Anon #2)

Okay, so this is only the first of what is actually a four-chapter fix-it fic for that particular disaster of an episode (and it’s Speed/Eric - I do hope you’ve figured out by now that that’s the way I roll in this particular universe) but hopefully it’ll be enough to take the edge off your grief. I really am sorry - that’s an absolutely awful episode. 

000

He’d heard apolice psychologist talk about it once – people who experienced deep traumatended to remember the last few minutes before the incident with knife sharpclarity. She’d theorized that it was the brain’s way of clinging to the lastfew moments when they’d had their old life, before it shattered around them.

Eric had beenwalking into the lab when it happened. He’d known Calleigh was going to bethere, and had planned to offer his help with the palm-print search while Speedand H followed up on the jewelry store lead. She’d been turned away from him, andhe’d planned on cracking a joke about her missing equipment. He was pretty sureCalleigh wasn’t really mad about Speed raiding her kit, but it was always bestto make sure.

But then herealized she was on the phone, her entire body tense like she was getting theworst news in the world, and the words died in his throat. Then theconversation she was having penetrated his brain, and everything he’d beenplanning beyond the next second died right along with it. “… be right there,Horatio. I’m sure Alexx is on her way already.”

H was on thephone with news bad enough to make Calleigh’s voice shaky, and there was exactlyone team member who hadn’t either been mentioned by name or was standing hereright now.

Eric grabbedthe edge of the doorframe as his knees threatened to buckle. No.

Still, theconversation continued. “It did?” Calleigh’s face lost even more color, if sucha thing was possible. “I’ll take care of it.”

Eric waitednumbly for some sort of detail to slip out, anything that would suggest whatcould have happened to Speed to leave such an expression on Calleigh’s face. Caraccident. Gunshot wound. Death … He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the imagesthat kept coming, amazed at how utterly cold he felt.

“Have you talkedto Eric yet?” And there was that gentleness in her voice, the one she alwaysused with grieving family members. Right then, Eric didn’t think he’d everheard anything more terrifying. “I’ll find him before I leave the building. Seeyou in a minute.”

Eric stayedfrozen in the doorway, numb, as Calleigh shut the phone and finally turned herhead just enough to catch sight of him. She nearly jumped when her eyes methis. “Eric!” Voice gentling again, she quickly closed the distance between them.“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. How …”He swallowed, making himself get the rest of the words out. “How bad is Speed?”

“One shot, justunder the left shoulder.” At the expression on Eric’s face, she laid a hand onboth his arms as if she was about to hug him. “He’ll be okay, Eric. He’s on hisway to Mercy General even as we speak. Alexx will be there the whole time and Iknow she’s going to do everything she can to keep us updated.”

Eric’s firstinstinct was to turn around and head straight for the hospital, wait until hecould prove with his own eyes and ears that Speed was going to be alright. But… there was still a little boy out there somewhere who needed to get home, andthere at least he could actually dosomething to make sure that no one got left heartbroken.

It’s what Speedwould do, in his place.

“Eric?”

Calleigh. Hetook a deep, shaky breath, straightening his shoulders and scrubbing a handacross his face. “Where do you need me?” His voice cracked a little, but heknew that she’d forgive him.

She did,wrapping her arms protectively around him and squeezing tight. After a second,he completed the hug. “Can you take over the palm print search for me?” sheasked quietly, still oh so careful. “Horatio needs me to take charge of his andSpeed’s guns before Stetler gets a hold of them. Whoever’s case gets done firstpicks the other up and we go to the hospital together.”

Eric stiffenedat the word “Stetler,” going cold all over again. “Why do you need to see theirguns?” Calleigh took a heartbeat too long to respond, and a sudden, sickrealization made his stomach drop like a lead weight. “Coño carajo,” he said hoarsely, instantlyterrified. “He stopped cleaning his gun.”

She steppedback slightly, eyes wide. “What?”

“Speed.” Ericpulled away, mind still reeling. He’d checked,damn it, three different times in the months after he’d seen Speedle carry thatgun cleaning kit out of the lab on Dispo Day. Speed’s gun had been clean everytime, just like you’d expect from a man who had been shot in the chest. How could he … How … “He …” He swallowed, throatsuddenly dry. “Shit.”

Calleightensed, like she wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. “There are plentyof reasons a gun can misfire, Eric.”

“Tell me I’mwrong. Please.” He should have kept checking. He should have known when Speedlehad stopped, done something about it. Why the hell had Speedle stopped? “I’d love it if you could make me believeyou.”

Her lipstightened, which meant she couldn’t. “We don’t have all the facts yet.”

Eric closed hiseyes, feeling something sharp and terrible slice through his heart. Did Speedreally care so little about his life that he’d let something like this happen again? Did he really care so littleabout Eric that he wasn’t enough of areason to—

He swallowed,cutting off the thought. “Go, Calleigh.” He blinked hard against the suddensting in his eyes, hating how helpless he felt. “I’ll take care of the search.”

She hesitated, clearlysurprised at the sudden shift. “Eric ….”

Eric took adeep breath, putting on his best “I can handle this” expression. “Find out whathappened.”  He took her by the shoulders,gently pushing her out the door. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

Calleigh turnedback, eyes softening. She knew exactly what he was asking. “He’ll be okay,Eric,” she said firmly. “Even if we have to make him.”

He watched hergo, desperately afraid that she was wrong.

000

It was thesmell that woke Speed up first, the combination of Lysol and vomit that waspart of every hospital he’d ever been in. Even now it was enough to turn hisstomach, far more so than anything he’d ever run into on the job. What the hellwas it doing in a jewelry store?

An instantlater, he remembered the guns. His gun, refusing to fire because he never gotaround to cleaning it. The sharp kick of someone else’s bullet entering hisbody.

Well, thatexplained the hospital.

Gingerly, Speedopened his eyes, noting the ache in his shoulder that was no doubt beingrestrained from more by a variety of exciting painkillers. There was the usualassortment of wires and tubes attaching him to the bed, a glass of water withineasy reach, and an extremely annoyed blond glaring at him from the chair overby the window.

Their eyes met,and Calleigh’s body relaxed ever so slightly. That turned out to be false hope,however, because an instant later her eyes narrowed. When she shot him herfamous “you’ll wish I’d just killed you” glare, he realized that whatever shewas feeling was a hell of a lot more serious than annoyance.“It’s good to seeyou back among the living,” she said crisply.

“Whathappened?” he asked, voice a rasp. Then a horrible thought struck him. “Did Hget hit because of me?” That would definitely explain the anger….

“Horatio’s backat the lab, making sure the little boy we found is reunited with his mother.”Calleigh settled back in the chair, folding her arms tight across her chest.Her eyes blazed. “You’re the one who got shot because of you.”

He leaned backagainst the pillows, oddly relieved. “I know.” He took as deep a breath as hisshoulder would let him. “How bad is it going to be with Stetler?”

“How bad willit be?” She raised a single icy eyebrow. “It’s better than the funeral the restof us would be planning if that shot had been an inch closer to your lung. Wantto work out the details with me now, save your parents and the team sometrouble when your next suicide attempt ends up successful?”

“‘Suicideattempt?’” Speedle’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t really think I meant—”

Calleigh’svoice hit like a slap. “I begged youto take better care of your gun, Speedle, after your last misfire got you centerpunched in the chest.” Far worse than the anger was the grief he could hearleak into her voice. “And yet you couldn’t give enough of a damn about yourselfto be bothered.”

It should beillegal to have to argue for your sanity while this heavily medicated. “You’reoverreacting, Calleigh. Remember your crime light? Not every screw-up has tomean something.”

She tilted herhead, shooting him a look that seemed to pierce straight to the back of hisbrain. “Not every screw-up results in you getting potentially shot, either. Tryagain.”

“I just …” No,that one would only make the situation worse. “It’s … “ No, not that one either…. He swore softly, then glared at her.“Since when did you decide to become a psychiatrist?”

“All I want aresome answers, Tim. Something to make it so I can stop worrying about you” Calleighsighed, long and tired. “Like Eric said, ‘I’d love it if you could make mebelieve you.’”

“I’d be happyto if you’d ….” The words trailed off as the last sentence finally sank throughSpeed’s drug-clouded brain. “Eric knows?” He swallowed, his entire body goingcold at the thought. Calleigh was scary enough, but one wounded look from Ericand he’d be toast. “About everything?”

Calleigh’s eyeswidened in obvious surprise, then narrowed in sudden intensity. She opened hermouth, about to respond …

“Yeah.”

… then wasutterly ignored in the next second as Speed looked up at the sound of Eric’svoice, staring over Calleigh’s shoulder to see his best friend standing in thehospital room doorway. He looked tired and pissed as hell, and Speed tensed foranother round of accusations he wouldn’t be able to defend against. “Ericknows.”

Speed toldhimself he wasn’t afraid to meet Eric’s eyes, because if he was it meantsomething far too scary to think about. “Hey.” Then their gazes locked andSpeed’s stomach knotted, making him even more nauseous than the hospital smellever could. The hurt and betrayal in Eric’s eyes … he looked like he’d beensucker punched by his best friend.

His voice was arasp. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah.” Ericfolded his arms across his chest, staring Speed down. “You do good work.”

His stomachtwisted again as Calleigh looked back and forth between the two men, keeping aneye on the growing tension. “Eric,” she said with careful deliberateness. “DidHoratio call Tim’s parents yet?”

Eric glancedover at Calleigh, sadness replacing some of the anger on his face. “I told himI’d do it. They said they’d catch the first flight they could.”

Speed winced.That was all he needed …. “Who did you talk to?”

Eric turned hisattention back to Speed. “Your mom.” His voice thickened slightly.  “She was really glad to hear you were okay.”

She had alsoprobably been glad that it had been Eric giving her the news. They had talkedonce before, when she had been trying to hunt her son down at work and had caughtEric instead. When she had finallygotten a hold of Speed, she mentioned three separate times how grateful she wasthat he had found such a good friend. To this day, he still wasn’t sure what thetwo of them had talked about. “Eric …” He swallowed, no longer able to lookEric in the eyes. “Thanks.”

Calleigh leanedforward, gently whacking a hand against Speed’s leg to get his attention. When shehad it, she shot him her sternest expression. “There’s a very specific wayyou’re going to need to thank us.”

See, this iswhy he hated feeling guilty. He studied her warily, trying to guess whatevershe was about to spring on him. “I’m afraid to ask.”

He was entirelyunprepared for Eric to be the one who responded. “I’m the one who cleans yourgun from now on,” he said quietly, eyes blazing as Speedle’s gaze swung back tohis. “No argument.”

That would be such a bad idea, for any number ofreasons. “Eric…” Speed attempted to struggle into a sitting position, cursedwhen his body refused to agree with him. Eric moved closer, ready to eitherhelp or stop him depending on whatever seemed most necessary, but Speed held upa hand and let himself drop back against the bed. He focused on Eric’s glare ashe heard Calleigh give an exasperated sigh. “I’ll start cleaning my gun. Ipromise.”

Eric took astep back, hands clenching into fists before he shoved them deep into hispockets. “That’s not good enough. You were supposedto start cleaning your gun after Dispo Day.”

And that wasthe bit he’d been really worriedabout. Speed forced himself not to flinch at the look on Eric’s face, knowinghe deserved it. “I’ve been wondering how you knew about that.”

Eric rolled hiseyes, disgusted. “I know you, Speed.” Then his expression darkened, a muscle jumpingin the line of his jaw. “At least, I thought I did.” Then he turned away, and asecond later he was gone.

Speed closedhis eyes, chest hurting in a way that he knew had nothing to do with the bullet.“Shit.”

“Not exactly how I would have phrased it,”Calleigh said wryly, “but I certainly agree with the sentiment.” As he openedhis eyes she glanced toward the doorway, the concern clear on her face. “WhenEric comes back, could you remind him to eat something? If you play your cardsright, he’d probably even be willing to sneak you in some takeout.”

Speed flinched.“You’re kidding, right? He can’t stand the sight of me right now.” Just sayingthe words made it feel like there was something digging into his chest. “He’sprobably halfway home even as we speak.”

Calleigh staredat him for a second, then suddenly smiled. “I don’t think so.” When Speednarrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what she meant, she pushed herself toher feet. “Eric was out rescuing our kidnap victim with Horatio and still got here to relieve Alexx a halfhour before I did. Since then, neither I nor anyone else has been able to beg,bribe or shove him even a foot outside the hospital doors.” Picking up herpurse, she headed for the doorway. “I can’t imagine you’ll have much betterluck.”

Now an entirelydifferent pain sliced through Speed’s chest, even as he couldn’t quite lethimself believe it. There was no way he’d done anything to deserve that kind ofcaring. “Calleigh….”

She stoppedmoving, waiting for whatever he was about to say, but there was no safe way tofinish that sentence. When that became obvious, Calleigh headed for the door. “EitherAlexx or I will be back to check on you both in a few hours.” She hesitatedlong enough to shoot him a grin over her shoulder. “Remember what I said aboutreminding him to eat.”

[sweetkpopfanfic]

Fanaccount of the ISEOULU Concert in Kuala Lumpur 23/5/2017 (NCT 127)

First off I just wanted to say that this concert was FREE ADMISSION, and I was able to get tickets for zone A, which was right behind the VIP seating area. Of course the ones closest to the stage were Rock Zone tickets (won by lottery) so those who were sitting in Rock Zone would provide a slightly different fanaccount (and better pictures), so this is my account of the concert from where I was standing, which is about 500m to 600 meters from the stage.

Another thing to note is that this concert was used to promote Seoul City tourism, so even if it was a two hour concert, Yesung, Red Velvet and NCT 127 were not the only performers for the whole two hours. We had local Malaysian acts, Altimet and De Fam and a speech given by the vice mayor of Seoul and a magic performance. By the time all of that was over, Yesung, Red Velvet and NCT 127 only had about an hour left to perform. They each performed 4 songs and their ment had to be sped up.

This post is for NCT 127 but I have a separate one for Red Velvet and Yesung, so check those out if you want the full fan account!

NCT 127

Okay this is gonna be a long one because I am a huge NCT stan.

I have to say I thought I was going to be the only NCT stan. I thought everyone was here for Red Velvet and Yesung but I was so wrong, because when their intro VCR played, the screaming amplified by the thousands, glasses cracked, the building shook and about 10,000 cell phones were raised up in the air.

They wore mostly short sleeves or sleeveless for Johnny AND THE JOHNGUNS ARE REAL AND BEAUTIFUL HOLY SHIT I DIED.

JOHNGUNS ARE EVEN BIGGER IN PERSON

Malaysia is a fucking tropical country and they all had those hats, caps and beanies (comeback hair obviously) but it was SUPER FUCKING FRUSTRATING because we couldn’t see their gorgeous faces!!!!! I could hardly see Mark’s from where I was because of that damn bucket hat!!!!

P.S I have never been so mad at a piece of clothing before. I legit wanted to run on stage and tear those things off.

All the artists had a translator, but NCT 127 hardly used theirs because Johnny and Mark did most of the talking, once again to promote Seoul tourism.

Mark said his favourite place is the Hangang river, and he recommended we go check it out.

They performed Firetruck, Once Again, Good Thing and Limitless (in this order)

You could hear the whole crowd screaming SOBANGCHA LMAO

The Malaysian fans actually prepared a birthday project for Haechan and Taeil but we couldn’t do it because they were rushing through their ment, so that was disappointing TT

They didn’t even do their individual member introduction, only the group one.

Taeyong was arguably the most popular member. We all screamed for the members when they performed but when Taeyong came out to do his rap bit, no matter what the song was, holy shit the crowd lost their chill (not that we had any).

Speaking of Taeyong, the rumours of him being the visual king is absolutely 500% true. I was not even in close proximity and even I can see he is ethereal. His jawline was no joke. The man can cut me up and serve me raw.

The members are a lot skinnier in real life. You know the saying ‘the camera puts on ten pounds’? It’s very true. So to all the antis who say the members are fat or ugly or what not you all can shut the fuck up because these people are really skinny in real life.

Haechan is pretty skinny as well, but HIS MELANIN BOI KEEP IT GLOWING

Johnny is a whole lot sexier in person. I am serious. I know we go all ‘oh daddy’ on him as a joke (or sometimes as a joke) but I swear to god in real life HE IS NO JOKE (I’m serious about and I will fite for this)

The girl next to me was a Taeil stan (Taeil stan where you at?) because she kept screaming uncontrollably every time he popped up.

It was mostly live (or at least live with backing tracks) but I’m pretty convinced Taeil did his part live.

Taeyong seemed to have a small cold or something because he was sniffling during the ment (MY SON PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF)

This was all too short for me because after Limitless they all rushed back and Yesung came on to perform. I wish we had more time with them!!!

All in all they were SPOT ON with their performance. They literally arrived Malaysia TWO WHOLE HOURS  before the concert, went back to do their makeup and what not and performed. I don’t think they had any rehearsal time whatsoever, so they were flawless. Even my brother, who is not a big NCT Stan, kept singing along with all their songs and I now know how big NCT is in Malaysia. I honestly thought I was the only one because most of my Kpop friends are more into BTS or EXO (which I also love) but now I know I’m not alone. I mean the fan support for them was Red Velvet and Yesung put together. I had an amazing time and this was honestly one of the best days of my life.

[jo-the-schmo]

Breaking... Ch.17

Masterlist (will update for needed parts soon)

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

A/N: Bet you weren’t expecting this so soon were ya? Aren’t I just full of surprises? I never sleep!!!!! Also I tried something new with the tags so hopefully it works!! I regret nothing

Wordcount: 2016 (neat)

Warnings: Fluff, cute, then blood

Tags!: @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty@meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demi-godamit @gum-and-chips@sweaterkitty-fluff@pinkyiger7@littlemissshortcakes@msageofenlightenment@unprofessional-inhumanbeing@fandom-panda-221@hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple@ashwolfcub@myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate@superwholockbooknerd526@frozengal2013@lmaodedhaha@itsmikayblr@sarmar29 @arya-durin-77 @phantastic-fandoms@hoshihime98@shinigamired @martapetrovic @robotic-space@iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2(lol) @asprinkleofmermaids @pinkyiger7(I’m tagging you twice my friend!) @satellitesuga @rose-coloured-nihilism  @okie-dokie-artichokeme (I love your URL omg)

 if anyone else wants to be tagged just send me an ask!

Breaking Agreements

Johnny tugged at the bottom of your dress, trying to get your attention.

“Mama says we should give your present now, I’ll go get my drum.” It took you a moment to realize what you were talking about. Aww I did say this would be better with a drum! Angie interlocked your arms once more.

“Come on everyone! TT, Mama and I have something to you in the music room!” AJ and Jaime got up off the ground and ran toward the hall where Eliza was already heading. You saw Johnny slowly going down the stairs, his little snare and sticks in hand, being careful not to drop anything. Wow, he got that fast! He must be excited! Angie pulled on your arm. “Let’s go TT!” Alex stood up and patted his daughter on the head.

“I’ll go with you, sunshine girl, follow me.” Alex winked at Philip who was standing behind you. What was that about?

“Okay, Daddy!” Angie let go of your arm, her and Alex walked off to the hallway, well actually, Angie skipped but not the point. You felt something touch your waist, the same thing press against your back lightly.

“Have you already forgotten about me, ma petite chou?” Philip whispered in your ear. You jumped slightly, turned yourself around, your face heating up all over again.

“Why you have to go and call me a cabbage like that?” You blurted out, he chuckled softly.

“You are quite radiant when you’re flustered, my star.” He smiled. “I have a gift for you as well, but you will have to find it after I see yours.” He turned you back around, keeping his hand on your waist while leading you forward.

“I have to find it? What does that even mean?” You asked with intrigue.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” He spoke softly. As you finished squealing internally you approached the music room door. The two of you walked in together, everyone already ready and waiting. Eliza was seated at the piano, Angie and Johnny were standing on opposite sides of her. Johnny already had the strap on his drum secured, the drum leaning on his side. AJ, Jamie and Alex were sitting on the small couch closest to the piano.

“Took you two long enough!” AJ exclaimed.

“What’s going on anyway?” Alexander asked.

“We just have something very special to show you all!” Eliza smiled.

“I’ll go stand by father.” Philip informed. You were suddenly struck with an idea, as he walked away you snatched his hat off his head once more. He turned around with surprise. “Do you have a thing with stealing my hats now?” He asked and you smiled deviously.

“I need it for something, I am about to do something great!” You laid the hat on top of your head and made it point up slightly. I shall now become George Washington; I’m going to make Chris Jackson proud! You trotted over to the middle of the room while Philip walked past you and sat next to Alex. You cleared your throat. “Is everyone ready?” You asked and were met with several yeses. Eliza got ready on the piano.

“Alright Angie, John; Un…deux…trois!” She stared with the first chord and you began your song.

“I was still older than you all now, when I gave myself a command. I may have led myself straight into a massacre, I have witnessed death first hand. I made every mistake and felt the shame rise in me. And even now I lie awake knowing history has its eyes on me.”

(Whoa…whoa, whoa…) Angie and Johnny sang along, Johnny tapping his drum lightly.

“History has its eyes on me…” You stepped slowly over to the couch, stopping in front of it and putting one arm behind your back. “Let me tell you what I wish I’d known, now that I know love and dream of glory. You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story!” You patted Jamie and AJ on the head, smiled at Alex and stepped toward Philip. “I know that we can win, I know that greatness lies in you! Because you’ve taught me from here on in, history has its eyes on you!”

(History has its eyes on you!) They held out. Everyone began to clap and Eliza turned her gaze toward you.

“That was our best run yet!” She exclaimed. You looked down at Philip.

“What’d you think, Sunshine?” He stared up at you, silent for a moment. “Philly?”

“I think…you have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my entire life! And you look better in my hat than I do! And I look really good in that hat, so.” He stood up, brought his hands to both sides of your face, pushing the hair out of the way. His fingers grazed your cheeks and made your skin tingle. You saw his eyes dart from your right eyes, to your left and then down to your lips. Oh my God, is he going to…? OH MY GOD THIS IS HAPPENING! What do I do?! Do I lean in? Do I stay still?! His eyes kept moving in the triangle pattern as his face came a little closer to yours. Before you could actually do anything, you felt the hat on your head be lifted up. You looked to the side to see Angie placing it on top of her own head, it was far too big on her but the feather fit her style more than Philip’s.

“Oh, look at me! I’m Philip Hamilton! After all these years, I have found my beloved! Mon amour! Ma petite chou!” She put her hands on her cheeks and made teasing kissing noises. FUCKING SHIT! ANGIE I LOVE YOU BUT NOW WAS NOT THE TIME! “You know…I quite like this hat. It makes me look like a leader!” She put her hands on her hips proudly. She tipped the hat up and skipped away, sticking her tongue out as she went. Everyone else just sort of collectively looked at each other and got up.

“Well! Time to get some tea!” Alex clapped, almost signaling for everyone to leave, and they did, leaving you and Philip alone to stew in the awkward remnants of what just happened. Both of you simultaneously took a step back from each other, red faced and mumbling. It was terrible.

“Uh, so yeah um, that uh…”

“Yeah, um…so what did you say about needing to find a present earlier?” You laughed nervously, trying to change the topic. Make this torture end!

“Right! That! Well, you’ll have to find it! I’ll tell you which room it’s in but that’s the only hint you’ll get okay?” You nodded and followed him as he walked out of the room, into the hall. “It’s in the study, let’s go!” The two of you quickly made your way over to the study doors and let yourselves inside. If I were Philip, where would I hide a present? Considering you were the smarty pants that you were, it didn’t take much effort for you to figure it’s in Alex’s immense Shakespeare collection. You went over and examined the shelves scrupulously. All’s Well Ends Well, As You Like It, Anthony and Cleopatra, Cornelius, Hamlet, King John, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Macbeth, Merry Wives of Windsor, Midsummer Night’s Dream, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, Midsummer Night’s Dream, A Winter’s Tale- You stopped. Wait a second. You took a second look and found what made you take a double take. Two copies of Midsummer Night’s dream. The one you recognized had gold text but the new one was more silver looking. You picked it off the shelf. “Damn, you found that fast, Star!” Philip exclaimed, leaning against the bookshelf.

“You…you got me my favorite…” You whispered in disbelief.

“Yes, I thought it must be a bit annoying not being able to take it over to your room… I was buying books for school, saw this and knew you had to have it…” He scratched restlessly. “B-But that’s not all! There’s a page marked in there! Well a few actually…Go ahead and open it!” You opened the cover and the pages bump up slightly, you flipped to where this bump ended and saw something. A pressed, slightly discolored pick of baby’s breath. You looked up at Philip.

“Is…is this…?”

“The same flower from our night in the garden? Yes, it is. But that’s not the best part, look at what I marked.” He instructed, you looked back down at the page, moving the wildflower out of the way.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,

Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend

More than cool reason ever comprehends.

The lunatic, the lover and the poet

Are of imagination all compact:

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,

That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,

Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt:

The poet’s eye, in fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;

And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen

Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name.

You looked back up at Philip, slightly confused. “A lover and a madmen are quite similar, what changes them is how they are written. You have faced many madmen, and they will be written as such. However, I will never be your madman. I will write and fight and shape what I am, if it would make you smile. Someday, you will blow us all away, because you blow me away every moment I’m with you.” You look up and see Philip’s face and he is helpless. And his eyes are just helpless. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to do in that moment… You felt a ping rush through your head. No…Not now! Not again! Your head was aching and you felt your pupils dilate over and over again. You felt your hands shaking and looked down at the holding the book. The pages were now old and withered, no longer brand new but the baby’s breath looked like it had just been plucked from the garden. Looking past the book you saw grass on the ground, the wood flooring completely gone. You dropped the book and raised your gaze toward Philip. The sight was familiar but that didn’t make it any less horrifying. There was a pistol in his hand, blood all over his arms and right side, his stare looked blank.

“Phil…ip…s-sunshi….ne” You tried to yell, to cry out, to do something but the blood in your veins was boiling and it made your head feel like it was burning alive.

“I held my head up high…” He said with a gaunt expression. There was a voice, you didn’t recognize it but it sounded masculine.

“Madman, madman, madman, madman, madman, madman, madman. Lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover. Change, change, change, change, change, change, change.” It kept bouncing around in your head, it pushed through your skull and back in again.

“But even before we got to ten…” Philip whispered again. You looked past him and saw figures in black, you couldn’t identify them because they were running back and forth but you could hear the voices. You always did.

“Where is my son?”

“Who did this? Alexander did you know?”

“Stop! You won’t take me! Philip! I need you! Help me!”

“Sept, sept, sept, sept, sept, sept, sept…” Philip mulled.

“Is he alive?”

A blood curdling scream.

“I am not traumatized! I love her! RoseMary! Save me!”

You felt something wet drip down your face and felt yourself lose sight from your right eye, then your left. In this black abyss, it is the only place you’re truly safe, a place of in between. There was nothing there, no one could hurt you, no one could harm those you loved. As long as you were in that Purgatory, nothing wrong could be done. But you always had to wake up.

[inmyelevatedeyes22-blog]

Thoughts That Keep Me Up at Night

Is there anyone out there who has made the wrong decisions for what you thought was the right reasons? 

Has anyone had the power and love of two once beautiful souls and crushed both of them without wanting to and actually tried to let them down gently?

I find myself restless and wise awake thinking of ‘the unchosen path’ and ask myself did I make the right decision? Or was I worried about the heartache and pain a man I loved a caed for the past 4 years destroying his soul...

Why didn’t I choose my own happiness? My own heart? 

I don’t know how to even put into words everything that I did, felt, the reason why I did and didn’t... I just know I have this unbearable pain in my heart, and doubt in my mind. I feel out of place, and not my true self. Like the two happiest months of my life has been ripped away from my book of life and burned to ash...I have every memory...but no closure, nothing to physically look at to see where I went wrong. I just know the path I chose was wrong and I feel stuck. 

I’m hiding behind lies that are slowly creeping up on me, and pushing me closer to a mental break down I can’t cpull back from. Like my whole world could come tumbling down and I have no one left to pick me up and help me back on my feet. 

“Baby, your ghost still haunts me...but I don’t want to sleep with him no more...Every little thing....I remember every little thing. The high. The hurt. The shine. The sting. Every little thing!”  This song speaks to me like no other. It started coming on the radio shortly after i left you sitting in Kowaliga that Memorial Day. I shouldn’t of let him pull me back in. I shouldn’t of ran back to the comfort zone. I should of given him everything he ever gave me back and just leave....drive off into the sunset, across that bridge with you. 

Everything is my fault. I rushed things... and I am so sorry... I do believe in love at first sight. and i truly believe that rue love never dies. I believe that no matter how long it takes, love will find it’s way. But maybe that’s the problem with girls...we rip a good man’s soul out...and let the wrong men do the same to us. And yet we still believe. 

I want to see your smile, and i want one of your hugs... I wanted to speak to you so many times....but i knew if i got that close without me being on the other side of the bar I wouldnt be able to resist. 

What the hell made you want me? Why were you so nice to me? I can’t believe I hurt you. I kick myself in the ass everyday...because now i just feel lost, distraught, and stuck... my lies to him will catch up with me...but you knew that. I use to think people looked at me different because I was different....I never have fit in and I never will...but now I feel like they look at me the way they do for how I’ve done you wrong. 

I didn’t play you. I truly truly loved you, and still do. Way more than I could even possibly tell you, I hear your name and I have to find somewhere to disappear to, or find something on my phone to push back the tears, or worse, find something sad to cover up why I am really crying. I know you’re doing just fine out there, You were great before I even came along to your neck of the woods. I just had to get this shit off my chest somehow. You’re never even going to see it... so this was probably the best way to go about it... so why not put it all out there. 

You’ve managed to stay in his head rent free...he absoluetly hates the idea of me working with your step mother and sister. Anytime I talk about them around him he does in this state of sadness...because I don’t get along with his family no where near like i love yours. I’m big on family. I hate that I can’t come sit on the back porch anymore...i ruined that, When your sister asks me to come hang out with them on the weekends...I can’t. I’d love nothing more....but I just can’t. I want to ask them how you are doing but I’m so terrified they will tell me you’re talking to someone new. I want you happy. I always want you to be successful and wonderful and truly happy with everything you do!!! I hope you find your happiness. Because loosing it...is the absolute most depressing thing in this world. Sinking lower than low and all your care for yourself is gone. Making sure smiles stay on other peoples faces to make yourself feel better... and then you get home and you can’ een break away from the cold bitter thought of being the one that took your own happiness from your heart. UGH! I dont even know what I’m doing aymore other than rambling on a fucking key board. High as a kite through these elevated eyes. I’m holding on until the wedding... The Chappell wedding that is... and after my little brother graduated is basic training, I plan to get the hell out of this state. There is nothing here for me if I can’t tell you how I feel. I can bartend and clean houses anywhere with TT and Bob-O as a reference. 

They say running away doesn’t solve anything...and that’s correct. But it does give you a fresh start...a new light... The plan is that i will find my self again. Because living in this lie of pretending not to care about you, and having to sit through the arguments when your name pops up...drives me closer and closer to the mental breakdown I won’t be able to come back from, hiding behind these lies that I’ve told him...is killing every part of me piece by piece. And that is my fault. In some ways I think he knows...and somedays I wish he did....it would make things easier for me...but it would devistate him to the point of no return. Guilt is what has kept me here. Anger towards myself is what got me here. And you don’t even know the truth, I haven’t had one day where I have not thought about you, What we could of been... and how I should of chose the road less traveled on. I’m not sorry for you, but I deeply and truly apologize to you TWN!!!!!!!! I wish I could of listened to my heart instead of my fear of the unknown. Because you are the Jack to my Tara; The Zay to my Taylor; and  the Mike to my Debbie.... 

Good luck in everything you do. I hope you find the girl that you deserve. 

P.S. I eat gunpowder seasoning on everything now. Can’t live without it. #TheSimpleThingsInLife