#in other news ive been supposed to have a meeting about like My Current Role after i got rejected for promotion HAHA but

[taeescript]

IV. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 9.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. sexual content present. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> another long chapter. sorry! the oc is as opposite to me as day is to night, but i have always enjoyed writing characters who are different. i feel like i’m being challenged to expand my own writing skills. as always, enjoy (: feedback and comments always appreciated. (i am curious: do you prefer long or short chapters?) 

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The taxi arrives much earlier than any of you anticipate. Jungkook is halfway through telling you about the unfortunate event of being kicked out of his rented room when the annoyed-looking driver quickly shoves you both inside. He asks you where you are headed. You lean forward and give him the address of your house. The driver mutters how the drive is less than five minutes away, but he accepts the job nevertheless. “How about you, Sir?” the driver asks Jungkook. Jungkook is at a loss of words until you intercede. “Same place,” you say. Jungkook gives you a confused look. “You said you don’t have any place to stay tonight so I’m extending an offer. Also, sort of like a thank you for finding and staying with me through this storm.” Your words come out much shyer than you had anticipated. He gives you a slight smile. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to invite a stranger to your house?” You blush. “You’re not really a stranger.” “Ah, I’m not? Well I’m a suspect to a murder case.” “No, you’re not! Jimin was only talking to you as a witness.” “A witness? He seemed a little too hostile for that.” As the conversation had carried on, you didn’t notice how close he became until you turned to come face to face with him. The small smile he always has continues to linger on his lips. You pull back and turn to hide the flush on your face that you know for sure is present. Once the heat seems to have left, you glance at him again. He is still regarding you with curiosity. Extending a hand towards him you say, “$10 per night. I’ll be your landlady and you’re renting a room from me.” He laughs and you can’t help but stare with wonder at how white and straight his teeth are.

...

The Body is a miraculous item of study. Inside, we have these little chemical messengers that act on receptors to tell us: wake! At the same time, they tell us: sleep! Just what are these chemical messengers that run around us like tiny men in a sleep-wake factory? First, when we are getting ready to sleep, Melatonin is produced in the pineal gland to send us a message telling us that it is time to enter slumber. Their levels increase as the level of darkness increases. Once our body is asleep, a surge of multiple hormones play a role. You have growth hormone from the pituitary gland telling (a child in particular) to grow and repair tissue; you have antidiuretic hormone (ADH) increasing so we don’t have to get up and pee in the middle of the night; you have oxytocin that may peak at about five hours of sleep influencing the content of our dreams. You wait nervously outside the bathroom door. You had both returned to your house and you had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a sleeveless top. Your hair was tied in a bun on your head; your scalp itching to remind you that it had been a while since you washed your hair. However, you had more pressing matters at hand. You had told Jungkook that he was allowed to use the shower first but after drinking one too many cups of water – your throat was so dry – you now desperately needed to use the washroom. The water is still running and you can slightly feel the heat escaping the warm room through the small crack of the door. It was ajar and the smell of your shampoo wafted out to meet your nose. It made you wonder if your shampoo had always been so sweet and inviting. As you are the only resident of the house, there had never been a need for multiple bathrooms and thus your only solution is to patiently wait outside until your guest is finished.  After what felt like five minutes but in actuality five seconds, you take a small peek into the bathroom. The glass shower door has been fogged up and you can only see a very hazy silhouette of its current occupant. If you were to dash in and release everything in your bladder at a fast enough speed, perhaps Jungkook would never notice that you would be in there. Just as long as you moved fast enough. You wanted to weigh the pros and cons of this decision but your bladder would not let your mind concentrate. Before you could control your body, you rush into the bathroom. Everything but the feeling of pleasure from the release of the buildup of pressure in your pelvis is forgotten. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. When you are finished, you deftly stand and flush the toilet. You momentarily lean over the toilet, reveling in the new weightlessness of your body, when the realization of the scenario you are in hits you. You had just walked into a man showering in your house. Not only that, you had used the toilet while he was washing up (naked) less than a feet away. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would definitely see you in here. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would think you are a peeping tom. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now – It is too late, however. You hear his voice from behind you, “Well, this is a surprise.” You turn as slowly as you can. Jungkook stands with the white towel around his waist. He does not look much different than when you had seen him drenched by the rain, but this time you are able to smell the masculine scent of body wash off of him. The first time in the rain, you had been unable to help yourself and glance at his defined abdominal muscles through his soaked shirt, but this time you choose not to peel your eyes away from the sight. The gulp you takes makes its way slowly down your throat. “I needed to use the toilet really badly,” you somehow managed to squeak. He tucks the end of the towel into the side all the while looking at you with a teasing smirk. You do not need to look in the mirror behind you to know the shade your face has turned. “I’ll be going now,” you murmur and turn to leave the room. “Without washing your hands?” he teases you. As if he now is not regarding you as a full out pervert, he probably thought you as unclean as well. You can’t remember what you say in response to that as you shuffle to the sink. The water is warm when it runs out of the faucet. Your mind is unfocused on the task in front of you as you can only think of ways to escape or talk your way out of this situation. “How are you supposed to wash any the germs away if you scrub like that?” You feel his voice vibrate along your back. You immediately tense up when his arms wrap from behind around you. His hands gently take your slimmer hands into his own and together they move through the lathering actions. He pumps the hand soap and his lips become dangerously close to your cheek when he reaches in front. “Clean between each finger and the side of your palm. People often forget to wash the area around the thumb and most of their less dominant hand,” he continues to lecture you. “Just be still,” the plea to your body and mind only being silently voiced out in desperation. There is no extra cloth to wipe your hands dry and so he uses the towel around his waist instead. Each action he does only made you become ever more anxious and self-conscious. When he seemed satisfied with you, he lets you walk away. You will your legs to maintain its strength as you take the steps needed to exit the small steamy room. You are stopped again when he says, “Are you always so innocent?” There is a part of you that wants to turn to look at him, but another part warns you that if you do, a larger temptation will face you. He strolls to stand before you. His eyes slowly make their way from your toes to the top of your forehead; then his gaze holds you steadily in place. You swallow again under his scrutiny. Taking a step towards you, he slides a finger under the strap of you tank top. The simple action makes you shiver. “Tell me, how long have you been living alone?” Your mind tells you not to answer him. What are you doing anyways? Just an hour ago you were thinking about Baekhyun and now you are being consumed by Jungkook. “How long has it been since you’ve been… touched?” his question comes out barely above a whisper – that is how close he is to you now. “I shouldn’t – ” you words are suffocated by his kiss. His lips mold until they wrap around yours. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you fall into him with such speed that it scares you. You feel both dread and thrill in your stomach. He tastes warm, that is the only thing your mind is capable of detecting. Other than that, your brain can not function and you feel yourself shiver in his embrace. You wonder if he has his eyes closed as well or if he was looking at you. Perhaps if you opened your eyes you would have an answer to your question yet you felt afraid of doing so. He pulls you waist closer to him and the dew on his chest seeps through your thin top. His skin is warm, but the now-cold water causes your nipples to become erect. He can feel them straining through the top, but rather than having his hand rise up to meet it, he slides his hand deeper into your pants. Your body tenses up at the invasion. “Relax,” the single word slurs as they are passed between your lips. The suggestion comes in the form of a command and your body strangely listens. With his hand, he forcefully grips the left cheek of your behind and roughly presses you lower body into his. The simultaneous sensation of pleasure and pain runs through your body. His other free hand brushes the nape of you neck. Your hands act of their own accord, and you find them running through his hair, all the while as he tugs on your lips; all the while that you become wrapped in his embrace. Your fingers become brushed with water, and you draw a wet finger down the middle of his back. It is his moan you hear this time, and the thrill rushes through your body again. For the next few moments, the two of you are captivated with exploring each other’s body. You think that he is about to lift your shirt off when instead his hand slips through the barrier created by your underwear. You freeze again. His lips leave yours and trace a pathway until he stands behind you, and your back is pressed tightly against his torso. All the while, his hand makes a crawling rotation until they rest on you lower abdominal. You place a shaking hand on top of this. You don’t even notice that your fingers have become icy cold. “Trust me,” he whispers into your ear. His voice is so low that you mind barely registers what he has said. You heart rises in speed in proportion to his hand that moves out from beneath yours and continually slides downward.

...

You wake with a beating heart. Your eyes fly open, and they are greeted with the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars you had placed on your ceiling. It had been a dream. Your breathing fights to become regular again, but the more you think about what you had awoken from, the more it loses in its battle. You know it is all a dream, but why was it then that you still feel the pressure on you lower abdominal? With a crack, your mind finally reels out of its stupor and a new burn in your stomach causes you to flush again. The act of sex is not foreign to you. You had given that away to Baekhyun the night you realized you were truly in love with him – the night he had proposed to you. But that had happened a long time ago and since his disappearance, you had never given yourself to another man. The thought had never even passed through you. So why was it that you had these thoughts now? Towards a man that you had only just met? Also, how was it that he could make you do something like this? Your hand slides out from your underwear and the band’s near soundless snap practically hands you its embarrassing reality on a gold platter. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had touched yourself. The concept was always too taboo and awkward for you to embrace. You were also not a person that became aroused by sexual thoughts, yet a simple dream had made you lose control of your body. You wiped your hands on the bedsheets, and turn onto your side in bed so you would no longer feel the pressure of gravity on your already tense body. Jeon Jungkook. You only invited him at the spur of the moment. You had both returned home and wordlessly showered and got into bed. You had offered to make a simple meal but he had kindly rejected telling you that he was too tired. He had also jokingly told you not to worry about breakfast tomorrow as it was the least he could do in return for letting him sleep at your place. Continuing on, you told him that he was allowed to use your bedroom so he would be more comfortable but he had patted your small sofa instead. He always carried a pillow with him and told you he could fall asleep anywhere as long as he had it with him. You squeeze your eyes shut. Why? What was this? Who is this man that has barged into your safe house?

More importantly, what is he doing to you? You curl into a tighter ball and press your thighs closer together.

...

The scent of sweet in combination to savory fills your nose and sends a chill through your body. Your eyes remain closed, still infused with slumber but you bring the blanket closer to you. A small breeze sends another intoxicating spiral towards your nose. It smells like pancakes. Perhaps with a thick layer of maple syrup and a cube of butter. There is also something that reminds you of salt – bacon. Sizzling, warm, crunchy bacon. The distinct aroma of coffee is blended in there as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you open your eyes. You yelp. Jungkook nearly tips the coffee cup onto your drawer when the sound suddenly occurs. He looks down and sees your wide eyes staring up at him. He meets them but you quickly shift your pupils. You look… nervous. Seeing the unexpected visitor makes you remember the events of last night. Your palms start to sweat and you only draw the covers closer to your chest while sitting up. The corner of the sheet dips past your shoulder and he catches the flash of smooth skin. “Sorry to wake you,” he scratches his jaw embarrassedly, “I saw you were asleep and I promised breakfast. I thought I’d try to quietly slip in and leave it by your bedside.” You eye the said meal on your drawer and note that your nose had not lied to you. “It’s okay,” you try to say. However, your voice is groggy with sleep and so you clear it once. “It’s okay,” you say clearer this time, “But you really didn’t have to.” “It’s nothing. I’m an early riser anyways.” He makes a motion to leave. “Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to look at you. His gaze is piercing and the strange flush that never failed to make an appearance returns. “I’ll join you outside,” you tell him. Smiling, he nods. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

...

When you had left, Jimin had sat down at his desk feeling extremely dejected. He was supposed to protect you and make sure you never shed another tear. That was his promise to his best friend. Yet here he is, as the cause of your pain once again.

“Sir, the files you had requested.” Yoongi knocks on his door. As the youngest detective on the team, he is often coerced into doing the grunt work. But his tenacious and hard-working attitude gave him rise on Jimin’s list of people he respected. Jimin tilts his head to peer above the top of his cluttered desk. New files had been opened along with the scatter of older yellowing papers. His whiteboard is nearing a grey colour at the amount of times he has written things down and then erased them. Yoongi listens and is about to leave his senior alone but stops at the door. “Sir, if I may, will you allow me to make a comment?” the younger asks solemnly. Jimin turns to regard him. His eyesight blurs and he has to hold onto the corner of the desk to steady himself. Quickly masquerading the moment of weakness, he coughs and stands straight again. “You haven’t left the station in three days. You sleep at the desk and your back is in so much pain you shuffle to get coffee. It smells of Chinese take-out and stale pizza in here with another strange concoction of coffee and sweat.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him. Yoongi clears his throat but does not waver in telling Jimin his mind. “Go home, Sir. You need some rest. The case will still be here when you return. It’ll also be of benefit when you return with refreshed eyes and mind.” Yoongi stands still all the while looking forward. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jimin walking towards him. His mouth starts to become dry knowing the harsh words he will hear from the his senior for speaking out of place.

Jimin tiredly places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi rotates his head in surprise. Sighing, he says, “You’re right. My body is on the verge of breaking down.” He sniffs once. “And I do smell like shit.” 

Yoongi chuckles, both out of nervousness and relief. 

“I’m leaving the team in your hands then,” Jimin grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. 

“Me?” Yoongi says astonished, “What about Lieutenant Namjoon?” 

The laugh draws more strength from Jimin’s lungs than he anticipates. “I haven’t seen that guy for the past three days in the station, and both you and I know I’ve been living here. You’re young, but I like your attitude. The others like you too.” 

Yoongi cannot help but smile at the praise. He salutes as Jimin walks out the door. “I’ll do my absolute best!”

“I expect nothing less,” Jimin calls out and waves.

...

He had fully intended to walk home, but there are so many thoughts in his head he needed fresh air to wash out the stale one in his lungs and to clear out his mind. 

Sitting at the park just a block away from the station, he takes a small bite of the cookie he picked up from the station’s café. It is sickening sweet and he wonders how he had lived on these cookies when he used to pull all-nighters for previous cases. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice interrupts his quiet. 

Jimin looks up and sees Namjoon smiling at him. Namjoon’s hair is swept back and he is sporting a white polo shirt along with khaki pants. His police jacket is slung over his arm and hides his badge within. At a quick glance, Namjoon looks like any normal civilian enjoying the autumn afternoon. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jimin lazily greets his friend. 

Namjoon takes a seat beside Jimin. In one hand, he holds a brown paper back and this is what he extends towards Jimin. 

Taking a peek inside, Jimin notes a container that has some type of potato salad along with another stacked container with mixed rice. 

“Youngji told me to pass this to you,” Namjoon answers his unasked question, “We thought you could do without any more of the crappy station café food – full of MSG and sugar.” 

The smiling face of Namjoon’s soon-to-be wife enters Jimin’s vision at the mention of her name. The two had recently moved in together and there were days when Jimin felt envious when hearing about Namjoon brag about his fiancée’s skills in the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Jimin says. 

“I’m not slacking on the job by the way,” Namjoon says.

“You’re not? I don’t recall seeing you in the office for the past couple of days.” 

“I got called into a meeting with the board of directors. They wanted an update on this Angel Killer.” 

“Angel Killer, huh? Quite original.” 

“Not my call on what we name the perps.” 

A lull in the conversation comes to as Jimin caves into the meal set before him. 

“Not a spinach and green bean casserole, I see,” Jimin jokes. 

Namjoon laughs. Starting from a few weeks before, Youngji had gone into a fascination in preparing green foods. The entire floor soon came to understand that Namjoon would be eating the same casserole for his next few meals. 

“I convinced her out of it,” Namjoon says with a grin, “Told her that she already spoils me with all her other cooking.” 

Jimin chuckles along with Namjoon. He digs his fork into the meal before him. The taste of food that did not come from a can is such a welcome sensation to his body he can’t help but sigh.

“Youngji’s a fantastic cook.” 

“One of the best.” 

“Well, here’s to you forever gaining weight.”

Namjoon comically nods and rubs his belly. 

“Well, Y/N’s a pretty good cook too. The pasta looked delicious the other day.”

At the mention of your name, Jimin falls quiet. 

“You know, I understand you better than you think. That look you have, Jimin. I can see that the case isn’t the only reason you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy and inside the station. We all saw Y/N leaving the station the other day.” 

“I guess that also means you all saw how upset I made her.” 

Namjoon takes an inhale followed by a slow exhale. “Stop me if I’m prying too much, but what happened?” 

Jimin takes an even deeper sigh. “She found out that I’m still looking into Baekhyun’s cases after all these years.” 

“Ah,” was Namjoon’s simple response. 

“I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? The reason I’ve never given up on finding the truth is to find some closure for myself. For her… For the both of us.” 

Jimin means the words he says, but when he hears them from his own mouth, it feels strange. 

“Well… what if closure for you doesn’t have the same definition for her?” 

Namjoon’s comment make Jimin tilt his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Namjoon stretches out his legs in front of him. The park has quieted down as most of its visitors have returned to work after their lunch break. Only a couple of people still remain, but they are scattered so far around the park that none of their faces could be made out. 

“Closure for Park Jimin means to discover the truth. Closure for Y/N might be simply to accept that her fiancé’s gone. She was in so much pain when he disappeared and it took her forever to even leave the house. Her first steps out were because of you. The reason she has the strength to move on today is because you’ve constantly been by her side. Maybe the reason she’s been able to accept that Baekhyun’s no longer with her is because she sees that you’ve accepted it as well.” 

“She saw the files that indicate that perhaps Baekhyun was murdered.” 

Namjoon’s next sentence becomes lodged in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again but only to have it return to its previous state. At last when he finally finds what he wants, he says, “That complicates things, doesn’t it?” 

Jimin closes the food container and returns it back into the bag. In the time they had been talking, he found that he had lost his appetite. His two thumbs press against the sides of his temple and gently massage it in circles. 

Everybody knows how much Jimin cares for you; some even think that the extent of it is due to Jimin’s secret crush on you. But Namjoon knows the reason why. He can’t help but look at his colleague and friend with sadness. An ancient promise that causes anguish to those in its pact. 

Placing a warm hand on Jimin’s back, Namjoon leaves it there for comfort. “Is that what you believe? That Baekhyun is gone because he was murdered?” 

Jimin shakes his head. As if the thoughts in his brain could not get any more complicated, the simple question makes things worse. “I don’t know, Namjoon. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been working this case for years now, but everything always comes up to a dead end. A part of me wants to believe that Baekhyun simply decided to walk out of his old life to start a new one and he’s alive somewhere out there. Yet another part, the detective part, can’t ignore the knowledge that maybe something bad did happen to him that night. That’s why he never returned.” 

“Did you uncover anything new?” 

“No. Not for that case.” 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. He can sense something else in Jimin’s tone. He is unable to tell if Jimin says what is on his mind as the conversation is redirected. 

“What did the directors say about Sara Michel’s case? I’m assuming that’s why you went to meet with them.” 

This time it is Namjoon’s turn to furrow his brows. Namjoon had never truly wanted to become Lieutenant. Jimin knew that Namjoon had been offered the position because he first had turned down the offer. Namjoon never expressed any bitterness about it; no, instead he had said he had been thankful. Namjoon had always said how he wanted to become Lieutenant before asking Youngji’s hand in marriage. When they spoke, the only frustration Namjoon ever expressed was the unexpected amount of responsibilities that came with this new position.  

“They want to know if we have any new leads. As they say, if we don’t have anything by 24 hours, the case is as good as gone. If there really isn’t anything then they want us to wrap it up. File it as another unsolved case and focus on the new big project: the whole deal we’ve been working over at with the Narcotics Team.” 

“The drug related gang suicides, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“We can send a couple of guys over.”

“That’s the thing though. The Board doesn’t want a few guys. They want the entire team on board. Agent Hoseok’s barely keeping above the waves with this one. HR is breathing down his neck as apparently, some well-known powerful figure’s gone missing because of this.” 

“Guilty?” 

“Likely, but since he’s clearly an influential guy, the Missing Person’s unit might be dragged into it as well. His lawyers have also been stalking out at the station in case anything does come up. It’s going to set the whole station into turmoil.” 

Politics. Jimin hated it all. If someone was guilty, he believed that they should see the justice they deserved. 

“So what should I say to them?” 

“Huh?” 

“The Board. You’re the one who’s worked the Sara Michel case the most. What should I tell them about our progress so far?” 

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. Progress… Did he have that? Perhaps, but at the end: speculations. That is what they are. He couldn’t take the chance. “Tell them we may have something. Try and deter them from trashing this case. Be ambiguous.” 

Namjoon waits to see if Jimin would further elaborate but the other doesn’t speak again. 

“Alright,” Namjoon says, “But you will keep me updated on whatever you find, right?” 

Jimin nods. 

Namjoon knows that the conversation is over so he stands. Stretching, he rolls his neck once and then follows it similarly with his shoulders. “I’m going to head back to the station. Go home. Get some rest.” 

“None of you want me at the station, huh? I stink it up too much?” 

This earns him a grin from Namjoon. “You’re the brightest mind we have on the team, Jimin. But right now it’s shutting down right in front of my eyes. Recharge it and return when you’re ready.” 

Jimin nods again and lifts a head to say goodbye. Then, he is left to his own thoughts once again.

...

She runs. Fast.

He looks down at the three words. They are the only things that fill his laptop screen after he hits enter. Writer’s block: something he didn’t quite enjoy. That was why he liked to move around so much when he writes. That, plus the fact that he can see his subject clearly. 

The girl is thin and wiry but the definition of hard deltoid muscles are outlined by the afternoon sun. He enjoys a challenge and she might be one. 

Dane observes her like the hunter might to his prey. He notes down everything - from the pathway she takes to the speed of her jogging. Everything is important. 

What a contrast she would serve compared to pretty Ms. Michel. Now, where should he display her this time?

Everything must be chosen so that it meets perfection. She is a prancing antelope that dances unknowingly for the lion. Man is an animal after all. We all belong in the Wilderness.

His eyes look up from his script and watches as the girl stretches once she reaches the bench. She is bent over to catch her breath and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. A small device is wrapped around her arm and she touches it to presumably change the song. Her black and blue leggings contrast with her lighter skin. Once she has rested enough, she jogs a couple of times in place before going forward and then turning the corner out of his sight. 

So pretty and elegant. He wants to wrap his arms around her, and feel her pulse between his fingers. He wants to make her into his next angel. 

Dane is patient. He is willing to wait until the right opportunity. He will see to it. Unwritten.

This is the third time at the park, but each day that he has arrived, she is also there. He did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that this must be her daily route. Soon, he will be able to continue on his story.

...

Jimin could not understand why, but after that day with Namjoon at the park, he found himself returning to it quite often. He would make excuses to grab a coffee, but would then find himself wandering back to the bench. He enjoyed the quietness the small area offered. It allowed him to gather his thoughts in peace before returning to the hectic environment of the station. 

After allocating time spent of sitting silently under the warmth of the sun, Jimin finally stands. The park is much quieter now as the remaining people have also left. He gathers the brown bag with leftovers from the local bistro and starts stretching his legs. From the corner of his eye, he notices that somebody is running. 

There is not enough time for him to get out of her way and she crashes into him the moment she turns the corner. The impact is not great and she merely stumbles back in shock. 

“I’m so sorry,” he bows in apology. 

She is out of breath but she shakes her head and bows as well. “No, it’s my fault! I’m sorry I didn’t see you!” 

He waves it away and they share another awkward laugh before the girl in the black and blue leggings smiles and continues on her route. 

Bending to pick up the brown bag he has dropped on impact, somebody else captures his attention. That person is someone he cannot seem to forget and even this slightest sight of him causes Jimin to scowl. 

He is able to recognize that jacket from anywhere – that grey jacket this man wore the day he walked into the police station. He is currently sitting on a bench nearly halfway across the park. Jimin shouldn’t have been able make out any facial features at his distance, but he swears that the man’s eye follow a runner down the path.  

The other man seems engrossed with something on his laptop. His eyes never seem to leave the screen and Jimin is unable to tell whether Jungkook is typing or whether he is watching some type of video. Regardless of what he is doing, Jimin has already decided that it is not good. 

About to walk up to him, Jimin suddenly stops in the midst. It is not because somebody else has bumped into him or that he is caught up in another thought. 

No. 

It is because he recognizes the second figure that appears from behind the first.

...

The previous writer’s block disappears as fast as it had appeared. His fingers are now flying across the keyboard as he continues to write the perfect plan. In fact, he is so captivated by the growing paragraphs that he does not notice when another figure appears from behind. 

“What are you doing?” your voice startles him. 

He whirls around and snaps his notebook shut. You stand behind with a slightly surprised expression on your face. He is able to tell because your large eyes are wider than usual, and your mouth makes a small “o”. 

Time had flown by so quickly that he had forgotten he was supposed to meet you at 1:00pm. Quickly checking his watch, he sees that the time is 12:50pm. 

“You’re here early,” he notes. Scooting over, he then pats the seat next to him. You timidly follow his instructions and sit down beside him. The scarf you wear loosens as the wind blows and you fix it once. 

“I was just in the area. Do you like croissants? I bypassed a popular bistro on the way here and bought us some.” You hand him the small box. “I know croissants are unexpected from a place like that, but I can promise you – they’re really good!”

Jungkook peeks in the box. Packaged in rows, there is a set of treats in chocolate, strawberry cream cheese and plain. 

“Sets of three,” Jungkook mumbles. 

You look up at him. “Sorry?” 

He gives you a small laugh, yet minute as it is, it still makes your heart tumble. “A set of three. I like working in sets of three,” he tells you. Jungkook opts for the original.

You wait until he takes a bite before a smile breaks across you face. “Good, huh?” 

He nods, crumbs falling onto his laptop. He brushes them away before they can dirty it further.

“What did you want to meet me for?” he asks you. 

From the strangely shaped bag you had brought with you, you take out a wooden stand and a large piece of rolled paper. He watches as you set up you easel and clips the paper to the side. It is blank. 

“I come here often to paint,” you explain as you take out another small bag that is filled with sketching tools, “I think it’s so beautiful here.” You don’t add that you had chosen this place because when Baekhyun first disappeared, this was the closest you could be to Jimin without actually bothering him at the station. 

“So you called me here to watch you paint?” 

“Sketch, actually. Today I’m here to sketch but in a couple of days I should be able to paint.” 

Jungkook leans back in his seat. He sees that a new light has taken over your eyes as you take everything from the park into memory. Your pencil twirls in your fingers. Another small gust of wind blows the scarf away from your neck. 

Over their time together, they had become so used to being in each other’s presence that you no longer shy away from him. There were moments when you would be reminded of the first night he stayed at your house, but believe you are not one to dwell in the past so you quickly forget it. At this moment, he is drawing the collar of your jacket up and fixing your scarf so that it would no longer loosen. 

While he is helping you, you continue to talk, “You know, ever since I saw you, a feeling has been itching at me. I kept thinking that before bumping into you at the station, I had seen you before! Now I know. You were the guy who thought I was a street artist!”

Jungkook’s fingers falter as he sets them back on his lap. He does not move. What was it you had just said?

“I was at the square near my studio that evening. It was particularly nice. I remember a small ensemble playing classical music too. You had been the one to knock over my canvas.” 

No. It was not him. 

“Wait. It wasn’t you. It was the lady you were with!” When you remember, you gasps. 

Jungkook turns when he hears you. There was not supposed to be a single person that could have remembered him with Sara that night. That was never part of the plan. When he turns his focus on you, there is a look of shock and realization. A fire begins to burn in his stomach. 

You hold your hand to your mouth. You can see that Jungkook is staring at you and the guilt eats away inside. You should have seen it coming. He was a handsome, intelligent and skilled man. He had showed up out of nowhere. He was also a stranger to the city. The two of you had met outside the station. Of course he could not be here simply because of work. 

He must have been here with his girlfriend. 

And they had bumped into you that night on their date. 

“Y/N, what is it?” Jungkook asks gently. 

You sets the pencil down on the easel. “That woman you were with… That’s your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Oh my god… if she were to know that you’re staying with me right now. She would probably think that I’m some girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.” 

Your face only reddens more when Jungkook’s laughter echoes around the park. It lasts for quite a while and you do not know whether you are feeling humiliated or angry at him laughing at you. 

He catches his breath and smiles widely at you. “That wasn’t my girlfriend. She was someone I was meeting for the night.” 

“For a date?”

“No. For work.” 

You do not know why, but you breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I also remember you liking my painting. Do you remember?” 

He gives you another smile. “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t.” 

Disappointment makes your chest ache. Never good at hiding your emotions, it makes him smile again when he sees the obvious frown. He places a hand over yours. “I’d still love a painting though, if that’s what you’re offering this time.” It is infectious, that is what his smile is. You take you hand away from beneath his and regard the quiet scenic park again. “Do you like this place? Should I paint something for you here?” 

He nods. “I’ll like anything you paint for me, Y/N.” 

You blush at the way he says it so matter-of-factly. Looking up, you scan the surroundings once again before a large shadow rushes towards you and grabs your wrist. 

You are hauled up to your feet roughly.

...

Seeing you so casually walking up to that man made him mad. But it wasn’t that which made him practically race across the park. No, it was the combination of him fixing your scarf, laughing with you and then taking your hand. He cannot allow such a thing to happen. 

“Jimin!” you yelp, the pain cutting through your wrist. It burns and you feel as if somebody had dug a knife into your skin to split your bones. 

Jimin has momentarily forgotten your disorder as he is blinded my rage. How dare Jungkook be sitting beside you like the two of you are friends? This man may be involved in a murder case. He may as well be the only suspect. 

“What are you doing here with him?” Jimin demands. 

You can barely get the words out – that is how tight Jimin is gripping your wrist and hurting you. 

Jungkook is still seated, but upon seeing your face turning bright red and perspiration beading your forehead, he stands. “Detective Park, I believe you are hurting Y/N.” 

His words are a cold splash of water on Jimin. He quickly releases you and you whimper while holding your wrist. He reaches towards you, but you draw back, closer to Jungkook. 

“I’m so sorry,” his apology is gushes, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You rub your wrist. You know it is not broken, but the pain lingers still. You gingerly rotate it before shaking your head. “I’m fine. You took me by surprise though.” 

Seeing the discomfort in your eyes, Jimin instantly feels guilty. The first time he sees you after the fight and he manages to hurt you again. “What are you doing here?” he asks again. He wants to add “with him” but he did not think it was appropriate. 

“I was meeting Jungkook. I wanted to do some sketches for a painting.”

He hated your causal use of the name. He hated it with such a passion. 

“Detective Park, it’s been a while,” Jungkook extends a hand. 

Jimin clenches his jaw but grabs it and shakes it forcefully. “Mr. Jeon,” he says through his teeth. 

You can detect the hostility between the two men. You knew Jimin didn’t like Jungkook but you couldn’t see his reason why. Jungkook had only ever been nice to you. Really, Jungkook was one of the nicest people you know. 

“Why did you need to meet him to do sketches? I didn’t even know the two of you knew each other,” Jimin begins interrogating. 

You falter. You had been so caught up in the previous few days you had forgotten to tell him your new housemate. Truth be told, the whole situation is so unusual for the two of you because you would talk to each other nearly every day. 

“I’m temporarily living with her,” Jungkook says, unable to resist the temptation. He has already calculated and anticipated the change that would occur over Jimin’s face once he says those words. He knows that it would affect you more, but there is a type of satisfaction in seeing the rage that spreads over Jimin’s face.

It takes everything in his already weak power to hold his emotions in. Heat is already flowing to his face in which he could not control, but he could still stop the explosion of curses from leaving his mouth. 

Your mouth is opened ajar once again. All the worse scenarios are running through your head. 

Jungkook sheepishly rubs his neck. “Oh, this is awkward. I thought you had told him, Y/N. You two seemed so close.” 

Oh yes. It is absolutely delightful in seeing the impact of his words on Detective Park Jimin. 

“I – ” you start, “I didn’t get the chance to yet. Um, well… Jimin…. Jungkook is staying at my place for now. He has no other – ”

“We need to talk,” Jimin interrupts you. 

You open your mouth and close it again. “Okay,” you say timidly. You start to walk towards him. 

“Grab your things with you,” Jimin says sternly. 

You want to refute his words but there is a sort of silent anger you recognize. You send Jungkook an apologetic look before packing away your easel and paper. Jimin waits for you and you quickly whisper, “I’m sorry,” before going away. 

The two walk away like a father leading his disobedient daughter. Jungkook can only watch with amusement at the new turn of events.

...

“You’re living with him? You’re living with him? You’re living with him?!” You hear Jimin repeat the series of questions again. Your finger lightly taps your thigh and you note to yourself: the sixth time. That was the sixth time he asked the same question.

Jimin had thought for a long time on their walk to the station of what he could say. Countless words had been flying through his mind however he just couldn’t seem to find the correct ones to string together. That had led him to only repeat the one fact he is being faced with: You are living with Jungkook. 

You sigh. “Yes, Jimin, I’m living with him.” 

“How could you decide to do that without talking to me about it?” he explodes at last, “You barely know this guy and you invite him into your house? He’s a criminal. He’s a murderer.”

This makes you frown. Your eyebrows crease together and even your pretty face cannot hide the ugliness of your anger. “Park Jimin,” you start sternly with his name, “I don’t think it’s fair for you to make that assumption. I don’t even think you should be making that assumption.” 

“Still, the two of you are living together!”

You sigh again.

Jimin stops in the middle his pacing for a second to collect his thoughts. “Fine. But what makes you think you know him enough to decide whether or not my assumption is fair?” 

“Well, what makes you think you have enough power over me to stop who I’m living with?”

“I have a responsibility for you, Y/N! I don’t want you to get hurt. Jeon Jungkook is dangerous!”

“There you go again! Making another assumption! Why are you even saying this?”

“You know exactly why. It’s because – ”

“If you say that it’s because of your gut feeling I’m going to walk away right now.” 

He pauses. “I just know, alright? I have evidence against him.” 

“Show it to me, then.” 

Presently, the two of you are arguing inside Jimin’s office. The blinds have been drawn, but the glass door is definitely not enough to hide the increasing voices. Jimin rummages through the multitude of papers and files on his desk. His thoughts are once again jumbled. He is unable to think straight at the moment and it makes him forget where he has put the files in the first place. 

“You don’t have it, do you?” you accuse, “You just hate him. I don’t know what your reason is, but that’s mean. Jungkook is a good person. He takes care of me.” 

Your tone is filled with exasperation. You did not enjoy when things did not go your way. Neither did he. That is the reason why the two of you tend to avoid conflicts by not being involved in each other’s personal matters. This time, however, Jimin needs his stance to be known. 

“You’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? What do you mean ‘he takes care of you’? He barely even knows anything about you.” 

You do not bother to correct Jimin that it has in fact been less than that. “He’s taken care of me more than you have alright?” you stab him with the words. Your face flushes the moment they leave your mouth.

Jimin’s next words are so calm, they border on hostility. “More than I have, you say? Please, enlighten me.” 

“He… He supports me. He’s there for me when I need him. He’s… He’s…” With each stutter, you can feel yourself losing this fight. Pride and rage cloud your judgment, and nonetheless, you throw out your last attack, “He doesn’t try to convince me that my fiancée was murdered.” 

His eyes become hard. 

There are tears wavering in you eyes and you tell yourself not to blink such that they would not fall. “You tell me to try and move on after Baekhyun’s disappearance.  You tell me that it’s for my own good; all this pain and guilt and frustration at losing him… You’re just as guilty, Jimin. You’ve never put Baekhyun behind you and now you’re saying something as ludicrous as him being murdered. I won’t accept it.” 

He hates seeing you cry. He hates it so much. He hates it enough to contemplate easing up on your decision to live with this stranger.

No. 

Walking away from you, he digs through his jacket pocket and produces an extra set of keys. He had learned to carry this around with him since knowing you. He never knew when you needed to come by and borrow his house keys. 

“Take this,” he places the keys into you palm and curls your fingers around them, “When you’re done with this tantrum… or whatever this is, come home. I understand that Jeon Jungkook needs a place to live, so rent out your place to him. But I cannot have you staying alone with him. You are to live with me while he is an occupant there.” 

You scoff at him, incredulously. You grip the keys in your hand before slamming them soundly on his desk. 

“I am not a child,” you solemnly say, “You cannot control me like this. I am a free to make my own decisions, and I will do what I want.”

With that, you spin on your heels to exit the office. Your pulse is racing as you turn to face him again. You avoid looking directly at him but stare above past his forehead. You are afraid that if you see his expression, you would falter. 

“I respect your decision to not like Jungkook. But if that’s the case, and as Jungkook is living with me, you are free to never come by my place. We will not welcome a guest who only has the intent of unsound accusation.” 

You end the argument with that and stomps out the door.

...

Jungkook is waiting for you outside the station as you leave. You are so blinded by your emotions you nearly miss him until he grabs your wrist and causes you to yelp. 

Immediately, he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

You still want to yell at somebody, but Jimin’s injustice towards Jungkook stops you from screaming. You rub you wrist that is still sore from being grabbed previously. Adjusting the strap of your canvas on your back, you continue to walk forward.

“He’s so unfair,” you whisper.

Jungkook catches it. 

“Nobody ever asked him to look out for me. I would have been fine,” you say. 

“He cares for you,” Jungkook says gently. 

You do not want to hear the words. Still, it is not like you can ignore them once they’re heard. 

“He is worried. I am a stranger, and a man. Unfortunately, society has a stigma around single strange men who sneak up to a female to offer his phone while it is pouring rain in the middle of the night.” He tries to make a joke with you. Thankfully, it works as you lightly laugh. 

“Well, still. Jimin is being stubborn. He has prejudices against you; ones that have no basis.” 

“Let me guess. He thinks I’m dangerous. He thinks I might hurt you. With my involvement in his case, he might even think that I’m a suspect.” 

You do not want to answer. 

Jungkook stops you from walking. Your strides have been short but only increasing in speed. He is no longer sure if you even know where they are walking. With one hand still on your shoulder, he says with a soft voice, “He has every right to think so, Y/N. We have only started to get to know each other We both have secrets that we have yet to reveal to each other. Perhaps I am dangerous. Perhaps I may have the intent to hurt you.”

You look into his eyes which steadily hold you own. “But you won’t, right?” 

He smiles at you. “Of course not.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” you say with resolution, “That’s what a relationship is built on. The slow accumulation of trust towards the other party. I don’t care if you have secrets, Jungkook. If you ever do want to share them, I will listen. But at the end, you don’t have to. I want to know you as you.”

He nods. Now with the rollercoaster of emotions within you coming to an end, you are able to see that the weather is beautiful that day. There is the soft melodious chirping of birds from all around you, and the streets are not busy as people have yet to be off work. A warm patch of heat is on your back as the sun greets you between the clouds.

Jungkook is quiet beside you for a while, until he says out of the blue, “Jimin really loves you.”

You whirl to regard him. “Jimin doesn’t love me. He is only tasked to look after me.”

His eyes soften when he looks at you again. He doesn’t follow up with anything, only turning his head back forward.

The speed of your heart’s beating rises slightly at his comment. You do not understand the purpose of him saying that. You do not understand what led to him to say such a thing.

“Jungkook,” you call out.

“Mhmm?”

“I still want to paint a picture for you. But I don’t think I can right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You had stopped walking beside him. He notices that and stops as well. When he finally turns to look at why you had stopped, he is greeted with the image of you standing with your wrist in the air. He sighs in concern and takes your wrist gently.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he says kindly.

...

next part 

#bts #jungkook #jimin #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin smut #bts scenarios #jimin sceanrios #jungkook scenarios #namjoon #hoseok #taehyung #yoongi

[nightinngales]

Dear gays and fans of Skyrim in general... 

Ever wanted a real slowburn fanfic for Serana/Female Dragonborn? Perhaps a fic that addresses Serana’s trauma and builds a relationship naturally over time?

Vigilance is an epic length novelization with F!DB/Serana as the main ship - wherein their relationship progresses organically, and Serana’s traumatic backstory is not sidestepped or ignored. 

Currently at over 470k altogether, there are 6 full acts or “books” available within the Vigilance series of varying lengths, with the 7th act currently in progress and updated regularly. 

Some links to get you started: 

Vigilance wiki: A more in-depth look at the series including relevant lore, timeline, current progress on the series, and character blurbs. Spoilers up to the end of act 5. Updated sporadically. 

Vigilance Series landing page: The series on AO3 - you can find all the links for each work here, or continue below the cut for a more in-depth explanation of the series. Updated regularly, usually at least 1-2 times per week.

Not a fan of Skyrim? Never played it? Vigilance is written in a way where it can be enjoyed regardless of your knowledge of the Elder Scrolls franchise. My so-called “beta” hasn’t played Skyrim and she’s more pushy about me updating than most lol. So, if you’ve never played Skyrim but want to read about a vampire lesbian? Try it out anyways, you might like it.

For more regular updates on progress, you can follow me here on tumblr.

This post may be updated on occasion with new information or mod credits below the cut.

About:

The series itself is broken into acts, which each follow a particular segment of the Dragonborn’s life. These acts can be further bundled into Arcs. So far, I would say there are three major “Arcs” of the story, broken up into the separate acts, not including the prologue. 

Vigilant Arc - Acts II - V: This arc of the story is, essentially, the first half of the series. Beginning with the prologue, the Vigilant arc covers Eres’ journey as a Vigilant of Stendarr, the Dawnguard DLC (and Serana), and finishes with her retirement as a Vigilant. Wordcount: ~316k, completed. 

Dragonborn Arc - Acts VI - VIII: This arc is currently in progress, and covers Eres stepping into her role as Dragonborn. This will include the main quest as well as the Dragonborn DLC. Currently we are on Act VII. Current wordcount: ~155k, ongoing. 

Final Arc - Act IX: Currently in the concept phase. This will cover what happens once Eres has stepped into her destiny as Dragonborn and fulfilled her role. Essentially - this is the end of the fic, and will serve to tie up loose ends and provide a nice ending to the series. ...For now. :)

Total current wordcount: ~471k, with around 2.5 acts remaining. The full series may reach somewhere between 6-700k - which will put it around the length of the entire LOTR series. 

Why the fuck is it so long? 

There’s three main reasons for this. 

1: I love slowburn fics, so when I say slowburn - I mean slowburn. 

2: Vigilance isn’t just about the pairing. In fact, Serana does not even enter the story until Act 3, where Eres tackles the Dawnguard questline. As the fic continues forward from there, obviously Serana becomes a secondary main character and is just as important as Eres, but I didn’t want to just start the fic with the pairing and leave it at that. I wanted it to be a journey, from beginning to end, from Eres’ arrival in Skyrim, to meeting Serana and falling for her, to facing her destiny as Dragonborn, and so on and so forth. 

3: Most importantly, I have read a lot of Serana/fem!DB fics, and to be clear I am not disparaging any of them. There are some incredibly talented authors out there who have written some of my favorites. But there is one thing that I always wanted from a fic for Serana/DB, and it was something that I hadn’t seen: An indepth handling of Serana’s trauma, front and center, showing how it affects her and how she might heal from it through love. As a survivor myself, this was an issue that was deeply important to me, and I was disappointed that even some of my favorite fics in the fandom had not addressed it more deeply. So I started writing Vigilance, and here we are nearly 500k later. 

That’s why I wanted to write this. I wanted to show, through my fic, a relationship developing between two people who are broken in different ways, and how they might come together, help each other heal, and lift each other up. The pairing of Serana and Eres, for me, is meant to be an ideal, something to aim for. With Eres’ help, and those around her, Serana will work through the issues she has due to her trauma. She will recover, and heal, and find the happiness she feels she doesn’t deserve. 

I hope, reading this, that maybe you take a bit of time out of your day to give it a chance. I know it’s long. I know it’s a hell of a thing to look at a fic that’s nearly 500k and decide to try reading through it all even knowing it’s not finished yet. But give it a chance... you might find that 500k doesn’t seem long enough once you catch up. 

CREDITS: 

Vigilance is a series that follows a modded playthrough of Skyrim. As such, I could not have written this fic without the following mods which provided the inspiration. 

VIGILANT LE / SE : Provides the basis for the Vigilant arc within the series. The basic plot of both Act 2 and Act 5 are based upon this mod. Please download and drop an endorsement, for this fic would not have been possible without the work of Vicn which it is based upon. Note: it requires an English addon if you plan to play it with voice acting, which can be found here: LE / SE 

LC BUILD YOUR NOBLE HOUSE LE / SE: Fellburg, Eres’ estate within Falkreath, is based upon this player home mod by Locaster. Highly recommend either this or LC Feudal Keep if you would like an idea of what the estate is supposed to look like, though the Keep mod is located near Loreius Farm instead of Falkreath. (However, the “Build your own” version needs to be built, obviously, whereas the Feudal Keep version is plug and play.) 

INIGO LE / SE: This companion mod by smartbluecat is one of the most life-like on the nexus, with thousands of lines of dialogue and quest and location-awareness. Inigo makes his first appearance in Act IV. I would highly recommend him if you’re looking for a game-long companion. 

Serana and Claire LE / SE: This is more of a cosmetic thing, but this mod is replacer I use for Serana to make her appearance mesh better with the other NPC appearance mods I use (such as WICO, Bijin etc). It’s close enough to her default that it doesn’t feel like a complete replacement. I use the Thorns (short hair) version with the Glowing red eyes option, pictured above. 

Mods that have been mentioned: 

Darkend LE / SE: This is only mentioned in passing by Mirabelle in act 3, where she references a cursed shipwreck to the north. More of an easter egg than anything else, but still well worth playing if you like. 

More to be added later as I remember them, I’m sure. 

#seres #seres fic #there it is yall #vigilance series #skyrim #female dragonborn #skyrim fanfic

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 6: Shyvana

I’ll be honest: before doing the research to write this script, even I had no idea how complicated the history of Shyvana’s character was. Counting her current lore state, Shyvana has had no less than five different bios over the course of her existence, putting her in the same league as Warwick in terms of retcons. While I personally think that her current lore state is relatively fine as-is, there are definitely some aspects of her story that could use a little polishing up.

As always, though, we need to first take a look at Shyvana’s history in League and see what the core of her character concept is. With that established, we can try and build a more solid foundation for Runeterra’s resident half-dragon. So, without further ado, let’s see how she was originally envisioned in her very first bio.

Alright, so, Shyvana is a straight up human-dragon hybrid, conceived through… Well, the traditional means. I do think it’s interesting to note that this is actually the first mention of Celestial Dragons we get in the lore. Apparently, the concept for Aurelion Sol goes back all the way to the early days, though I doubt Celestial Dragons were anything like what we know them as today. Hard to say, given that this was the only mention of that entire subspecies in the old lore.

But, enough beating around the bush. As a whole, I think this bio is fine, all things considered. It leaves a lot of unanswered questions, sure, but it’s a decent basis to build her character off of. Most importantly, this bio establishes Shyvana’s connection to Jarvan IV: something that has remained consistent through every iteration of her character. While Warwick’s ties to Soraka were constantly fluctuating and eventually severed in his recent bio, Shyvana’s relationship to the Demacian prince is something all her future incarnations would carry over. Speaking of, let’s check out her second bio and see how her first retcon was handled.

So, Shyvana’s no longer Celestial in nature, which is probably for the best given that her element was always aligned more with fire than space. What’s more, it’s now established that half-dragons like her are hated by both humans and dragon-kind. Also, apparently most, if not all dragons can shape-shift now. Frankly, there are still a few mysteries left by this bio, such as who killed Shyvana’s father and what even happened to her mother. Still, it’s not awful, though Riot apparently decided that they wanted to give her a more active role rather than just being saved by Prince Jarvan. Thus, do we receive her third bio.

Alright, so once again, no real mention of Shyvana’s mother, and her father’s identity is still kinda vague. By this point, another recurring theme of Shyvana’s story should be evident: tragedy. Riot seems quite insistent on giving her the whole dead parent trope for her backstory, yet that’s never REALLY brought up in her character besides a single voice line: “By the blood of my father, I will end them!” Once again, we know nothing beyond the fact that her father was a dragon and her mother was inhuman. It might also be worth noting that no mention of shape-shifting is present in this version of the story, so… Take that how you will.

Still, I like this story because it helps to better establish a bond between Shyvana and J4, having them fight together to bring down a mutual enemy. This, in turn, turns the initial concept of Jarvan merely saving her out of pity to a relationship born of mutual respect. This was Shyvana’s backstory when I started playing League, and so this is the version of the character that I grew most familiar with. Still, Riot would retcon her again after the 2015 reboot, leaving us with her fourth bio. Buckle in folks, because this one is the longest by a landslide and there’s a LOT to go over here.

Phew! OK, that was a LOT to take in. Frankly, you could make an entire analysis about this version of the lore alone, but let’s just go over some of the major talking points, shall we? For the first time, Shyvana is no longer the offspring of a human and a dragon, but rather the result of a human using magic on a dragon egg. The reason for this direction is most likely because dragons in Runeterra can no longer shapeshift, so they needed to find a new way to justify her existence.

Once again, we touch upon the Vastaya Problem, where we have an entire race of half-human creatures that Shyvana could have easily been slotted into. Would the existence of dragon vastaya really be that much of a stretch, Riot? Well, I already harped on about that quite a bit with Warwick, so let’s just move on, shall we?

The fourth version of Shyvana’s bio is the first time in which her mother actually takes a prominent role: that of an antagonist. Yvva is actually pretty compelling as a villain, antagonizing Shyvana all her life while her father tries to protect her. The one major issue I have with this is that, if Shyvana’s dad knew about Demacia and that its petricite could conceal his daughter, why did he not think to bring Shyvana there sooner? I suppose he needed to train her to control her power first, but could the petricite not have also helped with that? Oh well. That’s a bit of a nitpick in the grand scheme of things, I admit.

The other major change here is that now the dynamic between Jarvan and Shyvana has been changed once again. Now, SHE is the one saving HIM, a complete reverse of the original story. While I don’t exactly have a problem with this, I do think Jarvan agreeing to help her fight Yvva comes off as a bit abrupt, and the Demacian soldiers seemed a bit too ready to accept her into their home. I mean, yes, she saved their prince, but fear of magic is rooted DEEP into their society. This is the same nation that would rather let entire fields succumb to disease and rot than rely on mages to sustain the crops.

While there are some other small issues I could nitpick about, I honestly think that the way they handle Jarvan and Shyvana’s team-up is the biggest by far. For a little context: Jarvan’s whole backstory is one of repentance. He gets cocky and tries to retake some land from the control of Noxus without the sanction of the king, and his recklessness and inexperience wind up getting his men killed and himself gravely injured. This is what leads to him being found and saved by Shyvana.

Though Shyvana’s bio would be rewritten one more time, the way in which she and Jarvan meet and team up to take on Yvva remains more-or-less the same. Frankly, I’m not a big fan of this. I like the idea in concept, but the fact is that Yvva isn’t really Jarvan’s antagonist. She is a threat to Demacia and Jarvan does redeem himself by helping to bring her down at Wrenwall, but it feels more like he’s just jumping in to help Shyvana deal with HER problem out of gratitude.

That being said, this is an analysis about SHYVANA’S character, so let’s take a look at her fifth and final bio to determine her current lore state, shall we?

Alright, so I’ll be honest: I think this might be the worst version of her story so-far. To begin with, it’s not even really clear WHY Shyvana is the way she is. At least the previous version of the lore made it clear that a human mage tampering with the egg is the reason why Shyvana became a half-dragon, but in this story, the baby mutates just because of his proximity? Even then, that may not even be the cause. “Whether it was the act of removing it from the nest, or the last moon of autumn giving way to winter, something had changed.” So, yeah, it’s even really clear what caused Shyvana to take on human qualities.

Also, can we just acknowledge another bizarre line from this bio? “From an early age, she was able to shift her form into something monstrous, akin to the half-dragons of ancient myth.” So, hold on, there have been half-dragons before Shyvana? This is something that’s occurred in the past? Can we get some elaboration on this? No? We’re just going to ignore that. Alright then. Moving on.

This version of the bio tries to reintroduce the tragedy of Shyvana losing her father, but it’s honestly handled a lot less gracefully here, in my opinion. He’s just a random human mage that decided to raise her out of pity, and his death is kind of pathetic, honestly. In the previous lore, Shyvana’s dragon father gave his life defending her, whereas this nameless mage is just killed unceremoniously in Yvva’s rampage. Even his burial feels rushed and anticlimactic.

As for Jarvan’s introduction this time, well… My prior thoughts still stand. Shyvana’s lore has always been connected to his, but I truly believe their relationship was handled best in the third version of the lore, where they had a mutual enemy to bring down. Hell, he doesn’t really even do much in the showdown against Yvva other than have his soldiers fire arrows. It all feels like a hyper-condensed version of Shyvana’s fourth bio, which is understandable given how long it was, but a story like this kind of needs to be properly fleshed out if we’re meant to actually CARE about the individual story beats.

 So, with all that said and established, let’s get into the meat of this one, shall we? Without further ado, I present to you all: my reinterpretation of Shyvana’s backstory. Please, enjoy.

Among the many breeds of dragon that inhabit Runeterra, few command as much fear and respect as the rare elemental drakes. Though they command the primal magics of the world itself, elemental drakes are be reclusive creatures, typically lashing out only when their territory is disturbed. For this reason, the lands near Nockmirch remained untouched by mortal settlements for centuries, as all knew the name of the beast who ruled them: Yvva, the fire drake.

For years, Yvva inspired tales of terror and reverence alike, feasting on travelers and traders who dared to intrude upon her lands. Even her mate, Urgrin, feared Yvva’s power and fiery temper. Unbeknownst to Yvva, Urgrin was no ordinary dragon: in truth, he was a member of an ancient vastayan tribe with the power to take on draconic form. As his kind dwindled in number, what few of Urgrin’s people remained scattered to the winds, with Urgrin himself maintaining his draconic form constantly in the hopes of finding a strong partner.

At first, Urgrin believed himself fortunate to partner with an elemental drake, but as their clutch of eggs began to hatch, he felt himself growing increasingly worried. Only one of these younglings bore Yvva’s primal fire, meaning that the rest would likely be discarded or eaten. When the final egg hatched, Urgrin was shocked to find not a dragon youngling, but a girl with purple skin and horns. He’d not thought it possible, but this child was vastayan just as he was, and her birth would expose Urgrin’s secret to Yvva.

Fearing for both his life and girl’s, Urgrin fled the under the cover of night. Resuming his vastayan form for the first time in decades, Urgrin took shelter in the northern mountains, hoping that the cold of the Freljord would deter Yvva’s pursuit. There, he raised his daughter in secret, naming her Shyvana out of his lingering respect for her mother.

For a time, Shyvana and Urgrin lived in relative solitude. Urgrin taught Shyvana all about her vastayan heritage, but as she grew, it became apparent that Shyvana had inherited something from her mother as well: the primal elemental magic of a fire drake. Urgrin spent years teaching Shyvana how to harness her rage, hoping to keep his daughter from succumbing to the same fiery temperament as her mother. Though this training seemed effective at first, Shyvana’s power only grew with time. This power, in-turn, became a beacon, luring Yvva to the far north in pursuit of her stolen child and traitorous mate.

One day, as Shyvana was returning from a hunt, she was shocked to find her house ablaze. Two great dragons clashed in the skies above, one of whom she instantly recognized as her father. Shyvana tried to join the fight, only for Yvva to turn her wrath on the half-blood child. Urgrin shielded Shyvana from his mother’s fury, astonishing even Yvva with his strength. Even so, Urgrin was clearly losing the fight, and so he bid Shyvana to flee south to a land called Demacia, where petricite walls could dampen her magic and shield her from Yvva’s wrath. Begrudgingly, Shyvana did as told, trekking through the mountains as her father gave his life on her behalf.

After a long, hard trek, Shyvana finally reached the land her father spoke of: Demacia, a kingdom made of petricite. She quickly found herself an outcast, forced to hide from the magic-fearing humans that lived inside petricite walls. And yet, just as her father said, those same walls served to dim her power and hide Shyvana from her mother’s fury. Even still, Yvva would not relent so easily.

For years, Yvva scorched Demacian settlements near the border in search of her daughter, forcing the Shyvana to remain constantly on the move. Hunted by her mother and persecuted by the people around her, Shyvana found herself utterly alone in the world. Finally, after years of dogged pursuit, Shyvana had had enough. Embracing her inner fire, Shyvana took flight on blazing wings and ascended the mountains near Nockmirch, where she found Yvva waiting for her.

The two drakes clashed for hours, primal flame against primal flame. Their battle charred the nearby plains and melted stone, yet for all her ferocity, Shyvana was ultimately no match for her mother’s fury. Yvva sent her daughter plummeting into a nearby river, content to leave her half-breed daughter to drown. As Yvva fled, however, Shyvana dragged herself out of the water, reverting back to her humanoid form as she gasped for breath. Battered and beaten, Shyvana wandered blindly for days, knowing full-well that her mother would likely come for her again soon.

Eventually, Shyvana encountered a young man in charred armor at the base of the Argent Mountains, who himself looked to be barely clinging to life. She learned that this man, too, had sought to challenge Yvva and lost. His soldiers had sacrificed themselves on his behalf, leaving the young man stranded and alone. Sensing an unusual kinship with this stranger, Shyvana offered to bring him to the nearest Demacian settlement, and to her surprise, the stranger agreed. Even after revealing herself to be Yvva’s daughter, the stranger bore her no hostility.

The people of Cloudfield were not so inviting. At first, many were terrified of Shyvana, and yet their fear turned to elation when they realized who her companion was. This man, she learned, was none-other than the prince of Demacia himself: Jarvan IV. Seeking to end Yvva’s reign of terror on his kingdom’s borders, the prince had set out with a handful of elite soldiers, only to return to home in shame and defeat. For coming to his aid, the people of Cloudfield begrudgingly allowed Shyvana to remain amongst them to heal her wounds while the prince .

Though grateful for their hospitality, Shyvana knew her presence would only draw Yvva to her sooner or later. As she made to depart, Shyvana was approached by Jarvan once again, this time with a proposition: alone, they had failed to defeat the fire drake, but together they may stand a chance.

Jarvan and Shyvana traveled to the fortress of Wrenwall, where they began to develop a plan. Jarvan would organize his troops and set traps in place for Yvva, while Shyvana flew ahead to garner her mother’s attention. Though reluctant to place her faith in these mere humans, Shyvana understood that this would be her final chance to avenge her father. Sure enough, when Shyvana neared Nockmirch once more, Yvva’s furious cry shook the heavens themselves as she began her pursuit.

Once again, the fire drakes clashed, but this time Shyvana wasn’t planning to defeat her mother with raw force. Instead, she led Yvva closer and closer to the fortress of Wrenwall, where Jarvan and his soldiers were waiting. Believing her daughter’s retreat an act of cowardice, Yvva was taken totally off-guard by the volley of petricite bolts launched from the fortress’s ballista. As the bolts tore into her scales, Yvva felt her power weakening, and Shyvana was quick to capitalize on this. Once again, their battle was intense, yet Shyvana now had the upperhand as Jarvan himself led a new battalion into the fray.

Even weakened, Yvva fought hard until her last breath. She tore at her daughter’s scales and devoured Demacian soldiers, yet in the end, the fire drake was outnumbered and outmatched. Shyvana sank her teeth into her mother’s neck while Jarvan plunged a spear deep into her forehead. In that moment, the flames of Yvva finally flickered out, and the soldiers of Wrenwall cheered in triumph.

In the aftermath of the battle, Jarvan approached Shyvana once again, this time with another proposition: in exchange for her loyalty, he would offer her a place among Demacia’s elite. Awed and humbled by the prince’s might and valor, Shyvana knelt and swore her loyalty on the spot. Though many still harbor doubts about the half-dragon, she serves her prince with undying devotion and respect. Shyvana’s fire burns for Demacia and Demacia alone, and those who threaten her new home are to learn that even a half-dragon’s fury is not to be trifled with.

Alright, so, the biggest and most notable change from the get-go: I made Shyvana vastayan rather than human. I understand that this might seem a bit controversial to some, but it doesn’t really contradict or change anything. Shyvana is simply called the half-dragon; there’s never any mention of what her other half actually is.

Ideally, I would have liked to keep her half-human as well, but since Riot clearly wants to remove the concept of dragon-human intercourse to produce an offspring naturally, the only option that remains is the contrived method of “it happens because a human was near the egg.” Like, that’s the same sort of logic as Rengar becoming anthropomorphic because he was raised by a human hunter as a cub. It’s just silly, if we’re being honest, and the human “father” in Shyvana’s last two bios has been such a non-entity that they don’t really even bother to give him a name.

So yes, I’m making Shyana half-vastayan, not unlike Sett in a way. Again, I get why some might take issue with this, but I feel like that’s a much easier and simpler route to go with. Of course, the other big change would mean rewriting a bit of Jarvan’s story as well, though that’s kind of inevitable; the two are so closely intwined that changing one story kind of has to impact the other.

Now, I don’t think J4’s current bio is bad enough to warrant a full rewrite, but as I stated before: I think his story would work a lot better if he also had a personal reason to fight Yvva in the first place. I think that having him lose soldiers to her rather than some random Noxians fits more thematically and gives him more reason to team up with Shyvana. I also wanted to give him a bigger role to play in bring Yvva down, to further emphasize that she’s an opponent Jarvan and Shyvana could only defeat by working together.

Overall, Shyvana’s current lore state isn’t the worst I’ve seen, but it could definitely do with some improvements. I hope you all enjoyed my take on her character, as this was possibly the lengthiest retcon to write. As always, though, feel free to share your thoughts down below, and I’ll see you all next time!

#Outofpower #Runeterra Retcons #League of Legends #Shyvana

[monaisme]

Day 19: sleep deprivation

Day 19: sleep deprivation

To do:

1.  Call Queen Ramonda re: tech sharing program @515am

2.                                     re: Everett Ross (is he there?)

3.  Call Dickhead Ross re: SHIELD coverage @ Raft @ 7am

4.  **Tony- wound check/ Nano eval!!**

5.  Call U.N. re: Status of Accords @ 9am

6.                 re: securing Thor’s (?) ship

7.                 re: Asgardians status

8.                 re: Nebula status    

9.   Call Parker landlord re: lease/furniture storage

10. Book tech for press conference #3 BEFORE 10am

11. Check on Barton situation ???

12. Board meeting @ 11am

13. Call R&D re: $$/Parker Foundation?

14. Call WHO re: vaccination program status @ 1245pm

15.                 re: *food supply interruptions

16. Call President re: *food supply interruptions @230pm

17.                        re: Nebula status

18. Call Housekeeping re: Nebula quarters  

Pepper pressed her fingers to her eyes before trying to focus AGAIN on her list. The dimmed lights of the med bay and the sounds of the monitors attached to her husband made it almost impossible.

She thought back to four days ago—had it really been only four days.

When Tony had come down that ramp, it was like Afghanistan all over again—until she saw the desperation and grief on his face. And then he’d collapsed and everything was a flurry of activity.

She’d found out later from Nebula that the nanoparticles had served their purpose back on Titan. The wound had been sealed, but the infection had already taken root and was festering within him. With the malnourishment and dehydration on top of that, it was no wonder Tony was doing so poorly.  The IVs chock full of antibiotics, nutrients, sedatives, and all of the medications to prevent his blood pressure from rising and his kidneys and liver from failing hung from hooks at the head of the bed. The nasogastric tube would be a fixture for a bit, she knew. Tony would hate it when he woke up, but she’d put him straight and they’d keep going. The monitors, though, she took comfort in. She could see that his heart was beating; that air was flowing through is lungs—that he was alive and fighting.

She shook those thoughts away, because it was four days later and there were things to do. She was supposed to be on the other side of the compound, preparing for a phone call with the U.N. (See item #4) but Tony’s doctor would be here shortly to do a wound check (See item #3) and evaluate a few other nanoparticle related things that Tony would drool over, but, well... Pepper wasn’t worried about nanotech, she was worried about Tony. If things went well today, they would hopefully reduce some of the medications he was on so they could start waking him up. That decision, of course, depended mostly on the inflammation around the original site and some blood work results from last night.

Pepper prayed they’d agree to starting to wake him up today. She missed her fiancé so, so much. She took a moment to put her list back into her briefcase and settle back into the chair by his bedside. She took his thin hand in her own. “What do ya’ say, Tony? Is today going to be the day I get to see those Bambi-eyes of yours?”

Of course, he didn’t answer.

“Pepper?”

She jumped, throwing her hands to her chest, in an effort to calm her racing heart. “Oh!”

Dr. Cho was apologetic as she came further into the room. “I am so sorry, Pepper. I thought you heard me when I came in!”

Pepper waved the apology off with a laugh, “No! I’m sorry! I must have been daydreaming,” She said as she continued to wait for her heart to settle... it seemed though, that it didn’t want to.

Dr. Cho smiled at her sympathetically. “No one could blame you, Pepper. You look dead on your feet.” Then, as though only seeing her for the first time, Dr. Cho asked her, “How are you doing? I mean really, how are you doing?”

She laughed again, trying to sound okay, “I’m doing fine, thank you. I’m just trying to salvage what’s left of the world while Sleeping Beauty here keeps us all waiting.”

“Ouch. No Prince Charming for our Mr. Stark, I see?” Dr. Cho teased back as she began her assessment on the man.

Pepper shook her head. “Oh, no,” she stood up from her seat, “Leave it to the amazing Ms. Pepper Potts to save the world—one board meeting at time, thank you very much!” And she gave a mock final bow and stepped away from the bed.

Pepper looked up from her brief performance and saw how close she was to some of Tony’s equipment. Embarrassed, she stepped further away from the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m taking up the room you need.”

Dr. Cho shook her head. “You’re fine, Pepper. If I need room, I’ll ask.”

Pepper was sure she was about to ask another question when a knock on the door interrupted her.

The doctor smiled at the new addition to the room. “Dr. Rainert, I’m so glad you could come. Dr. Rainert,” she nodded to the man then gestured to Pepper. “I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark’s fiancée.”

Dr. Rainert gave a polite bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he announced and then got right down to business. “I am assuming you know why I’m here?”

Pepper nodded. “Of course, while Dr. Cho will be doing the actual wound check, you’ll be evaluating the affect of the nanoparticles on healing, scarring, and such, correct?”

He nodded to confirm. “I know it’s a stressful time for you, Ms. Potts, but Mr. Stark and I had been quite excited to see how this worked in a field setting and,” he seemed to be struggling to contain his enthusiasm even as his research partner lay unconscious in the bed beside him. “Well, this information will be most helpful going forward.”

It all felt a little ghoulish to her, but she wasn’t going to say it. She was there to support her fiancé and make sure he was getting better. Then she’d...

A buzz filled the room. It took Pepper a second the figure out that it was her cell phone. Blushing at the obvious faux-pas, she blurted a hurried apology, grabbed her phone and dashed out into the hall.

“Pepper Potts speaking,” she answered, fumbling with the phone before pressing it firmly to her ear.

“Pepper? It’s James.”

She cringed. ‘James’ meant that Rhodey was currently surrounded by mucky-mucks, which was strange because that call didn’t need to be made until, she glance at her watch, “Rhodey! It’s 9:30!”

“I know!” he exclaimed. “I was worried something was wrong with Tony when you didn’t call in. Is everything alright?”

Pepper lost herself for a second. She never lost track of time! Never!

“Pepper?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She came back to herself and panicked. “Please extend apologies for my lateness to the others. I’ll grab my briefcase from the other room and head to my office, okay? I shouldn’t be more than five minutes. Promise!”

Rhodey sounded understanding, so she allowed herself to take a quick breath after letting him go and then rushed back into Tony’s room. She just needed to collect her briefcase, head back to work, and get the day back on track.

She came up short, however, when she caught a glimpse of Tony’s wound— exposed to her for the first time.

It definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting and it took that realization for the room to spin, tilt, and then disappear from around her.

She was out before she hit the floor.

* * * * * *

Pepper woke with a start, and a headache.

“Pepper?”

Confused, she scanned the room, only barely relaxing when Rhodey stepped up to her bedside.

“Hey, Pepper, are you with me now?”

She nodded, but still didn’t understand, “What...?” her voice cracked so she cleared it and tried again. “What happened?”

He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You, Ms. Potts, fainted.”

Pepper glared at him, “I did not...” She coughed from the dryness of her throat.

“Hang on, Pep. Let me just...” Rhodey stood to get her a glass of water from the stand beside her bed and then handed it to her. “Be careful,” he added as he watched her hands shake.

She took the glass and took a dainty sip. It was as she pulled the glass away that she saw the IV in her forearm. She straightened up and threw her arm out to show him, ignoring the sway as she made the movement. “No. I don’t need this.” Of course, she didn’t! She was fine. “You can take this out, right?”

“I could, but I won’t, Pep. Don’t be ridiculous,” he spoke calmly. “You passed out, and I’m here to make sure you stay right there and take care of yourself.” He gave the bed a poke, then sat back in his chair crossing his arms and making like he had the final word.

Pepper stared at him for a second, trying to determine just how far Rhodey would take his apparently self-appointed role. She looked down at her wrist and scowled. “Rhodey, where’s my watch?”

He smiled sweetly, “I have it in my pocket, along with your wedding band, if you must know. I’m keeping it safe and sound until you’re ready to leave.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can take them back now. I’m too busy for all of this so I’m just going to—“ She sat up fully and swung her legs over the edge of the bed opposite to Rhodey while looking at the clock on the wall.

Dammit! She’d already missed several phone calls with the United Nations and Tony would be upset if anything happened to the Parkers’ things while they were— (See items #5-9)

She made a plan on the fly. “If I leave now, I can call into my board meeting and send out a couple of emails to cover the calls that I missed out on...”

Rhodey came around to the other side of the bed and stood directly in front of her. “Pepper,” he put a hand on her knee, pretending he could stop her from standing up and walking out the door. “You have nothing to do for the foreseeable future.” He took a really good look at his good friend. “Really, Pep? You’ve gotta stop for a sec. When’s the last time you got a really good night’s sleep?”

She pointed an accusatory finger in his face. “Don’t Rhodey! You, of all people, know what it’s like to have to clean up after Tony—and I know this isn’t his fault, I know!” Her chin quivered. “There’s just so much to do and—“

He cut her off, “And there are people who are here to help you.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “You know I’m not wired that way,” A few more escaped.

“Trust me. I know—and I’m pretty sure that’s why none of us understand how you ended up with that lughead in the next room.”

She smiled as she wiped away the tears, thinking of how lucky she was that he loved her, if she was being completely honest. And then she remembered. “Tony! Oh, no! I have to—I should be there and I’m here...“ Pepper weakly pushed Rhodey’s hand away so she could slide off the bed.  

“Pepper, don’t.”

Both Pepper and Rhodey froze as Dr. Cho came into the room.

She had been on her way to update Pepper about her and Tony from the looks of all the two clipboards in her hand, but tossed them aside and rushed forward when she saw that Pepper was getting upset. “Hey, hey, Pepper. It’s okay. Everyone is okay.” She stepped in front of Pepper, effectively bumping Rhodey to the sidelines. “Pepper? Do you hear me? Tony’s fine, I promise.”

Pepper’s breathing had definitely picked up so she nodded that ‘yes’ she’d heard and Tony was fine but still... “I need to be there, Dr. Cho! I was supposed to know what—what was going on and I’m such a—“

“No.” Dr. Cho took charge of the conversation. “I’ve just left Tony and he is absolutely on the mend. Dr. Rainert thinks that healing rates are perhaps even accelerated by the nanoparticles, but that just means the wound is healing faster.” She looked Pepper in the eye. “Are you hearing what I’m saying?”

Pepper nodded.

“Good. Now,” Dr. Cho, ever the consummate professional, gently manoeuvred Pepper back into the bed as she spoke. “You, Ms. Potts are exactly where you are supposed to be.” She grabbed a fresh blanket from the end of the bed, and with a precision borne of years of practice, covered Pepper up. “You need to be taking care of yourself, too.”

Pepper pulled her arms out from under the blanket and petulantly crossed her arms in front of her.

Rhodey gave a low whistle from the wall he’d stationed himself at. “You’re not gonna make this easy on anyone, are you, Pep?”

Pepper simply glared in answer.

“Well,” Dr. Cho clapped her hands together to bring their attention to her. “I’m actually going to need to talk to Ms. Potts about some test results now so, Rhodey, if I could get you to step out into the hallway for a few minutes, I’d be most appreciative.”

The defiance changed to fear in a flash. “No! He stays! Please?” She looked at her dear friend and held out a hand for him to take. “You’ll stay, right?”

He stepped closer, grabbing ahold of her hand in both of his. “All you have to do is ask, Pep.” 

She smiled in relief and took a deep breath. “Okay.” Pepper looked at Dr. Cho. “What’s going on?”

Dr. Cho took a second to retrieve the clipboards from where they’d been discarded on the floor and then pulled up a rolling stool to the side of the bed. “Well, I think it goes without saying that after seeing you this morning, I suspected that this would be a simple case of exhaustion and sleep deprivation.” She put Tony’s clipboard aside and flipped some pages on Pepper’s chart. “But with aliens and spaceships suddenly landing in our backyard and in light of recent events,” she paused to give weight to those events, “Well, I figured more blood work would be the better bet.” She was oddly nervous and smiling strangely as she spoke up, “And I don’t normally give this type of news but, you, Pepper Potts, are pregnant.”

It was a good thing she was already lying down.

Her mouth opened as though she were about to say something, but nothing came out. And she was going to say something, really! But then all she could think was ‘Morgan’—not her strange uncle, but their Morgan.

The silence stretched. Neither Rhodey nor Dr. Cho seemed willing to interrupt Pepper’s processing.

Eventually, Pepper did find words. “I have so much to do,” she breathed out.

“You have absolutely nothing to do for the next two weeks,” Dr. Cho contradicted her gently.

“Two weeks? But...”

“But nothing,” Dr. Cho continued. “I may not be an OB, but your blood pressure is high—really high. I have blood work that indicates some deficiencies that need to be addressed as soon as possible. To start, your iron and B12 levels are hovering dangerously close to low, which tells me that you’ve been powering through even before all of this insanity with coffee. Which brings me to,” she gestured to the IV bag. “You were dehydrated, too, so you know. It wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, but I’m guessing it’s been a particularly busy few days?”

She whispered, “Yes.”

Dr. Cho took hold of the hand closest to her. “You’re going to need to learn how to rest, Pepper.”

She shook her head ‘no’ as she worked herself up, “I can’t! Tony and---“

“And nothing. You’re good friend, Colonel Rhodes here is going to help me roll this bed next door to Tony’s room. Okay? And then we’re going to monitor your blood pressure for a bit—most likely till tomorrow.” She got up, quickly set up the blood pressure monitor beside Pepper’s bed, and wrapped the cuff around her arm.  “ There. We’ll get started with that now. That way, you can keep an eye on Tony while we keep an eye on both of you. Fair?”

Pepper looked from Dr. Cho to Rhodey, “Rhodey, you know I can’t,” she pleaded with him. “I can’t just walk away from everything. You know how much there is to do!”

Dr. Cho pressed a button, and the blood pressure cuff inflated. It was moments later that an alarm starting blaring through the room. She silenced it after a few, point making moments. Dr. Cho said nothing, just gave her a knowing look.

Rhodey, however, was looking unimpressed. “You know you’re not walking away! C’mon, Pepper. You’re a smart woman who has surrounded herself with smart people! You’re gonna have to learn how to delegate, and right quick, lady, ‘cause that’s my niece or nephew in there—and I already know you’d do anything for them... and that include keeping YOU healthy.”

Weakness washed over Pepper in that moment and she sunk back into the bed as she suddenly began to cry.

Dr. Cho quietly excused herself from the room.

“Hey, now. None of that, Pep.” Rhodey wiped some tears from her cheek. “Yeah, things are rough right now, but you’ve still got Tony! And you’ve got me when he’s being an idiot...”

She managed a huff of a laugh.

“Just rest your eyes for a bit, ‘kay?”

“But—“

“No buts, Pepper. First, Tony will kick my ass if I don’t take care of you the way he would if he were up and around.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “And second, you cannot convince me that there is not some ‘Pepper-certified’ list to end all lists floating around in that briefcase of yours for me to work off of.”

She moved to get up, but a gentle press to her shoulder had her resting back on the pillows.

“Trust me, Pepper. I’ve got this. It’s in your briefcase, right?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be embarrassed or not.

Rhodey looked her in the eye. “Pepper?”

She looked up at him with trusting eyes. “Just... please?” She was suddenly so damned tired.

“Go to sleep, Pepper,” Rhodey whispered. “When you wake up, you’ll be with Tony next door and I’ll have some books and magazines ready for you to devour, so you don’t get bored, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I promise you, Pepper, it’s going to be okay in the end.”

And as she fell into slumber, she hoped and prayed for all their sakes, that he was right.

* * * * * *

It was very early the next morning when Tony finally opened his eyes. Pepper was sitting up in the bed next to him, reading a magazine by the bar of light behind her, completely engrossed and missing out on the man awake beside her.

He sounded weak, but in true Tony fashion, the first whispered words out of his mouth were, “I know. I’d miss me, too, but you could have slept in your own bed.”

She smiled big, and slid out of her bed to be next to him. “Tony!” she whispered excitedly, “I’m so glad your awake.” She leaned over to give him a kiss and then looked up to check the door to the room.

He looked over too, wondering what he was missing, and almost asked when Pepper distracted him. “How are you feeling?” She still spoke quietly. “Do we need to call a doctor?”

He smiled lovingly at her and raised a hand to cup her cheek. “I’m fine. Tired.” His eyes were already starting to fall again. “Pep,” his smile turned sad. “I lost Peter.”

“I know, Tony.” She caressed his cheek.

She wasn’t even sure that he knew he’d started crying as the exhaustion pulled at him. “I don’t know how I’m...” he trailed off and sobbed. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again.”

Pepper’s heart shattered for the man she was going to marry—and then came back together for the child she now carried. “Tony, you’ll be happy again. I promise.”

He clumsily wiped at his wet cheeks, “You can’t know that,” he grumbled and tried to turn away from her.

She clasped his hand in hers and smiled. “I do know, Tony, because you gave me something that will give us both so much joy...”

He was obviously getting confused by her vaguery, so she simply leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

He pulled back so he could look at her fully. She guessed that he didn’t quite believe her, especially after that day at the park. He must have seen something though, because he asked, “Really?”

She just nodded. “And we’re going to figure out how to be happy, both for the baby and for us... and part of figuring that out is getting our Peter back, right? We can’t be whole until little one has a big brother and a crazy Italian aunt, okay?”

He nodded emphatically, “Okay.”

A matronly looking nurse chose that moment to enter the room. “Ms. Potts, you’re not supposed to be out of bed, so let’s get you tucked back in before Dr. Cho decides to extend the BP study.”

She seemed friendly enough so Pepper worked the distraction angle, “But look!” She pointed to Tony. “He’s awake!”

The nurse was onto her and made sure that Pepper knew it. She address Tony first, “Good morning, Mr. Stark, I’m Jody, your wife’s nurse. Is there anything that you need before I help your wife?”

He seemed to still be stuck so he just shook his head ‘no.’

“Alright,” she smiled at him. “I’m going to get your nurse to you right away.” She reached up beside his head and pressed the call button, and then she turned to Pepper, “What is this? The fourth or fifth time since my shift started?” She pointed to the bed. “

She just shrugged and made her way back to her bed. “Are we talking ones that you know about?”

Jody just smiled. “Stay put so you can get out of that bed and visit with your husband properly, okay?”

An idea came to her mind, so Pepper nodded in agreement and waited for Jody and the whirlwind of medical staff to take care of Tony and go.

When the room finally emptied and Tony was ready to drop from exhaustion, she slid out of her bed for hopefully the last time. Tony chuckled as he watched her drag a blood pressure machine from her side of the room to his bed.

“You paid for really big med bay beds, babe. I’ve decided to come and visit,” she announced. He looked like he was going to try to shuffle over but she stopped him cold. “Don’t move. I’ll fit—for now.” And she situated herself beside Tony with ease. “There!”

If he’d been tired before, by the time Pepper had joined him in bed, he’d practically melted in contentedness. “We’ll talk about this when I’m ‘wake, right?” He asked.

“Of course, Tony.”

“And we’ll be happy ‘gain?

She smiled to herself and rested a hand on her belly. “Forever.”

 @febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #fanfiction #sleep deprivation

[freddiesaysalright]

My Man Part V

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary:  Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. A new opportunity has presented itself to her, but Roger is suspicious of the circumstances.

Word Count: 3.5K 

Tag List: @bohemian-war @kittygirlno @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @rockyroadthepastryarchy @goodoldfashionedloverboyy @jennyggggrrr @discodeacygotmorerhythm @x1975sos @slytherinxval @cyndagoaway @doingalrightt @lovvliies @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing  If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Part I   Part II   Part III   Part IV

A/N (Please read carefully!): Warning! This part has an attempted sexual assault. A couple things I promise for this: 1) It doesn’t last long, 2) I will be telling you exactly where it starts and stops so you can skip it if  you choose, and 3) It’s not just for shock value/drama, there’s a plot reason.  If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, don’t hesitate to reach out for help. You are not alone. RAINN Sexual Assault hotline: US & Canada: 1-888-407-4747 International:[phone] They also offer live chat :)

Part V! Here we go!

The next day, you carefully decided what to wear to the meeting with the director, whose name was Mark Hudson. You were actually a fan of his from seeing his production of The Music Man a few years ago back in New York. It was amazing and you were thrilled to see what he could do with a Rodgers and Hammerstein classic like Oklahoma. You decided on a dress, to look more demure like Laurie. It also hugged your body in the right places, which you liked for auditions and meetings so that directors could see your type.

As the afternoon closed in, you felt your nerves begin to flutter around in your stomach. It had been a while since you’d gone for a new role. Your New York agent had secured Fanny for you before you even got to London, so you were feeling a little unsure. You fidgeted with your hair once more, sweeping it into a bun before leaving your flat early so you would appear punctual.

Your agent told you to go straight to Mark’s room when you arrived. He was in 317, so you walked straight past the front desk and got the lift. You pressed the button for the third floor and waited for the doors to close, feeling your heart rate increase with excitement. You couldn’t believe you were on your way to get your dream role.

With a soft ding, the doors opened for you on the third floor. You made your way down the carpeted hallway, and held tighter to your purse with anticipation. Luckily, the room was toward the front of the corridor so you didn’t have to go far. With a deep breath to calm yourself down, you knocked gently on the door.

When it swung open, you were face to face with Mark. He was a handsome man - dark hair, light brown eyes, and a strong jaw. He clearly took care of himself as well. His biceps and pecs were threatening to tear the tight t-shirt he had on.

“Y/N!” he cried, clearly delighted and extending his hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, kid! I’m a big fan!”

“Likewise, Mr. Hudson!” you returned, shaking his hand as he let you inside. “I’m so thrilled you thought of me for Oklahoma. I’ve wanted to be Laurie since I was six.”

He laughed, closing the door behind you. “I’m happy to give you the opportunity. Please, come in.”

You followed him further into the room. It was a standard hotel room, but large with a desk on one side toward the window. He poured himself a glass of brandy.

“Would you like one?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I’d rather get straight to business.”

“Very serious, I see,” he said, sounding impressed. “I like that. So, I’ve seen you in Funny Girl and your agent sent me the rest of your resume. You’ve definitely got the singing chops to be my Laurie. My only concern is your dance experience.”

He took a seat at the desk and motioned for you to sit across from him. You did.

“What about it?” you asked.

“Well, you’re not a ballerina,” he said. “And the show does have a ballet in the first act.”

“I’m familiar,” you said. “But trust me when I say, I am willing to work hard to learn. My ballroom training can help me, and I’ve done bits of ballet in other shows.”

“I believe you, kid,” he said. He grabbed a cigarette from the box on the desk and looked at you before lighting it. You noticed his eyes lingered a moment on your chest. “Do you mind?”

Used to Roger’s smoking habit, you said, “Not at all.”

After taking a long drag, he looked you up and down again. “You are beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” you replied, looking at your lap as a blush spread across your cheeks.

He groaned. “Oh, I love the look of humility on a woman.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m gonna level with you, Y/N,” he said. “I wanna give you this part.”

You grinned. “Really?! Oh, Mr. Hudson, that’s great news!”

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “There’s something I’d like you to do for me first.”

“You want me to keep it a secret that you didn’t have me audition?” you guessed.

“Actually,” he said, rising from his seat and moving to stand over you. He put his hand to your cheek and then slid it down to your neck. You wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken. “I had something else in mind.”

You had to play dumb. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” he insisted, glancing between you and the bed.

You got to your feet, brushing his hand away. Anger roiled in your stomach at the audacity to suggest such a thing.

“Mr. Hudson,” you said. “There are some things I am unwilling to do for my career. I am a married woman, after all.”

“I know your husband is dead,” he said, and he took hold of your arm, squeezing. “You’re not married. And I know you’re not with Roger Taylor either.”

“Would it matter if I was?” you replied, trying to stall. His grip on you was like a chain and he was blocking your path to the door.

“Not even a little bit,” he whispered and then yanked you into him.

****HERE’S WHERE THE SEXUAL ASSAULT STARTS. SKIP TO THE NEXT SET OF STARS IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ****

You held your lips closed as he tried to kiss you, struggling against his hold. You brought your hands to his face and started to shove him away. He stepped back, but he still had a hand around your arm.

“Let me go!” you demanded, attempting to pull it free, and trying to maintain your calm. You hoped your voice didn’t betray how scared you were. “Now!”

“As an actress, I thought you’d be better at taking direction!” on the last word, he brought back his free hand and slapped you hard across the face.

The sound cracked like a whip through the mostly empty hotel room and the force was enough to knock you off your feet. You were so stunned, you didn’t even know if you cried out. The skin around your eye was already throbbing. He let go of your arm as you hit the ground, only to shove his fingers into your hair, his nails scraping your scalp. Your hair fell around your face as it lost its style.

You whimpered as he pulled you up and tossed you - your body limp from shock - onto the bed. You tried to gather your thoughts, but you couldn’t focus. You cheek hurt, your scalp stung, and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or yell.

Quickly, he crawled on top of you. Out of instinct alone, you brought your leg up to try and kick him off. He grabbed both your knees and sat on them, holding you down with his legs. You squirmed with your upper half to try and wriggle free, to no avail. As his hands came down toward the straps of your dress, you tried to slap them away.

“NO!” you screamed. “GET OFF OF ME!”

His hand seemed to snap in place around your throat, and all noise ceased as you now fought for breath. It made your head swim and your vision go blurry.

“Be quiet, or I’ll make you,” he warned through gritted teeth.

With that, he let you breathe as he grabbed the strap of your dress and ripped it. He pulled the neck line down to reveal your breast. You felt a pang of regret at not wearing a bra. He took hold of it and squeezed so hard you yelped in pain. You grabbed his arm to try and pull his hand away, but he was too strong. With his other hand, he mirrored his actions on your other breast. It was so painful you felt a tear leak out and roll down your cheek.

When he let go at last, you let out a breath of relief, but not for long. He sat back, took hold of the hem of your dress, and shoved it up your thighs. You shivered with the cold blast of air that hit your legs. He grinned, and then your eyes went wide as he started to unbuckle his belt. Something surged in you, and you brought back your right hand to swing it as hard as you could onto his left ear.

“Fuck!” he cried, and his legs let up just enough for you to get a foot out from under them, which you drove hard into his chest, forcing him off you at last.

****END OF SEXUAL ASSAULT****

When he fell to the side, you scrambled away as fast as you could and hurtled for the door. You didn’t turn to see if he pursued you as you tugged on the handle and fled down the hall. When you got to the stairwell, you thought enough to hold your dress over your exposed chest, but you did not stop running. Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you went. You tore through the lobby, ignoring all the stares and shouts of surprise from onlookers. You had to get to the studio.

When you rounded the corner to the street the recording studio was on, you slowed to a walk. Your chest heaved with your winded lungs. You felt heavy and like every part of you was sore. You could not process what just happened. Those sort of things happened to other people. You were supposed to be going to tell Roger you got the part. How were you going to tell Roger this? Shame crawled over your skin and you felt dirty all of a sudden.

More tears welled up in your eyes as you went through everything you were feeling. Shame, anger, regret, guilt, sadness. It was too much. You heart couldn’t take it. It was beating so hard you thought it was trying to escape from your rib cage. You wanted to go with it. To shed your skin and become a person who had never been touched by Mark Hudson. You wanted Roger, too, but you felt a little afraid to face him. He knew this would happen and you felt so stupid for not listening.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Even so, you continued on your way to the studio. You could see it now. The front door was your refuge. You looked over your shoulder finally, to be sure Mark wasn’t following you. To your great relief, he wasn’t. Swallowing through the tightness in your throat, you opened the door to the studio.

You had been before so you knew where to go. You walked down the hall, and to the door of the booth. When you opened it, you saw Mary there with Paul, Jim Beach, and John Reid.

“Christ,” she gasped. “Y/N, what’s happened to you?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t form words. What had just happened to you? How could you even begin? You couldn’t. You let out a wail and fell into Mary’s arms. She held you tight, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“Roger, you better get in here!” Reid called.

The whole band came in, and when they saw you, they shot questioning looks at Mary. She took hold of your shoulders and had you look up.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” she asked again.

Through your tears, you took in Roger’s familiar form, and you felt so awful. He looked at you with an confusion and worry.

“Roger,” you began, your bottom lip quivering. “Roger, I…” you didn’t finish, as you darted over to the nearest trash bin and vomited into it.

“Shit!” Roger hissed and knelt down beside you. From this angle, he could see the damage to your dress and the purple bruises blooming across your skin.

You couldn’t look at him. He reached out for you, but you recoiled.

“No, don’t touch me!”

He stopped, clearly hurt, and gave you some space. Then you watched him ball his hand into a fist as he jumped to his feet.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said, and stormed toward the door.

“No, Rog, wait!” Brian urged, grabbing hold of Roger’s arm.

“Let go, I’m gonna murder that piece of shit!” Roger yelled. “Get the fuck off me, Brian!”

The idea of Roger leaving caused you to panic. You extended a trembling hand and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, tugging lightly. He turned to look at you and his face softened. Finally, you met his eyes. It was the first time since you’d known him you saw tears in them.

“Don’t leave me, Roger,” you begged. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, my darling,” he sighed as he knelt down again. “Can I...can I hold you?”

You considered it. You desperately wanted his embrace but you felt so undeserving of it. If you had only listened to him!

“Please, Y/N,” he said again.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Roger.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, as gently as he could.

“You knew this would happen,” you explained. “I was such an idiot. I should have listened to you. I’m so, so sorry.” You broke down again. “I don’t…I don’t deserve you.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong you are,” he replied, and he choked a little on the last word. “This isn’t your fault, Y/N, do you hear me? This is in no way your fault.”

You began to shiver. You couldn’t accept his words, either. All you could do was look at him and feel the whirlwind that swirled through your heart. You hardly even noticed when Brian generously draped his jacket over your shoulders, careful not to actually touch you.

“Roger,” Mary said. “She needs to be taken to hospital. That way they can report it to the  police.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t want to report it.”

“Y/N,” John said. “If he ra -”

“He didn’t,” you interrupted. “He just tried to.”

You thought this might make you all feel better, but it didn’t. You were still a shivering mess on the floor, wounded in ways far beyond the bruises.

“You should at least tell your agent,” Reid said. “If it were someone I was managing, I would want to know.”

“Would that be alright?” Roger asked you.

You nodded. After all, Stephen would be calling to find out how it went. You’d have to tell him something.

Freddie squatted down in front of you. “Can you put your arms through the sleeves, darling?” he asked. “I’ll zip you up.”

You gave him a frightened glace and he held his hands away from you.

“I won’t touch you, I promise.”

Holding the top of your dress, you slipped your arms into the jacket one at a time. You sat up a little and held it up again while Freddie reached out and deftly hooked the zipper and pulled it all the way up. You were certain you looked ridiculous, but that didn’t matter now.

“Mary, could you help her up?” he asked, backing away.

“Sure,” she said, and put her arm around your shoulders. “Come on, love. Up you get.”

With her help, you pushed yourself onto your feet. John took a step toward you.

“Hold out your hand, Y/N,” he said.

You did so, but Mary had to hold it still. He dropped a mint into your open palm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing it to your mouth. The flavor helped you feel fresher and settled your still unruly stomach.

“Let’s go,” Roger said.

You and Mary followed him out the door, quiet as a funeral procession. When you got to the street, Roger looked in the direction of the hotel and his jaw clenched. Mary hailed a cab. You gave the driver the address of Stephen’s office. As he pulled into the traffic, you found yourself numb. What had been a storm of feelings had slowed to a flat lake. You wanted to sleep or get drunk. To be anything but what you were in this moment.

When you arrived at the office, you told the receptionist you needed to see Stephen right away. She paged him and then told you to go ahead inside. The three of you entered, he took in the sight of you, and he looked down.

“Oh, no,” he sighed. “Did he get carried away?”

Roger lost his shit. In seconds, he had taken Stephen by the collar and slammed him into the opposite wall. Mary gasped, and held you a little tighter.

“You knew?!” he shouted. “You fucking knew this would happen and you sent her over there anyway?!”

Stephen whimpered. “I - I didn’t know he would get violent!”

The flat lake stirred up as you matched Roger’s feelings.

“You - ” you started but caught yourself choking on the betrayal. “You knew he wanted me to fuck him for the part?”

Stephen couldn’t meet your eyes. “I thought you’d...many actresses do that sort of thing...and he needed…” he trailed off.

“No,” you said, unsure where this strength was coming from. “Finish that sentence.”

“He’s an old friend of mine,” Stephen said. “He said it had been a while for him and he wanted you.”

Roger punched Stephen in the face, sending your agent’s head back, spit and blood bursting from his mouth.

“SO YOU THOUGHT YOU’D JUST WHORE HER OUT SO YOUR MATE COULD GET OFF?!” Roger bellowed. “FUCK YOU!”

He punched Stephen three more times.

“Roger!” Mary interjected, before he could strike again. “That’s enough!”

He released Stephen, who slumped to the floor.

“You’re fired,” Roger said.

“With all due respect, Mr. Taylor,” Stephen returned, blood dribbling from his split lip. “You can’t - ”

“You’re fired,” you cut across him. You looked at Roger and Mary. “Take me home.”

Roger stormed out, you and Mary on his heels. You could hardly remember getting back to your flat, but you were so relieved when you did. Then you weren’t. George’s photo sent another wave of guilt over you. Mark’s words echoed in your mind: you’re not married...you’re not with Roger Taylor either...

You squeezed your eyes shut. Then, your heart wrenching, you removed your wedding band. You walked over to the mantle and placed it before George’s picture, inwardly sending him an apology. But you couldn't wear it. You weren’t George’s anymore. You weren’t Roger’s. You belonged only to yourself. Oddly, the thought made you feel better. More free. But also pretty lonely.

“Are you alright?” Roger asked.

“No,” you told him. “Nothing is alright.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Mary said. “But I’ve got to get to work. Are you gonna be okay if I leave?”

You looked at Roger and held his gaze as you answered. “Yeah. I’m safe now.”  

She left. A heavy silence hung in the air. Roger took a step toward you before stopping himself. You moved slightly in his direction and he looked at you thoughtfully.

“I should change,” you said, and disappeared into your room.

You were still shaking as you peeled off Brian’s jacket, followed by your dress. You saw yourself in the mirror at last and took in the sight. You didn’t even look like you. Especially since you’d never had a black eye before. No one had ever hit you before. None of this had ever happened to you before. You thought you might break down again, but you held it together as you grabbed some sweats and a tank top from your drawer. When you were finished, you padded back out to Roger, who had taken a seat on the couch. His leg was bouncing and his hands were in fists again. His knuckles were purple from hitting Stephen, and there was a light spatter of blood on the end of his sleeve.

“Roger,” you said, and he stood up immediately. You held out the jacket. “I’ll let you bring this back to Brian.”

He took it and then looked back at you. “You want me to go?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t ever want you to leave.”

Now the emotions were coming again. When would this back and forth ever end? You could see he was itching to comfort you somehow. To wipe the tear from your cheek, or hug you, or anything to ease the pain. He tossed the jacket onto the couch.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Hold me, please,” you said in a voice so small you were surprised he heard you.

You were ready for his touch at last. You could still feel Mark’s hands on your skin, and you wanted Roger’s arms to take it away. He obliged, and wrapped them around you. Your buried your face in his chest and sobbed. You absurdly noticed how nice he smelled. It was something uniquely Roger and it brought you such a sense of peace. You never wanted to move from this place for the rest of your life.

#queen #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x you #ben!roger x reader #ben hardy #ben!roger taylor #ben!roger imagine #roger taylor #queen imagine #roger taylor imagine #freddie mercury #rami malek #brian may #gwilym lee #john deacon #joe mazzello #queen fanfic #my man series

[spltlippd-blog]

❝ I’m officially off the rails. You should try it.❞  BENJAMIN WADSWORTH? No, that’s actually MADDOC ‘MADS’ BLENKINSOP. Only NINETEEN years old, this HUFFLEPUFF alumni works as a WILDLIFE + ANTIQUES SMUGGLER and is sided with THE DEATH EATERS. HE identifies as CISMAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be ERRATIC, VIOLENT, and IMPULSIVE but also RESOURCEFUL, BOLD, and PASSIONATE. { EL, 22, EST, SHE+HER }

I. A HISTORY

“DEATHS: Barnabus Blenkinsop, 25. Body missing. Reward for information.” ─ The Daily Prophet, 8th February 1999.

Mr. Blenkinsop's presumed death occurred on November 20, 1998 and his obituary appeared in the Daily Prophet. A reward was offered for information about what happened to his body since all that was found in his bed at St. Mungo's was a tin of anchovies.

The Blenkinsop family made their money through “trade” and “exploration,” which are both just codewords for seizing territories and poaching wildlife.

They’ve comparable to the mafia in the sense that the extensive family operates within itself as an organized crime unit with a tendency for violence; everyone knows what they do, but no one has the concrete evidence (or balls) to do anything about it.

Plus… dragonhide clothing is all the rage, yeah? Who do you think is out there getting the resources? Those pickled hippogriff eggs (found only in the highest society establishments and incredibly illegal for consumption) that you like so much come from somewhere, right?

Also deal with antique looting for private collectors and played a prominent role in the original horcrux hunt as they were able to track down founders memorabilia and get it by any means necessary.

Weren’t originally anti-muggle, but since the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy became very much so.

The Statute both hurt their business and seemed incredibly unfair; wix were continuously pushed into the underbelly of civilization as muggles were continuously and freely expanding and wix are just supposed… to accommodate that? Be alright with living in hiding and bending over for a race that can’t even wipe their arse without using their hands? Bullshit.

The anti-muggle sentiment only grew and festered over time as wix were persecuted by muggles and forced into hiding and culminated in the Blenkinsops becoming one of the most prominent pureblood families that actively and politically opposed muggles altogether.

Blenkinsops were part of the Knights of Walpurgis and continue to be heavily involved with the Death Eaters.

II. OVERVIEW

NAME.

↳ Maddoc Anarawd Blenkinsop. Goes by Mads.

GENDER + ORIENTATION.

↳ Doesn’t think of people like that. But for the purpose of clarity, cisman, biromantic bisexual.

BIRTHDAY + BLOOD STATUS.

↳ ?? / ?? / ???? (currently 19 years old). Pureblood.

OCCUPATION.

↳ Poacher + antiques smuggler.

III. DIGGING DEEPER

↳ “Now this looks like a job for me / so everybody just follow me / 'cause we need a little controversy / 'cause it feels so empty without me.”

What they see: expensive robes, even more expensive cologne worn far too young, five languages, silver gold and glistening rings, never without his wand, unwavering loyalty, straight spine and shoulder back, looks just like his mother, a smile that says: you don’t know me at all and you never will

What you see: tattered shirts, salt and sweat, a vicious tongue, silver gold and blood rusted rings, never without his beast, all-consuming obsession, violence violence violence, looks absolutely insane, laughing at his own traumas

The images co-exist.

He’s so pretty, absolutely lovely at society banquets, trained in wix ballroom dancing that’s essentially spinning on air, but there’s always been a darkness inside of him you might glimpse upon a first meeting

Anyone who was unfortunate enough to attend Hogwarts with him knows all too well exactly why he’s called “Mads” over Maddoc

“i’m officially off the rails. you should try it.”

ERRATIC. his whirlwind of emotions are either charming or terrifying, and switch so suddenly and quickly it can give you whiplash. his behavior more so. he operates by his own moral codes that’s yet to be deciphered and doesn’t seem to follow any pattern of behavior whatsoever. it’s got its benefits, sure, but the downfalls include: unfinished projects, dropped conversations, and general confusion.

VIOLENT. you don’t get it: one second, he’s smiling, laughing with you, and the next you’re dazed and wondering what it was you said that caused that punch. mads is known for sudden and intense violence; his family is much the same, as their enemies are far too aware of, and rumor on the street is that they all beat the shit out of each other daily. it’s mostly true. while in hogwarts, he earned the reputation of the “attack dog,” jumping into physical altercations at the drop of a hat if he felt it justified.

and IMPULSIVE. his line of work kind of depends on split-second decision making and he’s fortunate enough to excel at that. unfortunately, he’s impulsive to a fault and will go with his gut quicker than he can think not to.

but also RESOURCEFUL. not even mads’ worst enemy would deny his intellect. kid’s fucking smart and able to process information and spit back results in a second; he’s already gone through all the possible outcomes of a problem, he’s already thought thirty steps ahead, he’s already more than prepared for every single plan to go to shit. he’s got this.

BOLD. mads was never one to hold back, whether it be his thoughts, opinions, or feelings. he doesn’t second guess himself and he won’t ever hold back. why live life wishing you did instead of doing?

and PASSIONATE. whether it be his unwavering loyalty bordering all-consuming obsession, or the fire he pours into his every action, or his ability to laugh through tear-streaked cheeks, mads has so much ambition within him it’s hard to contain at all.

fluent in English, Spanish, French, Italian, and Persian; currently studying Greek

Blenkinsops (illegally) keep and breed manticores and each have their own; Mads’ is called Bully and he loves him

but at the same time “do animals deserve rights” because he’s really out here poaching wildlife without a care in the world (ask him about pygmy puff kebabs he had at a shady pub in Morocco)

IV. MAGIC SHIT

(former) HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff.

WAND: Cedar wood, acromantula web core, 11 ¾ inches, unyielding flexibility 

***(Inherited, passed down through generations of Blenkinsop wizards. The wand is incredibly loyal to its original owner─ dead for nearly 500 years now─ and Mads has difficulty using it.)

CEDAR WOOD: “Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.”

ACROMANTULA WEB CORE: Those who are determined, stubborn, cold (cool-natured), fearless, and with a mischievous and/or dark disposition would have this wand core. Having such a wand core suggests that you have firm convictions and have a deeply rooted vindictive nature, but this does not at all mean that you are not capable of caring or loving someone or something in your own way. However, your vindictive nature can often lead you towards revenge when something wrong or unjust is done to you. This makes you less likely to forge strong bonds and/or forgive someone easily. This is one of the best cores to use in the darkest of Dark Magic, particularly with The Unforgivable Curses. It is a wand core predominantly found among those of House Slytherin. If one is thinking about having a wand made with an Acromantula Web core, they’re probably a fan of having their wand confiscated by the authorities. Using a wand with this wand core has been illegal in Britain since 1782, after they were discovered that the wielder of a wand with this wand core has particular ability with Dark Magics, especially the Imperius Curse. There are certain diplomatic exceptions, as it is a traditional wand core for Asian wands, but even those are temporary, and many wizard diplomats on long-term assignments find themselves compelled to procure replacement wands during their stay. This was once a common wand core among Dark Healers.

UNYIELDING FLEXIBILITY: A wand of this flexibility finely tunes itself to its original owner’s preferences and doesn’t stray from those preferences, even in the hands of a new owner; the new owner will just have to get used to it. It is particularly good for combative and healing magic. Unyielding wand owners tend to be very confident in themselves and/or in the things they believe in. They tend to be intelligent, somewhat cynical, and usually have well-defined principles that they will not stray from ever. Sometimes, this combination can lead to arrogance because of them insisting on how right they are without considering other points of view or whether or not they might be wrong.

congratulations on making it to the end!!! i would absolutely love some plots for this ferocious little beast so hmu or look out for my plotting call!!!

#iidyintro

[theangry-ace]

currently playing: Charade Maniacs

quite possibly the most mysterious otome game I’ve played yet. and again, I’m having quite a hard time to follow the story. it’s as bad as Tengai ni Mau, but at least this one I can understand at most 30% of what’s happening. Tengai ni Mau I just don’t know what actual fuck was happening all through out the entire game.

the concept is in future Japan, our MC, Hiyori and her overprotective osananajimi suddenly found themselves in another world where the “people” there doesn’t seem like normal human being. it’s like they’re robots, or something that not used to be a human. along with them are 8 other guys and a mysterious masked person - the Director - who said all 10 of them are to be there, Arcadia, and to occasionally play a short skit or drama to gain points. the points can be used to ‘purchase’ anything they want, but if their points to reach zero, they will be erased for existence. finishing their forced job as an actor would grant them a wish to be fulfilled.

unfortunately, among 10 of them, one of them is the person who led them to be chosen to Arcadia; the Producer. who is the traitor?

part1: Kyouya, Tomose & Mamoru routes

though honestly, I don’t think I would continue clear other routes. maybe. my Japanese is way too low to understand the details of this fucking gamee

if anyone can explain to me the game plot, also the spoiler of who is the Producer and why the heck he’s doing all of these, that’ll be great. 

my first impression of this game was; “HOLY SHIT 9 CAPTURE TARGETS?!!” but then I found out “thERE’S A HIDDEN CHARACTER AS WELL???” I just know I’m gonna be a mess for this game. I expect it to be kinda dark of a theme but not entirely? I think most of the creepy vibes were taken off to some degree by the awesome BGM. still, I don’t really get some details of the entire plot, shameful to admit. no. correction; I understand exactly nothing from the plot so..

all I know that aside from the Producer hiding among them, there’s also a Sponsor who had been possibly working together to keep them all there. a

Kyouya

he is the genki guy of the 10 of them, and despite being kidnapped to another world, he's the most optimistic and motivated that they all will be out of this psychopath of a forced imprisonment. he sees himself as a superhero that will protect and help everyone. he even said, when knowing there’s at least 2 traitors (the Producer and the Sponsor) among them, that doesn’t mean that they should all start to doubt everybody and distrust them.

turns out the Sponsor among them is Kyouya’s parents. they were one of the main contributor (or supporter) of this whole ‘kidnapping people into forced reality tv to act in skits for the sake of amusement’. kinda. I’m pretty hazy about that... anyway. but Kyouya is there to stop the psychopathic project. he actually had two little sisters, both was also been made the Cast of the project but they failed to meet the necessary points needed and was deleted out of existence, and that includes from the Kyouya’s memory. it was said because being no longer remember what you lost is much easier. he was very devastated when he began to remember them, and felt so bad how he could ever forget about his two sisters.

Kyouya managed to gained enough points to have his wish, but there was a catch that asshole Director just suddenly announced; he could only wish one person to return to the real world, or but one to remain. he chose the latter, and Hiyori was mega sad. he stayed and he promised to continue to stop Arcadia, and retrieve his two sisters.

Tomose

dude is younger than Hiyori, and used to be the target of bullies. Hiyori, with her strong oneechan power, took the role of his protector. he came to secretly fallen in love with her as the years gone by, and he swore he would do anything to protect her in return. despite his near-obsession towards Hiyori, she never agreed nor encouraged this behavior. she simply said she saw him as just the osananajimi, and nothing else. 

with the little that I can understand from his route, there’s not really any new revelation aside that Hiyori suspected Tomose to be the Sponsor because he kept saying he didn’t mind staying there in Arcadia so long he could play the role of her boyfriend. you’re twisted, my dude. I might missed a lot of the stories in Tomose’s route, because, fuck, a lot of the ‘explanation’ was left to Hiyori. which means no narration, and fucking shit my reading skill is lower than an elementary kid so... oh. Hiyori got her ‘emotions’ yanked out of her when she refused to do the play and kept on telling Tomose how he was wrong, and that he was acting like not the Tomose she knew.

in the end, after a thrilling (/sarcasm) game of charades with the resident of Arcadia, Tomose was about to wish for all of them to return before the Producer dropped his asshole of a new rule. Tomose wanted to say that he would remain while everyone was to sent home, but Shouta stepped in saying he volunteered to stay instead. dude said he liked playing games so he didn’t mind staying in Arcadia. I suspect he might be the Director....?

after getting back home, Tomose and Hiyori decided to start all over again with their relationship.

Mamoru

a soft spoken and overall very tender guy, Mamoru didn’t stand out that much among the 10. he gave Hiyori a teddy bear to cheer her up when he think she was not feeling too good after the whole thing of them trying to find a loophole of Arcadia as an existence while they were doing a maintenance. they were supposed to stay at the house they’re staying but he and Hiyori went to another place. in result they saw the real form of the people in Arcadia. they were slimy alien looking creatures.

for some time, Hiyori was terribly traumatized by what she discovered and could no longer see the Another Worlders in the eye. then later Mamoru refused to act in a skit where he would have to stab the co-star. he begged to the Director that he could take anything of his, just not his right hand. so Mamoru got his leg paralyzed and had to walk with a cane afterwards. 

Mamoru’s personality changed since then, and the other kids started to think it’s proof enough he’s not the Producer who was supposed to be hiding within them. Hiyori caught him went out late at night and asked him where he gone, but he never answered and continued being cold and distant. then later there was a skit asking for Hiyori and Mamoru that involved a kissing scene. before it could start, Mamoru called the Director that he didn’t want to do it and would accept another penalty. he lost his sight this time, and as he was hurrying on his way away, Hiyori caught his right hand that he treasured more than his life and felt the slimy unholy texture of the alien she had seen before.

Mamoru closed himself in his room for days until Hiyori managed to talk to him. he admitted to be the Sponsor and also the person responsible for taking them all to Arcadia. he also admitted to be one of the Arcadian people through his dad and his mom was one of the past Cast. every other explanation he gave I didn’t quite get like why he became a Sponsor? also how could a child could be made from one of those emotionless alien who’s barely human and an actual human? from Kyouya’s end, Hiyori woke up on a bed connected to an IV, meaning she went to Arcadia only in her conscious so...??? well. anyway. because he is part Arcadian part Human, he never belonged to neither of them. the Arcadian makes fun of him and gave him less points for his acts, while at the same time he knew he is less than a human to familiarize with another human.

I actually didn’t manage to see to his route to the end because... the lack of my understanding of the plot really made the climax so boring.

and that’s it. I prolly won’t be able to go through other routes. I took a peek at each of them’s walkthrough and saw either Mei or Takumi being the Producer since theirs has multiple endings. I’m betting on Takumi because if any character’s gonna be shady, might as well be the most innocent looking one. 

I might clear Mizuki’s though because, let’s face it, they’re the most interesting person of all.

so in conclusion: I really need someone to explain to me this game’s story. I’m way underqualified for it.

#charade maniacs

[nandini--sharma]

I. Hi! We’re happy to have you with us. First thing’s first, can you slate for us please? (Name, Age, Pronouns, Occupation, Faceclaim)

“Of course. Hi,my name is Nandini Sharma, I’m forty-three years old, a former model, actress,and dancer and the current COO of __.I use feminine pronouns and as strange as it sounds, people often compare me to Aishwarya Rai-Bachchan.”

II. It’s great to meet you. So you have to know that everyone’s been curious about you, why don’t we start with where you’re from? Tell us where you grew up and what your childhood and family were like.

"Oh, well, I was born in Mumbai, but that was only because my mother needed a C-section and was carried to a large hospital after she passed her due date. She loved to say that I was a diva since in the womb. Anyway, not long after that I was brought back to my village, it wasn’t the small type or rural place you’d see on television, but it wasn’t the big city, either. But it was home. We lead a simple life there and I was very happy playing among the nature out there. You know, fields, cows, goats... “

III. Well, they say our upbringing molds who we become. I’m sure that you got your reputation for being humble, hardworking,  active/ dramatic, impressionable, demanding from that.

IV. And what about that lead you to your current career? How did that impact you enough to want to do what you do now?

" It was luck, honestly. I think from a very young age people realized that I wasn’t like the other girls around, who played, did chores, went to school, and were all accepting of their future to become a wife and mother. I was always told I was pretty, and I suppose it got to my head a bit, because I was only about fifteen when I told my mother I wanted to be a model. I always saw magazines on stands with such pretty women on them and thought ‘ well I can do that too’. Of course, it didn’t have the same stigma that it used to, but my mother still was very much against the idea. I think she didn’t want to send me to the city and see me get hurt or lose the values and virtues she had given me, but I was adamant and eventually took it upon myself to try to run away to Mumbai and become one. I cam home not even a day later but she realized that keeping an eye on me was better than me going out there by myself, so she allowed me to  start modeling small time so long as I put my studies first.”

V. That’s awesome. I’m sure our readers will love to hear that. So you knew you had a calling, what came next? How did you get yourself to Hollywood? What was your first job?

“Oh well Hollywood came much, much later. It wasn’t even until I reached nineteen that I got to New York. Modeling in India is very different than modeling internationally, but someone saw my face and decided they liked it and gave my then agent a call. It was a huge deal for me, of course, as I’d been modeling creams and things but not much clothes. Fashion was the big league and I wasn’t going to turn that down. After an international campaign, even though I was just one of three models in it, I got a call to see if I wanted to be in a film -- and Indian film, which you’d call a Bollywood, but I was excited. Like most girls where I come from, I’d learned some traditional dance so that finally came in handy, and one film turned into two and so on before the calls kept coming in and one of them just happened to be from an American director. I think I was twenty-two at the time. but it seems like a lifetime ago now.”

VI. Of course, but we all know there’s a sea of faces out here trying to get famous as well, right? It must have been hard, the first few rejections or being told something wasn’t good enough. What was the most difficult thing you faced on your journey?

“Oh God, I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I never got rejected. At least not when modeling. I was charmed that way, always being chosen for things. I think the one time I was rejected came from a role I actively sought that I didn’t look the part for -- I think you can guess what that means. But I didn’t let it set me back. I think the hardest part came not from my career, but my personal life. I was still young, barely twenty-five when I met my husband and fell madly in love as one often would. But in spite of my family supporting me in everything else, they were still were still very traditional and my beloved wasn’t Indian. It caused a rift between myself and my parents and was heavily criticized by the media back home and highly covered here, but we were in love and I was willing to give up everything for him because I believed that my parents would come around. It was very hard being at odds with my family, and even when my first child came things still hadn’t been reconciled. I felt so alone; I think that was my darkest time. It even effected my work. Of course my divorce and the public embarrassment I faced wasn’t great either, but I still have my children to keep me from being lonely and being at good terms with my parents again makes up for it.”

VII. So then what was the moment that you realized you made it? Or are you still waiting for that moment?

" Made it... That’s subjective in a way, isn’t it? Everyone has a different opinion on that, don’t they? For me, I made it when I began getting calls from top designers to model their clothes on a runway, but I was twenty years old and had a lot of life to go through still. I’ve never won and Oscar or anything but I think the height of my career was around the time of my second or third Hollywood film. Of course getting pregnant slowed down my acting career and that in turn made me less spoken about. Not that I regret it, of course, because I would trade nothing for my children. But am I going to be on the cover of a gossip magazine again?  God I hope not. I like being moderately spoken about now and living my life in peace. (4)

VIII. It’s amazing when you make it far enough in this town when so many people end up giving up and going home, isn’t it? So now that you’re here, what’s next for you?

"It is, and I’m thankful for every moment I lived, but I’m much too happy where I am now to go backwards. I know that it was at the cost of a messy divorce, but in spite of the fact that I have to see the man who cheated on me too often, I like that I can sleep eight or nine hours every night and that I get to spend lots of time with my children. I can’t even imagine working eighteen hours on a  a set and getting three hours of sleep before having to do it all again and missing out on my children’s lives. No, I like where I’m at now. Love it, in fact. In the future the only thing I want to do is help this company grow if only so that I can leave something behind for my kids and maybe help a few people’s dreams come true in the process. I had my time.”

IX.  Now we know it’s personal but we have to ask,  do you have any comment about the rumors going around about you?

"Oh God, haha, of course. I think I’ve just taken care of myself and my skin over the years and people can’t find it in them to believe that I’ve just aged well. Honestly, saying I’ve had work done is just outlandish. I have not had cosmetic surgery of any kind ”

X. Thank you so much for talking to us today. Lastly, is there anything you want our readers to know about you?

" I think I’d like readers and fans to know that I am still keeping my vegetarian diet as I have all my life and that in spite of not having been there a few years, I’ve still retained all of my French.”

[imaginesnkdorks]

Reader and Erwin where she's a cadet in the 104 but she's a couple years older than Erwin and all of them. The had a relationship during the time they met and they get married she pregnant and he gives her and the child a bunch of diaries or journals that tell his life and but during the battle with the beast he dies so the child grows up without a father but wants to be exactly like him

The story ur writing a role to take with the reader x Erwin I made a typo she’s not older than Erwin but she’s older than the cadets she’s 20

“A Role to Take” PART 1

Pairing: Erwin X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Violence; mentions of death; long read

Words: 2270

[Part 2 ] [Part III] [Part IV]

[A/N: So, this was a tough one to write. I didn’t want it to feel rushed so I decided to cut it into two to three parts. Will update the next parts probably this weekend :D - mod max]

[EDIT: Made Reader younger :D]

           Anotherwedding, hmm? I sighed as I walked home. Everyone my age is getting married –people I used to play with when we were little. It’s not like we’re beyondmarrying age – we’re just in our twenties. In fact, I just turned twenty. Stillyoung, but not quite. The tragedy of two years ago made everyone realize how wecould just die anytime. Most decided it was now or never, and eloped with theirsweethearts.

           Whatabout me? It isn’t like love never presented itself. It’s just that I have adifferent priority. That is looking after my ill mother. People ask me if I’mhappy like this, and I always answered yes. I do get lonely, sometimes. But Ilove how rewarding it is to feel useful, and to be able to help my mother.  

           Still, being my mother’s caretakercame to an end. And even though I’ve been expecting this to happen eventually,I was devastated. I have no one. And honestly, my life lost its direction. Idon’t know what to do.

           I live in Ragako Village, in thesouthern part of Wall Rose. It’s a quaint little town and I love how peacefulit is, despite being close to the edge of the wall.

           “Ah, (Y/N), done with your chores?”Mrs. Springer asked me the moment I passed by her house.

           “Almost.” I answered, smiling to thesweet woman. “I heard a commotion at your house this morning, is everythingalright?” At that, she wore an expression only a pissed off mother could pulloff.

           Letting go a puff of air, she began“Connie is planning to enlist. That boy is worrying me to death.”

           “Oh? Surely, though he isn’tplanning to join the Survey Corps?” The Survey Corps is the most dangerousbranch of the military. Ever since the fall of Wall Maria two years ago, therewas a spike in people enlisting.

           “Goodness, no. He wants to join theMilitary Police.” Hmm, the military police? That’s the branch that takes careof the inner district. That’s far from titans, so if Connie get in, he’ll beliving a comfortable life. Though, I understand why his mother is worried –people can die even during training.

           We exchanged a few more words,before I promptly said goodbye. I entered my house … alone again.

           I hate to admit this but I don’tknow what to do with myself. I need to take care of something – or someone. Mytalk with Mrs. Springer sparked a plan in my mind, and I’m shaking justthinking about it. Not of fear, but of excitement. I believe I haven’t feltthis my whole life.

           The plan? Watch over ConnieSpringer, of course. And like him, I entered the military. I don’t haveanything to lose, anyway.

           “Did my mother ask you to do this,(Y/N)?” Connie asked me, while we were on our way to camp.

           “Hmm, no. I literally have nothingelse to do.” I told the him.

           “Oh. You wanna join the MilitaryPolice, too?” He asked me, flashing a toothy grin.

           “I haven’t decided yet. We’ll see.”I can’t tell him that I’ll join whichever he joins now, could I?

           “Okay.”

           We arrived at the training camp, andwas given our uniforms and cabin assignments. That’s when I parted ways withConnie. I’m quite thankful that there are a number of young adults and adultswith us – see, not only teenagers are trying to enter the military. Thanks tofood shortages, enlisting was a sure way to keep food coming. Meaning, therewould be a lot of breadwinners and even parents here. After changing into ourissued uniforms, we got in line to meet our instructor, thus beginning our lifeas the 104th trainees.

           Two years passed in a blink of aneye. Turns out, I don’t really have to worry about Connie. The kid’s prettywitty, if I do say so myself. Other than that, all I can say is that I have aknack for this. I spent most my life doing mundane housework. I don’t eventhink I’ve run at all! But this – using the 3DM gear, fighting whether by handor blades – is something that came quite naturally. Was it due to pent upfrustration? I finally found a safe way to let it all out? Maybe.

           Graduation is almost here, andeveryone is thinking seriously about which branch to join. I’m relieved thatConnie is still aspiring to join the Military Police, but I’m worried. There’sthis one kid who absolutely detests titans, Eren, and I think he’s slowlyinfluencing a bunch of other kids to join the Survey Corps.

           “What about you, (Y/N)?” Mina askedme.

           “Huh?” We are currently at the topof the wall, cleaning.

           “Which branch are you joining?” Sheexplained.

           “Oh. The Survey Corps, I guess.”

           “Woah. Really?” It was Eren thistime. That’s the kid who hates titans. It’s understandable why, though. Hismother was eaten by one right in front of him. No wonder he’s so messed up.

           “Why?” It was Connie who asked me.Why, indeed?

           I shrugged. Months into training, Idecided that I’d join the SC whichever branch Connie joins. The other two arerelatively safer than the SC, so there won’t be any need to worry. Besides, Ifeel like that’s where I’d be most useful.

           “What about the rest of you?” Iasked them. The conversation took off, and it turns out that Eren did influencea bunch of them. Even Connie. That made me raise a brow, and Connie sheepishlyshrugged it off. Ugh, this kid’s soft.

           We got quiet as we focused more onour task. I can’t help but hum a tune. Cleaning is as easy as breathing for me,after all. I’m sure I’ll ha –

           Booom!

           “What the –?” Thunder? “Titan!” Atitan! A titan appeared right in front of us … It happened all so fast!

           “Gahhh!” A gust of wind threw us alloff the wall.

           “Samuel!” I think it was Sasha, shejumped and did something. I didn’t see because my eyes were on the gate – orwhere the gate was supposed to be.

           “A breach! Titans are going to getin!” I yelled, in a panic. The hell of five years ago would happen again! Wecan’t let that happen!

           I jumped off, closing the gapbetween me and the gate. “Titans are already walking in?” Unbelievable. We didn’teven have time to breathe, they’re already invading! I looked up to mycompanions to try to regroup. Samuel’s passed out, with Sasha holding on tohim. Mina and Thomas seems unharmed. Connie is frozen, eyes locked at the gapwhich was once the gate, and Eren was nowhere to be found.

           Booming sounds can still be heardfrom the top – is Eren fighting the colossal titan? Hnghh. I don’t have time tothink about that. I turned back to the gap, and there are at least seven titansalready in here. I can’t kill them all. We need back up!

           Adrenaline was rushing through mysystem – this is what we’ve been training for!

           It took us two days to fight titans,seal the gap and clean up everything. It was a blur full of tears, blood anddeath. Many among my batchmates perished – sons, daughters, parents … dead.

           This event opened my eyes in manyways. We aren’t safe – we were never safe. It seems that titans gave us thehundred years of peace. Now that it’s over, they’re slowly picking us off onewall at a time.

           Luckily, we managed to seal thegate. In a twist of fate, a titan saved us. Ironic, I know. A Titan protectedus from other titans. That Eren boy transformed into a titan. I don’t know thefull details yet, though. That’s another irony, right there. Eren was probably theone who hates titans the most, yet here he is. Able to become a titan,apparently at will. That kid must be feeling horrible about that.

           We are currently cremating whatlittle we were able to recover of the dead. It was tough identifying most. Itwas a tragedy –  as bad as any could everbe. I think I should be worried. Well, worried about something personal, and itisn’t about my safety. I loved the battle. My flesh tingles at the sheerthought of slicing titans. I’ve never felt more alive!

           I think I finally found my life’spurpose – to rid this world of titans.

           You could say that I’m an oddball.Most people are in shock. Poor Connie – he’s inconsolable. Everyone is. We areall quietly watching the pyres when Jean spoke up.

           “Hey, guys …” Needless to say, hehas all of our undivided attention.

           He turned to us, and he obviouslyisn’t taking this well. Which, I’d say is normal given the situation.Especially since a close friend of his passed away. “Have you decided whichforce you’re joining?” He asked, yet he didn’t let any of us answer before heshared a shocking news. “I’ve made up my mind …” he couldn’t stop shaking as hecontinued, “I … I … I’m joining the Survey Corps!”

           That’s shocking. Jean was veryadamant in joining the MP, yet here he is, declaring that he’ll join the SC.After that, we sunk back into silence – not really. Cries of sadness are heardall around.

           It’s the day, the day that theSurvey Corps’ commander is going to talk to us graduates. He’s the first oneamong the commanders who’ll try to recruit us. I guess he’s the first one,since the other commanders think that if they go first, there will be no oneleft for the SC.

           I was leaning against the wall, withothers who are rather attached to mein the loosest sense of the word. Also, Connie seems to be sticking closer tome ever since the battle at Trost. We were minding our own business when Jeanwalked up to us.

           “Jean, you’re really joining theSurvey Corps?” I couldn’t help but ask. This sudden change of heart of hisbaffles me still.

           “Yeah.” He curtly answered.

           “Why the sudden decision?” Sashaasked. Hmm, turns out it wasn’t just me who was surprised. “Aren’t you scared?”

           “Huh? Of course I don’t want to jointhe Survey Corps.” He answered, nonchalantly. It seems he’s cried all of histears last night.

           Connie spoke up then, “then why?”

           “It’s not that titans don’t scare meanymore either. And I won’t spout nonsense like, the best belongs in the Survey Corps. I’m not as eager to die asthat suicidal bastard.”

           “You mean Eren? He’s already joinedthe Survey Corps.” I added. After what seemed to be a messy trial, the SC gottemporary custody of Eren.

           We were then called to get in line.We all decided to follow the order, but not before Jean told us how this,joining the SC, was solely a decision of his.

           Before today, I have never seen thecommander of the SC. I expected to see an old, bald man. Pretty much likeCommander Pixis of the Garrison. Turns out I was way off the mark.

           “I am Erwin Smith, Commander of theSurvey Corps.” The tall, blonde man said in that smooth voice of his. He’s alot younger compared to Pixis, and our instructor Keith Shadis. And quite ahandsome fellow. He began his speech, inviting us to join the SC. But he wasn’tsugar coating it. He told us the harsh, cold truth about what’s it like. Thisman is different.

           As he finished, he asked those whowants to join to stay in the field. Many people left – but that is to beexpected. When people who wanted to leave were all gone, commander addressed uswho stayed behind; “are you willing to die if you’re ordered to?”

           “I don’t want to die!” A brave soulanswered.

           “I see. I like the looks on your faces.”Commander Erwin said, eyes travelling around, looking each of us in the eyes. Andfor a moment there, his eyes lingered a little too long on mine. I never knew aperson’s eyes could be that strikingly blue.

           “I hereby welcome all of you to theSurvey Corps! This is a true salute! Offer up your hearts!”

           “Yes, sir!” We yelled as we made ourfirst ever salute as Survey Corps soldiers.

           “I’m scared!” Sasha muttered. “Iwant to go home.”

           “I don’t even care.” Conniewhispered.

           These teens … they’re brave. Yes,they want to run, but they aren’t doing it. They chose to stay.

           “You’ve done well to endure yourfear. You are brave soldiers. You have my heartfelt respect.” Commander Erwinseems to be thinking the same thing as I am. And as I turned back to look athim, I saw his eyes were back on me. Then he turned away.

           Nineteen. Out of hundreds on ourfirst day, only nineteen of us stayed to join the Survey Corps.

           This is it. The direction I’ve beenlooking for. I can’t help but feel excited.

Copyright © 2017 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

#erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #snk #snk imagines #aot imagines #commander handsome #mod max #angst #series #a role to take part 1 #a role to take

[shattered-catalyst]

Three times.

I wanted to try something a little different here. I wanted to try writing first person perspective!! Wow I havent done this in YEARS.

Summary: Taking place between the meeting Rictor thread and the camping thread. Addressing some development that took place behind the scenes as it were. Rictor AU so not same Rictor but a Rictor because the ideas were cute. Like come on gimmie some happy Rictor any day I will fight for happy Rictor.

Excerpt:

I tried to tell him they were not actually apples. Apples come whole and not in bags with water in them and demonic boxes with eyes. I explain it must be a contraption of Lord Mojo’s doing. Rictor’s face turns sour. I may have ruined the food for him.

I was most certainly not prepared for this at all. My telling Rictor about the diner was my way of showing I was somewhat receptive to him entering my world. But now here he was, walking towards my usual booth in that ridiculous brown jacket. His motorbike (which i want) is parked outside, glinting in the sun. Doing a small greeting he sits down a crossed from me like this is no big deal. Nothing different from his regular Tuesday.

“Coffee. Thats all thanks.” Rictor orders with the kind of casual attitude I wonder if I could ever replicate. Where ever this man goes he looks completely natural. It is irritating. It is like NOTHING touches him. Like he IS the very earth itself.Always connected. “Crossword?”

I nod, turning it so he can see it right side up. “Yes.”

He seems slightly,off by the shortness of my comment.  Ive heard I need to start elaborating more when I talk. 

“You uh do those a lot?”

“Yes”

“Ah.” Thank goodness Stacey is back with the coffee, she and Rictor make small talk about the weather before she rushes off to chat with a regular. We sit in silence, Rictor stirring his coffee. Looking much too curious about the types of sugar on the table. I glance up only once to see if he is still there; he is.

“Rosewell crash victim,supposedly. Five letters.” Im chewing my pencil again and I do not care.

He looks confused for a few seconds, before looking down at the crossword. “Alien.”

“Spell it.”

“A-l-i-e-n.” He takes a sip of coffee. Silence passes and I nod to him. It fits.

I take a sip from mine, holding the pencil to paper. “Done by itself. Machine. Starts with M-E-C.”

“Mechanical. M-e-c-h-a-n-i-c-a-l.”

“When you receive money: four letters ends with D.”

“My favorite. “He takes a sip and then gives me a funny look when I express my confusion that that wouldn’t fit the spaces provided. “Try paid. P-a-i-d.”

 We spend a good hour like that. I am surprise he stayed, once the puzzle is finished I fold it. Placing it in my pocket to copy the words down later. 

I stand, he looks at me but I do not make eye contact. Do not want him to see my eyes as I leave. “8 am.”

“What?” Hes halfway after me out the door, holding it open. 

“I come at 8 am. Everyday.”

As I turn to leave I see him smile.

“Rictor, I have eaten two of these happy meals and I do not feel any happier. I believe you have been mislead.” I am concerned now. He is trying very hard for something I am uncertain of. This is the second time I have seen him. His brown wavy hair still new to me. Still fluffy and soft enough that I make sure to have some odd excuse to touch it. I hope he doesnt mind.

Now we are sitting in a fast food place, complete with garish colors and screaming children. It is very, new. He was uncertain.

“Yeah, well the drive thru is packed.” Taking a sip of soda he pokes at the bag of what should be apple slices, but I somehow doubt they are. “Eat.”

I tried to tell him they were not actually apples. Apples come whole and not in bags with water in them and demonic boxes with eyes. I explain it must be a contraption of Lord Mojo’s doing. Rictor’s face turns sour. I may have ruined the food for him.

We come to a bargain he will eat half the not-actually-apples if I eat the other half.

Rictor has taken me to a movie, said it would be good for learning. I insist we sit in the very back so we cannot be ambushed. He seems to find this amusing. The theater was fascinating and the action sequences done quite well, for earthlings. I enjoyed how immersive the experience was and barely touched my popped corn. Rictor did not seem to mind as he ate my cup as well as his own. He seemed quite pleased.

“I only feel the death of the main warrior was a waste of his potential.”

He glances at me as we leave, stopping before we get out of the theater’s gloomy corridor. “You know, they didn’t actually die right? In the movie they died but in real life that dudes still around.”

The explanation baffles me slightly. “Of course, this has been explained to me already. Although the concept is new, I sort of enjoy it. Seeing the same person try on different roles is quite applicable.” At least to his current situation it was. Before he would think it was cowardly to not know your role. Now he questioned everything.

“Just checking.” Rictor seems relieved and puts his sun glasses on, pushing open the heavy doors. Light consumes us. For a moment my breath catches, pupils contracting sharply. I am no longer with Rictor in New York. I am not where I should be. Instantly my chest is heaving and I am stepping backwards. Earth shaking beneath my feet.

 Somehow I end up a few feet from the door, catching my breath in an alcove with fountains for water. I realize after a few heartbeats Rictor has been calling me. But his voice is so far away, I barely hear him over the roar of the crowd. I am not certain what is happening, but I am more than certain that the arena is on the other side of those doors. The long narrow hallway had been unsettling before but now it was sinister and familiar.

The earth is speaking to me in whispers, pointing me where to go. But before I can follow he is there. Rictor reaches to touch me and I feel myself freeze. But he does not strike me, he leans against the wall beside me, his eyes look hurt. I have hurt him.

I dont know how long we stood there, but the earth was still again and I allowed myself to step out to stand by his side. Swallowing a hard lump in my throat I gently joustle his shoulder with my own. Leaving it there to show I was alright with contact now. He seems relieved, but I still feel ashamed of hurting his feelings. It clouds my uemeur.

His gaze goes from me and back to the door. “C’mon.” Wrapping an arm around my shoulder he begins walking us to the door. I resist, stopping him just short of the exit.

“Rictor, I.” I pause unsure how to explain what I need to. The hand on my shoulder tightens and he squeezes me closer. I feel connected again. Solidly grounded to the Earth.

Sighing he looks at the door and then at a group of people watching us. “What the fuck are you looking at buddy? Yeah thats what I thought mind your own damn business!” He turns back to me nose still wrinkled “listen, I dont know whats going on between you and this door.” Unspoken words were: tell me whats wrong.

I look away feeling ashamed, but he wants me to try so I do my best. I will always do my best for him. “The light. It is like entering the arena.” His lips tighten a bit, I am unsure if I hurt him again. But I hope I haven’t.

He holds me a bit closer and pumps his fist. “Then we will enter the arena together. I bet we can knock down some walls. Squish Mojo flat. What do you say?” He sounds so genuine, so positive, so....Odd. I am fairly certain he is forcing peppy bravado. It is, slightly endearing.

Raising a brow at him I frown. “Rictor what is wrong with you.”

“Hahah what ISNT wrong with me.” He rubs my shoulder, other hand firmly on the push bar. “Just close your eyes, and Ill tell you when you can open them.”

I feel that it may be needed to explain to Rictor that I am not an idiot. Although the mere fact I have to do so is irritating. He is standing in front of the diner with me, leaning against his truck. Some beat up thing, I suppose it is in good enough shape that it is reliable. The back is over flowing with things pinned down by a tarp. It makes me uneasy. But Rictor’s neutral smile and relaxed appearance settled the suspicion. 

Abruptly he opens the driver door and clicks a button. “Right, look in my car, this bag broke.” He holds up a bag of starbursts. Economy sized. Tropical fruit variety. I feel my eyes grow wider. 

“I think some went under the seats, y’know? My hands are too big to get under there.”

“Very well.” I get in and began collecting them for him, obviously he did not want them melting in his car. It was very warm out and I noticed that they melted into sticky pools at a certain temperature. 

Rictor gets in, starts the car and stares at me a moment. Fingers tapping the wheel hes looking a bit, thoughtful. Maybe even pensive. Thats a word right? “Make sure you get them all.” He shuts the door and the car pulls out.

 I am totally aware he is distracting me. But there are many candies here and they are going to ruin his carpet. Then he would be disappointed. Why I care I have no idea. But I do. Somehow. I think I will try and accept this feeling and work with it.

“Keep looking.” His voice is lighter, I glance up and see he is staring at the road in front of us. The smile isn’t on his face, but its in his voice I can hear it. I wish I could see his eyes to know for sure....

#transientmutantdrabbles #just gimmie happy rictor okay just let this asshole be happy

[soartfullydone]

Hot Imperial Agent Alert

It’s a week late, but here is a thing I was working on for self-insert weekend featuring @parttimedragon‘s Imperial Agent OC, Carter, who is incredibly attractive and who I have a terrible, awful crush on.

It only got worse after I learned he really doesn’t like Sith, and if I’m going to be anything in Star Wars, it’s a Sith.

So, parttimedragon, if you read this, I hope you enjoy it and that I didn’t get too much wrong. I also know absolutely nothing about The Old Republic game, so this is actually set between Episodes III and IV... while also kind of referencing the Hand of Thrawn duology. It’s a hodgepodge basically.

Darth Inferna.

That’s the name his mission log gave him. And no matter how many times he checked and rechecked, the name on his datapad remained the same. No other missions were pending, no other excuses. He would have to accept it. 

Cipher Nine sighed through his nose, a short, scornful sound, and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. Another opportunity to clean up Sith messes.

Great.

Now, he had to make his way to the Chimaera for the full briefing and to meet the Sith. He couldn’t wait.

He hitched a ride aboard a shuttle full of ensigns and Stormtroopers on their way to join the crew of the Star Destroyer. Unsurprisingly, he was the only agent on board. Being one of the first and the few to graduate from the Royal Imperial Academy with such a distinction—to say nothing of the specialized training he endured after the fact—Cipher Nine took the silence and the curious, some downright distrustful looks he received in stride. The Imperial Agent program was a new one, enacted by Emperor Palpatine himself, who supposedly took inspiration from the Sith Empire long since passed.

Not that that was public knowledge. Sith were hardly remembered now, and for good reason. Vicious and vile things, they died out long before the Jedi did. Or, they were supposed to have. As the Agents and certain members of Imperial high command had learned, some of them were, in fact, alive and well and working for the Empire. 

Taking certain inspiration from them was all well and good, he supposed, but Cipher Nine could only hope that the Emperor wasn’t making a grievous error directly aligning himself with these Sith animals. 

After seven standard hours aboard the shuttle, he disembarked aboard the Chimaera, striding towards the lift that would take him to the bridge. He could make the proper contact with high command there, and then the cloak and dagger workings of his role could begin. But first he had to—

“Agent Carter, I presume?”

Cipher Nine started at the warm female voice coming from his left. He turned to find a human woman striding alongside him, about a foot shorter and sporting an appraising expression.

There weren’t too many people who could sneak up on him, but she didn’t look like anything special. Brown hair pulled high into a ponytail. Not regulation. Dark, close-fitting clothes with hints of red and lace-up boots. Also nowhere close to regulation. Between her fingers spun a code cylinder, and by her hip jostled not one but two lightsabers as she walked.

Don’t tell me.

“Darth Inferna?” It was only his training that kept the dread—and disgust—from his voice.

To his surprise, she laughed. Putting a finger over her lips, she said, “Ssh, not so loud, Agent. And believe me, that’s the only time I’ve ever said that to a man.” 

His eyes widened. Was she actually hitting on him?

“So, do you need to rest up a bit more, or are you ready for the briefing?”

Cipher Nine squared his shoulders and said somewhat imperiously, “I’m always prepared to perform my duty, Sith.” 

“Ah, very good. We’re on a bit of a timetable right now. So—” She swept an arm out to her right. “Will you please step into my office?”

Her—? Agent Carter looked, and stopped in his tracks. Before him was a cantina, one of many set up aboard all the Star Destroyers in the fleet, and much tamer than any you’d find on Coruscant or Corellia. And currently it was empty besides the Sith, who’d sat herself at the bar, and the bartender.

"A wine for me, Fleint. You know what I like. And get my friend here whatever he wants, and don't hold out on the good stuff. Oh,"—Inferna snapped her fingers—"and prepare an ale, almost forgot. Forvish, the hard stuff." She slipped Fleint a few credits, and the bartender turned toward him with a faintly raised brow. 

You can't be serious.

"Just an ale for me, as well. Anything but Forvish," he said, sitting himself stiffly beside the woman. Agents had always been thoroughly instructed to blend in rather than stick out. It helped lower guards and loosen tongues. Outsiders, by contrast, bred suspicion and hostility. Still, he wouldn't drink more than a few sips. He had no idea what the Sith was playing at. 

She didn't speak again until Fleint brought them their drinks and dismissed the man with, he was floored to hear, sincere thanks. Cipher Nine eyed her wine with distrust. It was white and bubbly, not at all like the bitter dark red he'd been expecting. His own ale was more potent than he’d anticipated, not the watered down concoctions he was used to receiving from most establishments. Amber-colored, the ale went down smooth, leaving a very faint taste of sweetness behind. Apples.

He set it aside almost immediately, pausing when he saw that she’d done the same to the Forvish ale as well. In fact, she hadn’t imbibed any at all.

The Sith noticed his movement from the corner of her eye, and Cipher Nine clenched a fist as everything from her smile to the easy set of her shoulders radiated amusement. 

"Have I threatened you before, Agent?" she asked him, blue eyes twinkling.

That right there was enough to unsettle him. She didn’t have the sickness of the dark side in her eyes. No bloodshot veins or heavy shadows beneath her lower lids. No unnatural yellow or orange taints to her irises. Just a deep, clear blue.

And that was another thing. If she didn't have a Sith's unholy eyes, if she had to have normal ones, then why did they have to be blue?

"No," he answered neutrally, "we've never met before." 

"Thankfully," she said with a knowing smile, speaking his hidden thought aloud. Dread coiled in his stomach, but she didn't retaliate, didn’t speak at all about his rudeness which it was now apparent that she could clearly sense, despite his training to resist Sith influence. Maybe his training wasn’t failing him at all, though. Maybe she was just annoyingly perceptive. Her smile only grew wider, and she sipped her wine.

Was she even a Sith?

As soon as he thought the question, he dismissed it. He knew she was not unfamiliar with the Sith ways. The tilt of her head was too proud, the smile on her lips a tinge too arrogant. Even by just sitting there and swirling her wine in the glass, savoring the flavor on her tongue in a scene of raw indulgence, she mirrored every Sith he'd been unfortunate to meet. Perhaps her temper was not as obvious nor her cruelty so openly exposed, but she was of their kind, that he had no doubt. Besides, if she were not a tested, trained Sith, then she would never have been given over to a Star Destroyer for service, nor he assigned to her on an even ranking for a mission.

“I overheard Governor Tarkin say you agents are trained in a variety of specializations,” Inferna led on, looking at him expectantly.

On second thought, he would keep drinking. “That’s right. He is—“

“Slicing, spying, sabotage,” she interrupted casually. “Hand-to-hand, assassination.”

A few of those belonged more to other agent types than his rank as a Cipher, but he’d let her believe what she wanted, especially if she was rude enough to interrupt him. “More or less.”

She braced an elbow on the bar and rested her head on her fist. The smile she sent him now was utterly feline. “And what about seduction? Is that true, too?”

So. That was the real reason for this impromptu interrogation. That was the kind of mission this was going to be. Well, at least it made sense now why she kept trying to flirt with him, to see if they would have any chemistry when they were in the field. Great. He strongly considered ordering another drink, this time one that was much stronger. 

Cipher Nine downed the rest of his ale, setting the glass down with a loud clunk. “Of course. Seducing someone’s not exactly difficult.” Icy blue eyes gave her a once over. “You might want to see about working on that.”

Her arm dropped as she threw back her head and laughed, an utterly delighted and undignified sound. Human, it was so…human. The Sith couldn’t have thrown him more off balance than if she shot him full of Force lightning. “You’re probably right.” Inferna chuckled low under her breath. “I’ll be sure to learn from you, Agent, and your clearly superior charm.” More teasing sarcasm. “Fortunately, though, we won’t have to demonstrate that skill set for real this time. I don’t believe either of us are Moff Disra’s type. No, he’s going to need…a much firmer hand than a lover should provide.” 

He blinked. Moff Disra?

Did that mean they would be heading to Bastion, one of the Empire’s best-kept secrets? The Agent’s fingers started to itch. The sheer amount of information hidden in that place, the political intrigue, the clandestine setting. It was both a playground and a challenge for someone like him, and if the Moff there was somehow stepping out of line… His body thrummed with anticipation just thinking about it. 

The code cylinder spun between Inferna’s fingers again, coming to rest between thumb and forefinger as she extended it to him. Her nails were manicured, not too long, and painted with a clear coat, not filed into claws or some other such nonsense. She pointed one at the cylinder once he’d taken it. “Everything you need to know is in there. We’re not supposed to discuss it openly, in a cantina of all places after all.”

Then why did you bring me here? He gritted his teeth but stowed the cylinder away safely. “When do we leave?” 

“In about two hours, aboard a recently-acquired trading ship in Hanger Four called the Breakaway.”

“By trading ship, you mean a smuggler’s ship.”

“Now, who am I to judge anything or anyone on a rough and rowdy past?” Though her tone was mildly chastising, the curve of her mouth betrayed how pleased she was that he’d noticed that. You catch on quick, it seemed to say. “Is that enough time for you to—?” 

His glare cut her off, and she threw up her hands in surrender. “Just making sure. You’re the first agent I’ve worked with, you know.” Those infuriating blue eyes caught something over his shoulder, causing them to light up anew. “Ah, Admiral, you made it!”

Cipher Nine craned his head to look in curiosity—and he immediately straightened, sitting up, heat rushing to his face. 

A male Chiss approached them with measured steps, his blue skin looking far too agreeable against the stark white of his uniform, his shoulders military straight in a hard, broad line. His blue-black hair was short and neatly styled, and his red eyes assessed the agent briefly before flicking to the Sith. “I see, as usual, you didn’t waste any time, Lady Inferna.” 

Was the universe trying to kill him today? Between placing an oddly-cheerful Sith in his path and the cool, cultured voice of this Chiss Admiral, he was starting to suspect so. 

“We were just getting to know each other,” Inferna said, handing over the cup of Forvish ale. The Chiss took it, eyes glittering. And Cipher Nine watched, stunned, as the Admiral actually took an appreciative sip from a drink that a Sith had handed him. The trust between the two of them, the familiarity, it would have made sense, wouldn’t even be shocking, if the woman had been anything other than a Sith.

He studied the Admiral, who didn’t strike Cipher Nine as being unintelligent. He also didn’t observe any power plays at work here, no tests or typical Imperial scheming. Which could only mean the trust was genuine, and mutual.

But how?

“Agent,” Inferna said, snapping him out of his grim musings. She gestured to the Chiss with a flourish. “May I please introduce the Chimaera’s latest acquisition, Grand Admiral Thrawn. Thrawn, meet Agent Carter, aliases Cipher Nine and—”

“Nightshrike,” Thrawn finished smoothly, extended a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Agent Carter.”

Cipher Nine shook his hand, feeling his face warm again. “The pleasure’s mine, sir.” He would have said more, but… He was tongue-tied all of a sudden. He released Thrawn’s hand and cleared his throat.

“Don’t worry, Carter. The Admiral has that effect,” Inferna said helpfully, eyes twinkling. Cipher Nine got a hold of himself.

Thrawn himself didn’t seem to be bothered by the Sith’s shenanigans or his. Cipher Nine wondered if he was just used to it or was naturally unflappable. “And how are the two of you getting along?”

“He doesn’t like me, I’m afraid,” Inferna answered before he could, shrugging. “But I think it’s not serious enough that we can’t work around it. I’ve studied his prior mission reports, and I trust in his abilities.” 

Once again, Cipher Nine was surprised at the honest assessment and who it was coming from. He was also wondering how in the hell she’d gotten ahold of his mission reports and through what clearance.

But wait… Did that mean all the time she’d spent interrogating him was just to get to know him? Maybe lighten him up? But for what purpose? Searching for weaknesses to exploit, perhaps? Sith always had ulterior motives, and he couldn’t believe that this one was just concerned about how well they’d work together in the field. 

But Thrawn tilted his head and confirmed just that. “Still, complete cooperation will be necessary if this mission is to be successful. Tell me, Agent, is it Lady Inferna’s own capabilities that concern you? I can personally attest to her competence and her willingness to… How did you put it?” he asked Inferna.

With a smirk, she said, “Play well with others.”

“Of course.” Thrawn nodded, some inside joke between them. “And I would not have recommended her to carry out this mission on equal rank with you if I didn’t trust you both could succeed.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Cipher Nine replied, noting that word. Trust. “Your recommendation carries a lot of weight.”

“But something still troubles you.”

Cipher Nine willed his face blank.

But Thrawn, with those glowing red eyes, had seen it. “It’s natural to be wary of the Sith, Agent. I myself felt that same wariness when I first came into contact with them. I still do. They are willing to do anything to achieve their goals, even if they alone are all who would benefit from those actions.” That depthless gaze flicked to the Sith. “Lady Inferna is no different, but her goals align with the Empire’s, and she has consistently demonstrated a value for her comrades’ lives. Even, sometimes, to the detriment of the mission.”

An admission like that would have been accompanied by a sneer of contempt from most Imperial officers he knew. Even he, an agent who represented the Imperial ideal of professional perfection, felt a glimmer of disdain deep in his gut. The mission should always take precedence. Nothing else mattered. But the Grand Admiral in front of him spoke with an air of respect for the Sith, for the lives of fellow Imperials. And the latter was something Cipher Nine could understand, too.

Inferna huffed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, there went all my street cred. Thanks a lot, Thrawn.”

“Do you not want Agent Carter to be reassured that he isn’t going out on a suicide mission with you?” 

“He would have figured it out eventually,” she shot back, and then grinned at Carter. “After I played with him for a bit.” 

Cipher Nine scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t appreciate being talked about like I’m not here, you know.”

A quirk of Thrawn’s lips. “Apologies, Agent. I’ve been too preoccupied with the particulars of this mission to consider your feelings.”

“It’s fine, sir.” He was far too forgiving when it came to Chiss. Such a weakness. “And consider me more or less reassured.”

“Very good,” Thrawn said with a knowing look. Had he fully perceived Cipher Nine’s reluctance, his steely resolve, and found them both worthy? No way to tell, for he then quirked a blue-black eyebrow at the Sith. “Lady Inferna?”

Inferna crossed her arms, mirroring Carter’s body language. The two assessed each other, Agent and Sith, and Cipher Nine had to admit that, if he hadn’t known what she was beforehand, then she would have been attractive to look at. A heart-shaped face; a straight, pert nose; lush, dark brown hair; eye-catching, sensual lips; not a single blemish on her pale skin. A keen intellect shone clearly in those damnably blue eyes, his favorite color, as they traced over his own features, lingering on the scar that crossed over his nose from one cheek to the other. A question lingered in her gaze, but all she said was “He’s a bit of a sourpuss, but he’ll do.”

His eyes narrowed. No, the Sith animal was definitely not attractive. But at least, he decided as he looked at the Grand Admiral, she kept attractive company. 

And, apparently, she was competent and wouldn’t send him straight to his death for her own glory.

He’d believe it when he saw it.

“For the glory of the Empire,” Inferna said, raising her glass. 

“For the glory of the Empire,” Cipher Nine echoed back in unison with Thrawn. That, he would gladly, ardently toast to, even if it was coming from something like her.

#parttimedragon #self insert weekend #star wars ocs #agent carter #a prison of words

[meulinthekittytroll]

Rant af I'm sorry

Yunno I don’t know what my dads problem is with my boyfriend. He doesn’t like him, at all. And I honestly have no idea why. Maybe it’s because this is the only relationship he’s seen me in? I’m not sure But if my dad could have seen all my past relationships he’d understand why B is probably the only one I could ever want to be with. There were some major people who impacted my life in negative ways and I’m still recovering from them. I will point out the major ones First there was David. He tried to kill me once, and manipulated me and made my self esteem plummet. (Grade 3-7) Yes, I know, 3rd through 7th grade and he tried to KILL you? Are you over exaggerating? No I’m not lol. Then there was Devin. He was the first boy to cheat on me. Which made my self esteem plummet even further. He also was the first boy to treat me… like I wasn’t a person I guess?? I don’t know how to describe that one but it made me feel very inferior. (Grade 6) young I know but shoosh this shit can happen at any age if you let it happen. Then there was Max. We never actually dated, but he is still very important because oh boy I crushed on this boy HARD from 8th to 10th grade. He and I had a thing going on in 8th grade but never quite did anything about it which only made me like him more. Then 9th grade came along and we only got closer but still didn’t quite do anything. (I also had a boyfriend at that time that I’ll get to in JUST a second) Finally 10th grade came along and I FINALLY made a move, only to get shot down, HARD. That was partly my fault I suppose for being too scared to tell him my feelings earlier than that. But still, ouch ouch that hurt me a lot. Jacob, the boyfriend mentioned just a second ago, this was a long distance relationship. He was a couple years older than me and I had never met him in person, I dated him because I was extremely lonely. This lasted almost a year, but not quite. It started out really fun because I could lowkey flirt with Max but still have someone to go home to and text and get the feelings of love that Max didn’t give me, I know I know that’s borderline cheating but hey I was in 9th grade and I was stupid in love with Max and it was just a messy time in my life and Ive obviously learned from it and cheating is disgusting ugh……. ihatemyselfAAAAnyways, as the months rolled by, things slowly went downhill with this Jacob kid. He just was a downer. We both were depressed and got even sadder when we realized we couldn’t meet for a long time blah blah you get the point everything was a mess and he made me extremely unhappy, that was a very toxic relationship and I’m glad nothing ever became of it. I haven’t talked to him in almost a year, I hope he’s doing well. Also in 10th grade I developed this crush on this boy named Anthony and he was a dorky kind of cute, tall and scrawny but still muscly, I dug it. I flat out told him I liked him bc I didn’t want another Max situation and he seemed interested at first until he told one of his friends that doubled as my friend that he wasn’t interested so I obviously found out and got shot down again. Ouch! When that didn’t happen I started talking to a good friend I also met over the internet named Gavin and wowie did this boy make me feel wanted and loved. I had a brief thing with him previously but it never followed through, due to the fact that he was a dickbag and cheated on me and blamed it on some personality disorder where he needed more than one girlfriend to be satisfied *cough* bullshit *cough* but anyways, I tried it with him again the summer going into 11th grade c he was sooooooo sorry and loved me soooo much and wanted to marry me (gag!) anyways, things were good for a while but then he slowly stopped talking to me and cheated again and all this other shit and as my confidence in myself slowly went down the garbage disposal as it had been since like 4th grade, I finally told myself enough is enough and told him I was done with him. I told myself I was done with boys until the right one came along and treated me right. As a junior at a new school with no friends, I assumed it would take until junior year of COLLEGE to even consider boys again (besides possibly sleeping around once I got too tired of being a virgin kek) But yunno, life throws unexpected things at you. I remember the night so clearly. I went to bed finally content with being alone, not having to worry about any boy cheating on me or making me feel bad or putting me down constantly. Then, wouldn’t you know it, the NEXT FUCKIN DAY, this super duper cute boy I had seen a few times around school walked into my first period photography class. And I thought to myself “fuck.” Bc I immediately knew something would happen between us. This boy was he perfect mix of goofy, nerdy, and cute as fuck, with a hint of holy shit you’re SEXY. Exactly my type. Tall, dark, and handsome (a spongebob reference has never been more relatable) ((besides maybe “i’m surrounded my idiots”)) ANNYYYWAYS Me and this kid start talking bc I grew a pussy (not balls bc balls are sensitive and vaginas take a pounding) and gave the kid my Snapchat. That same day I reaaallly wanted a chance to talk to him so I posted a pic on my story of me and my dog havin’ a blast (rip Lily u will be missed ily thank you for being the reason the loml messaged me for the first time) anywho, HE MESSAGED ME FIRST AND WE STARTED TALKING AND SHIT bc he thought my dog was cute af (which she was!!!!) and we kept talking and talking and found we had so much in common and finallyyyy we admitted to each other we liked each other and started dating soon after and I’m spare you all the mushy details of how that came to be. Back to the reason why I started writing this little rant/story in the first place. My dad borderline hates the guy. But what my dad doesn’t understand (which is a lot but these next few sentences are important) Every single relationship I’ve had, was with a guy who has done nothing but lead me on, cheat on me, or abuse me (both physically (which only happened twice thank god) and mentally (which happened SO MUCH OH MY GOD it’s so much harder to catch that than actually getting physically abused) Yet, my current boyfriend…. we’re gonna call him B, bc his name is unique and I don’t want people knowing who I am if this ever gets read by someone who knows me and cares enough to read though all of this. B is the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out. He makes me feel important. He makes every day a blessing. When I first moved in with my dad in the beginning of 11th grade, I was a complete shut in. I hardly ever left my room besides to eat and bathe. After I met B, I started opening up and spending time with the family, and I made such amazing friends at school that I would have never talked to if it weren’t for him. B makes everything exciting. Of course we have had our fair share of bumps in the road, but ever healthy relationship does. And yunno what else healthy relationships do? They talked them through and fix the problems!!! B has made it so clear to me that I am worth all of the shit that goes on sometimes, and believe me I can be crazy so that is saying something. And oh boy is he a package deal too. He’s constantly got something going on, he’s quite frankly an idiot sometimes. But hey, he’s my idiot! I’ve never woken up and been happy about being alive since I was like 10, until B came around. B completely flipped my view of the world around. We tell each other this thing all the time because weird kinda opposites when it comes to certain things. He looks like the moon, but is the sun. And I look like the sun, but am the moon. He has dark hair and he’s got olive skin (very Italian looking) looking like a human version of the moon. But he has this optimistic view on life, the personality of the sun. Then there’s me; golden brown hair with fair skin, I look like the sun. But I’m kinda a pessimist, and I also am quite the night owl (he definitely isn’t!) personality of the moon. That might not make sense to you, but it does to us. I’m getting side tracked. The whole fuckin point is, I hadn’t felt true happiness since I was 10 until I met this guy. My dad says we aren’t going to last. My dad barely even lets me see him outside of school once a week, and when he does let me he always gives this disapproving scowl and scoff when I ask to see my boyfriend (who I have been with for well over a year now) once a week. Oh and by the way, he LIVES with his girlfriend who he’s only been dating a few more months than B and I have been. I wonder what he’d feel like if the roles were reversed. Yunno? Like he gets to see his gf every day and sleep next to her ever night, but the moment I want to see B, I get a scowl and a reluctant confirmation that I can see him on the day I asked to see him on. I’m sorry for all this rant and I know it’s probably all over the place but I just really really had to get it out because I don’t know why my dad is so unhappy with me being with a guy who makes me so happy. It’s not like B is a delinquent. He has two jobs (one is a photography business, he does really well with it actually he shoots for weddings and shit he’s an amazing photographer ((he only took the photography class at my school for the credit and to laugh at how low quality everything was at the school and how badly they taught it))) and he’s polite and respectful. My father truly has no reason to not like him, he has no idea how badly I’ve been treated up until I met B. B treats me better than anyone ever has, including my dad. Everyone else in my family loves him! Not nearly as much as I love the son of a bitch tho. I truly grew up from 3rd grade on getting belittled and cheated on and made to feel terrible, and if my dad knew that or understood it, maybe he wouldn’t hate the boy that made me happy to be alive again. Thank u for the ppl who took the time to read this through even tho I doubt anyone will do that bless u ilysm

#Tay rants #I'm sorry I love my boyfriend a lot he's really great #past relationship abuse?

[therunningpa]

New job & night shift novella

So I’ve been at a new job the past 6 weeks. I’m still a hospitalist, but I’ve moved to night shift. It’s a long story for another time, but basically I was getting burned out and it was either change shifts or move to a different department altogether. Because I love IM so much I am desperately clinging to it for the time being. In my current role, I only do new admissions and consults.

Since I only post now, like, once a year I figured I might as well write a nice long story for you guys! Because also, when have I kept things short, ever?

So, here you go, a narrative of my day (night?).

I leave my house, clutching my tote of Campbell’s Double Noodle soup cans, rice crackers, and Gatorade. I kiss my husband, tell him I love him, and remind him to please finish cleaning the kitchen for me. He needs a lot of reminding. I need a lot of therapy. We’ve had a lot of therapy. It’s been a year sober for him and the anniversary has been hard, bringing back the guilt big time. It’s been more down days than usual the past month and as I leave the house I can only hope I won’t get any liver patients or alcoholics tonight.

I pull in to the hospital, badge in through various doors, end up in the office. The day shift is coming to a close. “Hey!” my coworkers greet me, “Feeling better?”

“Tons! Not a hundred percent but good enough for active duty.”

My terrible med seeking external ED dump patient from earlier this week had given me her norovirus. I’d spent the previous night out sick, puking and near-syncopizing. (FYI- use the bleach wipes next time!!)

I check in with the three physicians I’m working with that night. One, a seasoned night shifter, a quiet man I dub “The Machine” because of his deftness and ease at admitting patients. One, a seasoned nocturnist, another quiet and confident man who could run a thousand codes without screaming “fuck!” not even once. The third, an exceedingly nice new residency graduate who recently started with us and is probably reconsidering the job after his first week on nights. They have a lot of patients coming from outlying facilities, but no one arrived yet.

I sit around for an hour and a half, check emails, clear my inbox of the previous day’s results and check up on a few of those patients, eat a cup of noodles, rub my belly, think about how I shouldn’t have had coffee, then, all at once, I have 3 admissions I’m called to see. Yes, it’s true, they really all do come at once.

I triage them, and go see first an unfortunate lady who is bleeding and clotting. Or rather, likely to bleed. She has a genetic disorder predisposing her to clots and bleeding, and has come in with chest pain. The chest CT showed a pulmonary embolism, one in each lung. I’d hoped they’d be subsegmental, but they weren’t. I meet with her, spend a long time talking. I tell her I’ll call the hematologist and get back to her. I put out a page.

I jump up to the orthopedics floor to see my next patient, a 73 year old lady with COPD and osteoporosis who fell down the stairs at home and probably broke her sacrum. She’s straightforward enough, other than saying she’s intolerant to everything IV opioid except fentanyl. Which she’s not going to get outside of the ED. I write for oxycodone and IV ketorolac and pray her pending labs show normal renal function.

The hematologist pages me while I’m writing patient 2′s note. He recommends a heparin drip, so it can be turned off quickly if patient 1 starts to bleed. He also says he has no idea what to do with her after that, as far as a long term plan. I text my attending and let him know the plan for tonight. While I’m finishing my note, he texts me back an SOS that patient 1 is refusing heparin because she’s afraid of bleeding.

I go back to the ED, I print out UpToDate, visit the poor lady with the PEs again. I talk about risks and benefits, types of heparin. She has some cognitive impairments from a stroke, but she gets it enough that she has capacity. She still declines the heparin, wants us to “watch her” overnight in the hospital though. I check in with bed control, ask for an IMCU bed since she’s refusing blood thinners, and am told there are no ICU beds left. She’ll have to go to the regular floor.

My third patient is a prisoner with history of peptic ulcers and GI bleed coming in with worsening anemia. Actually, he never shows up from the outside hospital because of some officer conflict. His name gets handed off to the next shift.

Fourth patient shows up in the IMCU, from an outside hospital. The notes he comes with are scanty. Acute on chronic hyponatremia, ?dementia. Hypotensive. Weak. I hope he can give me some history. When I walk in he tells me he’s in a hotel in a different state and doesn’t remember how he got here. He denies any symptoms or concerns. It’s 11 pm, but I dial his elderly wife and bless her, she’s up, and gives me the full scoop. He ends up with a slew of labs, head CT, cardiac echocardiogram.

Fifth patient was not supposed to be admitted. Just discharged 2 days ago with COPD flare, end stage COPD on home oxygen. I read the ED notes in the chart, indicating the family demanded the patient be admitted because they are unhappy and that we are being investigated for discharging her too soon, or was it the nursing home was being investigated for not taking care of her the past 2 days? Or both? The discharge summary from my PA colleague indicates the patient refused hospice the last stay. Awww nawwww. I go and see her. It’s late and at least that means the angry family has gone away. I sit with the patient, she’s very anxious, I’ve taken care of her before. I listen for a long time, answer questions, sometimes the same question over and over. She eventually admits her memory ain’t so good anymore. She then marvels “you’ve asked me more questions than anyone else has today”. I hope that’s a good thing. I go through her extensive workup and again conclude that “I am so sorry, but what you have is not fixable. I think we need to focus on trying to get your symptoms better, but we can’t cure you”. She agrees to at least have a palliative care consult. She grumbles about her bad nursing home experience and says her family called to have the bed held for the following day. I waggle my eyebrows at her “You know, if you don’t hold the bed they’ll give it up and then you’ll have to be here through the weekend and then we can see if your preferred nursing home has a spot now, But, you didn’t hear that from me!” She beams. Somewhere, a social worker has rolled over in their grave and pledges to haunt me in my dreams tonight.

I run up to my office again and eat some more noodles, drink Gatorade, rub my gastroparetic-feeling tummy, and finish up my notes just as one of the physicians strides in with a cardiology consult for a patient who just had a STEMI, now in the coronary ICU. They were found to have multivessel coronary artery disease, received a stent. “Should be easy” he says, “Cardiology has done everything!”.

Except, they haven’t. Patient is from outside our system. Needs an entire medical record update. I also notice his blood sugar is > 300 and there’s no insulin ordered. I add “Type 2 Diabetes” to his problem list. I go in and see him, expecting him to be asleep at 1:30 in the morning, but he is wide awake and surrounded by family. He’s a good soul, we have a long talk about diabetes. His wife has a lot of cardiac questions and try to answer as able. His nurse pops in. “His blood pressure is greater than 150 and they want him under that post cath. There’s no medications ordered”. I step out, sigh. Honestly, I have no idea what cardiology does or does not want for an antihypertensive in their post cath patient. I have a sneaking suspicion it also varies widely by the cardiologist. I wish they would order this shit on their people already. I’m just here for the diabeet-us. Gah! 

“What do they usually do for the post cath protocol?” I wonder out loud.

“How about some PO metropolol?” a nurse asks.

I make a face “Really? They do that?”

The nurse looks horrified “Um, yeah, all MIs should be getting that!”

I shake my head “No, I know that, that’s not what I meant, I just mean it’s not going to act rapidly and it’s not going to do much, I mean maybe IV metoprolol but-”

She looks further horrified “No, they never do IV!”

I wanted to say “but I would never give that”, finishing my thought, but instead I shrug and give up. “I’ll ask the attending.” 

I don’t work in the ICUs that often, and I especially don’t know the night crew being new at this job. It’s true what they say, sometimes you need to earn your stripes with some ICU staff, especially if you’re a PA. Also, goddammit cardiology, order your antihypertensives! And beta blockers! And statins! (Also, I love you my cardiology people out there, please don’t take my 2 AM thoughts too seriously to heart, ok?)

I trudge back to my office, finish writing notes and checking labs and imaging that have come back. The demented hyponatremic guy does not have a brain bleed. The COPD flare bounce back has a normal procalcitonin. The untreated PE has normal blood pressures. Broken sacrum indeed does have normal renal function. I order new labs for the day crew. I report out to my docs. Around 3:30 AM I hang up my coat, collect my soup and Gatorade cans to recycle, and stumble out the cold wintry parking garage. I cast a few glances, good, no creepers trolling about, get in my car, and drive home.

I drive through the industrial part of the city and through spotlights and fog I see that the operations are already going at this ungodly hour. Backstreet Boys is playing on the radio. I pull into the back alley outside my house. I tentatively feel my way through the backyard, trying not to fall on my ass on the ice over our sidewalk, like I did the other night. I slip inside, and am completely delighted to see that not only has the kitchen been cleaned but there’s a loaf of homemade banana bread sitting out, steaming a little still. I hear a soft pitter-patter and my puppy steals down the stairwell to greet me. She wiggles from head to toe and jumps on me, playfully stealing my lanyard of keys and running away, shaking them. I took her home one day from a rescue this past summer, pretty much against my husband’s will, and I secretly believe she at least 75% the reason his depression lifted. He now agrees. I let her out to pee, then tread upstairs and wash my face and put on my pajamas, kiss my sleeping husband. I’m too wired to sleep though, maybe because I spent the last day and a half sleeping off the norovirus, so I go back downstairs, eat some banana bread, and start to write.

#dayinthelife #hospitalist pa #hospital medicine

[freddiesaysalright]

My Man Part X

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger is there for her. Then she gets a surprise visitor with some wise words for her. Her brother and her director drop some bombs on her. After getting a role in a new show in order to stay in London, she gets closure after her attack and is ready to take a big step with Rog. He’s ready to take an even bigger one.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @bohemian-war, @kittygirlno, @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess, @rockyroadthepastryarchy, @goodoldfashionedloverboyy, @jennyggggrrr, @discodeacygotmorerhythm, @x1975sos, @slytherinxval, @cyndagoaway, @doingalrightt, @lovvliies, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @capsparrowtara, @they-call-me-peaches, @hyosong, @riddikuluslypotter, @orchideax, @shishterfackisback

A/N: This is the final part of My Man. Thank you all for the wonderful feedback and love you’ve shown this story. I have so enjoyed writing it. I even made a playlist for it! It’s on Spotify, and you can check it out here  I have Brian story in the early stages but it could be a while before it takes off. In the meantime, send me requests! I’ll be happy to write just for y’all!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX

Part X here we go!!!

“Y/N, let’s get married.”

You blinked at him a few times, unsure if you’d heard him right. Was he honestly proposing to you right now? It was the last thing you expected and you didn’t really know how to feel. You’d only known Roger a few months. You’d been married before. You’d had a life in America as well. Could you give all that up?

“Roger, I…” you trailed off. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say yes,” he replied as if it were obvious.

“It’s not that simple,” you said. “We haven’t known each other very long and I’ve been…”

“I know you’ve been married before,” he said.

“I also had a whole life,” you continued. “Friends, Jack, George’s grave. All of that is back home.”

“Your friends and brother can visit,” he came back with. “And George...look, he’s always gonna be with you. You carry his memory and honor him, not some headstone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but had no words. Why were you fighting this? You loved Roger and you wanted to be with him forever. Nothing else mattered. George would have wanted you to find happiness, and you did.

“Yes,” you said, and you weren’t even sure if it was you.

“Sorry?” he replied, putting his hand to his ear and smiling.

You beamed at him. “Yes, Roger, I’ll marry you!”

You threw your arms around his neck and he rolled on top of you again. You kissed for what felt like years, and you were so elated, you couldn’t stop smiling. Roger whispered “I love you” between kisses over and over again. You repeated it back to him. You were drowning in sea of adoration and neither you or Roger were going to come up for air.

You fell asleep in each others’ arms. At home.

When you woke, the early morning light was just barely peeking through the blinds. Roger was already up, and you heard his voice coming softly from the living room. You guessed he was on the phone, so you got up to start breakfast. When you opened the door to head to the kitchen, you stopped. Roger was standing at your mantle, his back to your bedroom door. He wasn’t on the phone, but he was talking. To George. Your heart melted as you listened.

“Thanks, I suppose, for being her husband and doing all you did,” he was saying. “She’s a wonderful woman and she wouldn’t be who she is without you. I’m - uh - I’m gonna try and be as good a husband to her as you were. I’ll take care of her, no matter what, so - wherever you are - you don’t need to worry. I’ve got it from here. Rest easy, mate.”

You felt tears prick your eyes but you rubbed them away. You didn’t want him to know you’d heard. It felt so private, but you were glad you heard too. It made you love Roger impossibly more. You wanted to go to him and tell him how much it meant to you. But instead you stretched, yawned and opened the door a little wider, pretending you had only just woken up.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, turning to face you.

“Good morning,” you replied as he wrapped you up in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “But we are getting entirely too mushy.”

You giggled. “Want me to start being rude to you again?”

“Maybe every once in a while, just to keep me grounded.”

“That can be arranged.”

You had breakfast together before you each had to go to rehearsals - you to your new show and Roger with Queen. All through rehearsal you felt on top of the world because a single thought hovered at the back of your mind: I’m engaged to Roger Taylor, love of my life. It didn’t scare you. You were ready to be a wife - his wife. You felt incredibly lucky to have found love once with George, and you didn’t know how you had earned another shot at it with Roger. But you would not take it for granted.

After rehearsal at She Loves Me, you went to Funny Girl to get ready for the night’s show. You didn’t even feel tired. Nothing could spoil the happiness you felt.

The show went well, and you headed home. Your feet hurt a little now, after being on them all day, but you still felt a leap of excitement in your chest when you saw Roger on the couch. He grinned at you as you took a seat beside him.

“You’re a busy woman now,” he remarked.

You hummed against him, your exhaustion hitting you like a wall now that you were home. He put his arm around your shoulders.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said.

You looked up at him. “You do?”

He nodded and then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet box. You gasped. He opened it to reveal a delicate diamond ring. It was small, but very beautiful.

“Would you wear this?” he asked, and you saw pink spreading across his cheeks. “It’s not much, I know. Not even a full carat. Just a diamond chip. But it was my mother’s and -”

You cut him off with a kiss. “It’s beautiful,” you said. “I’ll wear it forever.”

The look on his face as you said this made your chest actually ache with love for him. He had tears in his eyes. He blinked them back as he looked at  you, and then slid the ring onto your finger.

“I’d love to meet her,” you said. “You mother.”

“You’d love her,” he told you. “She’ll love you too, I promise. Even if you are an American.”

You chuckled and pulled him close, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Rog,” you said after a beat. “Do...do you want children?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “‘Course I do. Especially with you.”

“Good,” you said and kissed his cheek.

You went to bed shortly after, and Roger made love to you twice before you actually fell asleep. You were out hard, but in the early morning hours, you were woken by Roger crying out beside you. You sat upright and recognized it once again. He was having another nightmare, only this one must have been much worse. You called to him for several minutes, but he wasn’t waking up. His body thrashed and you felt a twinge of fear. What could you do?

“Roger!” you yelled, since using a normal volume wasn’t working. “Roger, wake up!”

You reached out a hesitant hand, worried he might lash out against your touch. But you had to do something. You couldn’t just let him suffer this way. You took hold of his shoulders and shook him. When his eyes snapped open, he grabbed you roughly by the arms. His eyes were wild and frightened.

“Roger,” you said gently. “It’s me, my darling. I’m here. You’re safe.”

His lower lip quivered before he actually let out a sob and yanked you close to him. He buried his face in your chest and wept into you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tight. You had no words. His clutched handfuls of your nightgown, like a little boy might cling to his mother.

“Y/N,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” you told him. “I’ve got you, Rog.”

He murmured more apologies to you under his breath, and you shushed him. Then you began to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” again. His muscles relaxed beneath your touch and his breathing evened out as you made your way through the song.

“Can you tell me what you dreamt?” you asked when you finished.

He shook his head. “S’too awful.”

“I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Several long minutes of silence passed between you. He had calmed down but his heart was still beating faster than normal. You rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“It was my dad,” he said finally.

“Your dad?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He used to...beat on us a lot. He was angry. And drunk. One time it got so bad...I actually thought I was gonna die. I was ten.”

He went on, and described a lot of the other abuses he’d suffered. It made you wince at times, hearing the brutality of some of it. You wondered how he had come out of it with such unbridled love for others.

“Oh, Roger, I am so sorry,” you said.

“You’re not worried?” he asked, his voice smaller than you could ever remember hearing.

“Why would I be worried?”

He looked at you and held your gaze. “I’m not him, I promise. I would never, ever...hit you or our kids and I don’t want you to think that because I grew up that way you’ve got to worry about…” he trailed off. “I’ll never do that, Y/N. I swear.”

“I was never worried about that,” you told him. “And I never will. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all you’ve been through. I’ll never let anybody hurt you again.”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “No one’s ever made that promise to me before.”

“I’m making it to you,” you said. “I made my big brother eat dirt and punched a director in the face. I don’t mess around.”

He finally smiled. “You are very strong, my love.”

“So are you,” you reminded him. “Let’s be strong together.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Taylor,” he agreed.

On your next day off, you went to the studio with Roger and the guys. They all congratulated you on the engagement as well as your new show. You thanked them earnestly and told them how grateful you were for their support through everything. Then they got in the booth and began their business.

You sat outside it with Paul, who you didn’t know a lot about. Roger hated Paul and complained about him a lot. Called him names you wouldn’t repeat and made you blush, and you had been married to a Marine. Although some of them just made you admire Roger’s creativity. Needless to say, your opinion of Paul was not a high one.

“So,” he said as he took a seat beside you on the couch. “Someone finally made Roger Taylor a one woman man.”

You couldn’t understand what he was trying to get at so you just looked at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you so sure he’s committed to you?”

You remembered the night Roger finally told you about his nightmares and the things you promised each other. You remembered him punching your shitty agent and sleeping on your couch so you felt safe. You remembered him teaching you to drum before asking for a dance lesson.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m sure.”

Paul wiped his palms on his jeans and looked down. “Jesus, Y/N, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but…” he trailed off. “Roger left the pub last night with a woman. I saw it.”

You remembered Roger telling you he was going out with the guys last night, but it was just going to be Queen and some other music people getting drinks. He had even invited you to go. You had refused, too tired to enjoy it, and told Roger to have fun. He had gotten in around two in the morning, and only woke you briefly when he crawled into bed beside you, smelling like his usual scent of cigarettes and cologne.

You just stared at Paul and felt such a wave of hatred you felt sure he could feel it radiating from you. It was such a shitty thing to do, and you didn’t know what Roger had done to piss Paul off and motivate him to tell you lies.

“No, Paul,” you said levelly, shaking your head. “Roger did not do that.”

He scoffed. “Wh - but I saw him!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, I do, so I know he didn’t fucking do that.”

Little did you know, the whole time you’d been speaking to Paul, Roger, who had returned to get his drum sticks out of his bag, was listening at the door. He heard your flat denial of Paul’s accusation - which was entirely false - and he swelled with pride. Before Paul could continue, Roger opened the door. Paul actually jumped a little.

“Left my sticks,” Roger said, going over to his bag and retrieving them.

“All right, Roger?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, fuck you, Paul,” he replied coldly.

Roger then went over to you and kissed the top of your head. He went back into the studio and began his practice. You watched him, proud beyond all measure. You knew as you looked at Roger, nothing and no one could take him from you.

The weeks passed, and before you knew it, it was your final night as Fanny Brice in Funny Girl. You were upset to let this show go. It had helped you heal after losing George. It had introduced you to Roger. It was such a place of comfort for you throughout your time in London. You didn’t know how you were going to say goodbye.

Roger promised to be there. Freddie, Brian, and John also decided to come. You saw where they would be sitting beforehand so you could wave to them during your bows. You tucked your hair into your wig cap and heard a knock at the door.

“Roger?” you gasped in pleasant surprise as you opened it. “What are you doing back here?”

He handed you the bouquet he was holding. “I came to tell you to break a leg.”

He placed a sweet peck on your lips as you let him inside.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said. “They’re lovely.”

“I know they’re usually meant for afterwards,” he said. “But I just couldn’t wait.”

You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He pulled you into a hug, sensing your emotion.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Just a little sad,” you answered. “I love this show so much. I’m gonna miss being Fanny.”

“This audience is gonna miss you too,” he said. “But you’re gonna be great in She Loves Me. Just as funny, talented, and beautiful as ever.”

“Oh, how you run on,” you teased.

“You’re gonna be great tonight,” he said. “Give it all you’ve got.”

“I will,” you assured him.

With one last “I love you” he left to take his seat.

You finished getting ready and before you hit the stage for the last time, you felt a flutter in your stomach. You were nervous and yet, so excited for the next part of your life you could barely stand it. You took a deep breath, stepped into the lights, and put on the show of a lifetime.

Finally, it was time for the last scene. My Man. You wondered how you were going to get through it tonight. Your own words echoed in your mind: It’s a simple trick, really. I sing it to my husband. Your eyes went to the box where Roger sat, right by the stage, and you met his gaze. A tear fell preemptively down your cheek. You opened your mouth and sang like you’d never sung before. To your husband. Your man. Forever.

Oh my man I love him so, he'll never know

All my life is just despair but I don't care

When he takes me in his arms

The world is bright, alright

What's the difference if I say "I'll go away"

When I know I'll come back on my knees someday

For whatever my man is, I am his

Forever more

#queen #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #ben!roger x reader #ben!roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben!roger imagine #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x you #queen imagine #freddie mercury #rami malek #brian may #gwilym lee #john deacon #joe mazzello #my man series

[jesliey]

The Many Ask Thingymabob

Second times the charm...

Tagged By: @caramiathegreat

Spoofy Soundcloud or Pandora? Im a spoofy kinda man

Messy or clean room? I think my room is comparatively clean

What colour are your eyes? Bluest blue to ever blue

Do you Like your name and why? Its alright. It always seemed a little lackluster to me

Relationship status? The running joke in my friend group is my 3 year dry spell. It isnt a very funny joke.

Describe your personality in 3 words or less? Distanced pragmatic dumbass

What colour is your hair? Golden and luscious

What kind of car do you drive? My moms PTA-mobile

Where do you shop? Bad Dragon

How would you describe your style? Dying, yet fashionable college student

Favourite social media account? We all know timboblr is utter trash, and i picked up natter a while ago and its honestly pretty fun

Bed size? Queenie my man

Any siblings? two older stepsisters and a wee lil half sister

Anywhere to live in the world and why? GERMANY OR POLAND. BECAUSE HERITAGE

Favourite snapchat filter? I really like the flower crown an butterfly ones but my phone is being dumb with snapchat and i cant get them

Favourite makeup brand? I mean i dont wear it, but im definitely not opposed! i dont know anything about brands and i am ashamed...

How many times a week do you shower? I go by how my hair feels. Usually its every other day, or every two days.

Favourite TV show? Currently? Gotta be that weeb and say Jojo...

Shoe Size? Depends on where i go, but like 12 - 13

How tall are you? Very

Sandals or sneakers? I like wearing socks and sandals feel weird on my feet

Do you go to the gym. I LIFT SO MANY THINGS WEEKLY SWOLE SESSIONS BRUH.

Describe your dream date? Existent... T-T

How much money do you have in your wallet? I dont carry cash!

What colour socks are you wearing? Black

How many pillows do you sleep with? Like 6. Ones a memory foam body pillow its soooo nice....

Do you have a job? Nah...its not for lack of trying though

How many friends do you have? Like...sooo many duuude...not really...

Whats the worst thing youve done? Cut someone who was bad for me out of my life. Bad for them, good for me.

Favourite candle scent? I mean i dont do candles but i love lavender

Favourite boy names?

Gabriel

Alistair

Jeremiah

Favourite girl names?

Elizabeth

Abigail

Lauren

Favourite actor? Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson

Favourite actress? Ashley Johnson

Celebrity crush? theres a lot...

Favourite movie? The Boondock Saints. Easy question.

Do you read a lot? Whats your favourite book? I dont read as much as i think i should, but i loved 1984. I wanna try David Foster Wallaces Infinite Jest and i have the first book in Baccano that i borrowed from a friend and havent touched yet :/

Money or brains? Ignorance is bliss and im filthy fuckin rich HOLLA

Do you have a nickname? Jesliey is an old one. People also call me J a lot. Very briefly in highschool someone called me J-Money whenever he saw me

How many times have you been to a hospital? Not very many. I went in a few years ago for a tonsil infection but that was it in recent history

Top 10 Favourite Songs? Ok this is in no particular order and also limiting to 10 is blashpemy

Subdivisions by NSP

Everybody Wants to Rule The World by NSP

Resist and Bite by Sabaton though if im honest most of Heroes belongs here this ones just my fav

Winged Hussars by Sabaton POLISH PRIIIIIIDE

Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch

All of Pendulums Immersion album im not picking one

Come with Me Now by KONGOS

History Maker by Dean Fujioka

Setting Sail, Coming Home by Darren Korb

Sonata For Whitestone Castle by Aiden Chan

Do you take any daily medications? No, but i probably should have...

Whatis your skin type? on a good day, slightly dry. on a bad day, cracked bleeding sandpaper.

Whats your biggest fear? My man i used to battle almost daily with some quite hefty anxiety. I could stare down the Grim Reaper and say “I served my time you come and take me”. Wasps and needles are pretty bad though i guess

How many kids do you want? Id be lying if i said i didnt want a daughter at some point...but theres no way im passing on my genetics. im adopting if i ever want a kid.

Whats your go-to hairstyle? Either free flowing and glorious, or ponytail if i need it out of my face

What ype of house do you live in? Moms house is pretty decently sized i suppose

Who is your role model? I dont really have one...

What was the last compliment you received? I dont know I dont really get those often...this is getting kinda depressing....

What was the last text you sent? “Well i hope shes alright”

How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? Like 10 or 12

What is your dream car? Oh god i want a 1985 Pontiac Trans Am so bad you have no idea...

Opinion on smoking? I dont get the appeal but everyone can make their own choices

Do you go to college? Yes and im dying

What is your dream job? Metalworking and blacksmithing has lowkey been a huge fascination of mine for like 2 years now. i would love to be able to do that for a living

Rural area or life in suburbia? I like the idea of both, but rural areas have space for metal workshops

Do you take shampoo/conditioner bottles from hotel rooms? Nah i bring my own

Do you have freckles? A few spread sporadically all over my body. no noticeable patches though

Do you smile for pictures? Yeah but most of the time it feels so forced

How many pictures do you have on your phone? Somewhere between 1 and 2 hundred. Im not adding them up among all the folders...

Have you ever peed in the woods? Bruh the forest has seen every bodily fluid ive got

Do you still watch cartoons? ANIME IS NOT A CARTOON DAD. also yes quite often.

Wendys or McDonalds nuggets? GIMME DEM CHICKIN MCNUGGiES

Favourite dipping sauce? Sweet chili thai!

What do you wear to bed? Pajama pants, a shirt, and socks usually. Occasionally whatever i wore during the day. Ive been known to ditch my pants and socks in my sleep.

Ever won a spelling bee? Never been in one, but i think i could have if i wanted to

What are your hobbies? I wont as long as i live under my mothers roof, but i would hella get into amateur blacksmithing!

Can you draw? yes. should i draw? no.

Do you play an instrument? I can play trumpet, but i would really like to pick up playing cello

What was the last concert you saw? If i remember correctly it was the Scorpions

Tea or coffee? Both. Simultaneously. I like to remain calm while containing the energy of a god.

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Fuck you america! Tim Hortons!

Do you want to get married? I wont oppose if a future partner wants to, but if i love someone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with them, then it wont be necessary

What is your crushs first and last initial? Which one tho?

Are you going to change your last name when you get married? Im indifferent

What colour looks best on you? Blue and red are my standard colours

Do you miss anyone right now. If i think about this at all the answer is usually yes

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? I have the lovely habit of losing my pants in my sleep. for the sake of everyone else in this house, closed is best

Do you believe in ghosts? Call me a skeptic

What is your biggest pet peeve? Im pretty laid back about a lot of things. Only thing i can think of now is more of an anxiety thing but i cant stand people randomly touching my hair without me knowing

Last person you called? My mother

Favourite ice cream flavour? Butterscotch ripple

Regular or golden oreos? Golden

Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow

What shirt are you wearing? An old white one with some brand graphic on it

What is your phone background? Lockscreen is Goku from DBZ if he were done as a Jojo character, and home screen is a cr1t1kal quote

Are you outgoing or shy? Im not overly comfortable with just meeting new people and striking up conversations without some kind of help

Do you like it when people play with your hair? I mean i used to...theres a girl at my college who has absolutely no concept of personal boundaries who has at least partially ruined that for me now. Like i said earlier, i cant stand people touching my hair now without me acknowledging it

Do you like your neighbors? Ive lived her about 8 years and im still learning their names

Do you wash your face at night? In the morning? lmao

Have you ever been high? Hella my dude

Have you ever been drunk? Also hella my dude?

Last thing you ate? Coscto chicken penne and a salad.

Favourite lyrics right now? “Light up the night./ There is a city that this darkness can’t hide./ There are embers of a fire that’s gone out,/ but I can still feel the heat on my skin./ This mess we’re in, well you and I,/ maybe you and I,/ we can still make it right./ Maybe we can bring back the light!” Light Up the Night by The Protomen

Summer or Winter? Autumn fuck that noise

Day or night? Night

Dark milk or white chocolate? White!

Favourite month? October

What is your zodac sign? League of Legends Cancer

Who was the last person you cried in front of? I legitimately dont remember...probably @vocoterra

GOOD LORD THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO FINISH

If anyone wants to do this feel free and say i tagged you!

#long post #good lord i was as far as the crush initials one #and then chrome closed and i shed a single tear #now excuse me i need to shower