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forever-rogue · 5 years

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Unintended Consequences - Part 12

Summary: Y/N and Ben had been best friends since the day six year old Y/N dropped her ice cream in front of Ben and he had offered her his. The rest is history. Until Ben went to Hollywood and disappeared for five years, before suddenly waltzing back into Y/N’s life with one simple request.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

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“I think I might be pregnant.”

The sudden silence that filled the room was practically deafening and the three of sat there in tense silence for a few moments. Only a few of Y/N’s light sniffles broke through the stillness and Ben and Joe stared at each other silently for a few moments. They were each dumbfounded, unsure of what to even say that could respond to the gravitas of the situation.

“What do you mean might be?” Joe’s deep voice finally cut through the silence and Y/N’s shoulders slumped before she wiped at her eyes and looked at each of them in turn.

“My period’s late and it’s never late. It’s like clockwork,” she sighed, beyond annoyed and angry with herself. It was her stupidity and inability to make a sensible decision that had led this to this mess in the first time. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself, “I haven’t taken a test yet, but I will. I just wanted to let you know that there might be a possibility. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to both of you for dragging you into this mess.”

Ben wasn't sure of who to address right, looking back and forth between the quietly sobbing Y/N and the exasperated looking Joe. He felt a million different emotions all at once, and trying to process them was no easy feat. Was he mad? Of course. Was he confused? Most definitely. Was he scared? To death.

But one thing he did know was that despite the mess of the situation they were in, despite the muddled mess of a triangle it was, he knew he loved her. He was still utterly and truly in love with Y/N.

A part of him, however small, even hoped that she was actually pregnant and that it was his child. Even if he was being completely honest, he'd admit that he'd thought about having a family with her numerous times. Just like her, he'd always thought they would be end game; that the fantasy of the two little kids playing with their legos would come true one day.

But it seemed like a such an impossible task to get there. It always seemed like they would take one step forward and then two steps back, and they made no progress. He was happy that they were all at least on speaking terms. Or so it had seemed, until Y/N had dropped that huge bomb on them. What was going to happen now was anyone's guess.

"Y/N," he looked directly at her, willing her eyes to meet his. Joe sucked in a deep breath as he waited for what Ben had to say next, "I'll be by your side every step or the way, regardless of what happens. I'm never leaving you again."

"You don't have to say that just because you feel obligated, Ben," she sighed quietly, casting a glance over him at with a meek half smile, "I told you I'm done with being mad at you for things in the past. So you don't need to feel like you have to say to make any sort of retribution."

"Would you listen to me?" his voice had a harsh tinge to it as he tried to get her attention. He knew she was likely distraught, panicked beyond reason, but he needed her to understand just how much he cared about her. Not because he feel like he needed to make up for anything or because he felt like he owed it to her, but because he actually loved her, "I know you might not believe it right now, or whatever, but I do love. I'm in love with you, and I always have been. Things haven't been ideal, that's the long and short of it, but it's true."

Y/N didn't say anything, letting his words hang in the air and add to the rising tension, before looking at him and giving a nod of acknowledgement and the slightest little smile.

Joe watched their exchange, his head going back and forth between the two of them, like he was watching a tennis match. He felt like he should say something, anything, but he found himself lost. He could see that clearly Ben wasn't lying, and that Y/N returned his sentiments. She had looked at him in all sorts of ways before, but she'd never once looked at him the way she looked at Ben. That pretty much told himself, even if he didn't want to admit, his heart and ego feeling a little bit bruised.

"Ben," she said quietly, reaching over for his hand, and putting hers on top of it, giving it a slight squeeze, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not giving you more of a chance when you came back. That I just shut you out like a fool, only wanting to be angry."

Ben was rendered speechless and Joe sat there awkwardly, wondering if he had somehow been forgotten by the star crossed lovers. But before he could open his mouth to remind him that he was there, Y/N turned her tear stained face to him. She looked at him silently, eyes taking over his soft face, covered with several days' worth of stubble.

"Joe," his name came out softly from her chapped lips, as she gave him the most pathetic little look. He wanted to be angry, well angrier then he was, but he found himself unable. He knew she wasn't solely to blame. He was a part of the mess too, knowing full well that she was more than likely still in love with Ben, while he tried to convince himself otherwise.

"I'm sorry," she spoke after a few quiet moments had passed, "I'm sorry to you for I made you sneak around, for how I basically used you. I realized how harsh that sounds, and it's not entirely true. I do have feelings for you, Joe. A lot of them, and you're an amazing friend. But I...I'm not-"

"In love with me," he finished for her and a frown worked it's way onto her face as her head slowly bobbed up and down. He had a feeling it was coming; after all, he could see the way she and Ben looked at each other, even when they were in the midst of fighting. Friends and lovers till the end of the line. He had known love before, the feeling for being purely in love with someone and willing to give someone them every piece and bit of himself, and this wasn't it. He would have felt it by now, at least some semblance of it. But alas, sometimes love and lust were two separate entities.

"I'm sorry," she shrugged simply, but she got the vibe that he understood. He knew he liked her and cared about her, and if Ben hadn't been in the picture, probably would have been okay with dating Y/N, even if it was just casual. But he wasn't about to continue getting in the way, or be a third wheel to their continued affair. Everything was out in the open now and that's where it would remain. But at least there were no more secrets, no reason to hide and lie.

"Don't be sorry," he told her, wishing that they could have reached this resolution so much sooner, "you can't help who you love. I see the way you and Ben look at each other. I know when people are in love, even if they may not be conscious of it. But I think...we all owe all each other an apology."

"I agree," Y/N looked between the two men, "I'm sorry to the two of you. I'm sorry for being a bit of a bitch to both of you for different reasons. I'm sorry I couldn't get over myself and ended up treating both of you like you didn't matter. You both do, truly, and I don't want to loose either of you."

"I'm sorry too," Joe acknowledged his own fault, "I should have ended things between us way sooner. I knew, but didn't do anything. I guess I too just was too stubborn to stop myself."

"Me too," Ben echoed their words, "I shouldn't have acted so stupid from the beginning. I should have been more mature and we should have talked things through back at the start. I was a fool and let my ego get the best of me. But not anymore, I'm done with it."

"I guess we've all been fools," Y/N laughed lightly, sitting back and feeling more relaxed and calm than she had in a long time. It felt like a small weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, "but at least we're sorry fools."

"And you two are fools in love," Joe shrugged a single shoulder, "even if you hadn't realized it."

"I think we've always known," Ben stated quietly, a smile forming on his face at the memory of all those years ago when they were just two little kids playing with legos, "I think the day with the legos, when we decided that we'd get married and get a dog."

"We were just children," she said fondly, "only seven I think, or barely older. It's been a while. Only about twenty years!"

"That's horrible cheesy," Joe smiled in spite of him as Y/N nodded in agreement as Ben laughed, "and terribly cliche."

"You should have seen him trying to make me a birthday cake for the first time. I think I was turning...what, about twelve?" she looked over and raised an eyebrow at Ben who had turned a brilliant shade of crimson at the memory. It had been a good day, that day they spent in the kitchen trying to perfect her cake, making countless samples and dirtying the kitchen, and the the memory still brought him so much joy. Things were so much easier and less complicated back then.

"You walked in on me trying to surprise you," he countered weakly, taking a sip of the coffee that had long gone cold, letting the sweet, creamy liquid swish throughout his mouth, "you ruined your own surprise!"

"I was plenty surprised," she promised, "I walked into a small disaster, there was flour and chocolate all over the place, bowls everywhere. Your mum was ready to kill us both. But it was worth it...I had a lot of fun that afternoon and the cake you ended up settling on was pretty damn good.”

“What can I say?” Ben smirked as he leaned back in his chair at the memory. He had wanted to make sure she got the best birthday cake in the world and had searched out probably hundreds of recipes until his mother had given him the family recipe for a delicious chocolate cake. He’d made her the same cake for every birthday after that, until the year he had left.

“Ughh, please try and contain your ego,” she dramatically rolled her eyes at him. But she wasn’t going to lie - he really did make her favorite cakes. Nothing compared to how he much time and love he put into the delicious, fluffy dark chocolate treat, “the last we thing we need is some diva.”

“Too late,” Joe interjected with a smile as he watched the two of them banter back and forth. It was through their playfulness, how they didn’t even have to try with each other, that it was slowly sinking in that they were meant for one another,

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile as he realized what this meant for all of them. He knew he needed to end things with Y/N for good, and sure, it would be hard, because it was undeniable that they had chemistry in both the bedroom and outside of it, but it was the right thing to do. It had been from the beginning, even if they had all decided to ignore it and sweep the issues at hand under the rug. But they could still remain friends, he knew that much, and that was worth so much more than anything else to him.

“I-I don’t mean to interrupt all the cheeriness,” Y/N sighed suddenly as the reason she had even left her bedroom floated back into her mind. It was something she wished she could ignore, and that most definitely hadn’t happened, but this was one thing she couldn’t ignore. Not for long anyways, and if she did, then her options would be more limited and at that point she still had no idea what she even wanted to do.

“Right,” Ben agreed, letting out a low breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back, “well I suppose the first thing to do is find out if you’re really pregnant...and then we can go from there.”

“And what if she is? Are we just going to assume who the father is?” Joe’s voice cracked ever so slightly as he closed his hazel eyes to try and focus his mind. He had always wanted kids, always wanted that same large close-knit family that he grew up in, but this wasn’t how he had intended on getting there. He always had a much more traditional route in mind, but he also knew that he wouldn’t abandon anyone in their time of need, especially Y/N.

“If that is the case,” she flicked her red eyes between the two men, “I should be able to figure out who it is. And if nothing else, there are always tests that they can do while I-I’m pregnant. If I am.”

“How sure are you?” Ben asked as he ran a hand over his tired face. This was all so much to handle and process he was slowly getting overwhelmed with everything, even the early morning light filtering into the kitchen seemed too much.

“Pretty sure,” she busied herself with studying her hands, looking at each finger intently and jabbing at the dry cuticles as she mulled over her next words carefully. Both men could feel their heart rates increasing, slowly starting to come to terms with the fact that this might be their new reality, “Ben, you remember what my periods are like, they’ve been on time month after month since I first got my period when we were thirteen.”

Ben nodded in understanding. He’d been through many periods with her, often showering her in chocolate and ice cream whenever it hit. It was indeed like clockwork, and after getting over the initial shock of her getting period when they were kids, it had been become routine for him to help take care of her however he could. He had no clue anymore had many candy bars or pints they must have consumed over the years, how many back rubs he had given her, how many boxes of tampons he had rushed out to buy.

“Well,” Ben said as he stood up and rest his shaky hands on the back of his chair, “let’s go and find out then and after that...we’ll see.”

“Ben, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, Y/N,” he promised her firmly, “I’m with you till the end of the line. Always.”

“Aren’t you worried about people seeing us?” Y/N hissed in Ben’s ear as they browsed through the aisles at the drugstore down the street from Joe’s house. Y/N had decided to put on one of Ben’s hoodies, pulling the hood up to cover her face, going so far as to use sunglasses. She had a feeling that no one would recognize them, or give them more than a passing glance, but she wasn’t about to risk it. She didn’t need the world finding out she was pregnant, if indeed she was, before she made came to terms with it and made a decision.

It felt like a scene out of a movie: two strangers stumbling through a desolate and badly lit all but abandoned drugstore where the only other shoppers left were people getting their prescriptions refilled, or killing time. It was depressing to say the least, the musty old smell lingering the air was almost enough to make her want to run and gather a few breaths of fresh air.

But instead, she found herself keeping her head down, trying to shuffle along to the aisle that contained the one little item she was looking for; it was ironic that something so small, a little plastic stick could lead to so much more. Ben trailed silently behind her, a hand on the small of her back as he looked around to make sure no one was giving her any sort of looks.

He had gotten very protective of Y/N recently, and he was pretty much willing to do anything to keep her out of harm’s way. He had practically snapped and gotten ready to beat down a photographer that had followed them around a few weeks ago, calling Y/N all sorts of names. She had gripped his arm tightly and reassured him that it was okay, it didn’t matter what they thought - they knew what the truth was, and that was all that mattered.

She stopped, sneakers squeaking on the ancient, scuffed tile as she found what they had been looking for. Ben almost crashed into her, murmuring a soft sorry as he put his arm around her waist. She scanned the row quickly, trying to decide which test was best, but couldn’t make up her mind. Early Detection one of them proclaimed, Results up to Five Days Sooner, another boasted, Most Accurate Results yet another advertised.

“Hmm,” she mused out load as she touched a couple of the boxes, trying to determine which one was going to be the lucky winner. She turned to look at Ben for a few brief moment, and he just gave her an innocent look with shrug. He’d never been in this position before either; it was all a weird foreign experience. Part of him had always hoped it was her that would drag him to the store one day, proud and excited to find out if they were expecting. But not this way; this was so far off from the happy little fantasy he had dream off when he was younger. This was the type of reality that made good pseudo-Americana nouveau art films - but here he was. In his own reality.

“Get them all,” he said suddenly, reaching around and starting to grab one of each of the different varieties that the store offered. She raised an eyebrow at him, but decided that it wasn’t a bad idea, “better safe than sorry, right?”

“I mean I can’t argue with that logic,” she agreed, grabbing whichever ones he had missed, pulling them tightly to her chest, to keep away any prying eyes. Not there were more than a few people milling around, “come on, Benny. Let’s get out of here, if we stay much longer, I think I might hit a new low.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he reminded her and she just gave him a a disparate look. She wasn’t ashamed...per se. If the situation was slightly different, she might have been over the moon. But not knowing which one of them could possibly be the father of her maybe baby made her feel like garbage. She never should have dragged either of them into this, but it was too late to go back and change the past. He nudged her side gently, trying to get her to zone back into him, “hey, it’s okay, Y/N. It’s not like we’re children that have to go running to mum and dad for help. We’re adults that can handle this.”

“Maybe,” was the only response that spilled out of her mouth. He knew the implication of what she was referring to. Maybe she was pregnant, maybe it was his baby. Maybe it was Joe’s. He knew that was a possibility, but he didn’t want to consider that option just yet. Not that he didn’t love Joe, because he did, but it would break his heart if it was his child. It wasn‘t meant to be Joe; it was always meant to be Y/N and Ben, Ben and Y/N.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he promised her, trying to reassure her as well as himself, “it’s all be okay.”

“Promise?” she asked in a small voice, sounded almost childlike and innocent, as he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. It would be okay, he repeated to himself, trying to get it etched into his own mind, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you and Joe in this position.”

“Come on, we’re not going to dwell on that anymore,” he said softly as he took the boxes from her and started to head over to the single checker that was located near the front, “it takes more than one more person to tango, remember that.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts, not right now,” he insisted as he approached the young, bored looking girl at the register. She was leaned over the counter, her eyes trained on the phone in her hands as she smacked her gum loudly, reminiscent of a cow chewing on cud. She didn’t bother to look up as Y/N and Ben approved, a small smirk on her face at something that she was watching.

Ben cleared his throat, trying to get her attention. Her eyes flicked up for a second, before going back to her phone, until she did a double take and zoned in on Ben. She almost dropped her phone, a mischievous little grin on her face, and she flat out ignored Y/N. Ben seemed almost immune to her charm as he pushed the boxes towards, remaining silent as she started to ring them up. As soon as the young girl had realized that what the two of them were buying, the smile had died and she went back to ignoring them, only taking a moment to tell them the total.

“Come on love,” he grabbed the bag and took her hand in his own, ready to lead her back to Joe’s house so they could at least get an answer to one of their many questions. Y/N just nodded, feeling herself get emotional once again, fearing that there would be tears spilling down her cheeks. Ben stopped her and gently put his hand on her cheek, “hey, it’s okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it will be. I need you to be strong for a little while, can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” she agreed quietly, “I’ll try my best. For you.”

As soon as they walked into the house, Y/N dumped the bag out onto the table, looking at each of them in turn. Joe emerged from his room, giving her a small wave of acknowledge as he surveyed the spread.

“I guess you’re covered,” he tried to make light of the situation, basically willing to do anything that would help his nerves. She took one look at him and just nodded, “are you sure you’re going to have enough pee for all of them?”

“I’ve consumed about three liters of water this morning and I’ve been saving my pee,” she explained trying to plaster a small smile on her face, “plenty for all of these tests. I couldn’t decide on one so we decided on all of them.”

“Do you need…a hand? I don’t know if that’s a silly question or not,” he admitted with a small chuckle, trying to get out as much of his nervous energy as possible, “I’ve never been in this situation before. Surprisingly.”

“I haven’t either,” she concurred, grabbing as many of the tests in her hands as possible, “but I think I can handle the peeing part. The waiting part I might need help with.”

“Whatever you need,” he said as she padded along to the bathroom, arms full and heart heavy. Joe and Ben exchanged glances as they had nothing to do but sit around and wait. It was going to be an agonizing wait, that much they both knew. Ben appeared to have a million thoughts racing through his mind as he bit on his lower lip, as he was accustomed to whenever he was too absorbed in his own little world.

“What if it’s yours?” Ben finally blurted after a few more seconds of awkward silence. Joe had been contemplating over the same thing, and he wasn’t sure of the answer.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said quietly, trying to sidestep the very direct question, “for now, let’s not worry about it.”

“I don’t think it’s something we can ignore,” Ben responded as a loud sigh emanated from the bathroom, followed by the sound of boxes being ripped open, “the last time we ignored something, it ended up…well right here.”

“I know,” Joe agreed, torn between laughter and tears. They remained there, Joe leaning against the table and staring at the ceiling, and Ben paced back and forth slowly, waiting for something, anything to happen.

A flush came from the bathroom, along with the sound of the tap as Y/N appeared to have finished with the five or six tests. When she didn’t open the door and come back out, he grew a little nervous, hoping she wasn’t in there, on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

“You should go to her,” Joe said as he traced a finger along the wood grains of the ancient table, hand me down from his parents. Ben nodded, knowing he was probably right, and started to move down the hall, but stopped and suddenly.

“What about you?” there was nothing but innocent curiosity in his voice as he watched the lanky man closely, just he just shook his head lightly.

“I’m not the one she’s in love with,” he reminded him with a quick raise of his eyebrows that reminded Ben so much of his on screen counterpart, John Deacon, “and if either of you need me, I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Ben gave him a quick smile before knocking on the door of the bathroom. Y/N didn’t say anything in response, but he was sure he heard a small sniffle, which pretty much all but made him want to burst into the room.

Luckily for him, she hadn’t locked the door so it didn’t take long before he stepped in saw all six tests splayed out on the counter. Y/N was perched on the edge of the tub, sitting there and staring off into the distance, clearly lost in her down world.

Ben stood in front of her, holding his hands out to her. She looked up at him meekly, but took one of his each his hands in her own and let me him hoist her up. They stared at each other silently for a few moments, before she threw her arms around, burrowing her face into his chest, against the soft fabric of his sweater.

“It’s only like ten minutes,” she murmured quietly, the words so muffled he almost didn’t hear, “but it seems like the longest wait that I’ve ever experienced.”

“We’ve survived longer waits than this,” he reminded her, moving to sit down on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, pulling her along with him. She let out a long sigh, sat down next to him, but quickly allowed him to pull her into his lap so they were sitting face to face. He set her phone down, which contained a countdown timer. The timer seemed to move at a snail’s pace and they waited for the alarm to go off and check if their fate was going to be changed.

“I don’t even know why you’re still here,” she sighed softly, studying his handsome face, tracing a finger along his cheekbones, “I’ve been awful to you and Joe for weeks. I don’t think I’d deserve either of you anymore. Probably not even as friends.”

“What’s happened has happened and we can’t go back and change it now,” he reminded her, putting his hand under her chin and tilting it up ever so slightly so she was looking in his eyes, “we all acted like idiots but the only thing we can do now is to learn from it and move on. We can handle whatever life throws at us.”

“It doesn’t feel like that right now,” she commented taking his hand in hers and looking away from his eyes, finding it hard to look at the soft sage orbs. She gripped his hand tightly in hers, lacing her fingers through his, feeling nothing but claminess, which she was sure was all do to her nerves, “my own judgment hasn’t been too good lately so I’ll take your word for it.”

“You want to know why I’m still here?” he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo as he nuzzled her face into her neck. She made a small sound of content as she relished in his touch, still amazed by how perfect he felt against her, but nodded slowly, “because I’m in love with you. Always have been and always will be.”

“Even after all of this?” she almost laughed, amazed by her own fortune, that he was still by her side and not kicking her to the curb. It had been an interesting back and forth dynamic since they had reunited and it never seemed to slow down, but she was hoping it would. She’d give almost anything to go back to way things were years ago. It had been so simple and easy, and now it seemed to be getting worse and worse.

“Even after everything’s that happened,” he reassured her, “I wasn’t exactly the best to you and then well, everything that’s happened wasn’t easier. But it’s not just your fault or my fault, or Joe’s fault. It’s a series of actions that have led to this. Not an ideal situation for anyone, but it is what it is. That being said, you don’t just walk away from the person you love. You always love them, no matter what.”

“How long have you known?” she asked quietly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she traced her fingers aimlessly over his back. She’s known for a long, long time. Whenever a relationship with another man hadn’t worked out, part of her was always relieved; a few relationships had even ended because of her friendship with Ben. They often claimed that they were doomed to play second fiddle to him, and they weren’t about to do that. And whenever a girl broke up with Ben, or he decided they weren’t the one, her heart did a little slip, it meant she still had a chance. It turned out that she didn’t even need a chance, it had always been her.

“Always,” he answered without skipping a beat, “I think it started the day you dropped your ice cream and I wanted to give you mine, but you insisted on us sharing-”

“We were children!”

“I know,” he grinned at the memory, how little they both were, Y/N with her floral overalls and hair in pigtails, the same smile on her face then as now, “but I don’t think I fully realized until we were teenagers. But I could never tell if you felt the same. But you always killed me with that smile, the best smile I’ve ever seen.”

“You must be blind,” she chuckled, “if you never noticed that I felt the same. I think it was pretty obvious to most people. Except for us, I suppose. But I guess we’re here now and that’s what matters.”

“Can I ask you something?” there was a slight crack in his voice as he turned his head slightly so his lips were pressed against her neck. She shivered under his touch, and as he gave her a few small kisses. She made a sound for him to continue, “did you ever want children?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, feeling herself getting flushed from his question. Of course she had thought about it. Of course she had thought about having children with Ben. His children. Hers and his. She’s dreamed of it since they were young; a part of her had just always assumed that they would end up together and married with the picket fence, the dog, and two point five children. To hell with it, she thought to herself, she’d already confessed everything else to him, “with you. I just kind of always assumed it would end up being you.”

“Well, your dream’s coming true,” he joked lightly, “it is me and you. It’ll always me and you, I promise.”

“But what if it’s not...” she trailed off as the timer on her phone sounded off. She exchanged a nervous glance with Ben as she silenced the piercing sound. Slowly stood up, reaching down to hoist him up, keeping her eyes trained on him so she wouldn’t sneak any peeks at the tests.

“Ready?” he asked her quietly, and she gave a shrug which was neither a yes or a no. He reached around her and scooped the tests up in his large hand, “I’ll take some and you take some, okay? Divide and conquer.”

“You’re awfully cheery about all of this,” she sighed heavily at him, “why are you so calm? How?!”

“Because I know this is not the end of the world,” he reminded her, “it’s not like there aren’t always options. Now come on, we can do this.”

“Alright,” she agreed and they both turned to look at the tests in their hands.

She felt her stomach fall into her stomach as she looked them over and saw that they all said the same thing. Not Pregnant. Letting out a shaky breath, her shoulders suddenly felt so much lighter as the weight slowly lifted.

“These all say not pregnant,” Ben said as he turned them over to make sure he didn’t miss anything. She took them from his hand and compared them to the ones in her own. All six of them suggested that she was, indeed, not pregnant. Six of them couldn’t all be lying, could they?

“Mine say the same,” she showed to him, “I’m not pregnant. Oh thank heavens, the sun, and the stars. I’m not pregnant. I’m so happy I could cry.”

“See,” Ben said as he wrapped his arms around her, “everything turned out okay. I told you it would, you just had to have a little faith.”

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek lightly, “thank you for being here for me. I don’t know I would have handled this without you, my love.”

“Of course,” he gave her a small smile, but there was something about it that seemed forced, and he appeared to be avoiding any eye contract with her, “come on, let’s go tell Joe the good news.”

“Hang on for just a moment,” she took his hand and stopped him from opening the door. He looked at her and gave her a confused look, “what’s wrong? And please don’t even bother lying to me.”

“I just...” he looked up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh, “I just..wouldn’t have been horribly upset if you had been pregnant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want it,” he said as a light blush crept into his cheeks, “I want it all with you. Someday.”

She felt her heart start to race as she turned around and gave him a quick kiss, “then one day we’ll have it all. I promise, we’ll make this work. I mean obviously it’ll take work, but if we’re both willing to work at it, we can do it-”

Her words were quickly cut sort as he put his hands on either side of her face and kissed with some fervent passion. He was willing to work at it, harder than he had ever worked at anything else because he treasured her more than anything else.

“I love you,” he promised her as he let her go, her grinning face staring back at him.

“And I you,” she said, sneaking in one last kiss before opening the door. Joe was pacing around the kitchen, a bottle of water in his hand as he seemed to be distracted by every little thing that caught his eye.

“W-well?” he asked as he spied the two of them coming back in, “what’s the verdict?”

“I’m not pregnant,” she informed him and let out a long breath, a soft oh thank God spilling out of his mouth. The color that had been drained from his face slowly came back as he felt more relieved and relaxed than he had in a while.

“No offense to you,” he said as he gave her a quick hug, “but it’s the whole situation. I think we can all breathe a little easier now.”

“I agree,” Y/N sighed as she leaned against the table, casting a glance at Ben, who still seemed a little off, “but now we can all move on now.”

“What happens now?” Ben asked as he put an arm around her shoulder.

“I think the best thing to do,” Y/N started, looking over at Joe, “and no offense to you, but I think it’s time for me to go home, back to London.”

“What?” the two of them echoed at each as they stared at her. She’d given it a lot of thought over the past several days, and what she realized was that she wanted to be back to the place she loved more than anything - home.

“I know it’s a bit of surprise,” she said quietly, looking over at Ben, “but I think I’ve caused enough damage for now, and I’m kind of done with it. I know it’d be asking a lot of you, Ben, but I’d love it if you came back with me. And if not now, then I’ll wait for you. I’m willing to do that. What do you say?”

“I...” Ben was so caught off guard, looking between the two of them, feeling like he was caught in a landslide once again, “I don’t know if I can do that right now.”

She looked at him and nodded; she wasn’t surprised by his response. It was a big request after all and this was his job, “okay.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s okay, Ben,” she reassured him, “I get it. I told you I’d wait for you.”

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pocketwhistle · 4 years

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The peculiar thing about growth

All living things goes through the cycle of birth, growth and death. Physical growth takes effect the moment we start breathing. With the element of time in place, growth is a natural process over the course of our lives. Yet, how growth looks like is seldom discussed and often assumed.

As much as you might disagree, we often associate growth with what the society defines as progress. When we were young, growth looks like an improvement in our academic performances. As we gradually become young adults, growth can be attributed to budding success at our new workplace and/or having a suitable life partner whom we can start a wholesome family with. In general, growth resembles moving from one less desirable stage to a supposedly better place.

What I find interesting is the fact that most people I have spoken with often has a different understanding and perspective on how growth looks like for them. Yet, many times we all assume that true growth is only categorised only if it looks a certain way.

What I observed is that growth is not a linear process, it is a combination of many twists and turns. Hence, it is imperative to discuss failure. Failure might be seen as a roadblock, and not align with our ideal trajectory that we have planned for ourselves. Traders and long-term investors would know that a short-term crash on the charts when the bears come rushing in to take profits will often be a temporal blip in the grand scheme of things. The key lies in the timeframe we used when we view the particular event - it makes a world of difference when we view the charts using a 1 year timeframe v.s. a 1 day timeframe. What if we could do the same when we view our own journey? The purpose of “zooming out” on our lives is never to downplay the effects our present failures have on us. Rather, it trains our minds to acknowledge that our present moment matters less than we thought it would be. There is a thin line to draw between embracing and sitting in with our negative feelings derived from failures and allowing those feelings to define how we think and act in the future.

That being said, I have asked myself two key questions in hopes to gain some personal clarity:

1) What do I define as growth (spiritually, mentally, emotionally), and how does it look like to me?

I have come to realise for myself that my definition on growth evolves constantly as I grow. In the midst of every occurrence in life, we will come across opportunities to learn from, and sometimes those opportunities were either bypassed or ignored due to whatever reasons we give rendering them futile as no fruits could be borne when nothing has taken root.

Yet in the midst of these times of supposed fruitlessness, I do see a glimpse of hope. Introspection is an underrated strength. Through the lenses of self-reflection, awareness of one’s tendencies are heightened. I saw my inabilities and weaknesses through these tender moments of uncovering my pride.

For now, I think true growth to me starts from the vulnerability to be genuine and raw regardless of the place I am in. The increasing ability to acknowledge that I am not okay and embracing that state indicates the level of self-acceptance I have. By no means should growth resembles what others or the society sees on the surface, as the view of the external almost always underestimate the multiple layers underneath where the treasure often lies. When I am honest with myself, it unlocks a mental prison of inadequacy that I was once in - For it was never about having inadequacy but my inaccuracy in the judgment I held against myself. I am free to start at the pace I am comfortable with, instead of being forced to journey at a speed that I am not trained for.

There’s a quote by Aristotle that goes: “The more you know, the more you know that you don’t know.” And he makes a lot of sense indeed. Remember the familiar feeling of not knowing what I do not know at the very beginning of learning a new subject or new skill? I believe that is often due to the severe lack of knowledge of what is available. The more we grow, the more we think we need to grow - and this process will be for a lifetime.

Hence, what true growth looks like to me is a never-ending journey of intentional stewardship that comes from a place of humility and not pride. Stewardship is defined as: “the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one's care.” We are all given strengths and gifts that are unique from others, and that means everyone has something to offer and contribute to this world. It is not to lord over others, thinking that we are better than everyone else. Rather, it comes from a place where we acknowledge that our strengths are not to be kept within but to be multiplied by adding value beyond ourselves. Stewardship embodies the principle of sowing and reaping, that as we are responsible and seek to always improve our knowledge and skills related to our strengths, we reap the fruits of not only individual progress but a sphere of influence beyond what we can imagine.

To conclude, true growth starts from vulnerability, and the process of achieving it is to be responsible in nurturing whatever strengths we have. I will not be surprised that growth looks extremely different between two individuals. Some people’s process might look more conventional, and others might not. It is never wise to compare based on what society defines as good.

2) What do I defined as failure/setbacks and what is my current outlook on them?

One wise mentor of mine shared that failures should never be seen as failures, but feedbacks. A growth mindset sees setbacks as an opportunity to learn what works and what doesn’t, it challenges us to see beyond ourselves.

When I graduated from university, my goal then was to fulfil my scholarship bond of 4 years. I was filled with excitement as I placed my hopes of improving the lives of others on my job as a Social Worker. In the end, my expectations backfired on me as it was far from my perceived reality. The weight of the disappointment festered, and eventually I did not complete my bond. I was devastated because I felt that I have failed.

On hindsight, that experienced taught me that my state of mind is worth so much more than anything else. It showed me that I have to guard my mind fiercely, and that I need to prioritise space and time to process issues close to my heart beyond the busyness of life. By doing that, I was able to know myself on a deeper level and discovered strengths that I never knew I had.

As I zoom out my life chart, I am thankful that this “blip” I had gave me the courage to delve deeper as I embraced how I felt then. I learned to see how failure not the opposite of growth, but a crucial part of it.

I am grateful that the main bulk of my early twenties challenged me to rethink what I knew, and kickstarted a process of unlearning and relearning. I hope to pen down my thoughts on growth as an attempt to consolidate my reflections over the past decade or so into something concise. My prayer is that it serves as a personal reminder that as I focus on what really matters, every other good things that come along be it wealth, progress, self-esteem or even healthy interpersonal relationships are just a by-products and never the main point. To whoever that is reading this, thank you for sticking through my thought process and I hope this piece benefitted you in one way or another.

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hyunnielix · 5 years

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Drive

After leaving Gotham after a freak accident, settling down in Detriot seemed like the best option for you except all you can think about is him and what you left behind.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Y/N (Titans)

Warnings: Angst, Maybe fluff if you like squint (and at the end), It’s sad

Word Count: 1.9k

Your laugh, echoes down the hallway

Carves into my hollow chest, spreads over the emptiness

The call you had received from Dawn just yesterday prompted you to leave Detroit on an eight-hour mission to get to Washington DC, you knew how much of a disadvantage they had especially with Hank being near-fatally injured on their last rendezvous.

You tried convincing them to leave the crime-fighting to Batman and the other vigilantes, but yet again they refused to listen.

So here you were, standing outside of their rundown apartment contemplating whether you should knock or leave, you made a promise not to fight any more, since the last time it got out of hand you lost one of your best friends.

Deciding against either of those options, you wrapped your hand around the metallic silver handle of the door entering without any warning whatsoever.

A rough kick to your shin sent you into fight or flight mode, a flash of platinum hair was all you could see once you fell to your knee waiting for the next move.

Flipping your body weight backward, you let out a wheeze as Dawn placed the heel of her stiletto dangerously close to your throat.

“Y/N?” She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed as she realised who the intruder was taking her heel off you to allow you to breathe.

Letting out a strangled laugh, you nodded reaching for her outstretched hand for you to grab pulling you up easily and dusting off the remnants of the dust that covered your clothes.

“That’s my name don’t wear it out,” You jokingly sighed, awkwardly gripping the handle of your duffle bag in front of your body as you stood up.

“You should’ve knocked,” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around your torso and embracing you in a welcoming hug, friendliness radiated off of her which was something you hadn’t felt in a while.

“I was going to,” You sheepishly smiled, scrunching your nose up in the process, your inability to be logical even took you by surprise as you expected yourself to be dead by this age to be completely honest. The amount of enemies you made in Gotham was more than frightening especially for a teenager.

“What’s she doing here,” the hostility of the voice wiped the smile off your face as you came face to face with Hank, his overpowering figure eyeing you with what you could only recognize as disgust.

“Hank, I can explain,” the words fell from her mouth calmly, she always knew how to handle worded situations better than you which you were beyond thankful for. She managed to save your ass on multiple occasions all you could try to do was repay the favour.

“Did you call her?” He asked almost accusingly, the guilty silence that followed after the sentence made you feel more than uneasy.

“I’m going out for a while don’t expect me to be back soon,” He grumbled, brushing past the both of you rather aggressively and reaching for the keys off the table stand. The door slammed shut and you caught Dawn's noticeable flinch as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“If I knew it would’ve caused this much trouble I wouldn’t have come,” You mumbled sending an apologetic look towards her which made the corner of her lips upturn slightly.

“It’s fine,” She replied, throwing the whole situation under the mat figuratively. You stopped pressing the issue and nodded solemnly, placing your duffle bag on the floor underneath the side table.

“You look famished, I’ve got food in the fridge help yourself,” She offered, placing her hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the tiny but humble kitchen with incredibly paint-chipped walls.

A repetitive knock at the door caught both of your attention, eyebrow raising at Dawn she mouthed an ‘I’ll take care of it’ reassuring you whilst doing so. Leaning down to open a cupboard, you reached for the blue aquamarine coloured plates while overhearing the chattering of multiple people in the hallway.

Striding through the kitchen and into the living room that connected to the hall you paused, staring only at the scratched plate as your fingers ran over the ruined ceramic.

“Are these the right plates Dawn?” You asked a small smile on your face until you moved your gaze up, staring at the familiar people who stood there mouth open in shock. Gasping, the plate slid out of your hand colliding with the hardwood floor in a sickening smash.

“Dick?” Your voice was shaky, almost questioning if he was really right there in front of you. The look on his face was a mix of awe-struck and complete utter confusion.

Kneeling on the ground, you managed to rip your gaze from his, beginning to pick up the broken pieces of plate that now decorated the floor nicely. He also moved forward and knelt on the floor, helping you clean up the mess but not daring to speak a word to you.

His hand brushed against yours softly causing your reflexes to pull back almost violently reeling from the thought of him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face but you could tell he was hurting it wasn’t that hard to piece together.

“I’m sorry D-Dawn,” You stuttered, standing up whilst placing the broken pieces of plate onto the dining table as she hastily replied with ‘doesn’t matter’.

“I’m Rachel by the way,” the smaller girl who had stood next to him donned in all black with vibrant purple dyed hair said, smiling softly as she held out her hand for you to shake.

“I guess you three are staying for the night?” Dawn asked, the ghost of a smile on her flawless face as she tapped on the wall. You all nodded in unison which made Rachel let out a small laugh.

“I’ll show you to the spare room,” You prompted her, eager to get away from Dick’s menacing gaze as you began to show her around. Entering the room, you slid the glass door behind you letting out a shaky sigh while doing it.

“So what was that about?” Rachel asked, her ocean blue eyes filled with curiosity as she plummeted onto the bed smiling at the comfortableness of it.

“Hmm?” You hummed, too lost in your own train of thought to hear what the girl had stated.

“You and Dick, it seemed pretty serious,” She reiterated, sitting on the edge of the bed as if she was waiting for a story to be told.

“We just have a history that’s all.” You explained, the nostalgia getting the better of you as memories began to flicker past replaying like a movie in your head.

“You’re cute kid,” You mumbled, patting her arm before standing up abruptly and sliding the glass door open leaving her to rest.

Before you could walk away, a hand wrapped around your upper arm jerking your body back slightly. You knew it was him.

It almost pained you how you couldn’t run your fingers through his fluffy brunette hair and crack stupid jokes that both of you would laugh at, it wasn’t as simple as that anymore.

“We need to talk,” His voice was deeper than you remembered it taking you slightly off guard as you shakily removed his hand from your arm.

“Yeah, we do,” You stated coldly, refusing to look at him in the eye.

Wandering up the many steps of the stairs leading to the rooftop of the apartment complex, you hung loosely behind him, the silence almost comforting yet the thoughts in your head were racing at an incomprehensible speed per minute. The outcomes of this confrontation scared you, you already lost him once you didn’t want to do it again however you feared this was how it was going to end between the both of you.

“Who’s starting first?” You asked, crossing your arms across your chest to keep yourself warm.

“I did it for your own good,” He muttered as if it was like a promise to himself in some sick and twisted way, making you feel even more disheartened.

“You made me believe that you were dead!” You exclaimed letting your emotions overtake your rational thinking as you took a step forward as if to taunt him.

“I’m not good at the staying part, you should know that more than anyone,” He hesitated as if he could use it as an excuse.

“Yeah well I’m not good at coping without you, okay is that what you want to hear? because there I said it,” You confessed, blinking rapidly to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling you knew once they started they couldn’t stop.

“How hard is it for you to swallow your pride for a second and just apologize?” You almost begged, needing to feel some kind of resolve. Rendering him speechless, you continued on.

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have expected any different from you,” You let out a choked laugh, using the sweater you wore to wipe away the tears that were running down your cheeks pathetically so. Turning around, you strode towards the door ready to go back inside.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful, You eventually found yourself accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation between Rachel and Dick as you leant against the paint-chipped wall staring up at the ceiling.

“So You and Y/N?” She asked, yet again unable to stop her nosiness.

“No,” He faltered slightly at the word, sounding unsure of himself for the first time you’d heard since you had met him.

“You realise its impossible to lie to me right?” Rachel sighed boredly, an unamused expression plastered on her face as she waited for him to answer.

“When we were younger,” He shut down quickly, pacing around the bed and towards the entrance of the room trying to leave.

“Why did you hurt her?” She questioned, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side like a lost puppy.

“I didn’t mean to,” He turned his head around, eyebrows furrowing as the words left his mouth.

“That’s not an excuse,” She scolded him, knowing how it felt to be hurt by someone you love, she could feel your pain when she had touched hands with you and what you were feeling was worse than heartbreak.

“Yeah, well it’s all in the past,” He snapped, losing his patience with the young girl you knew he wasn’t good at looking after kids especially teenagers, Bruce has definitely rubbed off on him in the bad way that's for sure.

“Not for her,” Rachel exhaled, looking yet again disappointed in Dick as he nodded lips upturning into an almost sad smile before leaving the room.

A curse fell from his lips as your glossy eyes met his, he knew in an instant what you had heard and felt beyond guilty as you stood frozen in the hallway.

At least you knew how he truly felt, collecting your duffle bag in your hand you began to make your way to the door tears threatening to spill yet again.

“Y/N, Y/N wait!” He exclaimed, striding over to the door to stop your hand from opening it almost desperately.

“I’m sorry,” He sounded sincere as he stood in front of you, face just inches away from his as you dropped your hand from the silver metallic handle.

“It’s a couple of years too late for that,” You mumbled, biting your lip to stop your chin from trembling

“No, it’s not,” He reassured you, lifting your chin up ever so slightly giving you no choice but to look at him.

His gaze noticeably lingered on your lips as yours did his, leaning forward he placed his hand around the back of your neck pulling you into him.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” You exhaled, your foreheads touching as you tried to prevent a smile from adorning your lips.

“You won’t.” He reassured you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear gently and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

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natashasbanner · 5 years

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Just For Tonight

After the trailer today I was inspired to finally finish this missing scene I started right after IW. Hope you enjoy, it’s a little angsty.

Also on AO3

Thanos couldn’t get the stone, it was the only thought running through Bruce’s mind as he charged full force at the titan. He didn’t expect it to have much of an effect, not with the other five stones glowing on the knuckles of his gauntlet, but Wanda needed as much time as possible and any distraction was better than none.

But it was almost too easy for Thanos to eliminate the threat Bruce presented. His whole body felt like it had fallen asleep as the blue glow engulfed the entire suit and he phased right through Thanos and landed in the stone wall behind him. As easy as batting away a fly and Bruce was immobilized.

The suit solidified and Bruce was trapped within the rock, useless. The suit powered down and his chest felt tight, like he would suffocate soon if he didn’t find a way out. He was powerless as one after the other, his teammates were flung carelessly to the side, out of Thanos’ path.

His jaw clenched when he saw Natasha run at Thanos only to be immediately halted by the earth coming up and wrapping around her in a twisted fist. Bruce struggled uselessly against the suit and the rock, his breath coming in short pants. He needed to get out of the wall. He needed to help, but all he could do was clench his fists and lean forward hoping that the rock would give just a little.

He cursed Hulk for hiding and not helping, cursed his own inability to fight how he wanted to fight. How had it come to this, Earth’s best defenders rendered useless in the face of a single being who only needed one last piece to his puzzle for universal destruction.

A glowing yellow light blinded him for a moment and everything went silent. The only sound Bruce heard was the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees around him and his own short breaths in his ears. He strained to see through the trees hoping that they’d done it, that the stone was gone. But his relief only lasted a moment as the bright light flashed again and realization settled like a rock in his stomach.

Thanos had the Time stone.

“No!” he yelled, his throat burning at the effort he was putting into getting free.

Bruce pushed and pushed against the suit, feeling like the already small space closing in around him like a coffin.

It was over, they lost.

Hope surged through him when he saw Thor’s axe fly through the air and land in Thanos’ chest, but it was short lived. The snap sounded like a crack of lightning and Bruce felt the air leave his lungs.

“What did we do?” he whispered to himself.

The rocks around him receded and the lights of the suit flickered back on. Bruce pushed away from the wall and took a few slow steps to test the suit’s functionality. When it didn’t crumble around him he took off in the direction of the others, but stopped short when the screaming started.

Before his eyes he watched the tree disintegrate into a cloud of dust, floating away on the wind. It was happening, half the universe gone with a snap and Bruce felt like he would be sick. He could only stand and watch as Wanda went next and he wanted to scream, slam his fist into the earth at the unfairness of it all. They didn’t deserve to go like this, whisked away like they’d never been there, hadn’t made their mark on the people who were left to mourn them. He fell to one knee in the suit, overwhelmed in the face of their failure.

Until a quiet voice shook him to his core.

“Bruce.” he turned his head toward the source of his name.

Natasha laid on her stomach, clawing her way out from under the pile of earth Thanos had trapped her in. Her entire front was covered in dirt and blood dribbled down the side of her face from a cut above her eyebrow.

The suit opened up and Bruce fell out of it unceremoniously, scrambling up to his feet to get to Natasha.

But he was too late, as she reached out to him her fingers turned to ash.

“No,” Bruce said and watched her remains float away on the wind out of reach.

He ran, full speed to get to her faster to try and stop what was already happening, unable to accept that this was their fate, but his body crashed into an invisible barrier and bounced back, landing flat on his back.

Bruce couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He was paralyzed by the sight of her slowly drifting away. A tear ran down his cheek and a weight settled on his chest that he couldn’t fight if he tried. All he could do was watch, clawing at the ground to try and reach her, feel her one last time before she disappeared completely.

A small smile slid over her face and Bruce’s lips trembled.

“Natasha,” he cried, smashing his fist into the ground.

“I guess we missed our window,” she whispered and the rest of her vanished with the next gust of wind.

A sob ripped through him and he covered his face with his hands.

His own agonized cry pulled Bruce out of his nightmare. He sat straight up in bed and took a moment to take in his surroundings and remind himself that the battle was over, they were safe, for the time being.

Bruce laid back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. It’d been almost a month since they’d returned home from Wakanda and he’d had the same recurring nightmare almost every night, the nights when he actually manage to get more than a couple minutes at a time. The landscape changed slightly, depending on where in the battle it picked up, but it always ended the same. Natasha died and Bruce was powerless to stop it, forced to watch while his worst fear was realized.

He felt like he might throw up.

With a heavy sigh he brought his hands up to scrub them down his face. He pulled them away, surprised to feel the wetness from his eyes.

“Oh god,” he muttered to himself and sat back up to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

He was too afraid to close his eyes again. Most nights he’d fall back into a fitful sleep, but Bruce felt another sob building in his chest. He’d spend the next few hours wandering the Avengers compound until he was too exhausted to keep moving.

Bruce stood, from the bed and headed for the door, not bothering with shoes or a robe. But as soon as he opened the door, a shadowy figure rushed in and clung to him for dear life. Even in the dark it wasn’t hard to figure out that it was Natasha who’d been waiting outside his door. Who else would come looking for him in the middle of the night?

He didn’t fight it and buried his face in her air, taking in her sweet scent and warm body pressed against him. She was shaking, shivering against him and he heard her sniffle quietly. Bruce cupped the back of her head and kissed her temple.

“I’m here,” Bruce whispered, holding her close.

He started to relax with her in his arms, the physical reminder that she was safe enough to soothe his mind. He felt guilty, the amount of relief that washed over him when he woke up and she was still there, just down the hall. So many people had been lost, but having her there was enough to keep him moving, keep him searching for a way to fix everything.

They stood together for a long time, quiet and just holding each other. Eventually, Natasha let go and pulled him toward the bed.

“I don’t think I can fall back asleep,” Bruce said quietly as she rounded to the other side and pulled back the blankets.

She shrugged and climbed into his bed. “Then just hold me,” she said, her eyes shining as she looked up at him.

Bruce nodded and climbed into bed beside her, scooting until he was pressed against her. Her skin was freezing and she snaked her arms around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

“Did you get any sleep,” she asked, her breath warm through his short.

“A little,” he said, reaching his hand up to run his fingers along her hairline. She hummed softly and pushed her thigh between his. “Did you?”

“No,” she shook her head, her hair tickling his chin.

They lapsed into silence and Bruce thought she might have fallen asleep, but her quiet words startled him.

“I heard you screaming.”

He closed his eyes and felt his cheeks warm. He was glad for the dark room and their proximity kept his embarrassment hidden.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“You said my name.”

“Bad dream.”

She sighed again and pulled away to look at him. She brought her hand up to rest on his cheek.

“I’ve had them too,” she said, running her thumb through the stubble along his jaw. “Dreams where everyone I love is gone, Clint and the kids, Laura, you.”

His breath caught and he looked down into her eyes. He saw fresh tear tracks on her cheeks and suddenly felt the wet spots on his t-shirt.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed and tucked her head back under his chin. “But we’ll come up with something.”

He kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze.

“It feels wrong,” he admitted. “That we were spared.”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy, thinking like that.”

He blinked back the tears in his eyes. “I can’t help it.”

“Stop thinking,” she whispered, giving him a nudge.

He got the hint and rolled onto his back. She moved her leg over his hip, straddling him. She leaned over him and kissed him, leaving him breathless and squirming beneath her.

“Just for tonight.”

#brucenat #hulkwidow #brutasha #fic #that trailer made me cry #but it was nice to see my predictions of where they ended up after the snap was right #we'll say this is a little over a month after the snap

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years

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“Minding the Gap,” “The King,” “Devil’s Freedom” Among Highlights at DOC10 2018

You won’t find a more splendidly curated event dedicated to nonfiction cinema than DOC10, the annual Windy City festival presented by the Chicago Media Project. Ever since it kicked off in 2016, DOC10 has screened multiple films that have gone on to be ranked highly among my very favorites of recent years, such as Rokhsareh Ghaem Maghami’s riveting Sundance prize-winner, “Sonita,” and Theo Anthony’s thrillingly experimental mosaic, “Rat Film.” The third installment of DOC10, which runs from Thursday, April 5th, through Sunday, April 8th, at the Davis Theater, 4614 N. Lincoln Ave., promises to be no exception.

Opening the festival is “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”, the highly anticipated profile of television icon Fred Rogers, directed by Oscar-winner Morgan Neville (“20 Feet From Stardom”). Other selections this year include Robert Greene’s “Bisbee ’17,” a timely look at the mass deportation of striking miners, restaged onscreen by their descendants; Jason Kohn’s “Love Means Zero,” an in-depth conversation with formidable tennis coach Nick Bollettieri; Mila Turajlic’s “The Other Side of Everything,” an investigation of a Serbian family’s history and how its divisions reflect those that permeate their country; Elan and Jonathan Bogarín’s “306 Hollywood,” a more lighthearted look at the story contained within objects left behind by relatives; and Betsy West & Julie Cohen’s “RBG,” a rousing celebration of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And in an inadvertent nod to “Ready Player One,” the festival will debut its own “VR RV,” inviting guests to experience virtual reality documentaries while safely situated within a recreational vehicle parked in front of the theater.

I was able to screen five of this year’s selections, and they are all essential in their own respect, though none of them spoke to me on quite as personal a level as Bing Liu’s “Minding the Gap.” It is set in Rockford, Illinois, one of the saddest of all American cities, containing near-vacant streets that are an ideal stage for the free-flowing movement craved by young skateboarders. Liu grew up filming his friends, Zach and Kiere, performing bruising stunts on their boards, and in his extraordinary first feature, the director holds his camera on their faces, illuminating the buried pain that they share, as well as their need to escape it. The fact that all three men are victims of domestic abuse is alarming but also quite commonplace in a town like Rockford. Having spent a great deal of time there myself, it is clear to me that Liu understands the area so completely that its essence has seeped into the marrow of his bones. This is a city where nearly half the population is paid below the minimum wage for working jobs that are gravely understaffed; where funding is slashed for street lights in crime-ridden neighborhoods; and where the residue of violence clings to the interior of houses that were meant to comfort and protect. “This place eats away at you,” says Kiere, who relishes the fleeting sense of control he sustains on his skateboard, until he wipes out. Sure, the hobby may hurt him on occasion, but so did his dad, and he still loves the old man, though it’s telling that Keire finds catharsis in stomping on his boards until they splinter.

Being part of a community is often the only source of empowerment for disenfranchised Americans, a key reason for why churches and gangs proliferate exponentially in Rockford. The young men at the center of this film have found that community in each other, and the beauty of “Minding the Gap” is in how it utilizes the art form of cinema to bring its subjects closer to a place of healing. “I saw myself in your story,” Liu explains to Keire, who likens the experience of making the movie to “free therapy.” As the filmmaker struggles to come to terms with the wounds inflicted by his own upbringing, he starts to see echoes of his abuser in the increasingly unsettling behavior of his friend, Zach. With remarkable tact and sensitivity, Liu coaxes a tearful confession from Zach, who admits to beating his long-suffering girlfriend, Nina, while acknowledging the demons he has strained to suppress with his cheerful demeanor. When Liu films his mother and simultaneously confronts her about the abandonment he felt as a kid, he keeps a separate camera fixed on his face, drawing attention to his own inability to break free from the pain of his past. Assisted by co-editor Joshua Altman, Liu weaves these stories together, forming a seamless symphony of anguish and euphoria, culminating in an extended montage so deftly executed that it left me in awe. Kartemquin Films has produced many of the all-time greatest documentaries over the past 52 years, and this is their latest masterpiece.

“Minding the Gap” screens at 5pm on April 8th, followed by a Q&A with Bing Liu and other special guests.

“Devil’s Freedom,” Everardo González’s harrowing look at the toll of Mexico’s drug wars on the human soul, clocks in just over an hour. Any running time longer than that may have proven unbearable for most audiences. It is unlike any talking head doc I’ve seen, concealing its subjects’ faces behind masks, supposedly to maintain their anonymity. It is also an aesthetic choice of unfathomable depth. All of the people González interviews have been robbed of their identities by the atrocities they either have committed or have endured at the hands of others. The sameness of their blank masks externalize the dehumanizing repercussions of murder in all forms. As victims are rendered faceless in the minds of their killers, the humanity that had once defined the faces of the killers themselves are removed as well. When González’s subjects cry, tears form on their masks like pools of blood. As one man justifies his string of homicides, his eyes are shrouded in darkness, causing his face to resemble a skull. After a mother attests to feeling compassion for her sons’ killers, who cower in shame while in her presence, she is able to take off her own mask, emerging from her despair as a whole person. Allowing for wordless stretches accentuated by a hypnotic atonal score, González conjures unspeakable imagery in our minds, as his probing questions enable each subject to come clean about their inner turmoil. Perhaps most potent of all is the interview with a man who recalls how his face changed immediately after he had killed a child for the first time. Suddenly, his entire being was consumed with regret, though he’s convinced that he had no choice apart from obeying orders. “I don’t deserve compassion,” he replies matter-of-factly. “When I die, I will have the same expression as everyone else.” He already does.

“Devil’s Freedom” screens at 12pm on April 8th, followed by a Q&A with professor Xóchitl Bada of UIC; professor Héctor García Chávez of Loyola; and Susan R. Gzesh, executive director of the Pozen Family Center for Human Rights.

The finest documentary I saw in 2017 was Angelos Rallis’ “Shingal, Where Are You?”, a shattering wake-up call to the world detailing the 2014 genocide waged by ISIS targeting a religious minority in Iraq known as the Yazidis (alternatively spelled “Yezidis”). With over 3,000 women held captive by ISIS, the surviving members of their community now live as refugees and are desperate to preserve what remains of their culture. Rallis’ film charted the efforts of a Yazidi family to negotiate the return of their kidnapped daughter through numerous intermediaries, while listening to her horrific stories shared via speakerphone. Alexandria Bombach’s “On Her Shoulders” serves as a fitting companion piece to “Shingal” by following another Yazidi woman, 23-year-old Nadia Murad, who escaped her captors and is now traveling the world with the hope of bringing ISIS commanders to justice. Bombach is less concerned with the particulars of Yazidi identity than with the universal qualities of Murad’s plight as a displaced woman who carries a profound weight of responsibility on her shoulders. No matter how much praise she receives from well-wishers, the humble activist says that she will only see herself as a person of worth when the terrorists who killed her family have their day in court. With three brothers and a sister still in captivity, their fates left unknown, Murad must continuously recount the suffering of her people in excruciating detail, while somehow keeping her ferocious strength intact. When other Yazidis break down in front of her, she urges them to wipe away their tears, just as she does when the sorrow threatens to resurface. She is an astonishing force to behold, joining the ranks of other towering young women whose spoken truths are bringing about tangible change, drowning out every sexist naysayer in their path.

“On Her Shoulders” screens at 4pm on Saturday, April 7th, followed by a Q&A with Alexandria Bombach; Matthew Barber, former executive director of Yazda in Iraq; Brannon Ingram, professor of Religious Studies at Northwestern University; and Dr. Nancy Bothne and Kaycee Foreman of TCSES.

There is nothing satisfying about the conclusion of Stephen Maing’s “Crime + Punishment,” and that’s as it should be. Like previous Oscar-winners “Citizenfour” and “Icarus,” this infuriating exposé champions whistleblowers who risk everything in order to bring deep-seated corruption to light. In this case, it’s a group dubbed the NYPD 12, comprised of officers who have charged their department with enforcing an illegal quota system. Using police as a revenue-generating agent for the city is assuredly against the law, and yet over $900 million of New York City’s annual budget is generated by summonses, many of which these officers are allegedly pressured by their supervisors to issue. Hidden cameras and audio recordings capture irrefutable evidence of the NYPD’s crimes laced with blatant racism. When Sgt. Edwin Raymond asks why he hasn’t received his richly deserved promotion, he is informed that his identity as “a young black man in dreads” is the chief reason. Another cop, Sandy Gonzalez, is penalized for not being in uniform, simply because he wore his winter hat while standing at his post on a chilly morning. When he explains that it felt much colder than the day’s projected temperature of 38 degrees, his superior snaps, “It doesn’t matter how it feels! It was expected to be 38.” To paraphrase the disgraced Commissioner Bratton, that’s some bulls—t right there. Watching this film, I was reminded of my favorite line from “Minding the Gap,” delivered wistfully by Keire: “My dad said that being black is cool because you get to prove people wrong every day.” Though the NYPD 12’s case against their department is lodged in legal limbo, these officers have pulverized the assumptions of their overlords, who thought they could intimidate their underlings into submission. Needless to say, they have been proven wrong. Boy have they ever.

“Crime + Punishment” screens at 9pm on Friday, April 6th, followed by a Q&A with Sgt. Edwin Raymond.

Fans of “Twin Peaks: The Return” are going to have a field day with Eugene Jarecki’s enormously ambitious visual essay, “The King” (formerly titled “Promised Land” upon its Cannes premiere). It tackles several of David Lynch’s most memorable topics: Elvis, Vegas, Hollywood, mushroom clouds, small-town idealism and the dissolution of the American dream. Mike Myers, of all people, has one of the film’s best lines, claiming that the nuclear testing in Vegas caused the city to become a “radioactive mutation of capitalism,” a pure expression of our prevailing values governed by the almighty dollar. Boarding Presley’s 1963 Rolls Royce, Jarecki embarks on a road trip across the United States, while building a brilliantly nuanced argument that the legendary singer’s life serves as a microcosm of the country itself. The issues explored here by Jarecki are endlessly provocative and could easily have been stretched into a miniseries, yet he and his quartet of editors somehow manage to make all the disparate pieces coalesce into a mesmerizing whole. Traveling from Presley’s birthplace in Tupelo, Mississippi to the numerous colorful locales he once called home, the filmmakers invite a diverse array of singers to perform in the backseat, many of whom represent the genres that he embraced and arguably appropriated. As the election of Donald Trump looms on the imminent horizon (“He’s not going to win,” Alec Baldwin insists), the parallels between him and Presley prove to be inescapable—both are celebrities cross-branded to consumers and both are swayed into making self-destructive choices when prioritizing money over common sense. As the Rolls Royce starts to inevitably break down, the wheels have come off the very foundation of American democracy. I can’t imagine a more appropriately bittersweet closing night selection for DOC10 2018 than this triumphant ode to disillusionment. You’ll be discussing this one for days, preferably at The Bang Bang Bar.

“The King” screens at 7:45pm on April 8th, followed by a closing night tribute to Eugene Jarecki, complete with a Q&A and musical performance.

For the full festival line-up, visit the official site for DOC10.

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flauntpage · 6 years

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Philadelphia: The City of Champions

On an early August afternoon in 2017, I was walking back to work when I spotted Ike Reese heading toward Independence Mall. It was the day of the solar eclipse, and Reese was joining the throng of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the celestial event.

I asked the former Eagles special teams ace and current sports radio host for a Birds prediction for the upcoming year. “10-6,” he proclaimed, with an unearned confidence that imbues all of our no-stakes preseason outlooks.

Yet, 10-6 seemed a bit optimistic to me. There were too many questions and not enough answers surrounding the team to justify a belief that this franchise could vie for a playoff spot, let alone a place on the Super Bowl stage. Would Doug Pederson develop in the area of game management? Was he the right guy to develop Carson Wentz? Was the recent acquisition of Ronald Darby enough to paper over a lack of depth in the secondary? Would the Eagles survive a brutal opening stretch of three road games in four weeks, including trips to Washington and Kansas City, with a cross-country flight to Los Angeles added for good measure? Could Philadelphia keep pace with the Cowboys and Giants, two teams that both seemed bound to contend once again in 2017?

Who am I, though, to temper Ike Reese’s enthusiasm? He might be right. With a little luck and a healthy roster, the Eagles had a reasonable chance to edge toward the periphery of contention.

Later in the day, we would all look skyward, hoping against hope that the gathering clouds would not obstruct what might be a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Fast forward to Sunday. From a weather perspective, it was a gloomy day in Philadelphia. But overcast conditions and steady rain did little to dampen the outlook of Eagles fans. Our team was on the cusp of Super Bowl glory. All that stood in the way of the organization’s first Lombardi Trophy was arguably the greatest coach and quarterback tandem in NFL history.

However, Tom Brady and Bill Belichick seemed like minor obstacles given the gigantic hurdles the Eagles negotiated this season. The Eagles lost their Canton-bound left tackle, franchise quarterback, and star middle linebacker to season-ending injuries at various points of their journey to Minneapolis. In addition to Jason Peters, Wentz, and Jordan Hicks, the injured reserve brigade enlisted offensive spark plug Darren Sproles, special teams standout Chris Maragos, and starting kicker Caleb Sturgis.

No matter. Into the breach stepped Halapoulivaati Vaitai, Nick Foles, Najee Goode, Corey Clement, Bryan Braman, and Jake Elliott. As starters were sidelined, roles were redefined, schemes were altered, and the train kept moving. The Falcons and Vikings proved to be no match for an Eagles team that seemed destined to win it all. Why would the Patriots be any different?

For me, the “Matt Stairs moment” was the flea flicker in the NFC Championship game. When Foles connected with Torrey Smith for a 41-yard bomb that put the Eagles ahead by a score of 31-7 against one of the NFL’s elite defenses, I knew this was a different team. They weren’t playing by the set of rules in which all of my preseason anxieties were rooted. This team was assertive. It was resilient. Above all, it was relentless in knocking down anything that stood in the way of greatness.

The final challenge wasn’t easy. Brady had a performance for the ages. He threw for over 500 yards, tossed 3 touchdowns, and boasted a QB rating of 115.4. Brady moved the Patriots offense down the field with ease, to the point that Belichick never had to call on his punt team. The Pats racked up 613 total yards of offense and scored 33 points. It wasn’t enough.

In the end, not even the GOAT could withstand the inexorable pull of destiny. And the remarkable play of Foles.

During his first stint with the Eagles, Foles was the subject of a lengthy profile by legendary sportswriter Buzz Bissinger. In his piece, Bissinger derided Foles as a “chickenshit” quarterback who would never lead the team to the Super Bowl. “Acolytes get to heaven,” he asserted. “Strut gets you to the Super Bowl.”

It would be easy to attack Bissinger from the lofty perch of hindsight, but the author has a gift for observation, as anyone who has read Friday Night Lights or A Prayer for the City can attest. True to form, Bissinger did identify a crucial aspect of Foles’ personality that presaged his success on the biggest stage professional football has to offer. He just mistook it for a critical weakness. Bissinger writes:

Foles seemed almost philosophical, in his own way. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay,” says Nader today. “That I still recognized there’s more to life than football. Everybody has to stop playing it at some point.”

So maybe Nick Foles doesn’t have the edge of Peyton Manning. Or the come-from-behind fearlessness of Tom Brady. Or the gravitas of Drew Brees. Or the feet of Russell Wilson, or Colin Kaepernick, or …

He carries with him the fragility embedded into everything. The dividing line you never know. It’s something that no championship ring can ever teach him and few NFL players truly understand, clinging to their careers long after they’re over.

Foles played like a man unburdened by the weight of expectations. The game wasn’t too big for the reserve quarterback because he maintained the perspective that he was just playing a game. The results speak for themselves:

****

The national media has an annoying habit of trafficking in disaster porn when it comes to covering Philadelphia sports fans, so it was no surprise that they found some video that resonated with a script that was written long ago. Moreover, resident curmudgeon Ernest Owens was able to shoehorn his narrative about white privilege into a description of the post-game revelry:

I wrote this two weeks ago. More true now than ever. #SuperBowl celebrations are blatant examples of white privilege.https://t.co/4Ue0jpuhcQ

— Ernest Owens (@MrErnestOwens) February 5, 2018

If this is the distorted image one takes from the Super Bowl celebrations, then the editorial offices of Philly Mag must need a good cleaning. Owens’ musings on this topic are always written from a distance. He’s a writer who at times has a decent view of the forest, but his inability to see the trees renders his perspective hopelessly incomplete and largely inconsequential. His analysis of the post-game events was already written. He just waited for the selectively chosen footage that would validate the immutable narrative to which he has dedicated himself. So it goes with the rest of the national media.

Sunday night was not a riot. It was a celebration. The overwhelming majority of us who took to the streets were peaceful. We were happy. Our team had won, finally.

This was not a manifestation of white privilege. Far from it. What I saw as I walked through Mayfair was a reflection of the diverse community in which I live. We were all united in the joy of witnessing our football team accomplish something it had never done before. It was a welcome break from worrying about the future of the neighborhood, declines in home ownership, the ubiquity of drugs, and the tenuous ground on which many of our local businesses find themselves. These are concerns shared in areas as diverse as Bucks County and West Philadelphia. I know. I’ve covered community events in both places.

For one night, we were able to put aside the challenges of the future and enjoy the present. All of us.

I found myself at McNally’s. Not that McNally’s. Mayfair’s McNally’s doesn’t have The Schmitter, but it does have the welcoming feel of a friend’s basement bar. It was no surprise, then, to find so many people I knew there. In a scene that was replicated throughout the Delaware Valley, we hugged our family members, reconnected with old friends, and toasted those who weren’t able to see the day the Eagles delivered a Super Bowl victory.

Don’t let the detractors define the storyline. In a town that’s seen some good days and endured its share of bad days, Super Bowl Sunday was a great day.

On Monday morning, the sun parted through the clouds to greet the city of Philadelphia. And a new day dawned on the city of champions.

Philadelphia: The City of Champions published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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