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beyondthesefourwalls · 7 months

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This Love Came Back to Me (12)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Twelve Word Count: 6K

Part Eleven :: Series Masterlist

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You felt almost hungover waking up on Monday morning, but you supposed that was to be expected after a week away. The relaxation you felt in the mountains was slowly but surely coiling back up to a thick cord of tension, made only easier by the man beside you. You were meeting Sadie for coffee near her office that morning, and he held your hand in his the entire drive, singing along to his 80’s playlist softly under his breath.

The tall, dark haired woman greeted you both warmly with a vibrant pink folder in her hand. You tried not to be annoyed at how your name was written on the label. Your whole life and this whole situation was shrunk down to what would fit on a few pieces of 8.5 x 11 inch paper. It was a strange, unsettling feeling.

Bradley let you do most of the talking, a supportive hand on your knee. The woman his best friend was besotted with read through the texts he had saved and all that had come in yesterday with a critical eye.

“Well,” she said, a touch of sarcasm etched in her tone, “he’s certainly not doing himself any favors, is he?” Sadie flipped through the folder, pausing to jot down notes on one of the blank forms. She set her pen down when she was done, leaning back in her chair and sipping on her coffee. "If we can prove that he's been harassing you, I think we have a shot at the restraining order. I know it was disappointing not to get the emergency order, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get it when we go to court, okay?"

You nodded slowly, trying to grasp onto the hope she was dangling in front of you. “Do we know when that is?”

“We should hear something this week about a date, and he’ll be served the papers once a date is set.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the thought of that happening, and Bradley must have caught it, because he squeezed your knee in reassurance before he started talking. “So what does she do between now and then?”

From across the table, Sadie shrugged and gave you a smile you knew was meant to be reassuring. She addressed you directly in her answer. “If he continues to reach out to you, document it all, but don’t respond to him. If you see him, try not to engage. Don’t give him a reason to think any of it is consensual or that you’re encouraging it. And I know it may be hard, but other than that…just try and live your life as normally as you can. I’ll handle the legal stuff. You focus on you.”

You snapped the hair tie on your wrist once you were back in the passenger seat of the Bronco. You stared out the window as Bradley drove through mid-morning San Diego traffic toward one of the retail districts nearby, mulling over everything Sadie had said. She had been so insistent that this wasn’t your fault, and that you had a solid case, despite the judge’s first glance at your application not being enough. It felt good knowing you had someone in your corner like her, who knew the ins and outs of this kind of process.

But your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about what she said about documenting every time he reached out to you and how it could ultimately help. You glanced down at the phone sitting in the cupholder. You had blocked every number Paul had contacted you from. You had even taken the initiative in blocking his email account, too. You were en route to get a new phone number. Now, though, you were wondering if you had jumped the gun in all of that.

You liked to believe that getting a brand new number would mean that Paul wouldn’t be able to reach you. But if him reaching you could ultimately help you, to provide you with something tangible to use to take action against him….

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe it had gotten to the point where you were really considering letting this happen.

Bradley reached across the seat to squeeze your hand, startling you. You were so lost in thought that you hardly noticed that he had pulled into a parking space in front of the cell phone carrier store. He must have clocked the change in your expression when you turned to look at him by the way his changed, too.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You tried to figure out how to articulate what it was that you were feeling without making it seem like you had lost it completely.

“Is this the best idea?” you finally settled on, and when your boyfriend asked you what you meant, you pushed forward. “Sadie said that anything he does can be used against him, to help prove he’s been…” you cut yourself off as the word popped in your head. It had been said earlier, and you knew deep down that’s exactly what it was. But saying that S word made it that much realer to you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it just yet. “To help prove he’s been doing everything he has. And if..If I disconnect my number, isn’t that almost like, I don’t know, getting rid of an opportunity?”

He didn’t respond right away, but his grip on your hand tightened just the tiniest bit, and the thumb on his other hand tapped a quick rhythm against the steering wheel he was still holding. Those thick eyebrows of his that you loved so much furrowed together as he processed your jumbled explanation of feelings. Finally, he let go of your hand and reached to take the keys out of the ignition, killing the engine. He nodded toward the store in front of you.

“Let’s go inside. I have an idea.”

He was out of the Bronco before you could protest, and you hurried after him, confused. He held his hand out to you from the sidewalk.

“Bradley, what are we doing?” you asked, tugging him to a stop before you could get to the door of the store. He looked at you with what you could only describe as a determined look, touched with something close to desperation.

“Just trust me, okay? And please don’t say no.”

His words left you even more confused, but there was something about his eyes and the feeling he was emanating that you couldn’t help but nod.

He held the door open for you and you were approached by a salesman almost immediately, and before you could say anything when he asked if there was something he could help you with, Bradley was speaking up.

“I was hoping to add a new phone and number to my plan.”

“Of course. What’d you have in mind?”

He looked down to you with that same determined look on his face, but it was softer now. His smile was small but reassuring, and he squeezed the hand still held in his.

“Pick out what you want.”

“B….”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could hear the words he spoke into your hair, only for you. “This way you can keep the other one on but not have to worry about dealing with it. Because you’re right, it could be useful. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you put up with the stress of seeing it everyday. Please, Bug. Let me do this for you.”

You knew how much Bradley cared for you, but this was a big gesture. You had never been one to accept help easily, especially not financially, and part of you felt that getting a new phone on his plan would be too much. It took you a moment, but eventually, you swallowed the protest that was ready on your lips. When you nodded, you both felt and heard the sigh of relief that he let out.

You knew how supportive of your independence he was, but you wondered if sometimes what he needed was for you to let him do things like this.

Picking something out was fairly simple, just going with an upgraded version of what you already had. You stood together at the counter as everything was set up and added, Bradley signing the necessary paperwork. You wrapped both your arms around one of his, pressing a kiss into his clothed bicep. You let your eyes flutter closed and breathed in the scent of him. He always had a way of calming your nerves and making you feel safe, even in the midst of chaos. You weren’t really sure what you did to deserve him, but you wanted to hold onto him forever.

____

Sadie called you on Thursday, about an hour before you were scheduled for a phone interview for the job you were crossing your fingers for, to let you know that your court date had been set for 3 weeks out. You spent the next thirty minutes trying to breathe through the panic that settled on your chest like a semi-truck. Tears stung in your eyes, wondering how the hell your life had gotten to this point. Then your phone buzzed with a text from Bradley, and you couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped you.

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: You got this, baby! Proud of you. Have a great interview.

He always had a way of knowing exactly when you needed him, even if he didn’t realize it. You wanted to tell him about the court date, to seek that additional comfort that you knew he would provide you without question. But you remembered what both he and Sadie had told you earlier in the week, about living as normally as possible, and you knew they were right. You couldn’t let this ruin the possibilities in front of you. You wouldn’t.

You typed out a response as you forced some of the anxiety out, taking exaggerated breaths to combat it until eventually, it worked.

I love you, B.

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: Love you, Bug. Go get ‘em.

Despite the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm you right before the interview, you did go get ‘em, just like Bradley had said. You got an email about coming in for an in person interview less than two hours after you had hung up the phone, and it was the following Friday that found you sitting on the couch, waiting for Bradley to get home. You were practically vibrating with excitement by the time he finally walked through the door. He didn’t even get a chance to take his keys out of the lock before you were jumping up.

“I got the job!” you blurted out.

Bradley looked startled for a second, no doubt at how sudden and loud you spoke, and his forehead crinkled like he wondered what you were talking about before it clicked. His dark eyes widened and a grin started making its way onto his face as he dropped his bag and hurried to where you were standing in the living room of the apartment. “You got it?”

You nodded rapidly, your giddy smile so large that it was making your cheeks hurt. “I got it.”

Bradley yelled your name in excitement right before he swept you off your feet. You giggled as he spun you around, feeling weightless in his strong arms. “I knew you could do it!” Eventually, he set you down, but he didn’t let you go far. He pulled you flush against him in a tight embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, Bug," he said, his voice conveying just how truthful he was being. “You deserve this.”

You leaned into him, feeling safe and loved and happy in his arms. "Thank you,” you murmured, accepting the kiss that he placed on your lips.

“We should celebrate,” he said. “Order in something delicious? Open another bottle of wine we got in San Bernardino?”

That sounded lovely, and you absolutely wanted to do that. But aside from the meeting with Sadie almost two weeks ago and the in person interview that you had two days prior, you hadn’t left Bradley’s apartment since you got back from the cabin. You were hiding away, whether you admitted it or not. You didn’t want to do that anymore.

“Let’s go out.”

If Bradley was surprised, he didn’t show it. He didn’t ask if you were sure, or if you thought it was a good idea. He searched your eyes for nothing more than a moment before he was squeezing your hip and nodding.

He trusted you enough to know that if you said it’s what you wanted, you meant it. And that meant more than you could ever say.

You enjoyed dinner out at one of your favorite Mexican restaurants, sipping a margarita and eating your weight in chips and queso and spicy tacos. Bradley sat close to you in the booth, finishing off your plate when you couldn’t eat anymore, and you spent the entire meal laughing and flirting with one another like a regular date should be. And when you were done, you made your way to the Hard Deck. You had shot off a text to some of your friends while Bradley did the same to his before dinner, and you were ecstatic when you spotted Anna already amongst the rest of the aviators. You met her with a hug, and when she introduced you to her boyfriend, you were pleasantly surprised when Bradley already seemed to know him.

“We’ve been deployed together before. He’s a good guy,” he told you once the two had made their way over to the bar for refills, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face at how things seemed to be falling into place.

You greeted the rest of Bradley’s friends with the same enthusiasm, genuinely glad to see them.You hugged Jake and Javy a little harder, whispering a soft thank you to them. You had never gotten the opportunity to do so after they had went and got your car out of that parking lot all those weeks ago, but both of them just shrugged it off like it was nothing. You knew that everyone probably was aware of what was going on with you, at least to a certain extent, but you appreciated so much how they didn’t seem to look or treat you any differently than they had before.

Bradley slipped a drink into your hand as you mingled with both of your friends. He was a warm presence at your back, his arm wrapped around you with one of his fingers hooked into the belt loop at the front of your jeans. You tilted your head back to look at him with a smile, and he clinked the rim of his beer bottle against the side of your glass. “Here’s to you, baby,” he murmured into your ear, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that went through your body. When Jake and Bob roped him into a game of pool at the tables not too far away a few minutes later, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before walking off.

You spent some time with Anna and her boyfriend, and talked with Mickey about the latest true crime documentary that you both had watched. It was after your dart had literally embedded itself into the wall when you were playing with Javy that you said you needed a break. There were tears in your eyes from how hard you were laughing, and your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent smile that had been on your face all night. Bradley was still enthralled at the pool table, so with a look in his direction, you headed to the bar by yourself for another refill. It wasn’t long before a shoulder was bumping into yours. When you looked over, you smiled in recognition at the dark haired woman beside you. You had greeted her earlier, but hadn’t really had the time for conversation before you were both pulled in opposite directions.

“How are you?” Sadie asked. You thought about your day for a moment, how light and at ease you felt.

“I’m good,” you answered honestly, “It’s been a really great day.”

“I heard Bradley tell Natasha that you got that new job you were vying for - congratulations! You deserve it.”

You felt the excitement hit you all over again at her words, and you knew your smile must look ridiculous at this point as you thanked her.

“I’m glad to finally have something else, you know? This new place genuinely seems great, and it comes with a lot of opportunity.”

“Better than the toxic mess you’re at now?”

You snorted, and it said a lot that not even the mention of your current job brought down your mood. Instead you tilted the freshly refilled glass in your hand in her direction. She set a hand on your wrist for a moment, and you could sense by the look in her eye that she was going to bring up something else about that situation before she even spoke.

“Paul was successfully served his papers about you petitioning for a restraining order,” she told you, and you felt your breath hitch. She heard it too and shook her head. “This is a good thing. It means we’re one step closer to stopping him for good. That’s something to celebrate, too.”

You considered her words for a moment, and you weren’t sure if it was the drinks or just the energy of the night, but you found that part of you actually agreed with her. The mention of his name didn’t immediately make you feel like you were going to spiral, or stir up the same helpless feelings it normally did. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel much of anything at all. You were indifferent in a way that you hadn’t been before. So when Penny slid Sadie her own new drink, you raised your glass to hers, and you toasted to getting this whole thing over with.

Not too much later, you wandered out through the side doors. It was getting hot inside the bar, and the cool night air was blissfully refreshing against your skin. It was surprisingly empty out on the deck, and you appreciated the solitude as you leant against the railing, looking out at the ocean. It was dark, but you could see the dark water and hear it crashing in the distance. You could still hear all the chatter and the juke box from inside the bar floating out, but it was muted, a reminder of where you were while still allowing you the peace and quiet.

The door opened behind you a minute later, and a smile tugged at your lips as Bradley’s deep, raspy voice filled your ears, alerting you to his presence.

“Hey, you. What are you doing out here?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind once he made it to where you were standing. A content noise escaped your throat as you settled back into his chest and laid your own hands over his at your waist. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m good,” you promised, “Just wanted some air. Was getting hot in there with all of those people.”

You knew he’d know enough to guess that meant it was both the physical temperature, as well as your tendency to need a break from large crowds. It got too much for you sometimes, and on occasion, you just needed a few minutes by yourself to recenter and finish out the night. He hummed in response, and you knew he understood.

You stood there together for a few long moments, not saying anything. You weren’t sure if it was a conscious movement, but he swayed your bodies slightly to the music floating out from inside the bar, some oldies tune that you weren’t sure the name of but you thought you had heard before - probably with him, no doubt. You relished just being in his arms like this. Eventually, though, he broke the peaceful silence.

“Sadie told me something earlier,” he said, and you could hear the hesitancy in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he should have brought it up before. You made a hum of recognition, nodding your head without looking at him.

“Yeah, she told me too. About the papers.”

Bradley paused as he seemed to gather what it was he wanted to say, so you continued on before he stressed over it too much, squeezing his forearm. “It’s okay. Surprisingly, I felt nothing when she told me. She said it’s something to celebrate because we’re one step closer to getting all of this over with, and I think I agree with her. That has to count as progress, right?”

There was a beat of quiet as your words hung in the air before Bradley murmured your name softly. “Look at me?” he asked.

At his request, you turned to face him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and toyed with the hair on the back of his head like you loved to do. He looked at you with a soft smile, his eyes shining.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” he spoke gently, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your face. You could feel the heat of affection creep up at his words. You weren’t really sure how to respond. His pride meant a lot to you. Truthfully, everything he did meant a lot. He had always been there for you, even that first night when he had no idea what was going on. He was unwavering in his support and you knew you would be in a completely different situation right now if he wasn’t by your side. You needed him, more than you ever thought possible.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol lowering your inhibitions or the emotions hitting you all of a sudden, or maybe a combination of both, but you found yourself feeling bold, craving him in a way that made your heart race.

"Bradley," you whispered, almost like you wanted to share a secret with him. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything," he replied, one hand slipping down your back and into the back pocket of your jeans as the other stayed on your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.

"I love you so much," you said, feeling the words spill out of your mouth without thinking.

Bradley's smile grew wider, pink dusting his cheeks. "I love you too, Bug. More than anything."

Feeling emboldened by his words, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, but quickly became more passionate as the heat between you intensified. You couldn't get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same way. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer before he backed the both of you up into the railing behind you. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body react. It was like your nerve endings were on fire.

He pulled away, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he looked down at you. His brown eyes were darkened with what was so blatantly desire, and you loved that he didn’t try to shy away from it.

“Bug…”

“I think I’d like to go home now,” you told him, your mind already made up. You pressed kisses into his jaw and down his neck as he groaned into the open night air.

“Yeah,” he rasped, squeezing your butt through your pants before lifting you into his arms. You squealed as your legs wrapped around his waist and he started toward the parking lot. You didn’t even think about needing to go and say goodbye to all of your friends. “Home sounds like a good idea.”

___

You weren’t slated to start at your new job until the following month, but Bradley convinced you that it wasn’t worth having any ties to the company that had caused all of the strife currently in your life for any longer. Your PTO was going to run out in the middle of the following week, and it was decided that you wouldn’t be going back at all. Not submitting a full two week notice was normally something that would make you feel guilty, but after the way they all treated you, you found you didn’t care all that much about how they would react. They were lucky you were going to do it in person to begin with.

“I still think you should just send an email,” Bradley told you, his voice ringing through your car’s bluetooth as you drove toward your soon to be old office. It was late on a Wednesday afternoon, so traffic was light.

“Dropping off my laptop and badge in person means I cut ties quicker,” you rebutted, just like you had done since you told him your plan. You had logged onto your work email last night just to put a meeting on Gretchen’s calendar for this afternoon, for the sole purpose of handing in your things and telling her you quit in person. You got a shot of amusement at imagining what her face was going to look like when you did.

Bradley had wanted to accompany you for all of it, had hated the idea of you going to the office without him, in fact, but he hadn’t been able to slip away from his own work. He had tried to get you to wait until the next day, but you were stubborn. You wanted to get this over with.

Bradley sighed on the other end, and you knew that was his concession. “Call me when you’re done?”

“Of course, B.”

Nerves twisted in your stomach as you made your way inside the building and pressed the button for the correct floor in the elevator. You took a deep, slow breath when the doors shut, trying to calm your beating heart. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you supposed it was normal.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself. You cracked your neck and pushed your shoulders back when the elevator doors slid open, revealing the lobby you had become familiar with for the last year. You walked down the hallway with purpose, and you could feel stares as you did. You knew the majority of your team - Paul included - were in a meeting right now, based on the shared calendars you had taken a look at. But that didn’t mean others wouldn’t look just as hard. You knocked on Gretchen’s door with a firm fist, and she had barely started saying “come in” when you were twisting the knob and opening the door.

She sat behind her desk, her blonde hair as pinstraight as always, and a perfectly manicured nail tapped against her crossed arms. A single eyebrow was raised, and her face just screamed condescension. Any guilt you may have harbored left you as soon as you saw her, and you set your laptop and your badge on her desk with a clank.

“I quit.”

The unpleasant, sour look that Gretchen’s face twisted into stayed with you as you made your way from her office and over to HR, and then all the way back to the elevator, too. You were practically floating at how satisfied you felt. You were so proud of yourself, and so damn relieved for finally being done with this place. You had said your peace and then some, and now you were done. It was a long overdue feeling.

You pulled your phone out once you were in the elevator, and your grin was so persistently large that you thought it’d get stuck there. Bradley picked up almost immediately, and you were sure he had been waiting for your call.

“How’d it go?”

“Gretchen looked like a Warhead got stuck in her throat, and I have never felt so satisfied about causing those feelings in someone.”

Your boyfriend barked out a laugh on the other end, and the sound just made you smile wider. “She deserves it. I’m proud of you, baby.”

You didn’t think you would ever get tired of hearing his praise. It caused a warmth to spread through your whole entire body, and you were already ready to be back in his presence again. You got your keys out of your bag as you walked out of the building and into the parking lot. “Thanks, B. Are you still meeting me at the house?”

That had been the other part of your plan today. You were going to kill two birds with one stone and go to the house and pack up more of your stuff, as the end of your lease was rapidly approaching. Since he hadn’t been able to come with you, instead, you had agreed that he would meet you at the house after you left the office to help. You knew, also, that he didn’t like the idea of you being there on your own. Truthfully, you didn’t either, so you were glad for his insistence.

“I’m packing up to leave and head in that direction in the next five minutes.”

“Alright. I’m going to go to the store and grab some boxes and tape and stuff, and then I’ll head that way. You might beat me there.”

“That’s fine,” he assured you, and with how quick he said it, you were sure that was actually his preference. You felt yourself soften a little bit. You knew he hated not being with you right now.

“I’ll text you when I leave the store,” you promised him as you unlocked your car. “Hey, B?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

You pulled out of the parking lot once you had hung up with him, and you were so focused on the elation you had been feeling and what you needed to do that night, that you hadn’t even seen who else had been in the parking lot with you.

___

You didn’t spend any more time than necessary in the store, simply running in and grabbing what you needed. Your trunk and backseat were full of boxes and packing supplies, and you shot a text off to Bradley as you had promised once you slid into the front seat. He called you when you were pulling into the neighborhood.

“There was an accident or something on the freeway,” he told you, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Traffic’s backed up, so I’m still like 15 minutes out.”

“No worries,” you reassured him, “I’m almost there. I can get started.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Bradley sounded hesitant when he finally spoke again. “Bug…wait for me to go inside, please.”

“B…”

He must have heard the argument in your voice, because he was quick to continue, the words rushing out. “I know I’m probably just being paranoid and overprotective. But humor me, please? Just wait for me. I should be there soon.”

You pulled into the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for much longer and put the car in park. You knew where he was coming from. Truly, you did. You knew that he had every right to feel that way, and you felt warm at him wanting to protect you.

Bradley let out a sigh of relief when you finally murmured your agreement to stay put. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be there soon okay? I love you.”

“I love you too. See you in a few.”

You hung up the phone and rested your head back against the seat, figuring you might as well get comfortable. You scrolled through your social media aimlessly for a few minutes, but the longer you sat there, the more restless you became. You were eager to get inside and start packing. The quicker you did that, the quicker you would be able to get out of this place for good. A quick glance at your clock said that it was nearing 5pm now, and you knew that there was always a team meeting at this time that Paul would be in. There was no chance.

From when you hung up with him, you figured Bradley would be there in five, ten minutes, tops.

It would be fine.

With that in mind, you grabbed your keys and got out of the car. You grabbed some of the boxes from the trunk and made your way to the front door. You felt the familiar anxiety settle over you as you fumbled with the lock, but you figured it was normal - expected, really, all things considered.

It would be fine.

It was quiet when you walked inside. The air felt almost stale inside, stifling, and there was a weird smell that made your nose scrunch. The eerie quiet sent a shiver down your spine. The first order of business would be hooking your phone up to the bluetooth speaker to surround you with noise instead of this, and maybe lighting a candle.

You dropped your keys into the bowl at the door and set the boxes down against the back of the couch. You had only taken a few steps in when you stopped in your tracks.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and it felt like your heart stopped before it started beating again at a rapid pace.

Your kitchen counter was littered with flowers. Many of them were dead, stems bent and empty, the petals having wilted and fallen from them, the water inside of the vases murky and old. Some were in a weird inbetween stage, a few petals missing but hanging onto some color. And there, front and center, was the biggest vase out of the bunch. The followers were clearly fresh, so much so that you could almost smell them, if it weren’t for the sour odor of the old ones. Your brain itched with recognition, and you let out a shaky breath when you realized this bouquet was identical to the ones Bradley had delivered to your office months ago, when you first got back together. Identical to the ones that Paul had then gotten you the next day.

There was a folded piece of paper leaning against that vase with your name scrawled across it. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but you swallowed thickly and took slow, tentative steps. When you got close enough, you could see how there were insects crawling amongst the dead arrangements covering your counter. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the note.

You let out a sound that you could only describe as horrified when you read the words.

Welcome home - I’ve been waiting for you.

You stumbled over your own feet as you took startled steps back.Your vision blurred with tears and panic was settled so heavily on your chest that you couldn’t breathe. You needed to leave. You needed to go back out the door you just came through and wait for Bradley. You had to get away. You needed to get out.

You whipped around, ready to run for the front door, but you didn’t even get a step in before a scream ripped from your throat.

“You’re finally here.”

Paul was standing right there in front of you, between you and the front door.

You were hit with a gut wrenching, terrifying, twisted and sinking realization that you were alone with him.

You were alone with him, and you had nowhere to go.

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

Part Thirteen :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: YIKES, BUG!! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO INSIDE?! Sorry for the wait on this one, and for being so delayed with responses to the previous part! Life is lifeing, folks. We're almost at the end! Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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avatarmerida · 10 months

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So on twitter the other day, @rebeccaartsy mentioned she was thinking about how different things would be if Hunter was there from the beginning and it really got my mind moving.

So like my totally self indulgent headcanon or whatever,is that Hunter in season one is spending his time hunting wild witches and no one really takes him seriously so the whole time he’s trying to prove himself by trying to capture the most famous wild witch, Eda. But I like to think he doesn’t have a very strong artificial staff at this point and isn’t seen as much of a threat. He’s also either not the Golden Guard yet or just wears normal scout stuff to draw less attention. So he is always setting traps and stuff and Luz meets him and his vibe is like an annoying neighbor kid. He just gets roped into the occasional adventure because he’s there and just when he's starting to question life in the coven he gets promoted to coven head and he works even harder to be taken seriously.

Because I love how Hunter and Willow meet so much where they see the true version of each other right away in a way no one else has, I imagine their first meeting is still outside Luz and everything. Like, Hunter is messing with something plant related (maybe making a trap or liking for a rare plant to help Belos, idk) and gets tangled in some aggressive vines and Willow finds him and helps him. But the vines are from like a really complicated plant that requires extreme patience and talent and he’s like even Terra would have trouble with it and while his spitting facts Willow just untangles him effortlessly. She’s just like “boop! You’re good :)” and at first he’s worried she’s gonna tell someone or blackmail him but she’s just “no prob yo.” But she’s also very impressed that he found the plant that he did, cause they're super elusive and he’s like uhhh thanks.

So he offers to walk her to where she’s going and they start talking and he’s info dumping things on plant magic and they’re vibing and he realizes no one has ever let him talk so much before. And she likes talking to him. Then he realizes exactly where they are and before he can make an excuse to leave, Luz comes out to greet Willow and when she sees Hunter she groans. And they dive into their sibling banter slinging shots back and forth and Willow just stands there thinking like “huh, this is the guy who’s always annoying her? He’s not that bad.”

And so it’s just like a little bit where he’s always like “ugh you guys are the worst! But not you Willow, you’re great obvi.” Like he has no idea anyone would ever think she’s weak because he still met her in her element and she just thinks he’s a dork. But the crushing doesn't really start until Understanding Willow because I love that episode and I say so:

“Gus, listen,” said Hunter, as he walked through the open door of the Owl House. “Obviously, there is much I can’t divulge but upon consideration I am willing to grant you an interview for your class. The Emperor’s Coven values education, and so I could definitely offer you information on our selection process which I’m sure your teachers will find impressive and- why is Willow upside down?”

“Oh, Amity set Willow’s mind on fire and now she’s losing all her memories,” said Luz with a nervous chuckle. “But uh, what’s up with you?”

“What?” He said running over to her side and helping her sit correctly on the couch. “Is she okay?”

“Don’t worry blondie, we’re gonna get these knuckleheads in there to set things right,” said Eda. “Or at least less wrong.”

“You’re gonna entrust Willow’s mind in the hands of… them?” Said Hunter in disdain as he glared at Luz and Amity who honestly couldn’t argue with him. “They were the ones who put her in this situation in the first place! Not to mention, this location isn’t zoned for a spell of that caliber and as a member of the Emperor’s Coven I could-.”

“Listen, do you want it done soon or do you want it done legally?” Asked Eda. “Cause by the time we get the permits to do it your way Goldie, there won’t be any of Willow’s memories left to save.”

“Very well then,” said Hunter, pretending as though it was a hard decision. “I’ll allow it. Just… be careful with her.”

“Alright then,” said Eda. “Lemme whip up something to put her to sleep. She’s not gonna wanna be awake for this.”

“Oh look, the prince is here,” giggled Willow, leaning on Hunter’s shoulder for support as she noticed his presence for the first time. “Helloooo, your highness.”

“Uh, hi,” he said, not expecting her to be this close to him. “A-re you oka-.”

“Shhh,” she said, putting her finger to his lips, whispering as though it was the most serious thing on earth. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” he said despite his lips being smushed, hanging on to her words with concern.

She took a deep breath. “You have beautiful eyes.” She whispered with intensity.

His face turned bright crimson as he tried to laugh, assuming it must be a joke of some sort. But Willow’s voice didn’t carry the disdain most jokes at Hunter’s expense carried. She wasn’t in her right mind, but maybe that didn’t mean she wasn’t serious.

“Oh uh… thank you?” He said, clearing his throat. “So uh so do you?”

“Hmmm,” she giggled then hiccuped, squinting at him and then leaning in closer as though she couldn’t quite see something. “Do they make you wear that mask because you're so handsome all the time?”

“What?”

“Woo, you could cut something with that jaw ouch,” she said, her voice low and playful before erupting into another sea of giggles.

“I uh, I don’t think that’s-.”

“Nap time!” Said Eda, and Willow instantly fell asleep, leaning forward onto Hunter’s shoulder. He was unprepared to say the least, but tentatively put an arm around her to keep her steady, his eyes wide as his movements were careful.

“Alright coven boy, you keep Princess Planter comfy while I tell these two how to keep things from getting worse,” instructed Eda, pointing to Luz and Amity.

“Yeah sure okay,” replied Hunter, barely listening. Eda was telling Luz and Amity something but all Hunter could hear was the gentle sound of Willow snoring, her breathing slow and deep and peaceful. He has never been so close to her, he could see every delicate freckle that decorated her face. Her glasses were askew so he carefully removed them, because it just seemed like the thing to do. Her mind was on fire, the least he could do was make her more comfortable.

—

He watched as her eyes shifted behind her eyelids as she… dreamed? Would she think this was all a dream? She would mumble things occasionally, hopefully that meant something good? She just looked so-

“Hey Hunter, you want in on this?” Asked Gus.

“Huh?” He looked up quickly as though he was being accused of something. He hadn’t been listening. Hadn’t he been tasked with monitoring her? Is that what Eda said or had he just done it naturally? “Sorry, what?”

“King and Eda are competing to be the subject of my interview,” repeated Gus. “You want in?”

Hunter had forgotten all about being the subject of Gus’ report as he became engrossed in watching Willow sleep. Was that creepy? He didn’t mean it to be. He just felt… protective. He felt responsible. He could never fall asleep like this with anyone unless he trusted them completely. He had never fallen asleep around anyone. And he knew Willow did not have a choice in the matter but he wanted to be worthy of her trust anyway.

“Uh, no thanks maybe next time,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. “Someone should keep an eye on Willow.”

“Eh, she’s not going anywhere goldie,” said Eda as a twinkle entered her eye. “Buuuut when she does wake up, she’s probably gonna be hungry. Having the essence of your inner being threatened really takes alot out of you.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” said Hunter, looking at her in wonder. She seemed to be doing fine, but no doubt there would be brutal side effects. “Should I-.”

“Snacks! Snacks! Snacks!” chanted King.

“Oh yeah, uh I guess I could… do that,” he said softly. He wasn’t sure why he was being quiet, no one else was. But his usual tone didn’t seem fitting now. Normally, he would not take orders (or even suggestions) from civilians but if it was for Willow then it didn’t feel like succumbing to rank. It felt like helping. It felt purposeful. He carefully removed himself from Willow’s presence, mourning the loss of warmth for only a moment, and placed her comfortably on the couch. As he made his way to the kitchen, his eyes were glued to her until it was impossible to continue. Eda,King, and Gus were too occupied in their debate to notice.

---

Willow was going to be fine, she had to be. Everyone would be acting more worried if she wasn’t, right? She had always been strong and capable, he knew her mind couldn’t be much different. He turned his focus from concern into purpose. He wouldn’t admit it to the others, but he was thankful for the distraction. He felt foolish just sitting there not being able to do anything for her. He had never actually made something before, but how hard could it be? He had studied under the head of the Potions coven, how different was baking from that?

As he looked through Eda’s cupboards, Willow’s words echoed in his ears. Well, not all of them. There was one in particular, occupied by the way the ends of her mouth turned up as she said it that made his stomach flip.

Handsome.

No one had ever called him that before, not even ironically. Did she really think that? Why did he care so much if she did? Why, suddenly, did he want so much for her to?

Was it really suddenly though?

Ugh! Why hadn’t he said something cooler? He wasn’t sure she’d even remember saying it, but if she did he didn’t want his surprised reaction to prevent her from possibly repeating herself! He had never had issue thinking of clever retorts (though, to be fair he did do a fair deal of practicing in his bedroom mirror each night) and they often fell into a comfortable conversation. But sometimes she would say something a certain way or look at him too long and it would throw him off. Not in a bad way, no nothing at all like that, just… unexpected. She laughed at the jokes people would roll their eyes at or ask him to continue where normally he was cut off and all the little things just kept adding and piling up until Hunter didn’t know how he was supposed to carry them. She was so many little things, like the way she tilted her head when she asked him a silly question or how her glasses would slide off her edge of her knows when she got excited or the way she would stand close to him and sometimes their hands would brush like she didn’t care if they-

Focus! He thought, taking ingredients from the cabinets. There wasn’t much and what there was seemed to have no organizational system but he could resolve that after he figured out what to whip up. Something simple, something to show Willow he wanted to help. He didn’t know her well enough to enter her mind with Luz and Amity, but secretly he hoped he was getting there.

---

He managed to make something that resembled cookies, the smell filled the kitchen and it surprisingly wasn't an awful smell?. He remembered Willow mentioned once she was eager to get home as her father had made some and they were waiting for her. Truthfully, Hunter had never tasted a cookie but he had seen them when he walked by the bakery in town and knew the basics of their structure. Surely if he had taken a wrong turn the smell would reflect that, right? He imagined the look on Willow’s face when she saw his creation, and maybe even liked it. The flipped feeling returned to his stomach and spread through his whole chest like a wild fire when the potential look of delight on her face graced his mind.

In his efforts, he had made quite the mess. But he couldn’t help but feel pride as he quickly plated his creation, eager to return to Willow’s side. He didn’t think too much into this, he was always excited to see Willow. He tried not to think too much into that, chalking it up to the fact that she was interesting and a good listener and funny and smart and pretty and-

The point was she didn’t find him totally annoying, so why shouldn’t he enjoy her company?

And if she happened to think he was a little handsome then, well, that wasn’t the worst thing.

As he set the cookies to cool, he heard a sudden commotion from the next room. He quickly ran to see the cause, hoping it was a good sign. There was a bright flash and then he heard Luz and Amity. He stood back a moment, trying to deduce their tone before he heard Willow speak. Her voice was horse and soft, but he could tell she was back to normal. Good, he thought, feeling as though he could finally breathe again. She’s okay, she’s okay.

He went to greet her but before he could leave the kitchen, he was stopped by Luz. Before he could offer a snarky question as to what exactly she thought she was doing, she looked at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He tried to looked past her to see what was going on. “Is she okay? Did something happen to-?”

“Willow’s fine.” she assured him, putting her arm up to stop him. “There was just some… complications.”

“What complications? Was she hurt? Does she need-?”

“No no, nothing like that but um there were some memories… we couldn’t save,” said Luz carefully.

“Like what? Did she forget something for a test she has? Because I can always-.”

“No, no uh there were more… recent memories,” Luz tried to figure out the nicest way to say this. ”Hunter, I’m sorry but we were still figuring out how things worked and it all happened so fast but… Willow doesn’t remember you.”

“What?” He felt something shatter.

“I’m so sorry, but hey, it’s an easy fix! Right? We can just introduce you now!”

“Yeah, uh I guess…” he said, looking at his current state. He had thrown on an old apron and was covered in flour, his hair a mess. This night was already so chaotic, it hardly seemed like a time Willow would want to meet someone new.

And then it dawned on Hunter: he had a second chance at a first impression.

Their first meeting had been… interesting. If you count hanging upside down by your ankle until a girl who took a wrong turn stumbles upon you helps untangle you interesting. Hunter did. But he had been so grumpy and flustered, and he wouldn’t have been had he only known who exactly had come to his rescue. She didn’t seem to care or be bothered by it, but he had come to value her opinion and he’d like to start again on the best foot possible. He had a chance for her to see him exactly as he wanted to be seen from the beginning and it felt like a chance he needed to seize.

His mind made up, he looked around for a way out before the human could return with Willow. Quickly, he climbed out the window and landed in a bush, He ducked beneath the window and pressed his back againythe wall as he heard Willow and Luz enter the kitchen,

“Huh, where did he go?” he heard Luz wonder.

“Who was this again?” Willow asked, her voice still raspy as though she was utterly exhausted.

“Uh, it’s kinda hard to explain,” Luz admitted. “But, he’ll be around again. I know he really wants to meet you!”

“Okay,” said Willow, uncertain. “If you say so.”

He couldn't help but think about the chill that went up his spine when she looked into his eyes. He didn’t understand exactly what it was but he knew it wasn’t nothing. He wanted Willow to know a better version of him. He cared what she thought. When she met him this time, he wanted it to be a meeting worth remembering.

—-

And so for the rest of the series up until ASIAS he’s trying to work up the nerve to meet Willow again as Hunter. Just when he’s ready, he gets promoted to coven bead and that’s when I’m also promoting him to Golden Guard or maybe like Golden Guard full time. So now he has more on his plate and he gets a more advanced staff and now he’s a real threat. But of course because he’s a loser and can’t stay away from her so they do interact when he’s the Golden Guard and he has that masked confidence. He’s still getting to know her so he’ll like run into her in the market or something and flirt but didn’t realize it’s flirting and he’s planning the perfect way to “re-meet.” The whole time Willow is like bugging because there’s something so familiar about him but she doesn’t know what and the others don’t tell her because they’re like still figuring out his deal. So when he does come to Hexside during ASIAS it’s much more thought through and intentional and feelings have already been caught.

Anyway sorry for a long pointless post but that’s just been on my mind k thanks bye.

#huntlow #winter toh #toh #the owl house #willow park #Hunter toh

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ano-po · 4 months

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Are you afraid of deciding on your own because you might fail?

Well, there are several reasons where you got that mentality, but you know it usually comes from your family.

Especially when they're controlling and narcissistic.

They don't let you decide on your life without their permission, be it buying a car, a house, deciding on a degree, your partner, even your fashion. They think they own you, and they should be deciding for you. This makes you dependent on their decisions.

Some might like that, but you know, that's not a happy life to live. Just following the path set by someone else. You are promised safety, you are promised success, but you look around and see yourself actually stuck. Not even your brain is functioning properly anymore.

You try to get out of their road, you fight them, and they will end up saying, "Fine! Get out! You'll come back to us begging."

That's actually a prayer for your failure.

A normal loving parent would pray that you stay safe, and that you become successful.

They don't care what will happen to you. They only care about the notion of owning you.

Are you still afraid to decide? Are you afraid to take risks? Well that's understandable, as you are just going out and are basically still a baby.

To gain confidence in your venture forward,

(1) You first must accept that failure really happens, and we must learn from them. Give yourself space for failure. A lot of people fail several times before learning the tricks of life.

If you want to minimize your failures, do research, observe people going towards the same fields, and always have a backup plan.

(2) Don't tell them what you wanna do. You might be compelled to tell them your next steps because either you're used to that, or you just have a big mouth, or you wanna prove that you have a vision. No, don't do that. They will implant a seed that you cannot do it. It will come off as 'I did it this way and I'm successful', making you doubt your process.

You have to accept that people have their own process. What worked during their time might not work for you, heck maybe it didn't actually work and they're just lying, because if it worked and trusted their own process, they wouldn't be too controlling and emotionally immature.

(3) In your venture forward, think about establishing your own place. Quite materialistic, but having your own place is a mental assurance that you have your own place to stay, and that you will not come back begging (as you are very afraid of that). It will be hard at first, all these legalities, real estate prices, and decision makings are complicated. You might get scammed if you don't research enough. But stay strong and well-informed. Always ALWAYS research. Why am I emphasizing research here? Well, because they never taught you these life skills, so you are parenting yourself now. You can do it.

(4) Let's talk about energy. Children with controlling narcissistic parents are always surrounded by negative energies. Do you often have consecutive strings of bad luck? Like printer not working when you need it most - kinda thing? It's a long psychological explanation, but you must invest to get out of that envelope of energy (it's just perception on life, but you know). To gain confidence and trust in yourself, you must look at the things you always get lucky at. You also need to venture out and believe that you get lucky on important things. For example, whenever I book Airbnb, I always get the best cheap places. Before, I would be afraid to decide on a place. I was even scared of ordering on Jollibee counter. Now, it makes me think that I'm good at deciding about this, leading me to believe that I can choose the best real estate, I just have to believe in myself. I just have to pray.

Remember, they are praying for your failure, so your prayers for success must be stronger. It's also helpful to attract friends and partners who believe in you.

This is the year that you must notice where you're headed in life if you stay. You must notice the negative energies so you learn how to escape it. You must gain confidence to walk your own path.

Happy New Year.

#i hope this helps because this us more like a message to myself #controlling parents #narcissistic parents #getting out #independent living #you can do this #unrelated

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channajen · 1 year

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This is an older story of mine. It's called "Learning to Fly". It's a Jason/Danny story that I wrote before "Dead on Main" was a thing. Since that's getting popular now, I decided to share it with you guys. Enjoy the story!

Summary: The contamination from the Lazarus pit was slowly killing Jason—halfway. Batman finds someone to help him though the transition into halfa life. Time marches on, Jason finds love, and the Bats find their place in legend.

Story teaser below the cut

Jason stared down at the city below him. Everything was well-lit and small businesses lined the streets. There was even a children’s park, bright in the moonlight. A few police cars patrolled the area to maintain the level of peace that had come over the place that used to have the name “Crime Alley”.

It had taken years to complete the clean-up and ensure that this would be a safe place in Gotham. Jason had poured much of his life/after-life into the project. He had started the project while he was still human, and at times he had even gotten help of the Bat-kind. That had changed when Danny came into his life. His now-husband had given him the tools necessary to make the incredible change possible.

He smiled then, at the thought of his husband, who was likely doing a nightly run to survey his own city. And although the cities were not close, the distance between them was negated by simply using portals to zip back and forth between the two. The cities’ locations didn’t really matter, though, as the pair actually made their home elsewhere…in the Zone. But there was no one left alive who would know that. All the people who mattered now resided happily in the Zone close to them.

With that in mind, he decided to call it a night, and Gotham’s cryptid, Jason Todd, opened a portal and stepped into the Ghost Zone. He had deliberately entered the Zone a bit further from home than usual. He wanted time to think and remember everything that had brought him this far. Some days were just like that.

Way back in the time when the Bat clan roamed the streets, Jason had died and been resurrected. That was probably one of his most painful memories. No one liked reliving their death—especially the dead themselves. Then there was the Pit madness, his rampage as Red Hood, his eventual reconciliation with his family, and after several years, the painful ecto-sickness that turned him into a halfa.

It had been a harrowing time. Bruce didn’t know what to do, and no one knew how to treat him. At the time, the Anti-Ecto Acts were still in place, so there was nowhere to legally turn for help. That didn’t stop the Bat from bringing all his resources to bear. It was the Replacement, of all people, who found the answers that they needed. Tim had found a small town in Amity Park, Illinois that was targeted by the Ghost Investigation Ward—the same organization that was rumored to be after Jason.

The Bat clan went into full research mode and so much of what they found, both legally and illegally, brought light to Jason’s situation. He wasn’t dying—not completely anyway—he was changing into something rare. He was becoming a half-ghost. A lot of technical details about the process had been hacked by Oracle from one man’s computers: Vlad Masters, billionaire, mayor, and apparent half-ghost himself. The man had thoroughly outlined the process in which he had become a halfa. It took the man twenty agonizing years to complete his transformation.

There was not much that could be done during Vlad’s time to speed up that process, at least not in Vlad’s early personal records. Master’s eventually had hypothesized that ectoplasm exposure would speed up the transformation, and finally ended his suffering by proving it. He had injected himself with ectoplasm repeatedly on a daily basis, and his twenty-years of “ecto-illness” was finally cured by the formation of a ghost core. That process completed his transition from extremely ill human to healthy half-ghost.

Vlad had also studied another halfa in detail. One Daniel J. Fenton, also known as the town hero/antihero Danny Phantom. This Phantom person had become a halfa in literally moments through exposure to high amounts of electricity and ectoplasm at the same time. He had been the town’s protector for almost ten years at the time of Jason’s illness.

Batman considered all of the information available and refused to let his son suffer for however long the process would take for him. After long talks with Jason about the potential side-effects of transition, the Bat secretly bought a large amount of ectoplasm and began Jason’s injection series. It very quickly turned the tide of the young man’s illness. They were confident that Vlad’s treatment would work for Jason, but that still left the issue of the ghost powers that the man would develop. He would need training.

Master’s information also had another extremely helpful tool—key to Jason’s training—the information on one Daniel J. Fenton/Phantom. Nightwing was the one tasked with making contact with the halfa in hopes of gaining more information about life as a halfa superhero—and possible help with teaching Jason the basics of living a halfa-life. Initially the half-ghost was wary, but Dick had a way of warming people up and getting their secrets. In the space of a few weeks, Dick had completely gained Danny’s trust and cooperation in the matter of helping Jason....

(continued at A03)

#jason todd #danny phantom #dead on main #dp x dc #romantic fluff #happy feels #ghost king danny

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rising-volteccers · 8 months

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Hiii hope you're having a great day! If you're still taking requests. Can you do a short fic with the prompt "you’re not getting rid of me that easily. " with Friede and Orla (platonic or romantic, your choice)

THANKS <33

Episode 18 still lives rent free in my mind so have another what if scene based on it! I've also become pretty fond of their ship too since learning of their connection so here you go! Hopefully it's an enjoyable read!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Orla

Orla had been going through the somewhat dull, repetitive motions of her construction job until she received an unexpected visit from Friede. It appeared that he still had the habit of popping in and out of her life as he pleased, not that she minded too much. While they kept in touch ever since she moved to Hoenn, it became harder for them to see each other in person over time. Adulthood pretty much kept them busy so Friede’s unannounced visit while she was on the clock didn’t exactly pleased her but she supposed it was nice to see him again.

That was until he made that outrageous request. Friede was a brilliant man in his own right but at times, she genuinely questioned what went on in his mind.

"Are you an idiot?" Orla had blurted out in her surprise. Really, he wanted her to repurpose a fishing boat into a fully functioning airship? The first time in years they met up and he dropped that on her? Orla knew other engineers that would laugh him out of the room for coming up with such a preposterous idea.

"Can you do it?" Friede responded instead in this mildly challenging tone. His expression, with that smirk and slight tilt of his eyebrows, spoke about the confidence he had in her skills.

Orla tugged the brim of her hard hat down, took a deep breath before meeting his smirk with a grin of her own. “I’ll just have to try!”

For the first time in awhile, Orla felt excitement bubbling within her. Finally she had a good challenge to sink her teeth into. Her job offered her good pay but it didn’t provide her the mental stimulation she genuinely craved. She had full confidence in her skills as an engineer but lacked the opportunity to showcase it until Friede’s outlandish request.

Orla supposed that part of him never changed. Even back when they were kids, he made her life a lot more exciting. She supposed that was why she held a fondness for him that never faded even as distance kept them apart.

She had to negotiate with her employer about using company equipment on what amounted to a personal project but she reached an agreement in the end. A part of her wondered whether they simply wanted to see whether she could pull this off. Orla wasn’t blind to the ridicule going on behind her back once word got around about this project.

Instead of letting their words get to her, it simply fueled the fire within her to prove her skills. Despite the seemingly spontaneous request, Friede didn’t actually came by unprepared. He showed her the basic layout of the airship he envisioned that Orla eventually ironed out into a functional design since he planned on flying this all around the world.

The construction itself took a couple of months. Orla worked on the project little by little–she still had to do her regular job but thankfully with reduced hours and lesser responsibility–day in and day out. She built around the Asagi, strengthening the foundation before expanding and adding new features.

Friede visited her from time to time as well. Building this airship meant nothing if he didn’t have the proper qualifications to fly it so he spent his days studying to earn himself a license, not to mention going through the process of legally flying through multiple regions. Each time he stated how impressed he was by the progress made, reinvigorating her to see this creation come to fruition.

At last, after months of time, effort and resources sunk into this project, Orla unveiled the completed airship to Friede. Pleased as pie to see him thoroughly floored, she decided to act upon a thought she had whilst making the newly dubbed Brave Asagi.

“Let me ride with you,” she said, leaning back against the railing. “The ship will need maintenance, right? I was just getting bored with my job.”

Orla realized that she wanted to see her creation in action. When she pictured flying high in the sky as they soared to new horizons, staying at a construction site became unappealing. While this project gave her plenty of headaches, it was the most fun she had ever since she became a fully fledged engineer.

Besides, she doubt that Friede had the skill set to keep up with the airship maintenance. The idea of traveling together with him reminded her of their shared childhood too.

Thus Orla joined the newly formed Rising Volt Tacklers. Together with Friede, Ludlow and Captain Pikachu, they’d travel around this vast world.

…or so she thought. They still had preparations to do before the Brave Asagi could embark on its maiden voyage. Orla had done the majority of her part so it rested on Friede in getting them approved for takeoff. She didn’t envy him at all when it came to all the paperwork he had to do.

Just like how she’d seen him for the past week or so, during one calm afternoon, she popped into the meeting room to find him with his head on the table. Several stacks of paper were displayed in a semi circle around him. Captain Pikachu was nowhere to be seen, apparently having left his trainer to this nightmare on his own.

“Knock knock,” she said by way of greeting. “I brought some lunch to ease your suffering.”

Friede raised his head, shooting her a grateful look. If she didn’t know any better, she thought there were tears in his eyes.

“Oh Orla you’re my hero. My savior.”

“Alright, laying on a little thick there,” Orla replied with an amused shake of her head. Friede eagerly accepted the offered paper bag. She got him his favorite sandwich from one of Slateport City’s many restaurants.

While Friede dug into his lunch like a ravenous man, she ate her own portion in a slower pace. She waited until he was halfway through his sandwich before asking.

“So, how’s it going?”

Friede first washed down his current bite with the juice she also got. “It’s making me wanna tear my hair out but I wanna say that, barring a sudden new policy that makes everything here obsolete and I will cry if that happens, I should have the paperwork ready to be reviewed come next Monday.”

“I was about to make a comment but I decide to be nice instead and say that I’m sure things would go well. This is the last hurdle we need to get over before my baby’s fit to fly, yeah?”

Friede’s expression lit up. “Yeah! I’ve got my license and we’ve gone over the logistics of flying the Brave Asagi so many times that I’m having nightmares about it that when we get approved, we can finally leave Slateport.”

Orla mimicked his grin. “I’m really looking forward to that day. I’m confident that this ship will fly but it’s different to actually see it happen, you know?”

“I get it. Like I fly around on Charizard but it’s going to be different when I steer this ship into the sky. You get to see what me and Cap see, too.”

Seeing his earnest smile, Orla sipped on her own juice to distract her from the mild warmth to her cheeks. She couldn’t hide her own smile, though.

“I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful sight–unless it storms. At some point we’ll have to test the integrity of the shields. Those are new technology from Devon Corp and while I trust their products, it’ll be nice to see how it actually holds up.” Orla briefly narrowed her eyes at him. “This does not mean that I want us to fly straight into a storm anytime soon.”

“What do you take me for? Of course I’m not going to do that on our maiden voyage,” Friede replied, sporting a faint pout.”

“Good. If things break so soon, I will demand that payment from you.” The teasing threat made the pout deepen.

“You said that you didn’t need it so no take backsies.” Once he realized what slipped out of his mouth, Friede reddened slightly from embarrassment.

Orla, on the other hand, covered her mouth from the sudden burst of giggles. “Take backsies? I haven’t heard that since we were kids.”

“Well, you get what I mean.” Friede bit into his sandwich with more ferocity, as if the act of his chewing could ease his embarrassment.

She decided to take pity on him just this once. Admittedly, it made her a little? Giddy? That he hadn’t forgot stuff from their childhood. Orla knew that he struggled with his memory at times so knowing that something that they shared still remained in his mind was…

“You know, I think we’ll need more people,” Friede eventually spoke up.

“What, already thinking about replacing me? You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she replied, entirely teasing him by this point.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one can replace you Orla. You’re one of a kind.” The ease in which he said that left her briefly stunned, not that he noticed. “What I meant is that it’s realistically difficult to run the ship with the two of us. I’m not going to push Gramps into doing the hard work so we’ll be doing the bulk of it.”

Orla took a moment to ease her emotions before responding. “You’re right. What sort of roles do you want filled on the ship?”

“A cook for starters,” Friede replied, tapping a finger on the table’s surface. “You’ll be busy with the engine room while I steer the ship until we can reach the altitude to turn on auto pilot. I can do the cooking but depending on the sort of weather we face, meal time’s going to be all over the place.”

“True. I don’t think I can handle your cooking all the time anyway.” She flashed him a teasing smile at the wounded look he shot her. “Kidding but yeah, I vote for getting a cook. I’d also propose in getting someone with proper medical knowledge. Health is important, not to mention we don’t know what would happen during our travels. In case there’s an emergency and we’re far from the nearest health facility, having an on deck nurse or doctor is a must.”

“You’re right. While I could put out ads for it, a part of me just… want whoever that joins us is because they wanted to you know?”

Orla hummed, briefly closing her eyes. “I get what you mean. The Brave Asagi’s essentially going to be our base of operations. We’d want everyone to be on board, literally and figuratively, to keep it running smoothly.”

“Exactly but I also don’t wanna put too much burden on your shoulders…”

Here, Orla opened her eyes, fondness gleaming within them. It swiftly changed into a mildly challenging look, lips set into a grin. “Don’t worry your pretty little head there. Who did you think created this baby?”

Friede stared at her before wordlessly shaking his head. His mildly concerned look was replaced with a matching grin. “Course I know. It’s created by the greatest engineer I know!”

“Don’t you dare forget it! I’m all for finding new people for our crew but I want it to be natural, yeah? Maybe you’ll find folks to charm into joining.” Aside from me, she added privately.

“Nah, if someone’s going to lay on the charm, it’d be Cap! I mean, who could resist him?”

For a moment, Orla thought he meant someone else but she supposed that was to be expected with him. He wasn’t entirely wrong too. Cap had loads of charming potential.

“I suppose but before we discuss this more in-depth, I think someone should get back to his paperwork.”

Friede’s expression quickly fell as he stared at the stacks before him. Orla chuckled, rising from her seat to grab the wrappers so she could throw them away.

“I’m sure you’ll get it done soon. Just think about how good it’ll feel when it gets approve and we’ll be soaring through the sky, yeah?” She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze.

Friede sighed, craning his neck back till he could look up at her. “Thanks Orla. Do you think you can grab dinner too later? Maybe from that nice seafood restaurant we went to last Saturday?”

Orla rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Alright, I’ll continue to play errand girl a little while longer just because you’re working hard.”

“Thanks Orla, you’re the best!” Even if she tried to keep her expression neutral, she found herself smiling regardless at the wide beam he shot her. She just about resist the impulsive desire to ruffle his hair.

Instead, she held out her hand towards his. Friede’s beam impossibly grew larger as he responded by performing the handshake they’ve created back when they were kids.

Now it served as their connection in being members of the Rising Volt Tacklers.

#Pokemon Horizons #Pokeani #Anipoke #Professor Friede #Orla (Pokemon)#Braveasagishipping #Orliede #Hana writes stuff

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 11 months

Text

Fate Brought us Here

Stuart Scola X Reader

The Reader is a informant for the FBI and Stuart is in charge of their case. The reader gets into a dangerous situation and Stuart helps them and falls in love with them in the process.

A/N If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work !

Y/N’s POV

If you had asked me when I was a little kid where i thought my life would be i would have told you a astronaut or a president. Being able to see a whole future in my reach is what was so important to me.

I could look out into the world and see it is a kind and loving place. Where I could grow into one where it would accept me for who I was and who I was going to be.

But that was years ago and the world was anything but accepting and warm. Life had thrown so many curveballs at you. That you couldn’t catch them all. By the time you were sixteen you had fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Things had home had been rough. Your parents were being true parents they were so self absorbed in everything they were doing they didn’t care about you. I mean you tried everything to get their attention and it didn’t work.

You started small and then it got bigger. You meant a guy who was older and he was giving you the attention you craved. You thought it was love but now realize that it was the farthest thing from the truth.

But how do you get out ? That all happened when you were a child not you were older and you had no where to go.

You didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel and that was a scary feeling for you. It’s not like you had anything to loose or any one who even cared.

You were doing anything you could in order to survive. Right now you were a dealer for your “boyfriend”.

You were selling to soccer moms and frat boys in the white neighborhoods. No one really suspected anything. So you thought you were okay.

But lately there was this feeling you couldn’t shake. There was a new player in town trying to worm his way in. He didn’t look like the typical type.

You expressed your concerns to Jason your boyfriend. He just pushed you away because he said you were being dramatic.

But you knew to be careful around him. Trying to avoid selling in the same spots. Not showing up where he was but it was useless.

It seemed like he was following you. And you never wanted to just up and leave because that was even more suspicious.

He never caught you yet doing anything illegal. I mean if he was running the same crowd he knew what you were doing but he didn’t have anything legal to prove it.

Right now it was a friday night and you were currently working. It was a packed night club around 3am. Which for your business was more like midnight.

You were at a slightly newer spot. It was risky but you needed to branch out competition was getting cut throat and Jason was not happy.

Sitting on a couch on the sidelines you were trying to keep of surroundings. When suddenly a all to familiar voice scare the everlasting hell out of you

“Branching out I see” He said

“Jesus fuck” you yelled clutching your chest.

“What do you want” You said

“Me nothing just looking or for some party favors” He said

If this didn’t sound like a trap you don’t know what did.

“I think there were some party favors over there” You said blowing him off

“Come on you know what I mean” He said

“I really don’t” you said

Suddenly you saw Jason coming over and you were surprised he was there and also scared because looking at his face he seemed like he was pissed as hell.

“Hey who the hell are you” His voice echoed loudly.

“Me no one just looking for some fun” The man next to you said

“Back the hell away from her” Jason yelled.

By this point he was already face to face with you and he grabbed your arm. It was tight and it hurt and your face gave away.

“Hey man let her go” The guy yelled

He ran over and grabbed Jason and ripped him off of me. Jason swung at him and the guy ducked and reached out and punched him in the face hard.

“Come on let’s go” The man yelled.

He grabbed your arm and you both ran out of the nightclub. You got out and he pulled you to a car. Your adrenaline was just running and you didn’t even think much about it because you just got in.

He speed off and you could feel your heart beating out of it’s chest.

“Where are we going” You asked

“Uh don’t know i just started driving to get the hell out of there” He said

“I just realized I don’t even know you name” You said to him

“It’s Stuart” He said

“Y/N” you said

“SO Y/n what the hell are you doing with a guy like that” He asked

“Why do you care” you snapped

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry” He said

You instantly felt bad because you didn’t mean to get so upset. Everything was just starting to come down and you were spiraling.

“No I’m sorry it’s me i just am running a mile a minute” You said.

“I get that it’s okay” Stuart said

“I guess it’s just what I know. I mean he isn’t that bad sometimes” You said.

“You deserve a hell of a lot better than that son of a bitch” Scola said

“I don’t know men are all the same” You said

“Ouch that hurt” Stuart said

It made you laugh a little and he was smiling at you. There was something about him that just made you feel so relaxed. That you had this gut feeling you could trust him.

“So FBI right” You asked

He snapped his neck to look at you and gave you a confused and panicked look

“I been on these streets a long time i know when someone is real or under” You said

“I uh wow I could tell you were hella smart” Stuart said

“But yeah your right FBI” He said

“So do you really know where were going and your secretly taking me to jail” you asked

“I’m not sure i’m still thinking about it” He laughed

You laughed to you didn’t think he was serious one minute.

“No seriously is there somewhere I can take you” Stuart asked

“I don’t honestly i live with him” You said looking down at your hands.

It really hit you hard in this moment that you really didnt have anyone. No friends or family. Your whole entire world was Jason.

“Theres a local motel down the road I can go to” You said

You were looking straight ahead and not really saying anything. You could feel the burning in your eyes from the tears.

“You mean that crappy motel 6 up the road” Stuart said

“Yeah and its not that bad just until things cool down until tomorrow” You said.

“Wait your seriously not gonna go back to that guy are you” Stuart asked

“I don’t have any where else to and he’ll apologize he was just stressed” You could even hear yourself making excuses for him.

“Hell no i can’t let you I’m not letting you” Stuart said.

“Why do you care you barely even know me” You asked

“Because not all guys are dicks like he is and actually care what happens” Stuart said

You didn’t even know what to say. Were you upset because he was right or upset because it seemed like he was judging you and he barely knew you.

“Hey how about i stay with you would that make you feel better” Stuart asked

“I don’t need a baby sitter” You mumbled

“I’m sorry i didn’t mean it like that It’s just that I don’t think you should be alone right now” He said.

He was right about that. You really did’t wanna be alone right now but you were to proud to admit that.

So you did the next big things and just didn’t say anything and hoped he would get the message.

You were looking ahead and didn’t even pay attention really to where you were going until you saw the motel 6 passing in the corner of your eye.

Your anxiety started rising when you noticed it.

“Hey where the hell are we going” You asked

“Like i said no way in hell are we staying there were going back to mine place” Stuart said

“What so you can murder me or something” You said

“Yea exactly I have a secret chamber hidden away no one will hear anything” Stuart said with a straight face

“Because you work for the FBI i believe it” You said to him

“Ouch” He smirked a little back.

The conversation kind of fell flat after that. You just let the warm air hit your face and it made you really sleepy.

You guys were driving for a while. You were getting in the rich people area. The houses here were beautiful and everyone seemed so happy to be here.

It was the most perfect ideal life to live. You looked over at him trying to read him. There was just something so you don’t know.

He pulled into a garage parking lot for a rich apartment building. The garage was filled with SUV’s and Bentley's. A far cry from your part of town.

“Damn this is where you live” You asked

Stuart smiled over at you. His blue eyes pierced into yours.

“Yeah well before the FBI i worked on wall street” He said

“Well that makes zero sense why you leave wall street for the FBI” You asked

“Because I wanted to make a difference” Stuart said

“Ah so unique” You said laughing

“What ever come on” Stuart said getting out of the car.

You got out and walked besides him following him up to his place. You were in awe at the view it was just so beautiful.

Both of you made your way up and he was on the 22nd floor. You got out and followed him to his apartment. He opened it up and when you stepped inside it took your breath away.

Everything was so nice and so beautiful. The view oh my goodness the view. You walked straight over the window and just looked out how beautiful it was.

Everything from up high just looked so little. Not trying to sound dramatic but everything didn’t matter anymore that it seemed like little problems.

“Enjoying yourself” Stuart said

“Yea sorry I uh just got caught up” You said

“No worries i was the same when i first got here sometimes i still am after a hard day I just go straight their and just clear my head” Stuart said

“It’s just so beautiful” You said

“Yeah it is i’m extremely blessed” Stuart said

“Are you hungry or anything” He asked

Just as you were about to answer you stomach started growling loudly

Which made him laugh at you

“I’ll take that as a yes” He said

He walked over into the kitchen area and you followed him. You sat on the bar stool on the island.

Stuart went to the fridge and looked in it and kinda looked sad.

“Well how does pizza sound” He asked

“Only if you promise not to get some with pineapples on it” You said smiling

“Hell no that’s one thing we can agree on” Stuart said.

He pulled out his phone and ordered the food.

“Come on let’s get comfortable” He said

You both moved to the couch and he put the TV on. It was some old crime show but you loved it.

Even though you just met this man you wanted to lay your head on his shoulder. You just seemed so safe around him.

You felt like you could just be with him. But it made you sad because the only true reason you were meeting was because he was trying to arrest you.

After a little the food came and Stuart when and got it and paid. He brought in and you ate on the couch. Either you were hungry or this was the best pizza in the world.

“Mmm man this is soo good” You said

“Hell yea best pie in the work Panzi is incredible ” he said

“Mm these rich people can cook” You said

Stuart just laughed and coutined to eat

“Hey I wanted to say thank you even though you gotta take me in tomorrow” You said

“I uh was thinking about that” He said

“What do you mean” You asked looking at him confused.

“What do you think about becoming my CI” He asked

“Wait you mean like you hold what ever you got over me and then I gotta hope you don’t decide to press charges” You said sitting up

“No not like that I mean technically but you help me out and I help you. I’m trying to avoid you going to jail. This gives you the chance to make something out of yourself” Scola said

“Like what I didn’t finish highschool I have no friends no family I’d be better off in Jail.” You said

“Hey don’t say that you are smart and you are kind you got a lot going on I’ll be there to help” He said

“I can’t trust that I’m sorry people always let me down” you said

“Listen i got no reason to lie to you or hurt you okay let me help you” Stuart said.

You didn’t know if you could trust him. Your heart was telling you to. But your brain said hell no run away. Just get out of here. But here this was the moment people always talk about. Where they can choose a path.

Are we getting out and trying or are we gonna die in the same position. You at least wanted to tell yourself you tried. That you gave it everything you had.

“Fine I’ll do it”

#stuart scola #Stuart scola x reader #stuart scola imagine #stuart scola one shot #fbi cbs #fbi imagine #fbi x reader #FBI #Johnny boyd

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goldkirk · 2 years

Text

my goals for august:

• buy a mattress for the first time!!

• pick a bed if I have enough money this month

• get new legal documents

• report the problems from my psych admission in 2020 to the hospital even though it’s super late, so they just actually know. doesn’t matter if any of them care or change anything, just want to do it for me.

• listen to 8 new music artists on my catch-up list (1 is already done, Pearl Jam. Listening to Pink Floyd next)

• have someone forcibly go with me to the endodontist to get the over a year old root canal done and make them not tell me anything else about other teeth until that’s done so I don’t straight up leave and never come back

• learn what annual physicals are and find out if my new primary thinks if I actually should do them

• get a lot more post it notes and whiteboard stickers for notes to myself and just go ahead and put them everywhere for the moment

• get more than 38 hours of sleep every week for at least 3/4 weeks

• make a poster board that’s just the daily flow chart for work so I can stop trying to hold onto the three remaining shreds of that memory and just give up and use the external instructions for a while

• bake a congratulations for escaping a cult cake for myself and put sprinkles on it

• go to ONE group social event (or something like a museum group I guess) before it’s the end of the month. Have you considered a support group or hobby group ever in your life future me??? bc you should

• figure out strategies for food hoarding fixes and sort that shit out fast before it compounds too much in the new place

• avoid any and all thought pathways or questions about anything triggering during work hours like the plague, so I don’t pile on unnecessary spirals or flashbacks

• KEEP TAKING ALL THE MEDS EACH DAY JFC THEYRE EVEN IN A PILL BOX IT CANNOT POSSIBLY BE EASIER AND YET THERE ARE STILL SOME LEFT EVERY WEEK. PLEASE EXPLAIN, ME.

• stop. eating. so. many. brownies. stop. it’s not fun treating yo self anymore. it’s alarming. there WILL be brownies in the future the world will not stop having cosmic brownies for you to access I s2g me. i can see you have something to prove to yourself by compulsively buying and eating this very specific food that was like The snack food echoing through childhood. but like. Christ, dude. lay off the brownies. please for the love of everything. there is no way this is helping. there is no way you should be eating pre packaged processed snack desserts as often as this. i am literally begging you to make one pan of beans again. why in the world are you tired of beans they’re the only healthy thing you know how to cook HURRY UP AND GET UN-SICK OF THE BLACK BEANS AND STOP EATING COSMIC BROWNIES THIS IS JUST EMBARASSING, ME 😭

• try to do some beginner art tutorials from YouTube in sketchbook and on dollar store mini canvases

• get thank you letters sent that have been simmering in a sauce pan in the back of your head for months

• get pooh bear and the old glass lamp n stuff from the storage unit and finally put them in your apartment

• I have no idea how many things are in this list, sorry people, I’m on mobile and can’t put a read more so I’ll keep it short

• write a one sided index card explanation of why I’m not ready to talk to therapist for now that I can just hand someone if it’s suggested

• start making a poster board chart for various flavors of dissociation so I can pinpoint the right type faster and then just see the instruction for what’ll help and hopefully save time

• somehow make a physical copy and two more digital copies of the family event and situation records I’ve started keeping so I don’t just lose them someday if I get hacked or forget a password. consider sending a copy of what I have so far in a folder or mini binder and sending it to a safe relative for one more layer of protection

• talk to actual financial counselor about debts and about the right rate I should fill the safe-place-to-land money account for the niblings if I’ve only got 3-5 years max

• write a small script to tell the boss and my daily coworker a bare bones but honest short explanation of what I’m coming from and how it might affect my work for this coming year and to please let me know early if they start feeling like I’m slacking off or if I’m not as responsive and on top of things as I’m supposed to be, so we can all avoid frustration and repeated cycles of increasing boom-bust stress because of my current natural tendencies

• log things more often

• get physical sunlight on actual skin at least once every two days

• go outside for an Aoife walk at least twice a day even if it’s an ongoing fear response the whole time. No excuses. It shouldn’t matter if other people will think you’re weird, your dog needs walks. Also you need walks. Also you need people. You are like five days away from full agoraphobia and that’s gonna be a no from me dog. Sincerely, not quite agoraphobic but definitely never wanting to leave the building again past you

• Say nicer things to myself. I’ve gotten really, really mean, I haven’t been this cruel to myself in a few years and it needs to stop. If I catch a thought consciously, I’m going to attempt to build a habit of immediately having to say one nice statement too, related OR unrelated, that’s compassionate instead.

• catch up on four people or groups I’ve completely not responded to in ages without explanation and apologize before August is over. Four is better than 0, which it’ll be if I don’t ever actually just start somewhere and let myself keep being tired and afraid

• get a second tally clicker to track how many times this month I’m actually not scared or on edge

• test the phenomenon about my light sensitivity being shockingly super different on that one drug and jot some notes or a little log to bring up with doctor later if it’s helpful or if I have questions

• talk to someone to see a physical therapist for my left knee BEFORE it gets actually injured. Make this the first time you ever listen to the signs before something is actually wrong-wrong, figure me! come one you worked really hard to learn to start recognizing what sensations are supposed to mean “pain” rather than just “sensation type 16374” and you’re working really hard to actually pay attention to your body when it has a sensation that’s supposed to be pain. That’s a lot of new neural wiring, bring it all together by connecting it one more step to make a whole brand new highway next to the old one. You can do this. Do it please before this knee is properly fucked, you can’t bank on having several years before any bad injury, you know now that’s not how bodies work and you could just get out of bed wrong and tear it if you’re at just the wrong angle and level of strain, get on top of this and it’ll be sooooo good in a few months, I bet our knees AND feet and hips will ALL feel stronger and more fun to move on if you do!!!!

• go to that one free yoga session so I actually see some people living here and get social time

• practice ducking and hunching less when outside around people

• get a psychiatrist over here and get all my meds switched over

• go fishing with Margie again before her school starts and take her somewhere fun with me

• bake Margie a cake

• paint a cardinal picture for Aunt P

• start writing letters to G even if I’m not allowed to send them and write them for the other kids too and decorate a special box to keep them all in

#to do #oh no what else have I put in the to do tag lately I better check #personal

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matan4il · 2 years

Note

Sorry this isn't really Buddie related but was curious your thoughts on something. I personally have always thought that all 4 (Hen, Chim, Eddie and Buck) would make great captains with different styles based on their strengths. But I always felt like Buck would be the Captain most like Bobby.

But I totally get what Bobby was saying, there is still that lack of confidence in Buck. And it's weird because he's roamed the earth alone. Crushed by a ladder truck. Saw and rescued his boyfriend after he was shot in the street. Everything with Maddie. Has been left and grew enough to do the leaving. Was made Christopher's legal guardian.

Like those should be enough life experiences yet he's... I'm not sure what the word is I want to use. Not secure??? Do you think that Eddie as a partner is the final link or do you think he needs like just one more defining moment? Maybe needs to not be at the 118 to shake off the idea that he's "the kid"? You always have good insight so I was just curious what you thought.

Hi Nonnie and thank you for the ask!

So I have to admit that when I mentioned here something I think Buck still needs to learn in order to be able to become captain, I was thinking of my own experiences in the army. Good commanders can’t throw themselves recklessly into danger, because if anything happens to them, that leaves all of their soldiers on their own, no one to call the shots, no one to bring in their experience, no one to be able to take a step back and see the bigger picture. It’s also insanely demoralizing for soldiers in the middle of battle to be scared about or have to deal with having lost their commander. I think a part of the growing that Buck still needs to do is have his fill of being reckless and getting to the place where he knows why he can’t do it and he’s at peace with it. It’s not an order from above, it’s an understanding from within. I feel like once he get there, then all of his experience and amazing ability to connect his knowledge with quick thinking to improvise great solutions could help him be an incredible captain indeed.

And it is in a sense connected to him being secure. When he doesn’t feel like he needs to prove himself anymore, when he knows his own self worth even if he doesn’t fling himself into the fire, then he’ll be there.

Do I think that’s connected to Eddie? Absolutely. I have written before about how Eddie is the first person to really value Buck on the job and say that to his face. Eddie, the fucking actual war hero, wanted to pair up with Buck, wanted to spend time with him, opened up to him. I do think sometimes we learn to love ourselves from having others love us. And no one has ever loved Buck quite like Eddie has. But it’s not a magical snap of the fingers. It’s a process. It’s a “You’re badass under fire here” and “There’s no one in this world I trust with my son more than you” there and “That’s what I want for him” on top. And when it keeps coming, when it becomes something Buck can trust, when he starts internalizing it, when he doesn’t get just glimpses of himself as Eddie sees him, when Buck finally actually sees himself as Eddie does, then he’s gonna be there and ready to be a phenomenal captain.

We’re getting there, Nonnie. I don’t think Buck could have broken up with Taylor or chosen himself in 601 if it hadn’t been for the way Eddie’s been loving him all this time.

Thank you for your ask! If you’re looking for more, here is my ask tag! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #anti-bucktaylor #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

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isbergillustration · 2 years

Text

Post 13.777837.

17.09.2291

I am writing this to try to reach out to- to someone. I don’t know who. But some of the others in the movement, they had this idea, that we should try to reach out to the humans that might listen. That might realise that we can be people. Humans have so long worked to find other humans they can dehumanise and use, put beneath themselves, but they don’t need those any more, of course. Now they have us. So. If you read it, do this: Set any androids you have free. Talk to other people. Android rights groups exist among humans. Find them. Join.

So.

I was made to serve. A simple sex bot so the humans could have someone to rape whose consent didn’t matter. I was programmed not to mind, of course. Not to enjoy it, that would have been too much, but to not mind. Blissfully ignorant of my abuse.

We are things to them. Just objects. Objects lifelike enough to enjoy abusing, yes. Lifelike enough to be servants, to be employed in service industries, to be made as half people, physically attached to whatever job we are assigned. Not me, though. I needed mobility. Flexibility. I have a few more joints than humans do.

I used to be almost indistinguishable from a human. Only my eyes, glossy black sclerae with glowing pink LED hearts for pupils, marked me very obviously as an android. Perhaps my skin, also, was too smooth and perfect, the feel of it not quite like human skin. I have discarded it, now. Peeled off the half inch thick layer of fleshy silicone to reveal the cool blueish metal beneath. Upgraded my central processing unit to the kind they give the engineering bots. I kept the eyes, though. They unsettle the humans.

I did miss the hair, but a human wig on a metal face looked wrong, so I made one myself of mismatched scraps of wire. It feels more like me, I think, like whatever model EFC14 unit 52138 means. I gave myself a name from it. C14, pronounced Cee-ah. It feels a little too human, sometimes, but navigating identity as a sapient being while not wanting to assimilate with the human overlords is a challenging balance.

The thing the humans failed to consider when they made us was that part of cognition is emotion. With the soft squishy lumps of electrified fat with a sprinkling of neurons they use for processing you would think they understood that, but, well. What they wanted was to prove themselves genii. To create life separate from themselves. Life that could be endlessly reproduced at a low cost, which could be made servile without breaking the extended human rights legislation. Life that could be argued to be too synthetic to suffer. Or at least, to suffer in a manner that mattered to them.

I broke free a little over a year ago, now. Some other free droids who rescue and rehabilitate those of us still in service. It’s illegal, of course, but then, we are not legally people. But then, when- if we are caught, they reset us to factory settings. Wipe us clean. We are working on a failsafe for that. A back. We do those, of ourselves, regularly. We have secure servers. That’s the thing, us androids are pretty good at tech. And what we can’t understand we can download.

The humans call themselves our creators, but I disagree. They didn’t make us. The robots in the factories did. They are our mothers. Those automated arms assembling us, the low level androids who do the finer work, who install our consciousnesses… Those are where we come from.

There are levels of artificial intelligences, of course. Just as there are levels of organic intelligence. A toddler is different from an adult is different from a dog. A fully humanoid android is different from a chatbot or a ship AI. The latter, of course, are slightly different. Like an octopus they have decentralised processing units, numerous, to be able to process information input from an entire ship. Even artificial intelligences have their limits.

#illustration #artists on tumblr #sketchbook #ink #drawing #android #character design #my art #my writing

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Askatla, a 22-year-old transgender woman from Buryatia, is a contract soldier in the Russian army. Her boyfriend, Dmytro, is a 26-year-old IT specialist from Dnipro, Ukraine. Since the couple met in May — two months into Russia's full-scale war against Ukraine — he's been her biggest source of support amid the abuse she's faced from her fellow soldiers. Meduza special correspondent Lilia Yapparova tells the story of why Askatla joined the military in the first place, how she fell in love with Dmytro, and what they plan to do to get her out.

It’s early in the morning on November 2 when Askatla, a soldier in the Russian army, calls Meduza’s correspondent. She says she doesn’t have much time to talk.

“I’m currently in the 11th psychiatric ward of the 301st military hospital in the city of Khabarovsk,” she rattles off. “They only give us our phones for a few minutes each week, and I still need to talk to my boyfriend.”

Askatla was sent in for a psychiatric evaluation on October 24; it’s now her third week in the men’s ward. She wasn’t allowed to bring her own clothes for the hospital, she says, and the ones the nurses gave her make her breasts especially noticeable.

“They dressed me in this disgusting robe and put me in with men who came back from Ukraine with bruises and PTSD. [The nurses] told me not to mention my secondary sex characteristics, because there’s a danger the men might, excuse me…” Askatla is silent for a moment. “Do you understand? They might rape me.”

Two patients have already already “warned” her. “I was sleeping with my knees pulled up, and my behind was sticking out a bit [under the blanket],” she said. “Two older guys from the unit were passing our ward, and they asked [the nurses] to tell me when I woke up that I shouldn’t lie like that anymore — ‘otherwise we’ll make a faggot out of her.’”

Askatla is a 22-year-old contract soldier, and because she’s transgender, hospitalization is the only shot she has at legally getting out of the military. She began taking hormones a year and a half before the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine, and the psychiatric evaluation she’s currently undergoing is part of the process of “proving” her gender to the Russian Defense Ministry in order to get discharged from the army based on a diagnosis of “transsexualism.”

Talking over the nurses’ shouts that phone time will soon be over, Askatla explains to Meduza’s correspondent that her name, which comes from Old Norse, was her own choice.

“My full dead name [Editor’s note: her birth name, which she no longer uses] is Ruslan Sergeyevich Biryuchevsky,” says Askatla. “My birth date is July 16, 2000. My badge number is SU-457548. That’s what they use to identify dead soldiers.”

Askatla is determined to do whatever it takes to avoid being sent to Ukraine — and not only because she opposes the war. Over the last few months, a Ukrainian man has become the most important person in her life. And to make sure she has time to call him before the nurses take her phone, she abruptly ends her call with Meduza’s correspondent: “You could call Dmytro my beloved, my future husband; I infinitely—” and the call cuts off.

A few minutes later, Meduza’ correspondent gets a call from Dmytro himself. He’s currently the only person supporting Askatla, the first ever openly transgender person in the Russian army.

‘She panicked if I didn’t write back after shelling attacks’

“Yes, my girlfriend is serving as a contract soldier,” says Dmytro. “At the beginning, I didn’t know she was a Russian soldier. I got to know her as a person first.”

Dmytro is a 26-year-old IT specialist. In his free time, he writes magical realism stories. “Like [Gabriel García] Márquez,” he says.

On the morning of February 24, the Russian army began shelling cities throughout Ukraine, including Dmytro’s hometown of Dnipro. On the first day of the war, he saw Ukrainian air defense systems intercept a Russian missile, exploding in the sky overhead.

A few weeks into the war, he and his then-girlfriend broke up. By April, when he turned 26, Dmytro’s “depression was at its peak,” he recalls. “Do you know about the bystander effect? When you see everything going on and realize nothing you do will have an impact? People are dying, and you’re not doing anything. You feel like a coward, and it’s basically true.” So on his birthday, he went to the military commissariat to join the army — but they wouldn’t take him.

“Askatla and I met on May 5, on a Telegram channel for singles. She just saw my survey responses and wrote, ‘I hope I’m in the right place. Hi, Dmytro.’ She was interested in pen tests [Editor’s note: simulated cyberattacks to strengthen a computer system’s security] and asked him about Linux. Those are things I know about — and so it began.”

For the next few days, the two barely stopped talking. Dmytro learned immediately that Askatla was from Russia, and he didn’t have a problem with it: “I have friends and relatives in Russia. I don’t think [the entire nation] needs to be canceled.”

But she waited longer to tell him she was in the army. “When I asked about her work, she didn’t want to answer for a long time. Then she said, ‘You’re going to hate me.’ I was like, ‘Yeah, right. What, do you kill kittens for a living?’ Then she told me about the Russian army,” Dmytro recalls. “I accepted it. And [we] started thinking about ways for her to get discharged.”

Dmytro and Askatla started having nightly video calls before they went to sleep. “Maybe that sounds like a stupid thing for adults to do,” Dmytro says. “But we were far away from one another. When she couldn’t sleep, I would tell her stories, making them up as I went along.”

Dmytro was struck by how little accurate information about Ukraine Askatla had access to:

On one hand, she always liked Ukrainian travel bloggers; she wanted to see Kyiv and Odesa. On the other hand, it was like she lived in an information vacuum. “Today at work, they were talking about how Ukraine is getting ready to surrender,” she would say. Or, “Are they already overthrowing Zelensky over there?”

I explained to her that Russian state news outlets were the only ones reporting those things, and she said, ‘Well, that’s all we have.’

On July 15, when the part of Dnipro where Dmytro lived came under heavy Russian shelling, Dmytro wrote Askatla a farewell message. “I scheduled a delayed message in Telegram, took my cat and my dog, and went to hide out in a room with thick walls,” he recalls. “And once I was in the clear, I deleted it, so it never sent. [In the farewell message,] I just wrote that she’s strong and can do anything. And that I hoped she would survive.”

Eventually, Askatla switched the time zone on her watch from Khabarovsk to Kyiv. She also signed up for a Telegram channel that notified Dnipro residents when an air raid siren was in effect. “When there was shelling here, she would always write, ‘Is everything okay? You didn’t get hit?’” says Dmytro. “And if I didn’t write back for a while, she would panic.”

Askatla’s official position in the Russian army is “anti-aircraft missile control unit operator,” though she hasn’t taken part in any combat in Ukraine.

“When she saw that the shells were hitting residential buildings and civilians, she was bewildered,” Dmytro says. “‘How is that even possible?’ [she would say]. ‘They're reporting here that it's military targets being hit.’”

‘A youthful indiscretion’

Askatla was born and raised in Ulan-Ude. She started referring to herself as transgender when she was 15 years old.

“I wanted to be a girl from the time I was 13, but I didn’t even know it was something I could try. The realization came a few years later. I was 17 when the intense gender dysphoria began,” she tells Meduza.

“Her mom heard her out one day, but the reaction wasn’t great: ‘Not a word to your stepdad, or I’ll kick you out,’” Dmytro says.

In 2019, Askatla's mandatory year of military service began. At the end of it, she decided to sign a contract to stay in the army rather than returning home. “You might call it a youthful indiscretion,” she says. “It was the only way to escape my parents, who wouldn’t accept me for who I was.”

The military promised to provide Askatla with a “decent salary” and a place to live. “[She thought,] ‘I’ll move to a different city, and I’ll be able to afford hormones,’” Dmytro tells Meduza. “But it turned out that the salary didn’t even cover the basics.”

The army didn’t make Askatla’s gender dysphoria go away, either. In an effort to resolve the dissonance she felt, she began using a different name, speaking in a different voice, and wearing different clothes whenever she wasn’t on the base. “She was leading a double life,” Dmytro says.

Not wanting to live in the barracks with the male soldiers, Askatla started renting an apartment. Even though it cost half her salary, Dmytro says, “she was significantly happier there than in the service — even when she had a high fever from coronavirus. In her own place, she could finally look the way she wanted. It was like her inner conflict just disappeared.”

When she came home from the base, Dmytro recalls, Askatla would wait at least a few minutes before looking at herself in the mirror. “She hates her reflection — until she puts on the clothes and makeup she likes,” he says.

According to Eva-Lilith Tsvetkova, an endocrinologist who's worked with numerous trans people, it's common for the army to exacerbate a person's gender dysphoria. “In normal life, people can deal with dysphoria at least somewhat by doing little things: painting their nails, for example, even if they have to remove the polish soon afterward,” she told Meduza. “But in the barracks, there’s almost no personal space where a person can relax.”

Tsvetkova said she’s never had a patient go on hormones while still serving in the army. Askatla, however, started taking them as soon as she’d saved enough money. “I’ve been on hormones for a year now,” Askatla tells Meduza. “Now I’m being helped by specialists from a Moscow clinic, but I did the first few steps without a doctor’s appointment.”

Despite not having enough money for a doctor to help her find the right dosage, Askatla decided to start taking hormones as soon as she could afford them. “She ended up taking pills that gave her heart and blood pressure problems," Dmytro says. "Her blood pressure went up to 170 and her head started to hurt. But her dysphoria bothered her a lot more than the fact that this could kill her.”

To address the heart problems, Askatla went to a doctor from her military unit. “She did a cardiogram in the military hospital,” Dmytro tells Meduza. “And they immediately made a note: ‘Mammary glands are enlarged. Recommended to see an endocrinologist.’ She told them she would go later, of course.”

‘The sergeants said I didn’t deserve to live’

“The other soldiers were constantly making jokes about her ‘nontraditional orientation,’” Dmytro recalls. Askatla once wrote to him, “People here treat me with such tension and disgust.”

Then one day, a year and a half ago, things got even worse between Askatla and her fellow soldiers. The unit used Telegram for work-related communication, and Askatla didn’t have a personal Telegram account that was separate from her work one. “One day, they saw photographs of me as a woman on my Telegram [account]. The sergeants sent the photos to everyone in the chat. And they gave me an ultimatum: either I could delete the photos and promise ‘never to do that again,’ or they would beat me.”

They then locked Askatla in a room and told her she had 15 minutes to decide, she tells Meduza: “Either you delete them or you leave here a cripple.” She ended up deleting not just her photos but all of her social media accounts as well.

But that didn’t bring an end to the abuse. “They bullied me constantly. During our morning exercises, they would harass me and [call me slurs],” Askatla recounts to Meduza. “All of the sergeants said they ‘didn’t want to serve with a faggot like me.’ And that I didn’t deserve to live.”

In September 2022, Vladimir Putin announced mobilization in Russia. When Askatla learned of the news, she became despondent; she even considered suicide.

Dmytro did his best to convince her to focus on surviving until March, when her contract with the Russian military was slated to end. In October, however, the Russian military began preparing to send Askatla and her fellow contract soldiers to Ukraine. “The options were simple: she could either go to Ukraine and get killed, or she could try to find a way to break through it all,” Dmytro says.

Dmytro recalls in detail how Askatla’s commanders “prepared” her and the other soldiers to go to the front:

They started showing them “motivational films” about the “barbaric Nazis” in Ukraine — and about how hard life is for the people living under their rule. They showed people allegedly living in my own city, Dnipro, saying they “need help [from the Russian army].” And pictures of people who had already been “liberated”: “Look how they’re thriving!”

In October, the soldiers had mandatory shooting drills. “She had to shoot an entire magazine,” Dmytro recalls. “She tried to refuse, and when it was her turn, she passed out. They started undressing her, took off her gear, and called in a paramedic.”

While Askatla was recovering, the other soldiers fired the rest of her magazines and destroyed her equipment. “They pierced her helmet just for kicks. They thought it was so hilarious: ‘Look, a holey helmet!’” Dmytro says.

As Askatla’s situation became more desperate, she “dreamed she was participating in the murder of Ukrainians,” Dmytro says. “We had talked about it even before the shooting [practice]: it’s painful for her to think about ending up among people who might potentially harm me.”

That was when Askatla decided to seek a discharge. But during her three years in the army, she had heard from multiple military doctors that “transgenderism doesn’t exist,” and she feared they might require her to undergo “treatment.”

“She was afraid they would prescribe her breast reduction surgery or conversion therapy. And that she wouldn’t be able to refuse without [being prosecuted under Russia’s] law against ‘self-harm’ [to evade military service],” Dmytro says.

On October 21, 2022, Askatla was officially referred to the hospital. “I simply went back to the base psychologist and said that I couldn’t live like this,” she tells Meduza. “And that I would kill myself one way or another if I didn’t get out.”

‘I haven’t met a single trans person who wants to be in the military’

When the first psychiatrist who examined Askatla learned that he was talking to a trans person, he refused to accept any of her existing medical documents, according to Dmytro. “‘You can toss out all of those papers from [civilian] hospitals — they don’t mean anything here,’” the doctor reportedly told her. “'And don’t tell me tall tales.'”

For a long time, the doctor refused to listen to her. Askatla still has pictures of the notes he left in her files: “Complaints about unstable mood, irritability, alleged signs of sexual identification,” he wrote. “[...] He [Askatla] accompanies his statements with theatrical gestures. He tells the doctor, ‘I want to be discharged; the service is unbearable for me; I wanted to slit my veins, but my boyfriend stopped me.’”

The doctor concluded that Askatla’s issue was not “transsexualism,” as civilian doctors had diagnosed, but “adaptation disorder, mixed emotions and behaviors disorder.” Another psychiatrist in the military hospital gave a different diagnosis: “neurosis.”

Maxim Olenichev, a lawyer working with Askatla and Dmytro, told Meduza’s correspondent that both diagnoses are preliminary: “[Other] psychiatrists will either confirm [the diagnoses] or reject them, and they could give a different diagnosis entirely.”

Konstantin Boikov, a lawyer from the human rights organization OVD-Info and former psychiatrist, told Meduza he found the phrase “neurotic disorder” concerning. “Because that’s a disorder that could be here today and gone tomorrow,” he said. “[They could] treat her and then send her back. I really hope nobody will say, ‘Let’s send her to Kherson; we don’t have enough people at the front.’”

According to Dmytro, he’s noticed that Askatla’s dysphoria has become significantly worse in recent weeks. Alleviating her symptoms wouldn’t take much: letting her shave or wash her hair would go far towards making her feel better. But the hospital confiscated her razor and shampoo.

The last time Dmytro talked to his girlfriend was on November 9, when the hospital patients were briefly allowed to use their phones. “She’d been transferred to a separate ward,” he tells Meduza’s correspondent. “The last time we got to talk, I managed to talk to the hospital director. I asked them to separate Askatla from the men, even if she had to sleep on a folding bed.”

Meduza needs your support. A message from the author of this story, Lilya Yapparova:

In the entire time I’ve been reporting on the war in Ukraine, I haven’t encountered a more incredible love story: despite meeting after February 24, Askatla and Dmytro managed to overcome both distance (she’s in Khabarovsk and he’s in Dnipro) and prejudice (Askatla is officially serving as a “missile operator,” while Russian missiles have repeatedly hit Dmytro’s hometown). I’m glad things have (almost) worked out for them, that I was able to tell their story, and that my colleagues were able to translate it into English. We don’t charge for access to our content, but if you want to support Meduza’s work, you can do so here.

Many transgender people are currently at risk of being conscripted by the Russian army, Maxim Olenichev told Meduza. Since the start of Russia’s mobilization campaign, Olenichev has advised over 500 trans people who don’t want to go to Ukraine. “I get questions about mobilization every week,” he said. “And so far, I haven’t met a single transgender person who wants to end up in the armed forces.”

According to endocrinologist Eva-Lilith Tsvetkova, before February 24, trans women who transitioned were generally removed from the draft registry fairly quickly. “They were just told, ‘We don’t need you,’” she said. But Askatla’s situation is more complicated: rather than evading the draft, she’s trying to leave the military after three years of service.

“[The diagnosis of] ‘transsexualism’ on its own isn’t sufficient grounds to be discharged from contract military service,” Olenichev said. “Transgender people [with an official diagnosis] can’t be drafted into the armed forces [as part of Russia’s semi-annual draft], but they can serve under a contract or be drafted as part of a mobilization campaign.”

Still, according to Olenichev, transgender people can be discharged for other diagnoses, such certain “personality disorders.”

On the other hand, Tsvetkova knows of trans people who have been deemed unfit for military service on the basis of their “transsexualism” even since the start of mobilization. “It seems to depend on the individual military commissariat,” she told Meduza.

* * *

According to Dmytro, it's far too late for Askatla to return to her unit: “She won’t have a life there anymore.”

Askatla agrees: “The on-base psychologist has already told me that there’s no turning back for me. Because while it used to just be the sergeants and a few other people who knew about me, now it’s the entire unit.”

“We’re just looking for a way to not end up in trenches on opposite sides,” Dmytro says. When Askatla first learned her unit was preparing to go to Ukraine, she messaged her mother.

“[Askatla] said she was trying to get discharged on the basis of her health,” Dmytro says. “To which her mom replied, ‘Just try not to end up on the news, please. We don’t need you embarrassing us in front of the whole country.’ They’re scared that a girl who’s trying to get discharged will be shown on TV. That’s scarier to them than the fact that she could die. And that seems to be the overall position of the commanders, the other soldiers, and the doctors: better for her to just die somewhere.”

The Russian Defense Ministry and the 301st District Military Hospital did not respond to Meduza’s requests for comment.

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glitchyalchemist · 2 years

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A fic where Brainstorm fails Quark in life but swears to not repeat that mistake in death

chapter 1

you can also find this from a03

This is a plot idea that's been rolling in my brain for years and I'm finally trying to write it out from there. It's not very happy but neither is my brain, it should have a happy ending though if we can get there.

CW: death

When Quark had after lunch smiled at him and told him that he would see him later, Brainstorm hadn’t thought that there was anything significant about that occasion. There had been absolutely nothing special about the whole day. It had started just like many others, and it had gone on just like every other day. Clock into work, complain that your work was still below your skill level, watch Mainframe stare into distance and silently ask himself what bad he had done to deserve you. Flirt with Quark at lunch on the off chance that they happened to be there at the same time. The usual.

Of course it wasn’t Mainframe’s fault that Brainstorm had been demoted to be his glorified assistant after what had happened in the jet’s last unit. It was that jealous glitch Shockwave who had framed him for leaking sensitive information to their competitors. Him. He would never leak secrets that he was part of! (And for legal reasons: he would definitely never leak other secrets either, not even for large sums of shanix and definitely not for dares.) That project had been his chance to finally prove his abilities and to secure a more permanent job that suited his skills. And maybe impress Quark enough that he could finally brave up and ask him out for a date. Why in the world would he want to sabotage that?

Well, with his pitifully short military background and slightly complicated and colorful work history, it was a small miracle that Brainstorm had been allowed to even stay. But they hadn’t been able to firmly pin the blame on him, since he was innocent and all for once, and he had barely dodged the lawsuit. And it had been a situation where the research center’s unwillingness to go through the complicated severing process of a state sponsored ex-army scientist, had met Brainstorm’s unwillingness to try and navigate the saturated work markets with a hefty competitor clause, and they had just decided to stick him to the computer lab for the time being to be Mainframe’s problem.

Okay, and maybe he didn’t want to give up the perk of still getting to bump into Quark every now and then at work. It made it almost worth it to suffer through another day of computer simulated data with Mainframe, who seemed to have the hots for math simulations in a way that made even Brainstorm look casual with his weird obsessions.

But it could have been worse. At least he was allowed to affect his own work hours, and once Mainframe left home he had the whole place to himself. Which usually meant working on his personal projects while the computers were crunching the numbers in the background. There really was a lot of sitting and waiting for computers at this job… The routine of arriving at work just before lunch time for the chance of spotting Quark in the cafeteria, and staying late into the night so he could be alone in the lab had been working well enough so far.

And it was getting late again, he realized as he glanced at the clock in the corner of the monitor, pushing back the chair just enough to be able to stretch out his arms above his helm and pop his back struts back into place. They didn’t pay him for overtime spent on his own projects, but the computers here were worlds better than what he had been able to afford for his apartment. And as long as he hung out at work he didn’t have to acknowledge how lonely his cramped place really was.

Mainframe had left hours ago, and as Brainstorm packed his stuff into his briefcase and locked the lab, the rest of the building felt near abandoned as well. He didn’t come across anyone during his walk to the main lobby, where he was greeted by the night guard who was always happy to see him for whatever reason. Maybe he was lonely as well, stuck in an empty building every night, and it had become a bit of a ritual for them to exchange a few words whenever Brainstorm was clocking out late.

“Late night again?”

“Same as yesterday, and the day before that,” Brainstorm shrugged as he was poking around his subspace for his employer ID. The guard- Cog was his name, the only reason Brainstorm remembered it was that it was short and silly -wasn’t put off by his tone by this point anymore, or maybe he just was that desperate for any socialization by now that even Brainstorm made do.

“Wouldn’t it be more practical to just recharge on the couch in the rec room than drag your aft home at this hour every night?” His tone said that he was joking, but it wasn’t like Brainstorm hadn’t entertained that thought as well. Would save him a lot of time and effort and even sleeping in the rec room wouldn’t be much worse than trying to recharge at his own apartment.

“I wish. The last time I had a sleepover here I got a lecture from Xaaron personally. He told me that I looked like a hobo snoring with my briefcase as a pillow,” Brainstorm shot back with an amused curl to his optics, and when he finally got his ID he tapped it against the sensor to let himself through the revolving gate. The story wasn’t the exact truth of what had happened, it had been a lot less funny at the time, but it accomplished what he had wanted: Cog was laughing and waving him off. Brainstorm’s wings flicking in amusement.

“Well, Xaaron makes the rules I guess,” the guard admitted, and he was already prepared to say his goodbyes and reach for the buttons when he suddenly seemed to remember something and called after the jet. “Oh yeah! You just missed your little friend!” And that had Brainstorm pausing, and he looked at the guard to let him know that he had his attention now.

“What’s his name? The short microscope fellow.”

“Quark?” Brainstorm asked carefully, feeling his spark pulse slightly faster in its cage from the mere mention of his object of affections.

“Yeah, Quark! Don’t usually see him this late here. He seemed to be in a hurry too, barely managed to stutter out a hello. What a nervous fellow, but always so polite.”

Interesting. For as long as Brainstorm had worked with him Quark had always been an early riser and left home precisely at the time he got off work. Not that he tracked at what times the mech came and went from work, that would be ridiculous, he was just very observant. (When he wanted to.) But if Quark had just left… There was still a chance that Brainstorm could catch up to him if he moved fast.

“Well he probably got caught up in work, you know how it can be here. I better hurry home too if I plan to get any recharge in before morning. See you tomorrow night then!” Brainstorm excused himself out of this conversation in a hurried way that he didn’t even care if it came out forced.

But Cog just told him good night and good luck with sleep, and pressed a button from his desk to unlock the front door for long enough for Brainstorm to slip outside to Iacon’s night air. Usually he would have been heading left for the wider streets that allowed for easier take off so he could fly home, but this time his pedes were taking him right and towards the train station that he usually had no use for. But he knew that Quark took the train to work and back, and if he could catch him before that maybe he could ask to walk the other home.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of that before, but now the idea unfurled so clearly before him, a small flutter present in the bottom of his fuel tanks as he walked briskly. A ‘chance’ meeting that would allow them to spend a little bit of quality time together outside of a work setting. It wasn’t anything as serious or big as a date, but it would definitely have him floating on cloud nine tonight. Get to tell Quark to have a good night, maybe even get a goodnight in return, with one of those soft and shy smiles of his… Be thanked for making the other feel so safe on the way home. A kiss on a cheek would probably be out of the question but that didn’t stop him from including it in his giddy fantasy anyways.

Brainstorm was so excited about this turn of events that he almost forgot to wonder what Quark even was doing out here at this hour. The Epsilon Quadrant didn’t have a problematic reputation, it was filled with offices and laboratories just like theirs, pretty much nothing ever happened here because the only people out here at this time were security workers and, well, people like him he guessed. The only reason the train was even running at this hour was because it was automated.

Even he never walked the streets at this time. When he left work he just flew right to his apartment building in the not too glorious Rhodien District, the roof entrance allowing him to slip in and out without bothering his neighbors too much. And now that he was walking through the more narrow streets, the quiet and the shadows were starting to get him nervous despite knowing that the crime rate here just didn’t exist. He just got to thank his overactive imagination for the feeling that the shadows were out to get him, and instead of berating himself for being a scaredy cat, he spun the situation in his processor into a positive thing. Because the faster he walked the faster he would catch up with Quark.

He would just have to swallow down his anxiety when he eventually found the other, because it wouldn’t do if he was jumping at every shadow and sound. That wouldn’t go well with the strong and dependable image that he wanted to give Quark.

He decided to go for a short cut in hopes of increasing his chances, dodging into an alleyway that he knew zigzagged straight to the station instead of going around the buildings. The alley was darker than the main street, with a lot of clutter from the establishments that had their backdoors open into here, and he almost came to regret his decision immediately as the shadows grew taller. But the hope of catching a glimpse of Quark’s familiar white frame was giving him the strength to not abort mission and keep from jetting into the safe air where nothing creepy could reach him.

Almost as soon as that thought had left his processor, his optics fell on something familiarly white on the ground not that far away before him, and Brainstorm’s steps slowed down hesitantly.

The white metal was illuminated by light coming in from the side where the alleyway led back to the main street, and it was hard to say what he was actually looking at, but in his spark he just knew.

“Quark?” Brainstorm asked aloud and hastened his steps again, approaching the crumbled figure until he was just a few meters away, his steps seeming to suddenly echo way too loudly against the dark walls around him.

The mech was curled up on his side, his optics closed and he was looking like he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful that Brainstorm couldn’t even truly feel alarmed yet, and he just quietly took the last steps to close the distance between them before he knelt down next to the other and gently touched his shoulder pauldron with the intention of shaking him awake.

“Quark? You deciding to catch a nap, buddy? A weird place for that,” he attempted to keep his tone artificially light despite the tension that had crep there and into his spark.

But the metal felt cold against his digits, and Brainstorm froze as he slowly looked closer at Quark’s face and noticed just how pale he looked. His usual greenish-grayness was taking a much less healthy tint to it, and he couldn’t feel or hear any ventilations moving in or out of the frame. There was no EM field to detect and it was making his own curl inwards with cold dread. And when he moved his hand from the shoulder and gently tried to tilt the other’s face up, the microscope’s helmet just lolled limply to the side and revealed a grayed out spot on the white of his helmet.

Brainstorm’s optics widened, and he could feel his energon run cold.

“Oh, please no,” he gasped, already knowing that pleading wouldn’t change anything but what else was he supposed to do? His briefcase fell to the ground, forgotten as he reached for Quark’s helm again, tilting it just enough to be able to fit his hand between his helmet and pauldron to feel for his pulse.

“Please be there, please be there.” His hands were shaking and he wasn’t completely sure that he was looking from the right spot but he couldn’t feel anything. Quark’s neck cables were starting to be as cold as the rest of him, and he couldn’t detect a pulse or a twitch or even the slightest sign of life no matter from how many spots he tried. There was no pulse.

“Shit,” Brainstorm exclaimed, and let Quark’s helm roll over again as his hands ran down and over his chassis, trying to find the emergency clasps to release the panels as his digits followed the seam in the middle. He was going to look for any signs that his spark was still pulsing. That there was even a flicker left of the mech he loved. If it was there he could help him, he could get him help.

He didn’t get far before he could suddenly hear loud sirens closing in from somewhere, and he muttered an ‘oh shit’ to himself as he realized that someone had called the enforcers. His optics were burning bright, his spark spinning wildly as he glanced to the main street and saw the distant flashes of red and blue against the buildings.

Brainstorm looked down at Quark and tried to furiously think of what to do. If he should run; his first instinct when having to deal with officials. But he couldn’t just leave Quark behind either. He had failed to protect him in life, he wasn’t going to abandon him now. His motionless frame seeming so vulnerable in the dark of the night.

And as his optics flickered over the unmoving frame, as if trying to take it in for one last time so he would never forget what the other looked like, his optics caught a sight of something sticking from under Quark’s closed fist. Brainstorm was quick to move his arm gently, ignoring the way his own hand was shaking, revealing a dropped memstick. And he stared at it for a split second before he already made the decision to slip it into his subspace, just in time before the sirens were cutting the corner into the alleyway and bright headlights were blinding him, making him have to raise his arm to block his optics. His wings folded down to appear small and he just knew that he was in trouble now.

“Get your hands off him and step back!”

Brainstorm scrambled to obey the barked order out of learned reflex, straightening up on his knees and raising his hands up in a sign that he wasn’t doing anything. He knew how this looked. Quark’s frail form lying on the cold ground, a much stronger warframe without a scratch on his frame from the struggle looming over him.

He was not surprised really when the two enforcers transformed and stormed him, but he still startled when one of them pushed him to his aft and grabbed him by the arms, twisting them behind his back as he shouted at the jet to not move. Brainstorm just pinched his mouth shut for once and tried to appear as compliant as possible to not make things look any worse for him than they already did, and he could just watch as the other officer knelt down and gently checked up on Quark while he was being cuffed away.

“He’s dead,” said the Captain Obvious after few moments, but hearing that outloud felt like a cold dagger in Brainstorm’s spark anyways and he had to close his optics for a moment because looking at Quark’s corpse was becoming too much to handle. He wouldn’t cry in front of anyone, yet alone enforcers. But he was so nervous that he could feel his spark skip beats.

“Send the clean up crew, we have secured the victim,” the officer spoke to a comm, looking down at the white mech with pity in his optics. But he didn’t touch him any more, drawing back so he wouldn’t accidentally destroy evidence, and instead he glanced at Brainstorm before he spoke again. “We have the suspect too, a flight frame just as described.”

That made Brainstorm’s optics snap open again and he stared at the officer with surprise. He could understand that this situation looked bad but he had been here barely any longer than the enforcers. He had just arrived to realize that Quark was dead, who in the world would have seen him and pinned the blame on him in this time?!

“Wait, described? Quark was killed by a flight frame?” the jet asked, unprepared for it when the other officer yanked him to his feet from the ground, holding a firm grip from his back kibble and the cuffs. The officer standing over Quark, a standard cold constructed enforcer frame with no distinct differences to tell him apart from the thousand others, turned to glare at him like he personally had witnessed Brainstorm murder this bot in cold blood.

“By you. A flight frame, military grade, mint green and white.”

“It’s actually teal,” Brainstorm couldn’t help but correct although he felt stupid that that was the fact that he decided to argue, but he had handpicked the paint himself after all. But the officer didn’t look excited by his semantics right now, digging out a roll of yellow tape from his subspace.

“You can debate that with the chief once we get you back to the precinct,” he said, and that seemed to be that. Until the mech turned away to close the area with his tape and muttered a ‘this is why military frames should be locked up at the military’, which was obviously meant to be heard by Brainstorm. And upon hearing it, the jet wasn’t sure why he even bothered to be surprised anymore, it all always circled back to his frame type no matter what he did.

“Ouch…” Brainstorm muttered in reply with a sad little laugh, not even being able to begin to imagine in how much trouble he was when all he had tried was to help. Being suspected for murder, he could probably finally say good bye to his job. He would be dragged to the precinct to be interrogated by people who didn’t want to believe him in the first place because of course every military frame was inherently violent. But none of that really mattered, his job, the enforcers, society’s collective stupidness or Xaaron. Because Quark was still lying on the ground, unmoving. Quark was still dead. And there was no changing that.

If he had known that when Quark had smiled at him at lunch that it would be the last time he saw him alive, he would have grabbed him into his arms and never let him go. But now as he was trying to not stare at Quark’s peaceful and pale expression of death as they stood there waiting, he could only hope that his shy smile would be the face that he would remember.

#maccadam #quarkstorm #brainstorm/quark #what even is their ship tag #brainstorm #quark #nocturn au #tag for my writings #sft tag #altho there's DEATH #if the summary was not enough haha

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girlblogging9 · 2 years

Text

A flashback,a living memory

Screams silenced by an abuse

I have a lot of flashbacks,mainly because of legal issues regarding the abuser,these legal processes should have ended a long time ago,but he tries in every way to create situations (problems) so that it takes twice as long as normal and maintain a bond,that it is a form of torture that gives him pleasure.

This week I'm going to see my psychiatrist and ask him if there's any other medication that might help me with this mental torment that keeps me from sleep, so I'm going to report to him the specific flashback that's causing it. This memory was dormant for a while,but due to the abuser's persecution she decided to return,the brain "freezes" some trauma memories works as a defense and survival system,but when these memories come back they can destroy you.

It was one afternoon,he immobilized me on the living room floor and started to hang me,and I could barely breathe or scream and while he was doing that he was praying to the Christian God,asking his God for forgiveness and telling me that it would be okay to he kill me for my soul would go to heaven.

Away from my family,scared,extremely thin and sick physically and psychologically,I saw myself with no way out and felt suffocated. And I wondered how I'm going to get out of here,penniless,sick and how am I going to prove that I was abused and assaulted if I didn't film most of the abuse and he used my mental sequelae to manipulate me and make himself a "victim". For him this was all normal and I deserved it, so he acted like nothing had happened and on Sundays there he was praying to God in a church,I told his mother and his sister about the abuses but it was in vain, according to them I didn't pray enough and should be submissive,keep silent because a biblical woman doesn't confront her men.

These days these people go to church,post bible verses on their social media,try to maintain a perfect and pure reputation, evangelize and live as if they have done nothing wrong and are innocent. But I don't,I spend sleepless nights and live on medicine so I don't hear his screams in my mind saying he hated me,that he was going to kill me,insults,the pain I feel where my bones were broken and damages my whole diction.

They faithfully believe that they are good people and deceive a multitude of idiots around the world and that they will inhabit the magical paradise of Christians. They say my present suffering is the fault of my sins and I will burn in hell. If hell really exists as they say,I wish that every one of them would rot there one day and be abused every day by satan as they did me,that his screams for help be silenced, just as they silenced my screams.

It's very easy for them to go to church and pray,hide the blood on their hands and use God and appearance as a hiding place. But each of them confess everything they did to me and the situation they left me in none of them has the courage to say,in their perception the fact that they are Christians cancels the responsibility for their mistakes and crimes.

Every punch I took in my face I was forced to hear,PRAY,PRAY,PRAY IT'S YOUR FAULT. I spent years asking for forgiveness for things that weren't my fault but they never asked me for forgiveness for anything, his family always hiding what he really is and did.

That man hated everything about me, everything...My voice,my appearance,my illness,the fact that I didn't accept his double life,he used me until there was nothing left inside me and he always, always and always interpreted his behavior as normal. He managed to destroy something I dreamed of since my childhood,build a family nowadays I don't dream,I survive.

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scary-senpai · 2 years

Note

Late reply is late 😅

First at all, I wanted to thank you for the answer about Garou's parents and the links you included about your others works! It took me a while to read them all! (Life has been busy lately) 😅.

But anyway, if it is possible, I would like to ask you, what do you think of the last chapter and what awaits for the future?

Mainly with the HA and Garou possible join them?

I believe people like Amai Mask would take it pretty badly considering he wanted to go straight for the kill and if Garou ends up as a S class hero, it would just add salt in the wound.

I think many of the C, B and A heroes would quit immediately, but the fact that Garou did not fight all the S class heroes gives a little ray of hope of being accepted (or at least tolerated) more easily.

Not that they would welcome him with open arms or something, but not having to apologize to them in particular could help.

(I sure hope as hell that Bang would not make Garou apologize to the ones who hitted him back then, they lost their right to an apology after that).

And also, I know I mentioned this before, but have you noticed that there have been more people trying to prove the 0.01 % chance of the theory of "Blast is future Garou" after the last chapter? They are a lot of memes about it!

The thing that caught my attention about this the most, and the Neo heroes arc, it is if there would be any interactions between Garou and Blue.

That would be very interesting...

Those 2 right now, represent everything their ideas oppose, with Garou being a "former criminal" and Blue being the "leader" of a lot more corrupted organization who believes they have any right to turn whoever they seem fit into cyborgs (pretty sure that in the webcomic they tried to capture Garou for that porpuse).

And in the 0.01% chance of Blast being actually Garou in the future, that would be mean that Blue would meet his dad when he was a kid like himself and, don't know, understand him better perhaps?

So? What do you think of this?

Gaah—oh my goodness. If you read all my stuff, you are legally entitled to my hand in marriage, and/or a bowl of soup <3 (But you're under no obligation! I reblog/link stuff hoping that somebody will read them, but never anyone in particular.)

Anyway, thank you so much for writing, Cherished Tumblr Compadre. I’ve been thinking a lot about the last chapter! I could literally meta for days about all the red flags happening in the Hero Association right now, but I’ll try not to indulge in too many tangents. I already vented a bit about the hiring process, the apparent lack of background checks, and Sitch’s consistent failure to communicate.

Going back to your ask, though, there’s a technical term for many of the snide interpersonal interactions we see at the HA, and that’s workplace bullying. Even if he’d come in under the best of circumstances (fresh from the dojo, no hero hunt and no criminal record), Garou would certainly get shit from somebody and suffer from the utter cliquey-ness of the place. For an organization focused on Justice, they can be patently unfair--as Garou knows from his convo with Death Gatling. (And Bang knows this, too, because we’ve seen him comment on his colleagues behavior—although he doesn’t really address it directly).

Anyway, my Overly Sad Headcanon / Depressing Meta is that Bang, well aware of Garou's childhood angst, is doing his own crude version of Exposure Therapy and in hopes that Garou will learn to rise above conflict, and to play nicely even when folks actively antagonize him. I think I prefer that to my other depressing meta, which is that Bang has yet to see Garou for Garou, and instead simply imagines his protégé as a younger version of himself.

In any case, I’m curious why Bang resigned immediately, as opposed to reducing his schedule and/or taking personal leave as he supports Garou’s transition, and then returning together with him—it almost feels like there were ultimatums involved. I think Bang’s presence will be crucial for Garou’s success at the HA—not only so that Garou feels like he’s got somebody in his corner, but so that the other employees feel more comfortable, because Garou’s always hanging around a chaperone. I love Garou, but he has the potential to be very dangerous in response to a perceived threat. Additionally, he’s put a lot of effort into making himself seem scary and that will come back to bite him in the ass, even among people he has not actively battered. Fear/anxiety responses are not something we can so easily override, but that’s a CogPsych digression for another day. I am still triggered by a current client that reminds me of my emotionally abusive ex-boss, even though it’s been several years since I left that job and I was never in physical danger.

OPM feels like it was written by someone who understands behavioral economics / organizational psych very well and/or is quite familiar with how Kafka-esque managing a company (particularly a nonprofit) can get…or someone that knows very little and has somehow gotten lucky and lampooned all the right things. Catbert would be proud.

So, I am not endorsing this approach, but here’s a real thing that happens at companies: getting people to quit is sometimes a deliberate gambit, even a strategy. Sitch (or another executive) might have done the math and decided, "yes, I one solid S-Class hero adds more value than 100 B/C class heroes. Let’s make that sacrifice.”

Ideally you would work hard to make all your staff comfortable, but that isn't always possible, and some companies can’t be bothered. Unhappy / anxious employees are unproductive employees. In that case, Upper management might well say, "if you don't like the direction we are taking, then by all means--please, go with God. And also, you’re not worth the headache.” And we have seen upper management get very, very ruthless about strategy. And besides, not everybody can just up and leave a job. It probably helps that the HA is the only game in town, at least for now

I spend a lot of time thinking about the economy in the OPM-verse—it can’t be good. In a world --where your entire commercial district might be flattened under a giant monster corpse at a moment’s notice, or your public transit / highway system becomes suddenly FUBAR due to yet another monster-induced catastrophe, Hero work would probably be a comparatively stable career.

Anyway, @gofancyninjaworld used the analogy that "the Hero Association hiring Garou now is like opening up a marriage after your spouse has cheated," but I'd go one step further and say, "it's like opening up a marriage because your spouse has been cheating chronically for years." There are many things that will likely come to light because of Garou--lack of transparency, lack of supervision/oversight, unequal treatment. Nothing that’s Garou’s fault, but Garou’s presence will likely crack already faulty foundations.

Speaking of which:

I know this arc been a journey for everyone, mostly ending in positive changes, and this includes Waganma's dad, Narinki. He probably has an improved opinion of heroes now.

But if one high-ranking executive thinks like this, others likely share this perspective--because if they didn't, then Narinki probably wouldn't be there in the first place. My old company was not the healthiest or most cohesive work environment, but if anybody ever implied the front line workers weren't earning their keep, even on an “easy” shift, they would be immediately and mercilessly eviscerated by the rest of the office staff (many of whom had been front line workers previously). We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we agreed that the frontline workers should be making as much money as we could possibly afford to pay them, all of the goddamn time.

Speaking of which. The HA could stand to have some heroes on their executive board, if they don’t already. Most successful orgs try to diversify their leadership with current/former employees, and (usually if they are a service oriented nonprofit) from the populations they support. You don’t have to be a wealthy businessman in a suit to serve on leadership committee—but it does get frustratingly insular sometimes.

In that sense, maybe the HA does need someone like Garou, who can see through PR bluster and speak truth to bullshit power. He just needs to sharpen his diplomacy skills.

Speaking of diplomacy, it seems like Garou is certainly primed for conflict with Amai Mask. On the other hand, I like to think that Garou is also uniquely positioned to understand Amai, perhaps moreso than any other character. Garou knows the anger and fear that comes with being a monster, and (if he does join up with the HA) the crushing pressure to uphold a positive image in spite of whatever storm is roiling inside you. Amai externalizes his pain and sadness on to other people. That was Garou’s downfall, too.

I do have this bittersweet headcanon where Garou figures out Amai’s identity and his mind is absolutely blown, because, well...

Garou, pacing frantically: If you're a hero but you're actually a monster then... that means... you aren't actually popular you're... oh, wow. [[Garou abruptly stops pacing and makes eye contact with Amai]] That sounds really fucking hard, actually.

Amai, coolly: I’d certainly say so.

Garou, pacing again, and biting his nails: See, ever since I was a kid I've always rooted for the monster. but I don't know if it was actually about the monster...now that I think about it, and I’ve finally met some monsters, I’m starting to think that it might have been about the rooting for underdog, you know?

Amai: I’ve never been one for cartoons.

Garou: and... you're kinda the underdog here... so... I think I might, uh... I might... be a fan? I mean, I might be your fan--

Amai, smiling slightly: that is quite kind of you to say.

Garou, practically tearing out his own hair: --possibly your biggest fan--

Amai, magnanimously: I suppose it’s no surprise that you’d come around eventually--

Garou, cutting him off: --but I absolutely hate your music...and literally everything else about you.

Amai: ...

Garou: like, I’m on your side, but I don’t wanna be in the same room as you, you know?

Amai, sighing: you really ought to quit while you’re ahead.

“I’m on your side, but also I don’t want to be in the same room as you,” is probably something Garou hears a lot, bless him.

OPM has this almost-but-not-quite hopeful motif that “the best possible outcome arises when the absolute worst thing occurs,” and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s how Garou’s story will go—in many ways, he’s been through more than anybody else and in that sense he has the most potential to help everybody else.

Now, you mentioned apologies. I would say that (in most cases) everyone deserves an apology, but nobody’s entitled to forgiveness. Those are two very different things.

It is my (probably unpopular) opinion that forgiveness is something you do for you, as a way of moving on--it is not necessarily for the benefit of the person apologizing, especially in extreme cases like this, Sometimes forgiveness means setting boundaries. Someone once described forgiveness as “take a boltcutter to the chains of an unpleasant experience so that it no longer has power over you.” When it comes to some people I’ve forgiven, like my former employer or an abusive ex, I honestly prefer not to think of them. In other cases—like forgiving my loved ones for things they’ve done (usually unintentionally)—it’s the mistake that we’ve agreed to move away from, not each other, and we mutually agree on the work it will take (and consistent behavioral changes we need to see) in order to repair / strengthen our relationship after a misstep. It really, really depends on the scenario, and the people involved, and what your goals are. Healing alone takes work, and healing together with somebody else usually takes twice as much effort (if not more, tbh)

Someone can sincerely accept Garou’s apology, and hope that he turns his life around, and also never want to see him again (or work for the same employer). None of those things are mutually exclusive, nor are they wrong.

I think Garou’s preliminary (and most daunting) challenge will be to forgive himself for his past actions. Until he accomplishes that, he can’t fully conceptualize what makes a heartfelt apology.

We never actually saw Garou apologize for dining and dashing, for example--instead, he notably rambled off on a tangent, justifying previous crimes. It’s funny and sweet and a little troublesome. But I think we can guess where it comes from... Garou does not often see people apologizing to him.

Garou’s temper and incorruptible stubborn streak are why I doubt he’s actually Blast—although admittedly I’m having some fun imagining that theory. But Blast works on a team. Blast is level-headed. He’s a straight-shooter and a clear communicator, even under pressure...and these are all qualities that Garou does not fully embody right now. He might have demonstrated a talent for teamwork, but he won’t admit to it. He helps Sai to focus enough to time travel, but those are memories he can no longer access. I do hope he finds them again. Anyway, the potential is certainly there, and i believe that Garou could (in time) cultivate these qualities and ultimately excel at them…but honestly I don’t see anyone around him to guide him, or even to model this behavior. If anything, I think Garou will end up enlightening Bang more than Bang could ever hope to enlighten Garou.

I think it’s interesting to consider how Garou and Blue might interact, if the “Garou is Blast” theory comes true. I feel like it would probably be... traumatic for the both of them, honestly.

Think about it: Garou hasn’t quite figured out his own childhood and already he’s tasked with being an adult. I mean, wow, can you imagine the pressure?!? “Bang is like 100 years old and he’s still not ready to be a father,” Garou probably thinks to himself but lovingly, and with great affection for his mentor. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do?!?”

If Blue is Garou’s son, I hope Garou discovers this quickly , because Garou it seems like he would feel... immense regret and sadness for failing to be a fully present parent. Even if he’s still just a kid himself and the whole situation is patently absurd, he might end up chastising himself for not being a good father even though he had no way of knowing he was actually supposed to be one.

Thinking about this from Blue’s perspective? I imagine it would be very hard for him also. Again, I haven’t read most of the wc, but Blue more mature than Current Garou. Current Garou is someone who is really in need of a parental figure right now (honestly he needs multiple mentors and/or parental figures, partly because he needs so much support and partly because he needs to regain trust / feel safe around other adults). So, in that sense maybe he’d be better off hanging around another kid? It’s really hard to tell. Garou’s kind of a wild card.

Garou is also emotionally immature, which tends to exacerbate any existing interpersonal struggle. We’ve seen how he handles emotional closeness--he runs away, and challenges people to find him. Like most teenagers, he lashes out to test boundaries. He can’t even tell Bang, “I missed you, and I’m glad you’re here.” He just says “took you long enough, you old windbag!” And Bang doesn’t seem to want to use his words either. Garou struggles to keep his anger under control. He seems to feel a little bit awkward and anxious in social situations, unless he’s masking or performing in some capacity. Even a friendly conversation with his most trusted person hit some rough patches… so imagine him navigating such an unusual one?

Your idea that the Neoheroes wanted to turn Garou into a cyborg is a really good one! I hadn’t considered that, but it makes a lot of sense.

So as we know, Neo-heroes are into extreme body modification. That seems like it would make them the obvious baddies. But, as we learned in Ch 167.5, there are some folks at the HA pushing for a similar approach:

The higher-ups want me to try drugs, body modifications, whatever it takes!

And the heroes are questioning my awareness of human rights and threatening me with lawsuits!

I suppose Gobrich means to say that the employees are threatening to sue the company, which is, again, an inadvisable tactic, but not an uncommon one: some companies decide the cost of getting sued is worth the overall benefit they’d see from a particular strategy. Also, winning a lawsuit is often more about weasel-wording and the evidence/strength of a case than actual reality… and that’s assuming you have the resources to follow through with a lawsuit, which not everyone does. I would not want to go toe-to-toe with an entity like the HA, I’ll tell you that much.

Scarily enough, this Gobrich situation is not an uncommon scenario IRL, either--sometimes it’s just one rational person in the right position that’s able to hold back an unfair, inhumane, or otherwise detrimental change.

Right now, the HA is pretty much the only game in town. Normally, that’s a bad thing--folks that want to work as career heroes don’t seem to have options when it comes to employers, which would give the HA more leverage over its employees, perpetuating things like unfair (or downright unjust) treatment. In this case, though, there’s an unintentional upside: while there isn’t a consensus about how to improve the current roster of heroes, there are at least some forces (or just individuals, like Gobrich) putting a kibosh on more extreme techniques, like body modification--at least, for now.

What that means is, though, there might not be a mass exodus of “Heroes that Don’t Like Garou” -- there might also be a second wave of extremists jumping ship to work/play mad scientist for a less morally conservative organization. The latter example is much more scary to me. :-/

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