#there’s only 3 black people in town including me and you’re sending me explosives like wthhh

[doggobrie]

Maybe next time just send a card Kent….

#sdv #sdv sam #stardew valley #Apparently this is Kent being nice but DUDE #there’s only 3 black people in town including me and you’re sending me explosives like wthhh #brie art #sdv farmer #sam sdv

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hi, I have this super specific idea so feel free to ignore this one lol. So basically, Annie and the reader have been dating for a while, like at least a year. And the reader is in the survey corps right, so during one of the missions she ends up getting injured in an explosion and she's like all burned up and covered in injury's that'll scar really bad. And so the reader gets taken to a hospital or med bay or whatever, and she's been out for days, and like Reiner, Eren, Mikasa, etc. are all there, ya know her little gaggle of friends. And like she's been unconscious for days but sometimes she'll wake up for a few minutes and pass out again. So when Annie gets the news and comes to see her she like starts to wake up, and when she's coherent Annie is holding her hand and says "I'm glad you're alive" or something, then the reader just kinda stares at her for a minute and says "are you one of my friends from the cadet corps" and everyone's shocked and Annie kinda runs off. And ass the reader gets better she's allowed to walk around town and shit as long as someone's with her because she he's trouble walking, and she like can't hold things in one of her hands without shaking like she's about to fall apart. She basically hos no memories of absolutely anything so if someone says that their friends she just believes them and wants to be with them, which is a contrast to how she was in the cadets because she was always super short tempered and would pick fights with everyone, but she always had a soft spot for Annie and would follow her around and shit while being an ass to everyone else. So now she has no memories, blind as shit, can barely walk, and is super kind and polite to just about everyone. And like she insists on Annie seeing her and wants to go with her wherever she goes and is all smiles and happiness while Annie is kinda having a crisis. Because they were both very closed off people and they opened up to each other and built unwavering trust and loyalty but now one of them doesn't remember, Annie wants to help her but at the same time she feels that it's for the best if they stay apart, uh spoiler they don't stay apart it's just gonna take time. I'm really sorry this was so long dude. Also please tell me this made sense I haven't stopped think about this for days

I- It’s a little confusing but I think I get it.

Let me know if I get anything wrong!

I also included a lot of platonic AruAni because it’s cute.

Unbearable

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Implied season 3 spoilers

Category: Both angst and fluff (somehow)

Summary: After getting seriously injured in a mission, Annie’s s/o doesn’t recognize anyone, and is left very weak. Still, Annie and her S/O stick together through the recovery.

Words: 5.5K

It’d gone wrong. It’d all gone horribly wrong.

A freak accident—only preventable by, perhaps, closer gear inspection, but it was far too late for that. The damage had been done.

The most recent Survey Corps mission was just concluding, and you managed to call yourself one of the lucky ones who survived this far. Erwin led the charge back to the walls at full speed, having completed the objective by the skin of his teeth, but an abnormal titan was tagging dangerously close behind.

The towering beast approached closer and closer, until it kicked the horse you were on, sending you and it abruptly flying through the air and away from the Scouts.

It took you a minute to regain your senses and realize the gravity of your situation. Your horse lay dying 40 feet away from you. Clearly, it would be of no help. The abnormal lurched towards you unnaturally, and your eyes widened in fear.

A quick movement of your upper body caused a jolt of pain to shoot up your chest, and you were positive you must’ve broke a few ribs when you collided with the dirt.

Still, you had limited time before the monster reached you, and you weren’t about to die that easily. You bore the pain in your chest as you stood up straight, beads of cold sweat rolling down your face as you surveyed your situation to find the easiest way out.

You were too far from your horse, and the rest of the Scout formation, and you were in no shape to run. Your head turned towards the walls, and an idea popped into your mind—you were going to scale the wall.

You broke into a quick sprint before you shot your ODM gear into the wall, flying towards it at lightning speed. Your back took the brunt of the impact, and you groaned in pain.

Still, it seems as if the abnormal wasn’t going to let you get a moment’s rest, as it caught up to you and tried to jump and grab you, but narrowly missed your boot. The rush of adrenaline kicked your body into gear as you shot the grapple of your ODM gear onto the ledge of the wall and hauled yourself up, a garrison soldier helping you before turning to man one of the cannons.

You stood up triumphantly on the wall, the titan below you still trying in vain to reach you. You could hear the distant shouting of a commander—and what you could out assume was the foreboding shout, “FIRE!!!”

And that’s where everything went wrong.

The cannon, no more than three feet to your right, exploded into a supernova of sparks and flames, and the last thing you saw was fire as blinding pain shot through your body.

And then it all went black.

---

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her at the moment, you’re going to have to wait until she’s discharged.” The poor receptionist sighed, staring up at the distressed woman in front of her.

“I don’t care if ‘only family is allowed’! I’m her girlfriend, I should be allowed to see her!” Annie shouted, dressed in a simple white hoodie and grey pants. An outfit too casual for her to wear outside in most occasions, but when she heard the news of your admission to the hospital, she didn’t care to change.

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do-”

Annie leaned in closer, grabbing the receptionist by the collar of her shirt and pulling her in, a dangerous look gracing her face. Her voice came out in a threatening growl.

“Look, I’m a part of the military police, so if anyone asks, I’m just her older sister,” She glared daggers the woman, who shook like a leaf at the intimidation, “Got it?”

The woman nodded urgently, sweating bullets at this point, and Annie was thankful the intimidation had worked. “R-Room 302...”

She didn’t bother letting out a response as she ran to the wing of the hospital you were in. She didn’t know quite where the room was, but she would find out soon enough.

After a painful few minutes of searching, her eyes found the plate outside of a closed wooden door, the number reading “302″.

She walked up to it, and took a deep breath in before twisting the doorknob and pushing her way into the room, but her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sight.

She knew it was bad—after all, nothing good ever came out of being so close to an explosion like that—but she couldn’t have been prepared for what she saw.

You were laid down on the bed, clearly unconscious, and sweltering burns covered at least 60% of your body, especially your right side. Many limbs were elevated and covered in taunting white casting, and you let out shallowed, labored breaths.

She mentally cursed the primitive healthcare the Eldians seemed to have, and the lack of a doctor in the room. She was no professional, but you definitely didn’t look to be in a state to be alone.

She though you were alone, that is, until her rationality returned to her and she noticed many figures in the room, though none bore the staff uniform.

They seemed to notice her before long, and a few stared at her quietly with pity in their eyes. She scanned the faces that surrounded her; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner were all present in the room.

“What in...” Her voice came out short in her throat; the words were just as powerless as she was, “What in God’s name happened to her...” It was hushed, almost husky, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Maybe she was, but she didn’t notice.

Mikasa seemed to be the first one to speak up through the heavy silence, stepping forward to grab Annie’s attention.

“It was on the recent scouting mission yesterday. She narrowly escape a titan by climbing over the wall, but one of the Garrison’s cannons blew up.” Mikasa looked to the side, clearly troubled by the situation as well. “Of the four people caught up in the explosion, she’s the only one still alive.”

Annie didn’t process quite what Mikasa had said at first, her mind was more focused on a pressing question that suddenly arose in her mind.

“The only one still alive?” She echoed. “Why did you phrase it like that?”

Mikasa sighed, covering her mouth with her scarf—something she often did when she was troubled. “Well, the doctor is doing all he can at the moment, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness nonstop for the past hour. Even when she is awake, we can’t seem to get a coherent response out of her.”

She froze.

Her eyes moved back to your battered form. She hadn’t taken in exactly how bad it was until now. Shattered bones, burnt skin, compromised organs—you were nearly unrecognizable. Not in the way that you were scarred beyond recognition, but in the way that she never imagined to see you in such a state. You looked like you had, quite literally, went through hell and back.

She let out a pained sigh, slinking down in a chair next to the bed and staring at the floor in defeat. She reached out and grabbed your limp hand at your side, running her thumb delicately over your burnt hand, as if the slightest mistouch would cause you to shatter like delicate porcelain.

“Please...” She knew you couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to pretend, for a brief moment, that you could, and that you’d bounce right back up. But, you stayed limp on the bed, unmoving. “Please wake up...”

The others were able to read the room and came to a silent consensus, filing out of the room wordlessly.

She continued to hold your hand, sitting silently on your bedside for hours.

You never regained consciousness once.

---

Dreams flashed through her mind, the inner turmoil she faced was too fierce to not have such vibrant, nonsensical dreams. Dreams of you, spending late nights with her, or eating with her in silence. Dreams of your broken and bloodied body being sent flying from a hellish firework of flames. Dreams of visiting a newly dug grave. Dreams of—

A loud banging startled her out of her sleep, and she opened her eyes with a start, the dreams stopping abruptly as her brain pieced together the fragments of reality. Right, they were just dreams.

The banging—what was it? She looked around for a source. Nothing had fallen, nothing had moved, the room was still.

*BANG BANG BANG*

She jumped at the loud so, before facepalming internally. Of course someone was knocking on the door, what was she thinking?

A quick glance at the clock showed the time; 3AM. What is going on?

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she threw on some sweatpants, just presentable enough to answer the door.

She twisted the knob open and was greeted by...

“Armin?” She slurred, confusion and tiredness laced her voice.

“Annie...!” He had a strange look on his face, like he was in a hurry. Yet, it didn’t look like desperation, nor was it excitement. “Y/n woke up!”

---

She had never run faster. She didn’t care about leaving Armin in the dust at her front doorstep—hell, it didn’t even process until minutes later that she didn’t even close the front door. She just ran, ran, ran all the way to the hospital.

She made it to your room again, panting and desperate to see you again.

She went inside, and an immense wave of relief and joy washed over her face. It was true, you were conscious. Sitting up in the bed, talking to someone at your bedside, likely a nurse or a doctor.

Her loud footsteps and heavy breathing brought the attention of both you and the staff member to her, and you locked eyes with her.

She froze. There they were. The beautiful E/C eyes she had fallen in love with, and the same ones that filled her vision when she first awoke next to you in the morning. Except, something was off. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was disarray in your eyes. A storm.

She paid no mind to the rotten gut feeling, though, and rushed by your side to grip your hand tightly. A spark of sympathy arose in her chest when you whimpered in pain at the motion, but that was the last thing on her mind. Tears of happiness sparked in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks.

She bowed her head—a sign of vulnerability that only you were ever able to see.

“Y/n, I...!” She choked out through the tears in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re okay...”

You didn’t embrace her, you didn’t squeeze her hand back. No, you were still. Still as you were when your battered body was first admitted to the hospital. She looked up at you, and the same misguided look was in your eyes.

“Sorry... do I know you?”

---

She slammed the door behind her, locking it as she slid down the wall of her house, sobs wracking her body.

Her mind had neglected to process it until just now, but the truth was inescapable; you didn’t know who she was anymore. You didn’t know anyone or anything anymore.

Amnesia.

She couldn’t bear to see you like that. Seeing you so physically broken was bad enough, but seeing you confused and lost, years of memories and connections and friends just out the window? If there was a god, he sure as hell must’ve hated you.

She had no idea what to do. You weren’t going to just magically remember her. No, the Y/N she knew and loved all those years was gone. You were just a blank slate. She no longer meant anything to you, she was a stranger in your eyes.

She laid down to go to sleep, but she couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep that night.

---

She chose not to get up the next morning. She stayed in bed, staring at the empty space next to her where you usually slept. She wanted you to be right there next to her. God, she wanted you back.

She would’ve stayed in her depressed, hibernated state for hours, or even days, had someone not stopped by to check on her.

She figured it would be Armin. The sympathetic blonde man would always stop by to check on her. Not just now, but throughout their days as cadets. He was always the second person—after you, of course—to check up on her and ask how she was doing.

But when she opened the door and saw Mikasa, she was a little confused.

“Mikasa, what are y-”

“Y/n wants to speak with you.” She stated flatly, and Annie physically recoiled at the mention of your name.

“She... what?” Annie muttered, confusion enveloping her tone.

She understood the statement, on a surface level at least. But she didn’t understand why. Why did you want to talk to her? She meant nothing to you. What was there to talk about anymore? You probably didn’t even know her name.

She complied silently, though, and before long, she had trudged herself all the way to the hospital.

302. Such a depressing number to her now. But it was unavoidable. You were on the other side of the door, awaiting her for some odd reason.

She pushed the door open, and her eyes met yours silently. You were sitting up with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Your eyes followed Annie as she wordlessly shut the door and took a seat next at your bedside.

“Annie.” The blonde women flinched at the sound of her name, eyes staying fixated on anything but your face. “Annie.”

She finally shifted her head, meeting your gaze. There was a pitiful look tracing her features. It would look like indifference at first glance, but being so close to her allowed you to notice small features on her face, like her sunken in eyes, and her lips, tucked into a frown slightly tighter than normal.

She looked like she was about to cry.

You moved your arm slowly, wincing internally as your wounds burned and ached, and took her hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing manner. Annie didn’t want to enjoy it—she knew this wasn’t the you she had fallen in love with—but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the simpler times, where small affectionate gestures like this were normal to her.

“Mikasa told me just about everything I’ve forgotten.” You finally spoke up. “About the Scouts, about the accident, about us.” A painful silence filled the room for a moment following the word ‘us’. Surely, it meant more to her than it did to you.

“Annie.” You squeezed her hand despite the pain shooting up your arm, and your hand trembled involuntarily. “I know I don’t really know you,” You chuckled lightly, “or anyone for that matter, but I want to spend more time with you. We can just restart, fall in love all over a-”

“No!” She snapped, the sudden outburst causing you to jump. Her distressed eyes softened when she saw you, almost as if she thought you were made of glass, and that you would break at any moment. “No... please...”

She stood up abruptly, dropping your hand to lay dormant by the side of the hospital bed. “You don’t even know me! What’s the point?!”

Despite her angry appearance, her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook as she spoke. Pricks of tears appeared at the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away desperately.

“You forgot me, so I’ll forget you in return.” She turned towards the door, grabbing the knob firmly. Despite her desperate need to get out of the room, her hand trembled and shook, refusing to turn the knob.

“I’ll...” A small sob wracked her body. “Find someone else...”

---

Contrary to what her heart truly desired, she refused to see you. She forced herself to cut off all emotional ties to you—after all, you didn’t even know her. It was painful to even speak to you. Somehow, the loss had felt like you truly had died in the explosion. Sure, you were physically here, but all that was you was gone.

It was Armin who finally brought her out of her depressed slump. He saw the state of her after weeks of staying huddled up in her room. It was so unlike Annie. Her room was a mess, and so was she. Her hair was unkempt and unbrushed, and she hadn’t even showered at all. Clothes lay scattered across the room, and the trash can in the corner of the room had started overflowing.

It wasn’t a pleasing sight, but he couldn’t blame her.

He had offered to meet him at a local café to talk—albeit, after she showered. She hesitantly agreed, and went into the bathroom to get ready. While she showered, Armin absentmindedly picked up some of the scattered clothing, putting it in it’s proper place, and even emptied the trash can for her.

He saw the slight shock in her eyes when she came out, surprised, but internally grateful for his help. She didn’t show it verbally, but she gave a thankful nod, and he understood.

---

Armin brought the cup to his lips, the steam flowing from the cup blocking his face as he sipped his tea silently, and Annie took another bite of her glazed donut.

“So, Annie.” He turned to face her, setting his cup down. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sighed internally. Nothing yet had been spoken, but she knew it was about you. Her silence beckoned him to continue.

“I... No, we all noticed how you’ve been recently, and we understand it. Who knows what you’re feeling right now...” His sympathy went mostly unappreciated. She really didn’t want to be reminded of the depressive state she had fallen into.

“It’s completely up to you, but... we think it would be better for you if you decided to talk to her again.” Armin didn’t need to say who this ‘her’ was. Annie already knew.

She raised an eyebrow and considered his statement for a fleeting moment, but regained her stance. She wasn’t going to talk to you. No convincing from her friends would change that.

“See, the thing is, Y/N has been discharged.” He spoke, bringing the cup back to his face to preemptively fill the silence he anticipated.

No amount of emotional cover-up could hide the shocked look on her face. Part of her was ecstatic, deep down. She was glad you were well enough to leave. But, the other part reminded her that associating with you would only bring her more hurt.

“But, there isn’t really going to be any recovering from what she experienced, unfortunately.” He brought the cup back down onto the table, now empty of all it’s liquid. “So, the doctor advised that she be under careful supervision from someone at all times.”

Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going.

“So,” he huffed a breath of heavy air, “We decided that if anyone was going to take her in, it should be you, Annie. We want to take her back to live with you.” She could feel her jaw slack at the proposal, and a full-fledged war had just started in her mind. She registered he was still speaking, but was too conflicted to listen.

Once again, part of her mind was desperately trying to reach you. To take you in and care for you, and to ensure you have a safe and comfortable recovery with her. She could restart with you, and make new memories with you, and everyone else.

But she understand it would be painful. Unbearable, even. She might as well be taking care of a stranger. You didn’t act like Y/n, you didn’t look like Y/n, hell, you hardly even knew who Y/n was at this point. It would just hurt her even more, all she needed to do was get away from you—!

“Annie...!” Armin spoke firmly, slightly leaned over the table as if he had been prying for her attention for a while now. He reached across the table to grab her hand, causing her to gasp. His hand was warm. It reminded her of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.” His voice was soothing and inviting, and she was reminded once again of what great friends she had made in the 104th.

“You think it’s gonna hurt, and it will, I’m sure. I understand too. She doesn’t quite act like she did before, we all noticed. It’s...” He paused, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side. It had hurt him, too. “Strange. To see a friend like this.”

He leaned forward, pulling his hand away to place it back on the table. “But you have to do something! Separating yourself from someone you care about so deeply isn’t good for you.” He brought his head up slightly, staring daggers into her eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t be so conflicted if you didn’t.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once again. She didn’t want to get emotional, and certainly not here of all places. But she knew he was telling the truth. She still cared, and it wasn’t good for her to ignore you.

“Besides,” He stood up, turning to leave. “She misses you too, Annie.”

---

She made up her mind that day. She was gonna bring you back home.

It wasn’t easy. Both the emotional aspect, but also cleaning up her filthy room in such a short span of time. Still, she prepped it perfectly for your arrival. She cleaned up the room, organized her things, made the bed, and even bought a second pillow—surely, you two couldn’t share just the one.

Picking you up from the hospital was bittersweet. You managed to stay standing, although only with the help of a wooden cane. Your hand gripped the handle tightly, and you leaned a large portion of your body weight on it, just to not fall over.

You had changed out of the raggedy hospital clothes, finally getting to wear something comfortable after so long, but even with the cloth, the purplish-redish burn scars coated much of your body. It reached from the very fingertips of your right hand, all the way up your neck and part of your face.

Still, you smiled weakly and brought your hand up to wave at her.

She approached you hesitantly, but as soon as you tried to stumble over to her, she rushed up to support you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Easy, now.” She muttered. “You should be careful.”

“Right,” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, having seen the outside for the first time in weeks. It didn’t stop the stone walls from towering forebodingly over you, though, but you felt at least some freedom.

“Where are we headed?” You sighed, and started walking. Annie guided you for the most part, but you managed to get your injured legs to cooperate, somewhat. You hand trembled as it gripped the cane, and even step on uneven ground caused you to stumble, but Annie’s grip kept you upright.

“We’re going...” She hesitated. “Home.”

---

Early morning birds chirped their greetings through the open windows, and the sun shone rays of dawn down from the sky. A typical wake-up call to her.

That, and your snoring.

She opened her eyes and stretched, easing up the tension in her muscles, which had laid painfully dormant for the past eight hours. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her attention shifted to the mass attached to her side.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and your head was buried in her chest. Despite having lived with you for a few weeks now, she hadn’t gotten used to the change. In the past, neither of you really cuddled in your sleep. You gave sweet goodnights and passed out on opposite sides of the bed just like that.

It was a welcome change, though, and seeing you tucked so comfortably into her side brought a smile and blush to her face. She ran a hand through your messy h/c hair, smiling softly as you stirred in response to the affection.

“...Mm?” You let out a groggy noise, having been woken up a little earlier than you were used to. Annie was always the morning person in the relationship.

“Good morning.” She cooed, removing her hand to sit up and get out of bed. Once she tried to stand, though, she felt a frail hand tug at her wrist. You grip was weak as a result of your injuries, and she could very easily wiggle out if she wanted to, but she faltered.

“C’mon...” You muttered, face down in the blankets, still halfway asleep. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Annie huffed in defeat, climbing back into the bed and shuffling back under the cotton sheets. You were back at her side in an instant, and she smiled once again. Even after everything, you were still just as cute as always when you were sleepy.

“We can’t stay like this for very long, you know.” She sighed, placing a warm, calloused hand on your back.

You groaned in annoyance at that. “Why’s that?”

“Armin and the others invited us out to get lunch. It’s been a while since the Survey Corps has had a day off.” She looked to the side before muttering quietly. “I also have to go to work with the military police... I’ve used up all my paid leave.”

“Oh... yeah, we should probably get ready.” Contrary to your tone, you were actually quite happy. Annie had been quite a bit overprotective of you since your injury, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to get out much. You couldn’t blame her much, though. You could hardly walk, eat, or do just about anything without assistance. You were glad she took good care of you, but it got a little overbearing sometimes.

“Let’s get up, then.” She said, slinking out of bed. You watched wordlessly as she slipped out of her night clothes into something more presentable, sliding her shirt over her head effortlessly. You couldn’t help but blush as your eyes trailed down her toned stomach.

She looked back at you with an unamused expression as she slid on a plain white shirt. “You shouldn’t stare, Y/n.”

“R-Right.” You looked away flustered. You had only technically known her a few weeks now, but man were you lucky.

Annie’s warm hand enveloping your own brought you back into reality, and you accepted her help wordlessly as you got out of bed.

She helped you out of your clothes and handed you something nice to put on for the day. It was a comfortable ritual the two of you got into, helping you get dressed in the morning.

She sat you down in one of the chair’s in her room, ordering you to stay put while she went to the military police mess hall to pick up breakfast for the two of you.

She came back into the room only a few minutes later, carrying two trays of food, and sat them down in front of both of you. It was a boring meal, typical of any military ration, but you didn’t complain.

“So, Annie,” She looked up from her food, still digging her fork into the baked potato on her plate. “Tell me a story.”

She smiled longingly, staying silent for a moment as she recollected her memories for a good story to tell. Ever since you lost your memory and started staying with Annie, you often spent mealtimes getting her to tell stories about you, her, and your other friends. About what happened in the 104th, and the Survey Corps, and sometimes, you’d ask Annie about her childhood and time before the military. She seemed very hesitant about the last one, but she still told you bits and pieces. You could easily infer that she didn’t have a very pleasant childhood, so you didn’t push the subject.

“Well,” Annie finally spoke, swallowing a gulp of water from her glass, having seemingly found a story she felt like telling. “One time, in the 104th, Sasha had managed to convince you to steal food from the pantry with her.”

You listened intently as she continued recounting the events, a sad smile on her face. “So you and her snuck in late at night, but Shadis heard both of you because of how loud Sasha was. So then, you two had no where to go but a tiny cramped pantry in the kitchen, and then—”

*CRASH*

You sat there like a deer in headlights as the glass shattered into hundreds of transparent shards on the floor, startling Annie out of her nostalgic trance.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat swiftly. She spotted the broken glass, mixed with the water it had held, and looked back at you. Once she pieced it together, she facepalmed.

“Y/n...” She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you to not to try and pick up things right now...”

“Sorry,” You muttered. “I just wanted to see...”

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were quite stubborn. No matter how much Annie insisted that you not hold things in your state, you did so anyway. It seldom worked, since, like now, you always dropped it within seconds.

“It’s... It’s fine,” She sighed, leaning down to carefully pick up the larger fragments of glass. Once she got the larger pieces, she dumped them in the trash and knelt down in front of your chair on one knee, grabbing your hand in her own. “But you need to remember, your injuries haven’t healed yet. Nowhere close. I know you hate it, but you need to let your body rest.”

You nodded sorrowfully. Yet, despite how much you promised, you knew you’d never really stop trying to push your body. Even if your skin was scarred, and hands were shaky, and the muscles of your legs atrophied and partially-paralyzed, you would never stop trying to live a normal life.

Annie had finished sweeping up the smaller shards of glass in the dustpan, and dumped it into the trash can, before returning to the table.

Silently, she grabbed her glass, still half filled with water, and brought it up to your lips. When you had first started living with Annie, you were a little embarrassed about having to be fed like this, but you had long since gotten used to it.

Once the glass was empty, she sat it down on the tabletop once again, and checked the time.

“Shit, we should get going, it’s nearly time.” She sighs, grabbing your cane from it’s spot leaning against the wall and handing it to you. You thank her and, with her help, stand up from your spot. Her arm slinks around your waist, allowing you to lean half of your body weight on the cane and the other half on Annie.

As you made your way out of the building and down the street towards the restaurant, you finally broke the silence.

“Annie?” You asked, quietly. There was an uncharacteristic sadness to your voice.

“Yes, darling?” She inquired, keeping her eyes glued on the trail in front of you.

“How come you still take care of me? Even after the accident, you still stick with me. Why is that?”

Annie chuckles dryly. She doesn’t want to tell you that it’s still a sore subject for her, so she answers honestly.

“It wasn’t so black and white, really. It was pretty upsetting to see someone I loved so much not even recognize me at all.” Her eyes bore into the pavement below her feet. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.”

“But a friend of mine talked to me about it. And I realized there would be no point in running from it. I decided that if you didn’t know me, I would make you fall in love with me all over again. Plus,” She looked to the side, a faint red blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel lonely...”

You giggled at her embarrassment, opening your mouth to say something, but she cut you off quickly.

“We’re here.” She stopped in front of the doors, and you easily spotted Mikasa, Armin, and Jean already sitting inside at one of the tables, exchanging lighthearted banter.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hm?” She turned the knob of the door, stepping foot into the bustling room.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Of course.” She smiled in return. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oi!” Jean shouted from across the room, and Armin immediately tried to shush his yelling, but he wasn’t phased. “Annie, Y/n, hurry up!”

You and Annie giggle at his boisterous attitude, walking over to find your seats.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, Y/N.” Mikasa smiled warmly, tucking her scarf around her neck.

You smile at the three of them, looking so happy and peaceful. You’ve missed it.

“Yeah,” You laugh. “So, what did I miss?”

This feels badly written but I can’t place it, I dunno.

Probably ‘cause I wrote the first half like a month ago and only finished it today lol.

And no I totally didn’t reference someone else’s fic in this haha nope

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #annie leonhart #annie leonhart x reader #annie x reader #fluff #angst

[jessilyria]

ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY SEASON 2

Hello! This covers everything from trailers, promo pics, interviews, and articles. Pics and links will be included. The info is in vague chronological order (as much as it can be.)

Needless to say, this post contains SPOILERS and is LONG ^‿^

If you’d like a non-spoilery version with just the basic facts please check out my Umbrella Academy Timeline.

***********************************************************************

According to Steve Blackman, season 2 is about second chances and the endgame is still to stop the 2019 apocalypse (X).

The opening scene of season 2:

The siblings arrive in the past at different times, but all in the same spot - an alleyway with some dumpsters which leads out onto a high-street. 

Noticeable locations on the high-street include a beauty salon for black people, and an electronics shop which later on closes down and becomes a base for the group.

The order they arrive in is the order the promo pictures were released: Ben & Klaus, Allison, Luther, Diego, Vanya, Five.

It will likely take a while before the whole team is reunited, and possibly longer before the siblings begin to meet the new characters: “It was several episodes before we all started to interact with each other” (X).

Ben & Klaus land in February 1960 (X). As Klaus is sober, his powers continue to develop and he uses them to impresses some people. (X)

"Klaus effectively starts the hippie movement off early by founding a cult whose philosophy is based on the lyrics of pop songs that have yet to be written. “Don’t go chasing waterfalls. Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to,” he tells one awed follower." (X)

"Destiny's Children! Let us commune with music." *starts whistling*

But Klaus isn’t as happy as he seems in this new life of cult stardom. “He can’t deal with the praise; it’s just become strangulating.” (X)

There’s also tension between Klaus and Ben, but its unknown whether this is because of the cult, because Klaus is "trying to rekindle his relationship with Dave" (X), or because Klaus’ evolved powers mean Ben can now possess him (X). Either way, Ben’s “determined not to be invisible to the ones he loves, willing to go further than ever before to make his presence known.” (X)

As Klaus is wearing the same outfit as the promo pics (and has a long beard which he later loses), its likely the following scene takes place early on.

Klaus: Now what? Ben: Remember when I told you the engine was overheating? Klaus: Yeah, well, being smart doesn't make you interesting. Ben: Neither does your beard.

Ben: You think I’m just going to keep following you everywhere for another three years? Klaus: Yeah, you are my ghost-bitch, remember?

*************************

Klaus: My skin was on fire! Ben: Good! I’ve got to get to San Francisco, I have unfinished business.

Allison is second to appear in 1961 (X). "Confused and looking for help, Allison walks into a diner and is greeted by a “Whites Only” sign, then chased across town by a group of white men until she finds sanctuary in a beauty parlour for Black women that doubles as a meeting place for civil-rights activists." (X)

Its been confirmed that the below image is from ep 1. (X)

Have you experienced discrimination by your employer?

She meets a man named Raymond Chestnut who is a “born leader with the smarts, gravitas, and confidence to never have to prove it to anyone. He has the innate ability to disarm you with a look, and is a devoted husband.” (X)

Luther appears on April 10th 1962 and lands on a dumpster.

He ends up working for Jack Ruby (X), a mysterious man who owns a nightclub (and who fatally shot Lee Harvey Oswald after Oswald was in custody for JFK's assassination). Luther’s job involves being a driver, bouncer, and underground fighter.

Its been confirmed that the following scene is from ep 1. (X)

Diego appears on Sep 17th 1963. One of the first things he sees is a televised address from President JFK.

He ends up in an insane asylum for stalking Lee Harvey Oswald and spouting “delusional claims” about JFK’s assassination (X). Its here he meets Lila Pitts, “a chameleon who can be as brilliant or as clinically insane as the situation requires”. She’s also "unpredictable, mischievous" and "sarcastic" with a "twisted sense of humour." (X)

Vanya appears on Oct 12th 1963 (X). “She arrives and gets hit by a car, driven by a woman (Sissy). She smashes her head on the cement... She remembers her name, but nothing else.” (X)

She gets a job on a ranch as a live-in-nanny for Sissy, a "fearless, no nonsense Texas Mom" who "married young for all the wrong reasons" and is "eager to rediscover what love has to offer." (X)

Because she has forgotten her past traumas, Vanya is “much more confident and more in touch with her emotional self” (X). She forms a unique bond with Sissy’s son, Harlan, who is non-verbal (X). Its been confirmed that the following photos are from ep 1. (X)

Vanya: I wish I remembered something.
 Sissy: The doctor said it would take time. Don’t push yourself.

Vanya is also slowly discovering her powers on her own.

Five appears with Hazel on Nov 15th after witnessing the world going down in nuclear explosions.

Five: What was that? Hazel: The end of the world, November 25th 1963. Five: And where am I now? Hazel: Dallas, ten days earlier. Five: ...I need to find my family.

But of course its not going to be that easy, the Commission is still out there and “will hunt us down wherever and whenever we go.”

In the trailer we are introduced to the head of The Commission, a fish named Carmichael. He sends three Swedish assassins, Oscar, Axel, and Otto, to hunt down Five and the others.

At some point they acquire a milk-truck and one of them dresses as a milkman. On a location shoot, the Swedes were seen in their truck outside a house in an urban area. They check a map and one of them pumps a shotgun (X).

Whilst searching for his siblings Five encounters a man named Elliot, an "alien obsessive (who) witnesses The Umbrella Academy's separate arrivals." He agrees to help Five find the others. (X)

“3rd EVENT, April 10th 1962″ is above photos of Luther arriving, “September 17th 1963″ is above photos of Diego arriving, and the right column are photos of Vanya arriving still in her White Violin outfit.

Five manages to find Diego in the asylum and they have a conversation.

Five: Listen to me very closely, you gibbering moron. You are not going to do a goddamned thing. Diego: Why not? Five: Because we have to stop the apocalypse. Diego: But that doesn't happen for another 60 years. Five: Not that apocalypse, this is a... new one. It followed us.
 Diego: *begins laughing*

At some point after this the Swedes storm the asylum.

“Who are those guys?!”

Diego and Lila seem to make their escape from the Swedes and the asylum pretty quickly however. Its been confirmed that the below pic is from ep 2. (X)

Based on Diego’s outfit and length of beard, the following two scenes take place around the same time. First, a heated car conversation which Five crashes.

Diego: You don’t know anything about me! Lila: I know everything. You are an open book written for very dumb children. Diego: I am n-not trying to b-be a hero, okay? Lila: Then why are you doing this?
 Five: *appears in the backseat* Because he is an idiot. Lila: Who the hell are you? Five: Hi, I’m his loving brother. Diego: Who left me to rot in the nut-house. Five: To protect you from yourself.
 Lila: Thats quite sweet. Diego: Okay. Both of you. Out.

And second, a dark encounter with a familiar figure...

Reginald Hargreeves & Pogo

The summary for episode 2 also mentions that “an incident at the bar leads Luther to Vanya,” and “Five finds an unsettling surprise in the film Hazel left behind,” which likely links to this image:

Its been confirmed that the following scene is from ep3 (X). Klaus is seen emerging from a river - now confirmed to be the River Ganges in India/Bangladesh which is considered sacred and purifying (X). Considering the series spans 10 days and is set in Dallas, this scene is very likely a flashback.

Note Ben in the background.

Klaus is also seen in similar attire in a wealthy looking house, which is potentially part of the commune where the cult operates.

Note Klaus no longer has his long beard.

And here’s Ben in what looks like a room in the same house. It's interesting to note that Ben (or the actor) is looking straight into the camera, implying its a first person point-of-view.

Apparently also in ep3 we have this delightful gem of Klaus being Klaus. (presumably theres a pool at the commune?).

Episode 3 also sees the Swedes chasing Vanya in a cornfield until she uses her powers to defend herself.

Thanks to this, Five is able to track Vanya down (X). It's been confirmed that the following pic is from episode 3. (X)

And based on Vanya's clothes, Five then takes her to a cafe to explain a few things.

Vanya: Are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on? Five: When you were a baby you were bought by an eccentric billionaire. He raised you in an elite academy with six other siblings with extrodinary powers, but in the year 2019 in order to avoid the apocalypse we jumped into a vortex and ended up being scattered throughout the timeline in Dallas, Texas. Vanya: ... Five: Any questions? Vanya: ... what do you mean the apocalypse?

At some point ollowing on from this (but unknown which ep) Luther and Vanya have this conversation:

Vanya: What caused the apocalypse? Luther: ... You did... but not alone. I was part of it, we all- Vanya: How? Luther: You got angry. Lost control, you... blew up the moon. It slammed into Earth wiping out everything.

In ep3 we see both Allison and Raymond actively involved in the protests against the segregation by taking part in a sit-in (X).

Allison: I’d like to be served, please.
 Waitress: *pointing to a Whites Only sign* Can’t you read, girl?
 Allison: Seven languages.
 Customer: Oh, you smart one, huh?
 *The door opens and many other blank protesters enter.*
 Allison: We’d like to be served, please.

However, it goes badly as "police brutally attack (the) peaceful protestors." (X).

The summary for ep3 says that “Allison reconnects with Klaus,” and in ep4 she is “searching frantically for Ray.” It seems, based on the following pics, that she finds Ray in jail and Klaus & Ben have a hand in getting him out.

Note the word "buearu" on the window and Ray in the background.

Based on Klaus' outfit, its sometime around this point he goes on a massive bender. We see him running with a bottle of whiskey, his gleeful cult following him, and dancing in a drinks aisle.

Note that Klaus is bleeding from his lip.

Following on from this, Klaus wakes up on Allisons floor, feeling worse for wear.

Ben: And how are we feeling this morning? Klaus: Ugh, peaches and cream, how are you? Ben: Curious. How many more rock bottoms are you going to have to hit before you start taking care of yourself?

In episode 4 “Vanya contends with a crisis at the farm.” Could this link to her developing romance as, despite Sissy still being with her husband (X), she and Vanya begin exploring a relationship?

The summary confirms that in ep4, “Five, Diego, and Lila crash a party at the Mexican consulate.” But the Swedes are still hot on their tail.

Note the third Swede in the background, chasing Five?

After surviving this, they return to their base. The following pic has been confirmed as happening in ep4 (X).

At some unknown point the Swedes (or two of them) also go after Allison, though it appears she fights back (and kills one of them?).

"They weren't here to sell vacuums!"

Also at some unknown point, Allison and Luther have a catch up. Based on Luthers partially healed face, this is after his conversation with Vanya in ep2.

Luther: We did it again… apparently.
 Allison: Did what again?
 Luther: Ended the world.

Also at some unknown point Vanya and Diego reconcile: “I don’t remember what I did, but I’m sorry, if that means anything,” Vanya tells Diego as he threateningly juggles a knife. “It does,” he responds, before accepting her as a confidant he can turn to for advice on how to handle his feelings for Lila. (X)

It appears that ep5 is when the whole family finally reunites. The episode summary explains how “summoned to an emergency meeting, the siblings hatch very different plans for how to spend their last 6 days on Earth.” (I have no idea what order the conversation goes in as each bit is a snippet from a different promo vid).

Five: Klaus, is Ben here? Klaus: No, unfortunately ghosts can’t time-travel. Ben: Are you kidding me?

Five: (I/We) really screwed the pooch on this one, the whole going back in time and getting stuck thing. But the real kick in the pants here is… we brought the end of the world back here with us. Klaus: Oh my god, again? My cult is gonna be so pissed. I told them we had until 2019. Five: We have until Monday.

Klaus: Is it Vanya? Allison: Klaus! Klaus: What? Its usually Vanya.

Vanya: None of us are supposed to be here, right? I mean, what if its us?

Luther: Diego's been stalking Lee Harvey Oswald. Diego: Hey, you're working for Jack Ruby! Klaus: Allison has been very involved in local politics. Allison: Okay, you started a cult! Ben: Thank you!

“We have to make it right again, before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

Following on from this, Klaus, Vanya and Allison have some bonding time in the beauty parlour.

Vanya: How do you guys deal with this? Allison: What? Vanya: I mean all of it. Time travel. Seeing the dead...?

Vanya: I’m gunna tell Sissy that I love her… I don’t want any secrets.
 Klaus: Yeah? Allison: Yeah! Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Yes. Cos, y’know, if, if its all going to go tits up the least I could do is be honest with my husband. Klaus: Oh… does that mean I have to face my cult? I just hate group breakups, thats why I stopped dating twins.

“Klaus, Vanya, and Allison end a moping session by dancing together to Twistin’ the Night Away.” (X). Its been confirmed that the following pic is from ep 5. (X)

In episode 6, “Dave visits Klaus’ compound” and “the siblings meet their father for dinner” in a Tiki bar. Its been confirmed that the following pic is from ep 6 (X).

An interview with the cast has them talking about ‘the elevator scene’ and how hard it was to shoot because everyone kept cracking up. (X)

Five: All right, quick run down. Luther; super strength, Klaus can commune with the dead, Allison can rumour anyone to do anything-
 Diego: Yeah except she never uses it.
 Allison: I heard a rumour you punched yourself in the face.
 *Diego punches himself in the face.*
 Reginald: *looking at Vanya* And you?
 Luther: Uh, maybe we don’t… take Vanya for a test drive.
 Klaus: Oh yeah thats probably not a good idea…
 Vanya: What, I think I can handle it.
 *Despite everyones protests, Vanya explodes a fruit bowl.*

Based on Luther and Klaus’ outfits, the following scenes also take place sometime around the same time (ep6/7).

First, Luther pulls up to a house in an urban area, he gets out the car and has a conversation with a man (X). This is the same house where the three Swedes were seen in their milk-truck at night.

Note the gun and flask on the seat.

Next, Allison and Raymond deal with a body (of a Swede?) while Klaus & Ben don’t help. The summary of ep6 also mentions that Allison gives Ray a peek at her powers, which is maybe why he’s on board to deal with a body.

But what's the big flash that startles them? Well it may have something to do with all this craziness:

Note the chairs and people on the ceiling.

It’s hard to tell but since Ben is there, this could be Klaus being thrown backwards? The outfit certainly looks similar.

In an interview, the cast talk about how the room had to be painted completely white (then returned to normal), and how nice it was for the character of Ben to be able to share a moment with Vanya (X). This implies Vanya looses control and Ben is able to talk her down.

At some unknown point, it looks like the siblings all return to the academy.

Note that the background behind Klaus implies he’s sat in the same seat that he did as a child.

An interview asked the question "You all eat 'brain' at a family dinner..." (X) and in a different interview the cast talk about the brain acid trip (X). Could this be when that happens?

Either way, things likely don’t run smoothy. “Reginald still proves just as capable of preying on their deepest insecurities, while somehow leaving them attacking each other instead of him.” (X)

The summary for ep7 mentions someone named Carl issuing a warning to Vanya, and in ep8 it states that the FBI torture her, so its most likely the following images are from this time:

The tape recorder is turned off...

The figure from behind slaps a cloth over Vanya’s face as she takes on the appearance of The White Violin.

“A dimly lit room... Vanya is strapped to a chair. The floor is soaked with water. At the moment she is being tortured for information... After an electric shock the lights on the ceiling begin to flicker. “‘Is she doing that?’ asks a fearful FBI agent.” (X)

Also in ep7, “Five travels to 1982 to carry out his new mission”. Theres a possibility that Luther is also involved in this as a promo pic has snow surrounding the house, which I don’t think would happen in November in Dallas?

Five: I need a spotter. Luther: What is that? Like a wingman?

The summary for ep8 includes the fact that “Diego discovers what causes the apocalypse.”

“Everything in our new lives is connected to the plot to assassinate the president. That can’t be a coincidence.”

The fact we see the gun Five was going to use to assassinate JFK, implies this scene takes place on Nov 22nd, 3 days before the apocalypse. And we know from the summaries that in ep8 “Five concocts a risky plan to intercept another version of himself.”

Old Five, young Five (who’s still really old Five), and Luther.

However this may not go to plan as the summary for ep9 says, “the Fives plot against each other.”

And the summary for episode 10 is: “reeling from the events at the Dealey Plaza, the siblings head to the farm to help save Harlan.”

MOMENTS I CAN’T PLACE:

Someone flips over a table in what looks like it could be a distillery. Based on outfit and hair this could possibly be Lila, Klaus, or (less likely) Diego. Five is also there.

A similar (the same?) person flips over while avoiding gunfire. There are targets and what looks like training equipment, and the person shooting is standing under a large umbrella.

If the flipping person is Lila, then this may link to what the summaries reveal about her arc: In ep5 she confronts her mother, in ep6 the Handler is mentioned (albeit talking to Five), and in ep9 she learns the truth about her parents…

Five sneaks through a room with a camera and lights. On the blackboard the word “Pogo” is written, implying this could be Reggies house and this room is where he is teaching and studying young Pogo.

Diego walks into a control room. It looks like there might be 2-way glass. Could this link to ep8 when Diego discovers what cases the apocalypse?

Five is seen in a building with wooden panels on the walls.

Based on the background of this shot of Carmichael, the building could be part of The Commission.

“You...”

Five gets buried in rubble. Aidan looks chill about it though.

***********************************************************************

Well done for making it all the way! 

I’ve tried to avoid speculation as much as possible and keep the language suggestive. I don’t know all the facts, I WILL have made errors, probably many! So please take all this with a suggestive grain of salt, I am just a hooman trying to use her squishy brain.

Please let me know if you spot any errors, think of anything else I can add, or if you want more info about any specific event ^‿^

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua s2 #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #pogo

[sandershospitalau]

The Extra Late Night Show

What can I say except surprise?

CW: Surgery, Mentions of Death, suggested death, Talk Shows, POV Second Person, Remus being gross, Virgil mention, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, only a tiny bit of angst at the end, Mostly funny

Archive of our Own

————————

You blend into the Miami crowds, lost in your own world. You consistently check your pocket to make sure your phone was still there. At this point, you aren’t entirely sure where you are. It's a nice part of town by the look of it, with shiny buildings on either side of the packed road and crowds mulling around you without a care in the world. You have quite a bit to do, but who would want to be doing that? The only way you can think of procrastinating is to take a walk.

You can almost feel the endless viruses floating into your mouth as you pass a gigantic building with more windows than walls. A large open courtyard pushes the building back from the road. Smooth paths cut through tenderly planted flowerbeds, looping around a large statue. The stone statue is a woman with a cloak draped around her modest black dress. She holds her hands to her torso. One hand loosely grips a large crucifix while the other nurses a tiny bouquet of flowers. Oh, now you know where you are! This is the main entrance to St. Gemma's Hospital! You passed by the statue a year ago to visit a friend who had heart surgery here. They got stuck with a pretty big bill (the joys of the American healthcare system), but the doctors did a fairly good job. You’re so distracted by the pretty statue, you’re not prepared for something to fly into your head and send you tumbling into the nearest stranger.

As you get your bearings, you look around for whoever hit you. Standing against the hospital wall with a trash bag over their back like a greasy Santa Claus is someone wearing a dark green jumpsuit, grinning wildly at you.

“Enjoy the show!” the person squeals. Before you can say anything, they race off, the trash bag jumping against their back. You look down at what the person threw at you. It’s a DVD, sitting in a clear case. There’s something written on the case cover in Sharpie.

The Extra Late Night Show!

Starring Remus Duke!

Now, when someone throws a mysterious DVD at you, the usual reaction should probably be to throw the DVD away. But you’ve got nothing better to do. So, nursing your aching head, you pick up the case and make your way towards home. You’ve got a movie to watch.

--------

The footage pops to life. You see a small office space, or what someone attempted to look like an office space. Shelves line the walls covered in cleaning supplies and napkins. The desk in the middle is a child’s school desk. The nameplate on the desk reads ‘Remus Duke’. Someone begins humming from somewhere off-camera.

“Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO,” they hum. “Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do!” Someone pops out from behind the desk. It’s the same greasy person you saw throw the DVD at you!

“Welcome to the Extra Late Night Show!” The person chirps. “I am your Duke of Dirt and King of Chaos, Remus! As always, I have my loyal cameraman, Mitchell!” The camera shakes slightly.

“Dude, this place is a mess,” the cameraman, Mitchell, huffs.

“It’s a janitor’s closet, I don’t know what else you expected,” Remus laughs.

“I thought you had OCD,” Mitchell mutters.

“Nah, my writer decided to throw that out,” Remus scoffs.

“Huh?” Mitchell asks.

“Anywho, welcome to tonight’s show!” Remus declares, dramatically waving his hand overhead. “We’ve got a wonderful line-up for you, folks. Starting off tonight, we’re taking you on a tour of the geriatrics bathrooms! One of the grossest places in St. Gemma’s! Sprinkled throughout this show like eyeball shavings, we’ll include everyone’s favorite segment, Dumpsters of Miami, where I review the contents of my latest dumpster dive, alongside Emergency Room Horror, What’s In My Mouth, and tonight’s Top 5 Hottest Patients! Number 3 will surprise you!”

“You do know I have to work tonight,” Mitchell scoffs.

“Like anyone is going to notice one missing anesthesiologist!” Remus grunts, sitting on his desk.

“Yeah, my boss,” Mitchell huffs. “And the people I’m operating on.”

“But those segments will be highlighting tonight’s main event!” Remus continues. “We’ll be following Dr. D on his rounds tonight as he operates on burn victims and terrifies patients with his morbid scars!”

“Hold up,” Mitchell stammers. The camera pans down, showing Mitchell’s scrubs. “Dr. D? We can’t follow that guy! He’ll rip our skin off!”

“He’s a kitten,” Remus scoffs, waving his hand dismissingly. “We’re friends! It’ll be fine, trust me. Now come on, the geriatrics ward is calling our names!” Mitchell groans and turns off the camera. You decide to fast-forward through the geriatrics ward segment.

You stop at a clip of Remus pushing a large cleaning cart down the hall. St. Gemma’s hallways are just as clean as you remember them. You’re honestly surprised as you realize the dirty man you’re watching is the one in charge of cleaning this place. He polishes off a door handle, giving it a bright shine. He finishes the clean by sticking the doorknob in his armpit.

“You done?” Mitchell grunts.

“We’re almost at Dr. D’s office!” Remus laughs, continuing down the hall. “While we’re there, we’ll get an overview of what he does and convince him not to tear our faces off and let us film him! Here we are!” The camera pans to a wooden door with the words ‘Inter Hospital Consultant’ on it. “The doc’s not a fan of having his name on the door.” Remus pushed the door open and strolled right into the office.

Now THIS is what an office should look like. The room is very professional! Diplomas line the walls, but the names are covered with sticky notes inside the glass cases. The smooth faux-wood desk is clean and tidy, with a computer, a jar of pens and pencils, a black hat, and a phone. The man you assume is Dr. D seats in a comfy modern seat. Long burn scars trail down half of his face and turn a few strains of his black hair white. He wears a black shirt with a yellow tie under his white coat and a pair of yellow gloves. He’s glaring at the camera with an intense stare that makes you look away.

“Dr. Elting,” Dr. D sighs. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the leg surgery on the 35-year old Latina woman that’s supposed to begin in…” He looks at the clock on his computer. “An hour and a half?”

“Relax, D, he’s with me,” Remus giggles. He sits on Dr. D’s desk and crosses his legs. “I called him in sick.”

“Dude, you can’t—” Mitchell stammers.

“I told them you had explosive diarrhea,” Remus says. “They didn’t ask too many questions. So, D, how does it feel to guest star on the Extra Late Night Show?”

“Your world famous talk show,” Dr. D groans. “It’s wonderful, Remus.”

“Woo!” Remus whoops. He lays on his back, knocking over Dr. D’s jar of pens. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You, my rough-skinned friend, are the star of our show! The audience wants to know what a night in the life is like for a surgeon! What’s it like consulting at other hospitals? You ever get the urge to squeeze someone’s heart and feel it beat in your hands?”

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Dr. D tuts, shaking his head. “I already have that power. Now leave.”

“Nah,” Remus says. You hear a soft beep from somewhere in the room. Dr. D pulls something out of his pocket. His face tightens.

“A 7-C-3 from the EMTs,” Dr. D mutters. “Emergency surgery.”

“Oooo, what’s that?” Remus purrs, but Dr. D ignores him. He launches out of his chair and out of his office. Remus scrambles off the desk.

“Remus, this is an emergency call, we can’t follow him!” Mitchell hisses as the pair stumbles out of the office. The camera shakes so much, you can’t see much of what’s happening.

“Do it or I’m putting the leftovers from the geriatrics ward in your locker, chicken,” Remus growls. “Bak-Kah!” The camera angles towards Mitchell’s feet as the pair jog after Dr. D.

“You’re lucky I like your humor, Prince,” Mitchell chuckles.

“It’s Remus Duke when we’re filming!” Remus groans. “You have to use my stage name! Get the camera up!” Mitchell pulls up the camera, and you get a better view of the St. Gemma’s halls. Remus runs alongside the edge of the camera. “So, what’s a 7-C-3?”

“I don’t know EMT code,” Mitchell explains. “I think sevens are for burns.”

“Well then no wonder they called D!” Remus laughs. “He’s the best in the business for burns! I’ve handled the ‘hazardous materials’ from those operations, they look like chicken!” You can see Remus do quotation marks around ‘hazardous materials’. The camera pans around a corner just in time to see Dr. D enter a large elevator.

“Welp, he’s gone,” Mitchell says, stopping. “We better end the show.”

“He can’t lose me that easily!” Remus barks. Remus runs into the nearest elevator and presses a button. The camera barely gets inside before the doors closed.

“Dude, you left your cleaning supplies outside Dr. D’s office,” Mitchell remarks.

“If someone steals it, hey, free food!” Remus laughs. His face pops on camera. He’s so close, you can see each individual hair of his mustache. “This seems like the perfect time to cut to the next segment of our show! We’ll be right back!” Static fills the screen before going black.

You think it glitched out for a moment before white words slide into view. ‘Getting Personal With Remus’. Remus’s messy office pops on screen, but the lights are off. The only light in the room is a small fire inside a trash can beside Remus’s desk. Remus sits on top of the desk, staring into the camera with a smile and a wink.

“Happy Valentine’s!” Remus says. “Hope you like the candle. On tonight’s ‘Getting Personal’, we’re talking about how I met Dr. D. It’s quite the story! I was looking for a job when I suddenly stumbled upon a Help Wanted sign for… can you guess? You’re right, Taco Bell! I began working that same day! I loved tossing frozen food into the fryer. Well one day I got a bit too carried away with my tossing and I got shipped to St. Gemma’s with second-degree burns! And Dr. D was my doctor. I got fired from Taco Bell. Once I was all healed up, I got a job as a janitor here, and D and I have been friends ever since!” Remus kicks his leg out. His foot knocks against the trash can and tips it over. Fire begins to crawl towards the desk. “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” The screen goes black again.

The DVD cuts back to the elevator just as the doors slide open. You vaguely remember seeing an article online about how good the burn ward at St. Gemma’s was, back when you were trying to find where the hospital was to visit your friend. It’s tough to get a good look inside with the moving camera, but you can see plush furniture and gentle lighting over a receptionist’s desk. Voices shout and give orders somewhere in the ward. The receptionist doesn’t seem to care.

“The patient in Room 705 just kicked it,” the receptionist mutters, glancing up at Remus. “You need to clean it out.” Remus ignores the receptionist and jogs down the hall towards the voices.

“Is there enough undamaged skin for the graphs?” one person asks.

“We may have to use some cadaver skin,” another responds.

“Oh, they’re doing skin grafts!” Remus chirps. He stops by a half-open metal door. The sign on the side reads ‘Operating Theater 2, Level 7’. Remus carefully pulls the door open.

“Remus, no!” Mitchell hisses. He grabs Remus’s arm and tugs him back. “You aren’t sterile.”

“I should hope not,” Remus chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you go in there, you could spread an infection!” Mitchell groans. “Burn victims are the most in danger from them! You could kill the guy!”

“All in the name of a good show, right?” Remus sighs, shrugging. “Here, give me the camera.” The camera switches hands, and you finally get a good look at Mitchell. His long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail behind him. He’s wearing black scrubs under a thick white sweatshirt. While Remus’s stare bounced all over the place and Dr. D glared into your soul, Mitchell had the eyes of an emotional teenager ready to do something dangerous.

“I’m not getting fired because of you,” Mitchell hisses with gritted teeth.

“Relax, Anx-Mitch,” Remus says, correcting himself halfway through. The camera pans down and slips just inside the door. The operating theater is split in half. The half you can best see is a long row of sinks below a long window. Through the window you see doctors huddling around a patient. The angle is so bad you can barely tell what they’re doing. You can pick out Dr. D, since his burns pop up under the harsh OR light. He’s focused on the task in front of him, silent while the other doctors discuss how to proceed. He simply works.

“What are you doing?” the receptionist’s harsh voice screams. The camera jumps back and flies through the air, landing in Mitchell’s arms. Remus and Mitchell zoom down the hall with the receptionist’s threats echoing behind them.

“Time for a commercial break!” Remus laughs. He grabs the camera and pushes it down as it cuts to another segment. Here, Remus is outside in the middle of the day, leaning against a large, dirty, green dumpster.

“Here at the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving,” Remus states with the full professionalism of an actual salesman. “You’ll be taught all the best locations in Miami to score some sweet goods! But don’t come near St. Gemma’s or I’ll steal your kneecaps!” Remus flips open the dumpster with a loud clang. He hoists himself up and tumbles into the half full pit of disease. “For the simple cost of your social security number, you’ll get first hand experience at discovering the untold treasures of garage cans and curbside trash. For example…” Remus pops up with a broken baseball bat. The top half has been ripped off. “Weapons! Or…” He ducks back down and brings up a handful of shredded paper. “Confetti!” He tosses the paper in the air. “Call the number below in the next half hour and you’ll get your dumpster personally looted!” The ‘phone number’ Remus mentioned isn’t even composed of numbers. It’s A#@-JRD-(D#$. “Join the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving today!”

The show quickly cuts back to Dr. D’s office. Remus is laying on the floor, kicking his legs in the air. The camera sits beside him.

“Can I stop filming now?” Mitchell groans. “My phone’s going to die.”

“Sadly, we couldn’t get more juicy surgery footage,” Remus huffs. “So we’ll just have to wait for D to come back!”

“Surgery takes a while, Remus,” Mitchell scoffs. “Don’t whine about it. It’s only been a few hours.” The office doors creaks open. Dr. D steps inside his office, slipping on his yellow gloves. You get a glimpse of the burns covering his fingers. Remus shoots up like a puppy. Mitchell clambers up, groaning.

“So how’d it go?” Remus chirps. Dr. D slinks to his desk and sits down.

“Do your job, Remus,” Dr. D grumbles, staring into his computer.

“What, too squeamish to share details?” Remus scoffs, sitting on the desk.

“Exactly,” Dr. D sighs.

“Come on,” Remus purrs. He pokes at Dr. D’s cheek with each word. “Come on come on come ON!” Dr. D glares at Remus and the camera takes a step back. He settles his hands flat on his desk.

“I want you to imagine you have some resemblance of medical training,” Dr. D mutters. “You’re creative, I trust it’s not too difficult. Now I want you to imagine your patient is a 30-something man who was nearly beaten to a pulp by his abusive parents.” Something drops in Remus’s gaze. He’s no longer poking at Dr. D. “I want you to imagine yourself in surgery trying to repair the damage to this man, but as soon as you fix one issue, another issue comes up. The man’s body is destroying itself on the table and there is nothing you can do until a fellow doctor announces the time of death.” Dr. D’s words come out as a violent hiss. His fingers clench inside his gaudy gloves. “Now imagine myself in that situation, but the patient was asleep as their apartment burned around them, and tell me if you would be excited to talk about it!” Remus hops off the desk. Dr. D’s hands unclench slightly, though his jaw is threatening to break his teeth.

“I am in no mood for your ridiculous show,” Dr. D grumbles. For the first time in the show, Remus seems softer. His edges aren’t so sharp. His dirty nails rest over Dr. D’s glove. Dr. D fixes his black hat and takes a deep breath. Then he glares into the camera.

“Leave,” he hisses. Mitchell takes off, out of the office and into the hall before the camera cuts. After a few seconds of darkness, Remus’s office space reappears. He’s sitting behind his desk, once again carrying his demonic smile.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Remus laughs. Someone groans behind the camera. Dr. D steps into view and takes a spot standing behind Remus. He seems a bit calmer than earlier.

“That’s all the time we have for this episode!” Remus chirps, rocking back and forth. “We're ditching the rest of our line-up because I don't care! I’d like to give a warm thank you to Dr. D for being a fabulous guest on our show tonight!” Dr. D seems resigned to his fate, but far more happy than Mitchell ever did. “Tune in next time for live coverage of the Sanders Hospital hosted Nurse’s Rally!”

“A rally?” Dr. D asks, glancing down at Remus. He takes a phone out of his coat and types something in. “...organized by Virgil Lawson.” He puts the phone away again. His expression is unreadable, unchanged from earlier. “Remus, could I assist you in your next episode at this rally?”

“I’d love that!” Remus shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “See you next time on the Extra Late Night Show! Bye, everybody! Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO. Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do! ” Remus waves goodbye. The screen turns black. The show is finally done. Without saying a word, you take the DVD out of your player. You gently put it back in its case. You walk into your kitchen. You open up the trash can and put it inside. Then you decide to look up how to rid a home of curses because you are certain there was a violent curse on that DVD.

————————

@purelyreblogstsedition @watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

#remus sanders #deceit sanders #mitchell cartoon therapy #sanders hospital #sanders hospital fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides au #cartoon therapy #cartoon therapy au #surgery #mentions of death

[dean-the-smol-bean]

Daydreams

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Characters: Peter Parker, reader, Aunt May, Tony Stark (briefly mentioned)

Word count: 3.7k 

Summary: Peter is eager to come home and talk to you after a run in with a particularly snappy super hero-ed girl

Warnings: cursing, canon-typical violence, stupid lovesick puppies

A/N: me: hey anyone wanna read this Everyone: doesnt respond literally at all Me: cool i wrote 3 chapters already here you go Everyone: what the fuck

anyways. NOT a supernatural fic- wow! who am I! i just love peter parker and i got a burst of inspiration, ok. I’ve wanted to branch out in the fic world for a while and i finally did. I hop ya’ll enjoy. You can find what i imagine mystery super-girl to be wearing here. Also, special thanks to @justawaywardwinchester and @tom-parkers-girl for giving me feedback!

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

Read the rest of the series here. - not yet, soon.

  The city was bustling- blaring horns of taxi cabs, a man standing at a rolling stand calling out in advertisement of his two hot dogs for the price of one, a busy business man cursing at a tourist as they bumped into him, distracted by the lights. It was always like this- the city that never sleeps. Lately, however, Peter had felt like he was staying up with it. With all the responsibilities of a pseudo-Avenger paired with trying to survive an even harder battle, sophomore year of high school, his hours of rest were numbered.

  This, however, often made up for it. Peter could feel the cool, evening New York air push through his suit and run through his hair- how Mr. Stark got this thing to be both bullet proof and breathable, he’d never know. He let out an involuntary laugh as he swung himself around the corner of an old apartment building, floating aimlessly through the air for just a moment before stretching his arm out again, attaching to the much sleeker, shining office building just across the street. He could hear the uneven sounds of people exclaiming and pointing from below as he practically flew by.

  He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. He’d taken down a couple of petty-crime criminals, helped a little girl get her cat out of a tree, and pointed a couple of Japanese tourists in the direction of time square, albeit with a little confusion.

  But now he was a bit lost. Not in the physical location sense, no, he knew these streets like the back of his hand. He’d grown up here, but he had absolutely no idea what he should be doing. He didn’t want to go back to his little room, he’d been cooped up there for the past week studying for an exam, only leaving when absolutely necessary. He couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in his room, alone, with nothing to occupy his thoughts. He hated the feeling of darting his eyes over to his phone every other second, hoping desperately that Mr. Stark had finally sent him a message, or scrolling through the hundreds of unreplied blue boxes of texts that he continued to add to, hoping Happy would finally reply.

  But the calls never came, and the texts never buzzed. So now here he was, swinging in mock glee through the streets of Queens against the setting sun, kicking himself for realizing he was hoping to spot some sort of crime.   

  He yanked his arm forward, twisting his body so that it was propelled upwards by his web, which was attached to the very top of an old, historic apartment complex. He felt his feet touch down on the ledge of brick molding, crouching his whole body down, his fingers just ghosting over the surface of the brick, feather light for how strong of a grip he knew they held. He sighed, leaning backwards and taking a seat, letting his legs swing over the ledge. Scanning his surroundings carefully, he reached up, finally yanking off his mask, thankful for the real rush of air against his bare skin. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, drinking in the city sunset. He had to admit, it was quite beautiful.

  Beautiful, yeah. He could think of a couple other things he’d deem even more beautiful than this.

  Well, one thing, in particular.

  “Ugh,” he groaned at himself, falling back along the ledge of the building, propping one foot up along it, the other still dangling freely.

  God, I’m such an idiot. He thought, and your face flashed behind his eyes. He sighed, covering his face with his arms. But the thought of you persisted, despite his efforts to steady his thumping heart and sweaty palms.

  He’d known you for longer than he could remember. Growing up in the apartment two floors below you, your moms (or, aunt, in his part), had become fast friends, both somewhat single parents raising kids in the very same apartment building. Because of that, you found yourselves thrust upon each other, though neither of you ever had any complaints. You got on like a house on fire, clicking immediately, as though it was just meant to be that you were together.

  Through everything, you were always there. Though he never told you about his powers- he couldn’t stand the thought of putting you in any danger- you could read him like an open book, and you always found a way to weasel yourself into getting him to open up. Sure, he left some fairly large parts out, but he couldn’t imagine how he’d be getting through it all if not for your perceptiveness and your comforting shoulder to lean on, even if you didn’t fully understand.

  Which is why he felt even worse every time he caught himself staring, every time his eyes wandered a little past his textbook and swept over your form with the same natural fluidity that he often swept through the city, every time his mind wandered to you when he had even a moment to let it.

  You were his best friend. Practically a sister to him, and he found himself thinking less than brotherly thoughts of you more often than not. He had to get it out of his head, he just had to. Not only because there was no way in a million years that a girl like you would settle for him, but he couldn’t pull you any closer to the danger that followed him everywhere he went than you already were.

  Pulled from his melancholic daydreams, Peter felt the hair on his arms stick up, like pins poking persistently, alerting him to something across the city. The Sun had nearly set, and the stars and lights of the city began to twinkle softly, but the bustle of the city didn’t cease. Off in the distance, he could feel himself being pulled towards something, and just as he thought, he watched as a bright boom of golden orange light pulsed on the edge of the city, like an explosion. Well, exactly an explosion.

  He yanked his mask back on fervently, pushing himself up and off of the top of the building, launching himself towards the chaos.

  In minutes, he was there, and he landed gracefully atop a nearby shop, just across the street from the source of the explosion.

  It had come from a downtown bank, one of the few that stayed open later into the night, and Peter held his breath as he watched the small crowd of six or seven people cower in the corner of the fluorescent lit bank.

  He watched as the men circled a large opening in the wall, one that Peter assumed to have been caused by the explosion. They’d used it to bust open the door to the vault. Curiously, though, they held one of the hostages at gunpoint, away from the rest. That on its own wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary given the circumstances, but it was the hostage herself that made Peter double take.

  She looked kind of like… well, a superhero. It was odd- she was wearing what seemed to be a faux leather jumpsuit, reminding him of what Black Widow had been wearing when he saw her at the airport fight. Just like hers, it looked as though it were made for fighting. The biggest thing though was the mask- a strip of black that stretched across the girls face in the style of old, vintage robbers and super heroes, obscuring her face just enough that he couldn’t make out her features.

  They were seemingly putting a lot of effort into keeping her contained as well, one big, burly ski-masked man on either side of her, holding her by her forearms, with a third just behind her, a large gun waiting cocked in his grip.

  Well, whoever she was, it didn’t matter. She was in danger- everyone there was, and Peter was determined to help them.

  He shot out a web to the roof of their building, swinging down and rolling into a standing position on the asphalt below. He carefully slid into the building, holding a quieting finger up to the hostages.

  He made a move to lean against the glass window walls of the bank, but stumbled a bit. He quickly regained his composure though, ignoring his misstep.

  “You idiots think you’re real clever don’t you? Oh yeah, so brave sicking three huge men on a helpless little girl.” The girl in the mask taunted, Peter still unnoticed by all the robbers.

  “Helpless? Please, we know what you can do, freaky bitch,”

  Finally, Peter decided that was his que to step in.

  “Hey, is that any way to speak to a lady?”

  All heads shot to Peter, including that of the masked woman. The man holding the gun behind her groaned.

  “First you, now this brat? How many pint sized heroes do we have in this town?”

  “Hey,” Peter exclaimed, frowning, “I’m not pint sized!”

  Clearly already annoyed, the man raised his gun and pointed it at Peter.

  “Nope-!” Peter called, and faster than the man could even pull the trigger, he zapped out a web, grabbing the barrel of the gun with his web and yanking it back like a yo-yo. Just as he did, the girl pushed herself up and back, before slamming her feet back down on the concrete with a loud cracking noise. She threw her arms out, and with them flew the two, 200+ pound men, hurling across the room like they were as light as a pillow, slamming against the wall across the bank.

  “Whoa!” Peter exclaimed, grinning under his mask. “That was awesome! How’d you do that?” as he spoke, two more men came through the vault, both carrying large automatic rifles.

  “Oops- sorry bud.” Just as before, he whipped the weapons from their hands to his, and he frowned. “You know, you’re really not supposed to have these.”

  The first man only growled, barreling forwards towards him, fists bared. Peter tossed the guns to the side, sticking themselves firmly onto the tiled bank lobby floor. Behind the first grunt, the second turned right, bolting towards the masked girl, who was currently ushering the hostages out, behind the chaos.

  Peter shot a web into the ceiling above him, yanking himself up just before his attacker swung full force at him, momentum sending him falling forward through the glass wall of the building.

  Next, Peter turned towards the mystery girls fight. She reared her arm back to throw a punch, but Peter thought he would take care of her assailant at the source. Swinging himself backwards, he used the extra force to his advantage and leapt forward, intending to body slam into  the large man and knock him unconscious.

  Just as he was about to barrel through him though, the girl swung her fist, hitting the man square in the jaw, sending him flying backwards, putting the masked girl right in Peters line of motion.

  “Look out-!” he yelled, no time to do anything else, but it was too late, and his body slammed against hers, sending them both crashing onto the ground.

  They both groaned, Peter laying across her stomach diagonally, both catching their breaths after the air had been knocked out of them.

  “Get off,” she cursed, shoving Peter off of her. “What the hell are you doing?” She groaned, and Peter propped himself up on his elbows, frowning.

  “Saving you!” he exclaimed, and she rolled her eyes. Behind him, she watched as a man carrying a large, stuffed duffle bag in his arms darted out of the building.

  “He’s getting away, you idiot!”

  They both pushed themselves upwards with equal speed, sprinting out the front door. The man jumped into the back of a large black truck, tossing the goods inside. He reached for the door handle, yanking the door shut.

  “Hey, wait!” Peter yelled, and he shot out a web, grabbing onto the door to stop him from closing it. Just as he did, the man banged twice on the roof of the van, and the engine turned over, peeling out of the bank’s parking lot.

  “Wha- whoa-!” the sudden departure yanked Peter by his wrist, and he jolted forward, yelling loudly as the van dragged him down the street.

  Before they could get even fifty feet, though, a bright red bolt shot over Peters head, firing into the door of the van and slicing it like butter, leaving a glowing, charred metal scar in its wake. The bolt released peters web from the car, and he ricocheted sideways as they curled around a street corner, flying into the side of a metal dumpster.

  Slowly regaining his bearings, he looked up to watch as the girl ran by, discharging the mysterious, fiery lasers seemingly from the palms of her hands, eyes glowing red.

  “Whoa,” Peter breathed, and he watched as you fired, once, twice, three more times before the truck disappeared. Your eyes lost their glow, slowly fading to their normal, human iris’, as you cursed loudly.

  “What the hell!” she screamed, now marching towards Peter. He scrambled to his feet, holding his hands up in front of him, backing into an alleyway.

  “You ruined my whole plan!” She growled, sticking an accusing finger into his chest.

  “Ruined? They had you at gunpoint! I saved you!”

  “No, you didn’t! I had them right where I wanted them, and you fucked the whole thing up. They got away!”

  “Look, I was just trying to-”

  “-I know what you were trying to do, okay? But because of you, those assholes got away, and now I’ll have to go after them again.”

  “Well- well, wait a minute okay? You clearly care about the city, and- and helping people, and you’ve clearly got some freaky cool powers-” she glared at him “-so, why don’t we, I don’t know, team up? We can take those guys down together!”

  She only rolled her eyes.

  “Team up? I don’t do ‘teams’, buddy, and definitely not with you.”

  “Hey,” he whined, “I promise I won’t swing into you next time.” He bargained, but she turned, making her way through the alley, the sound of police sirens pulling up just around the corner as she left.

  “Look, Spider-Boy, I see what you’re trying to sell, but I’m not buying  it. Just stay out of my way.”

  “SpiderMan” Peter corrected, and she turned, raising an eyebrow at him. He realized then exactly how childish and he sounded, and he cleared his throat, trying to deepen it a bit.

  “It’s, it’s SpiderMan.”

She stared at him for a moment, eyes blank and unforgiving.

  “Right.” She said in a deadpan tone, and the next thing Peter knew, she’d ducked around the corner, disappearing into the night.

  Slowly, Peter slid the window of his bedroom open, creeping in as quietly as he could, the roof still creaking under his weight despite his best efforts. He reached out, giving his bedroom door that last nudge it needed to click shut, before dropping easily to the floor.

  He groaned, yanking off his mask and rolling his shoulders.

  “Peter, I’m home!”

  Aunt Mays voice was muffled through the door, but he could hear her fumbling with the keys, just home from work. Perfect.

  He pressed his palm to the center of his chest, and he felt his suit deflate, falling loosely around his form.

  He yanked it off, shoving it into its hiding place, along with his mask. He pulled his pajamas on eagerly- both because he was excited to be into a more comfortable set of clothes, but as well as to not arise suspicion when Aunt May inevitable came over and knocked on the door.

  He was just pulling on his shirt when, right on cue, she knocked (though it was rather redundant, as she pushed it open as she did so, negating the need to knock.)

  “Hi honey! How was your day at school?” He took a seat at his desk, still out of breath.

  “Fine,” he nodded, head in the clouds, hoping she didn’t notice the speed of his breath or the sweat covering his body. “it was fine. Nothing much.”

  If she noticed, she made no indication that she did, which he was thankful for.

  “Well, that’s just fine. You hungry?” She asked, and Peter found himself grinning.

  “Starving,” he sighed, and she smiled knowingly.

  “Thought you might be. I’ll whip something up. It’ll be ready in about 15- then you can come out and tell me all the fine things that happened at school today.” She teased, and he nodded, still nervous that somehow she would notice something and figure him out, but she simply turned, shutting his door behind her.

  Peter let out a relieved breath, finally able to let himself rest for a moment.

  He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. He sat there for a moment, reveling in the feeling of relaxation, however minimal it was. He was brought from said relaxation quickly though, when his computer lit up, familiar techno ringtone playing, your photo flashing across the blue screen.

  ‘Y/N Y/L/N: Calling…’

  He couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he pressed accept.

  “Evening, parker.” Your voice echoed through the speakers, and he felt the last of his nerves calming at its sound.

  “Hey, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning forward on his elbow to get more into frame.

“So, how was that Stark internship today?” you asked, and Peter pouted, trying to think of a way to tell you without telling you.

  “Eh, it was… alright. I ran into this new girl and she was super pissy. I don’t think she likes me.”

  You leaned forward as well, resting your chin on your palm. You were clearly in bed already, propped up on your side with your elbow. Your hair was up in a messy bun, strands falling loosely around your face. Peter found himself wishing he was in that bed with you, laughing and joking next to each other as opposed to two floors down in a separate apartment.

  “Awe,” you said, and he shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts away with it. “I’m sorry. Well, it’s her loss.” He felt his ears turn read, and he glanced away, staring at his oversized chess set next to him as if it were the most interesting thing in the whole world.

  “What about work? How was your shift?” he asked, averting the conversation from himself and back onto you. He’d much rather talk about you anyways.

  “Ugh. Terrible.”

  He frowned, stomach turning at your clear displeasure.

  “Why? What happened?”

  You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

  “Just assholes making everything harder.” You shrugged.

  “I’m sorry. Looks like we both had shitty days.”

  You laughed.

  “Tell me about it. Just another reason to believe we’re somehow psychically connected.”

  Peter laughed, and just like that, it was like the earlier night had never happened. He forgot all about the guy who got away, and the angry fire-girl, and he lost himself in the sound of your laugh, and the way that you spoke. He could listen to you for hours- and sometimes, he would. Whether you were spending the night, leaning over top bunk of his bed and whispering midnight thoughts down into his tired ears, or pixelated in his screen, using up all his battery life and talking into the wee hours in the morning, headphones in and whispering delicately so as not to wake up your parents.

  Before he knew it, Aunt May was peeking her head back into his room, the smell of pasta and his favorite sauce drifting from the kitchen. He hadn’t even noticed.

  “Oh, Y/N, hi!” Aunt May grinned when she saw Peters screen, pushing the door open so that she could step into his room, leaning over his shoulder to smile at you, waving.

  You waved back.

  “Hi, Aunt May. How was your day?”

  She smiled, pressing her hand to her chest.

  “Oh, it was lovely, thanks for asking dear!”

  You grinned, hugging your pillow comfortably.

  “That’s good to hear! What brings you to this my humble skype call, Mrs. Parker?”

  She pressed her lips together, placing a hand on Peters shoulder.

  “Well, I hate to break up the party, but I’ve come to steal my dear Peter for dinner. He’s got plenty of wild and exciting things to tell me from his wondrous day at school.”

  You laughed, knowing full well that nothing happened at school today, and Peter had probably given her a quick, undetailed response when she’d ask how his day had gone.

  “I’m sure. Well, have a good dinner!” 

   She grinned, pressing her fingers to her lips and blowing you a kiss.

  “Only cause you asked. See you, hun!”

  Peter glanced up at his aunt as she turned to leave.

  “Be right there.” He whispered, and Aunt May nodded, trying to hide the knowing smile from her face as she turned towards the door.

  “Well, you heard the lady. I gotta’ go.”

 You smiled softly at him, yawning.

  “Well, don’t keep her waiting. Go ‘head. Night, Pete.”

  Peter watched as you settled softly into your bed. He could tell you were exhausted- he imagined you might fall asleep right then and there before you even ended that call.

  He smiled, drinking in your features despite having just seen you only a few hours ago, on your way home from school.

  “Night, Y/N,”

  The call cut off in the middle of your wave goodbye, and your tired face was replaced with your Skype avatar.

  Somehow, after all that interacting, Peter still found himself counting the minutes until he’d see you again tomorrow morning.

   You waved goodbye, watching as Peter reached forward and ended the call. The screen went dark, and you closed your laptop, rolling over onto your back.

 You stared up at the ceiling, sighing deeply.

  You pressed your hand over your heart, pounding like a drum. Your palms were sweaty, and you wondered if he could tell you were staring over the video call, or if the low quality somehow masked the absolute heart eyes that you couldn’t keep from gluing to his features- his eyes, his jaw, his lips- everything.

  “God, I am so fucked,”

#spiderman #spider man #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spider-man #spiderman homecoming #spiderman hoco #aunt may #may parker #multi part series #ch. 1 #marvel #mcu #sm:h #avengers #tony stark

[vinayv224]

Trump threatens to send the US military to quash protests

President Donald Trump walks out of the White House to make a statement to the press about restoring “law and order” on June 1, 2020, in Washington, DC. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

He didn’t invoke a centuries-old law to give him that authority. But he might later.

President Donald Trump on Monday threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act — a centuries-old law that gives the president the authority to send the US military into US cities and towns to quash domestic unrest — if state governors don’t take sufficient action to quell the ongoing protests and unrest happening in cities across the country.

“If a city or state refuses to take the actions that are necessary to defend the life and property of their residents, then I will deploy United States military and quickly solve the problem for them,” Trump said in a short speech delivered from the White House Rose Garden.

As he spoke, loud booms could be sporadically heard in the background as law enforcement officers fired tear gas and rubber bullets at peaceful protesters who had gathered near the White House.

For the past three days, Trump has flirted with sending troops into cities around the country to put down the protests and unrest sparked by the death of George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man who was killed last week when a Minneapolis police officer used his knee to pin Floyd’s neck to the ground for several minutes while he was handcuffed.

On Saturday, Trump tweeted, “Liberal Governors and Mayors must get MUCH tougher or the Federal Government will step in and do what has to be done, and that includes using the unlimited power of our Military and many arrests.”

Two days later, he tweeted that Republican Sen. Tom Cotton was “100% Correct” for suggesting violent activists would cower before a US Army presence.

100% Correct. Thank you Tom! https://t.co/axdLX7kGNn

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 1, 2020

As of Monday, 23 states and the District of Columbia had mobilized thousands of National Guard members to support police officers and firefighters with trying to control the demonstrations and unrest.

Trump, however, is unsatisfied with those efforts. In a private call with governors on Monday, he told them, “If you don’t dominate, you’re wasting your time,” adding that “we have a wonderful military.” Hours later, White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany said the president would soon send “federal assets” around the nation, and mentioned the Insurrection Act as a possibility.

“The Insurrection Act, it’s one of the tools available, whether the president decides to pursue that, that’s his prerogative,“ she said.

However, Trump did say US military police, many of whom have spent part of the past two decades in the Middle East, will deploy to Washington, DC. Importantly, they still don’t have the authority to perform law enforcement duties.

But if Trump were to go through with invoking the Insurrection Act, experts say it would be one of the most dramatic law enforcement escalations in decades, certain to inflame tensions between the demonstrators and their government instead of lower them.

An active-duty US Air Force officer who flew warplanes in Afghanistan told me such a decision isn’t wise. “These protests aren’t combat and shouldn’t be viewed through the same prism,” the officer said, speaking on the condition of anonymity to talk candidly about a sensitive issue. “Expecting a military response is myopic on the part of the administration, tone-deaf in light of yet another intolerable and unacceptable killing, and a misuse of the military.”

But Trump hasn’t heeded that advice. Instead, he’s leaning away from it.

The Insurrection Act, briefly explained

Trump absolutely can send American troops to any part of the United States to deal with the protests. He is the commander in chief, after all. But if he wants them to be able to search, seize assets, and arrest protesters and people who are looting, there are a few legalistic hoops he’ll have to jump through first.

You might have heard of “posse comitatus,” a longstanding law that bars the US military in most cases from being used to enforce domestic law. However, there is actually a way for federal troops to perform law enforcement functions. Simply put, they have to get special, statutory authorization to allow them to do those duties.

By far the most important of those authorizations — and the one most likely to come into play in this situation — is the Insurrection Act.

“This is the legal key that unlocks the door to use federal military forces ... to quell civil unrest,” Mark Nevitt, a military law expert at the US Naval Academy, wrote for the Just Security website last Friday.

Nevitt noted two main ways the Insurrection Act could be invoked for the protests. It’s worth going through each in turn.

1) Local leaders could ask the president for US military assistance

A state’s legislature or its governor could directly request US military support. This actually happened in 1992: California Gov. Pete Wilson sought assistance from President George H.W. Bush during the Los Angeles protests that erupted after a jury acquitted police officers charged with arresting and beating Rodney King. In response, Bush put California National Guard members under federal command and sent in soldiers and Marines already based in the state.

It’s unclear if any governor would actually make such a request of Trump right now. Experts told me governors typically shy away from taking this step because of how controversial it is. Plus, they have National Guard members already under their command who, when authorized, can perform law enforcement functions.

Reports, however, indicate that active-duty troops stationed around the country are on high alert to deploy within 24 hours. “We have our military ready, willing and able, if they ever want to call our military,” Trump told reporters on Saturday. “And we can have troops on the ground very quickly if they ever want our military.”

2) The president could send in US troops to protect federal property or enforce federal law

Trump could invoke the law to send troops even without a state legislature’s or governor’s consent — but there’s a catch.

Trump can only deploy troops within the US “for certain purposes,” Lindsay Cohn, a US military expert at the Naval War College, told me. “Technically and legally, he can send them to protect federal property or enforce federal law.”

Past presidents used this authority to defend civil rights in the 1950s and ’60s.

In 1957, then-Arkansas Gov. Orval Faubus refused to follow federal integration laws after the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education ruling three years earlier. As a result, President Dwight Eisenhower sent soldiers from the 101st Airborne Division into Little Rock to escort nine black high school students into the all-white Central High School despite protests against them.

Five years later, President John F. Kennedy sent Army soldiers into Oxford, Mississippi, after the state’s governor tried to block a black student from attending the University of Mississippi in Oxford (often referred to as Ole Miss). This allowed the student, James Meredith, to register safely even though a mob tried to stop him.

In both the Eisenhower and Kennedy cases, the president used federal troops to enforce federal laws. That’s important, Cohn told me, because the key is that those and other deployments by presidents were to suppress insurrections against US federal laws — not laws of the individual states.

Reading the provision in full helps drive this vital point home:

Whenever the President considers that unlawful obstructions, combinations, or assemblages or rebellion against authority of United States makes it impracticable to enforce the law of the United States in any State or territory by judicial proceedings, the President may call into Federal service the militia of any State and use the Federal military to enforce the laws or suppress the rebellion.

Importantly, to invoke the act, Trump must first — with the attorney general’s help — issue a “proclamation to disperse.” Basically, he has to give the people working against federal law a bit of time to stop their actions. If they don’t, the president is free to send in the US military.

If Trump were to do this, it would be guaranteed to anger a lot of people, and many would likely contend that Trump is behaving in an authoritarian manner, using the might of the US military to crack down on protesters. But while the impulse behind it may seem undemocratic, that doesn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t be legal.

“It’s not implausible to argue that these statutes could apply now,” Steve Vladeck, a national security law expert at the University of Texas Austin, tweeted on Saturday. “And it’s hard to imagine courts second-guessing factual determinations by the President that circumstances warrant use of the military to restore order.”

This makes the future of the protests Trump’s responsibility

If Trump wants soldiers and Marines to go into American cities and start shooting, he’ll be wildly disappointed.

As Nevitt explained, there are clear and severe restraints on active-duty troops using force while performing policing duties at home, even under the Insurrection Act:

[F]orce is to be used only as a last resort, and the force used should be the minimum necessary. Further, deadly force is to be used only when all lesser means have failed or cannot be reasonably employed.

Of course, the rules for the use of force do not limit the inherent right of self-defense of people. It also authorizes force—to include deadly force—to protect three specified assets: (1) assets vital to national security (such as nuclear command and control facilities); (2) inherently dangerous property (such as missiles, rockets, and explosives); and (3) national critical infrastructure (such as designated public utilities).

To be clear, that could apply in some instances, but obviously not in the majority of them. Which means that the US military will serve mainly as more manpower.

The move isn’t without some risk for Trump, either. As Vladeck tweeted, is that sending in American troops puts the onus for ending the protests on Trump.

“If Trump invokes these statutes, he’d own all that follows,” he wrote on Saturday.

Mayors and governors, then, wouldn’t take the credit or the blame for whatever happened next — Trump would.

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[ahloveisboo]

Long Forgotten Sons | pt 1

Pairing: OT7 Genre: Zombie!AU, mature (includes violence, gore, death, explicit language, future major character death) Word count: 4.6k

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***

Crouched behind a wall just tall enough to hide his figure, he pensively cocked his gun. His heart beat mercilessly against his ribcage as he scanned the area for intruders and his warm breath fogged the plastic over his eyes, making it difficult to see down the middle. The helmet he had stolen off some dead security guard he found lying beneath a pile of rubble a moment ago. It’s not like the guy would need it anymore, anyway. With no one in sight, he slowly made his way from behind the brick wall, aiming his gun at the empty ruins in front of him. “Come on, you bastards,” he muttered, slowly turning on his heels. “Show me your pretty faces so I can blow them right off.” The sound of a rifle reloading broke the silence and as he spun around to fire in defense, a bullet pierced him through the neck. Collapsing to his knees, the screen went black.

“Fuck!” Jungkook screamed, throwing his controller across the bed in frustration. “I can’t believe I keep fucking this one up.” He’d been stuck on the same level for 3 days now, unable to penetrate the abandoned hospital that kept one of his character’s main targets.

Jungkook’s parents were out of town, giving him the liberty to hide behind his PlayStation all week and only leaving his room to take care of food and personal hygiene. None of his friends had made the effort to call, so neither had he. At this point, he may as well have been dead to the outside world. Jungkook didn’t mind, though. In fact, he liked the solitude, since a little alone time was considered a luxury in his household.

Jungkook had bought the new video game he was playing right before his parents left on vacation. A perfect way to waste time he probably should have been spending on the list of chores pinned to the fridge by said parents. This was their first camping trip without Jungkook, and they had no shame in taking advantage of his abundance of free time.

He’d make sure to get them all done by the time his parents returned. A last minute effort to appear the perfect son.

During the rare moments he wasn’t submerged in his game, Jungkook blared his music through the headphones stuck to his head. They might as well had merged into his skull by now, since he never bothered to take them off Not even during the five hours he forced himself to sleep every night. They were great noise blockers, after all, making it easier for him to get some actual rest.

Jungkook lived in a relatively quiet neighbourhood but lately, the place had been overrun with stray cats. No one had any clue of where they came from or what they were doing here of all places, but the peaceful nights were now filled with shrieking catfights and the clanking of trash cans being pushed over. Jungkook didn’t mind much, though. Secretly, he liked leaving food out for them, even if his parents kept telling him off for it.

A low rumble resonated through the air, prompting Jungkook to rub his stomach. He hadn’t had anything to eat but canned fruits, rice, and snacks since his parents took off. He wasn’t a great cook— or just couldn’t be bothered to try. The memory of his mum’s homemade kimchi and duck stew briefly made his mouth water.

At the lack of better options, Jungkook took the last mac and cheese out of the freezer. As he turned on the stove, something in his peripheral caught his eye. Thick, black smoke was circling from the neighbouring house. His eyes widened as it dawned on him, panic rising up in his throat and grabbing a hold of him. Before he could talk himself out of it, his feet had moved into the garden. Only a few seconds later, Jungkook skid to a stop, staring at the back door blankly. His mind was racing, scattered by a mess of thoughts. Should he jump the fence and go in? Should he yell to warn them? Should he scream for help? Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Where they even home right now? Jungkook faintly remembered they had a dog, but it appeared to be making no sound to indicate it was there.

Clumsily, Jungkook grabbed the phone from his pocket. The device nearly slipped through his fingers as he dialed the emergency number with trembling hands. The dial tone on the other end seemed to last forever, soon enough he realised no one was going to answer. Slightly panicked, he ran back into the house; straight through the kitchen, the hallway, and out the front door until he found himself on the front lawn, eyes wandering the streets.

Empty, he realised. Full of dread, he punched in his parents’ number. He spun on his heels, movements frantic as he mumbled into the phone, “Come on, pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up”, trying to find any signs of life around him. Instead, all he saw were cars with smashed out windows, beat down letterboxes, broken homes staring at him with empty eye sockets. The dial tone cut out, leaving Jungkook with nothing but the sound of his racing heart beating in his ears. He swallowed and tried to steady his hands, still trembling as he spotted a walking figure in the distance. They walked funny, like they were suffering from a limp that was on the brink of healing. Scuffling, their eyes were trained on nothing in particular in front of them as if their senses were dulled and their mind a blank. As if they were running from something they were unsure whether to be afraid of.

As the figure approached, Jungkook was relieved to find it was his old math teacher, Mr. Kwon. His heart flipped at the sight of someone familiar, and as soon as he caught his breath, his feet moved of their own volition. Mr. Kwon’s eyes were wide and distraught, staring at Jungkook without the faintest sign of recognition. “Mr. Kw-”, Jungkook started, his voice rough from exertion. As soon as he spoke, the man snapped from his trancelike state, roughly grabbing Jungkook by the arm in a reflex motion. His fingers dug deep and hard, causing Jungkook to wince in pain. “Shit, Mr. Kwon, ah- stop! You’re hurti-” 

“It’s not safe,” Mr. Kwon whispered, eyes darting wildly, unable to look Jungkook in the eye. He threw a frightened look over his shoulder, pulling Jungkook closer as he hissed, “It's not safe here. I have to run. I have to-, run if you want to live, boy.”

His words were so muffled by his heavy breathing that Jungkook barely understood him. He leaned in closer, trying to catch what he was saying as he noticed his teacher’s bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. He recoiled a little, suddenly wanting nothing more than to distance himself from the man. “Mr. Kwon, what happened to you? What's going on? I don't understand. Please, let go of m-" his voice cracked as he pleaded, trying to pry his arm from Mr. Kwon's iron grip. "Where is everyone? What the fuck is happening? Let me g-go!”

The man didn’t seem to hear. He stared right past him, as he kept repeating the words. Over and over. “Not safe. Run.”

He finally released Jungkook from his hold, roughly pushing him aside to continue his mindless wander through the deserted neighbourhood. Jungkook stared after him, at a loss for words. Nothing made sense.  He forced himself to breathe, recollecting his thoughts and considering his options. The simple option was to go back inside, lock the doors, and wait for his parents to return. If they'll ever return, he thought to himself as he scanned the empty streets again. Whatever this was, it must be bad enough for people to leave their homes. But Jungkook didn't consider himself a coward who sits around and waits for someone else to rescue him.

The other option was to take Mr. Kwon's advice and run. But where to? Anywhere but here is an upgrade, he decided, and he ran back to the house, not even bothering to close the front door.

Pulling his duffel bag from under his bed, Jungkook stuffed it with anything within reach. T-shirts, iPod, books, underwear, food, his PlayStation controller,- until the bag felt full and heavy on his shoulder. All his worldly possessions in tow, he dropped the bag on the sofa, turning away to get more things he figured he'd need. It bumped the TV remote, turning on his television and sending the news channel flashing brightly across the screen. Headlines filled the bottom and the anchor lady looked more terrified than he had ever seen anyone read the prompter.

He turned up the volume as the chaste images caught his eye. Clips of people running, screaming, a building with its side stripped bare. Rubble, amidst chaos and dust.

“-six days since the explosion took place. Hudson Corp. is doing everything they can to minimize the damage, but it seems the infection has started to spread rapidly. How the virus is carrying itself further than the highly secured walls of the medical facility and quarantined zone, is still a mystery. The virus was created to find a cure for Alzheimer’s, trying to reverse the deterioration of the brain. Anyone living in the Seoul area is urged to contact the authorities to update them on their location, in order to map the remaining civilians who have yet to be evacuated.”

“Six days? A virus?” Jungkook’s head was spinning. He found himself gaping at his television, telling himself it couldn’t have been six days. Six days of madness and I was too busy trying to get past level 3 of that goddamn game? He blinked, taking in the images, processing the information he just received. Everyone in his neighbourhood had been evacuated, or so the map they showed at the end of the broadcast told him. Jungkook was stunned. They left me.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the shuffling behind him. A hand reached out and touched his shoulder, a rotting stench penetrating his nostrils. Jungkook whirled, hair on end at the rattling sound behind him. His eyes widened as he froze in terror, staring at the thing in front of him. It had an uncanny resemblance to his elderly neighbour, Mrs. Bae. Pale skin, empty eyes, her clothes torn and breath ragged. She had a chunk of flesh torn from her shoulder, dried blood spilled over the front of her baby blue flower patterned blouse and coating one side of her face.

“Mrs. Bae?” Jungkook’s voice shook. “What are yo-”

With that, the woman leaped forward, throwing her full weight at Jungkook and causing him to stumble and fall. His head hit the side of the sofa, leaving him dazed for a short moment. His reflexes kept the woman at bay, arms pushing her off by her chest and neck.

Jungkook began to panic. Using his free hand to find anything within reach, he only found his heavy duffel bag, dragging it down beside him. He cursed out loud as she snapped her teeth at him and scratched at his face, reaching for the first thing he could get his hands on. His fingers closed around the PlayStation controller and with a deep breath, he swung it towards Mrs. Bae’s face. He hit her right on the temple, causing her to yelp; an inhumane sound that went straight through his bones, leaving him choking for air. She fell to the side, still heaving as she clutched his left arm. Jungkook raised the controller again, putting all his weight behind it. This time he struck her full in the face. It produced a sickening crunch that made his stomach churn, but he didn’t stop. 

Jungkook slammed the controller down again. And again. And again. And again. Until she stopped moving.

A long moment passed before Jungkook sat up and realized what he’d done. His stomach dropped, and he scurried away from the heap of bones and skin. His back bumped into the wall, as he allowed himself to lean against the cold, granite liquor cabinet. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from what used to be the sweetest woman in the world, and he was left wondering if it – because it was hardly human anymore - was going to move again. He pressed his back into the dark gray walls, wishing they would just swallow him whole on the spot. His chest started to rise and fall with increasing speed as panic washed over him in merciless waves, tightening his throat, making him suffocate.

He didn’t move for what felt like hours. With steady breaths, he raised his hands. They were covered in dark crimson, crusty where the blood had already dried up. His gaze fell once more to the person who had been Mrs. Bae and the puddle of blood darkening the dirty white carpet beneath her. His throat felt dry. His legs were shaking, but he had to get up. Had to leave this place. Right now.

Without a second thought, he hauled himself to his feet. He grabbed his duffel bag off the floor and swung it over his shoulder, not caring about the weight and how the books prodded into his shoulder blades. Jungkook knew the food he had just packed was all there was. He also knew it would last him maybe three days. Four if he rationed it well. Breaking into a jog, he left his childhood home.

And didn’t look back.

The news mentioned his entire neighbourhood evacuating. If he was lucky, they left most of their food in a hurry. Slowing down, Jungkook surveyed his surroundings. Partly scouting for potential danger, partly to assess the situation he found himself in.

Like a reflex, his feet dragged him towards the house across the street. Jungkook eyed it up, most of its wooden skeleton still intact. He had spent innumerable days in this house as a child. He couldn’t help but wonder if the inside was still as he remembered it. Whereas the Jeons had always been on the modern side of decorating, the family across the street had a more traditional style. Cosy, warm coloured walls, wooden furniture. He’d always loved how it felt like a home.

The familiar smell of the Kim house engulfed him as soon as he opened the door. A sudden desire to just stay here and not care made Jungkook stop and flutter his eyes shit. He allowed himself a moment of savouring the safe feeling before opening them again. Surprisingly, the place still looked exactly the same as he remembered. The walls had been painted over, a once warm red brown now covered by an olive green. Jungkook felt himself nod in approval.

The kitchen was left untouched. Dishes scattered everywhere, appliances still plugged in, and, lucky for him, fridge still running. It didn’t look like they left in a hurry but still, there was that lingering sense of panic. Chaos.

Jungkook opened the fridge to find it half full. Relatively fresh fruits and vegetables, milk, and leftovers from the last meal they had shared. Cabinets were loaded with rice, instant ramen, spices he’d never heard of, and canned beans. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to eat beans for the rest of his life, but it was better than dust. Silently thanking gods he didn’t believe in, Jungkook yanked his duffel bag from his shoulder.

Puffing his hair from his face, Jungkook peered at the bag from below his eyelashes. As he was rummaging through its content, he heard a shuffling noise from the hall to his left. A faint voice carried towards the kitchen. Jungkook couldn’t quite make out any words, but it made the initial panic from hearing the noise subside. The rattling sound of Mrs. Bae’s breath was still fresh in his mind, and Jungkook knew the voice he heard had to be human. “M-mum?” the voice called, sounding nervous. “Dad? Is that you?”

The voice grew louder, laced with desperation and fear. Jungkook stood upright, stretching his legs, and letting his eyes search the living room. Curiosity took over, and he padded back into the next room, footsteps soft and deliberate.

“D-dad, please. Anybody. Please.”

The voice was pleading, weakly pounding on a door that Jungkook recognized as the one leading to the basement. He froze mid-step. He'd recognize that low, velvet voice anywhere. Jungkook used to play with its owner every day for nearly 13 years. They used to be inseparable.

With three large strides, he was in front of the door. One hand on its frame and the other hand on the knob, twisting firmly only to find it locked tight. “Tae?” Jungkook called. “Taehyung, is that you?”

His hand was flat to the door’s surface, as though trying to reach beyond. Silence fell on the other side. “K-kookie?” The word came out strangled as if his old friend was holding back a sob of relief. “Jungkook, please tell me that’s really you.”

“It’s me, Tae. It’s me. Listen, I’m going to get you out of there.” Jungkook tried to make his voice sound reassuring since Taehyung sounded like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He used to get them all the time when he was a kid. He’d learned to control them better as they got older, but Jungkook never forgot the fear he’d felt when he first saw his friend go through one and he had learned to spot the signs ever since.

Jungkook yanked the doorknob, each pull more aggressive than the last. “Tae- Fucking hell, why is this door locked?!” He heard the boy on the other side counting his breaths, trying to pull himself together enough to tell him what to do.

“My parents, they- they thought it would be safer for me in here.” His breathing was loud, shallow in the confined space. “The key is on the key holder in the living room. The thing that looks like a bird’s nest. It should be long and thin. Silver.”

It didn’t take Jungkook long to find it, crossing hurriedly back to the door separating him from Taehyung. The door swung open with a bang. A tall, brown-haired boy with chocolate-coloured eyes came into view. His otherwise caramel skin was drained of all colour, his hair stuck to his face in sweaty patches.

“Tae.” The word had left Jungkook’s mouth before he realized, and he pulled the boy from the staircase with a shaking arm. Taehyung looked weak- vulnerable.

Taehyung grinned at the younger boy. “It’s ok. I’m alright.”

“You don’t look alright. How long have you been in there? What the hell happened?” Jungkook sat Taehyung down on the coffee coloured sofa, running to the kitchen as soon as the older boy opened his mouth.

“A day or two, three? My parents went to get food, and they thought it’d be safer for me locked inside the basement. Just in case those things got inside and they weren’t here to protect me,” he scoffed. “They left but never returned. There’s barely any food down there. They really thought it was safe for- ah, thanks.” Gratefully, Taehyung accepted the banana and can of coke Jungkook pushed into his hands.

“Don’t eat too fast. You’ll get cramps.”

Taehyung slowed down his chewing. “I feel better already,” he smiled.

Jungkook allowed himself to calm down, sitting down beside Taehyung on the sofa. He ran his hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

Taehyung peered up at him from the rim of his coke can. “What?” he asked, after gulping down half the can’s content. Jungkook shook his head, letting his eyes wander to the window.

“Quite a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, isn’t it?”

Taehyung followed his gaze. Jungkook half expected them to widen, but then he realized that Taehyung must have been here to see it happen. While he had been locked inside his own room, Taehyung must have seen it all unfold.

“What happened?” Jungkook whispered, more to himself than at Taehyung.

The latter answered him anyways. “You know that big ass medical testing facility in Yangcheonggu? A couple of days ago, there was a huge explosion. No one knows why or how, but it blew out half the building and released some of the shit they’d been working on. It was supposed to be quarantined, but I guess something went wrong because suddenly people in the area started losing their minds. Literally. They got ill. Nausea, high fever. They forgot who they were, how to talk, started attacking other people for no reason.”

Jungkook tore his gaze from the window.

“It spread pretty fast. The government began evacuation protocol immediately. They got out most of the neighbours but for some reason, my parents didn’t want to leave all this-” he said, gesturing towards the house. “behind. So we stayed. We watched everyone else get infected. No idea how or why. It was mayhem,” Taehyung trailed off, remembering. “Maybe my parents got scared and took off. Left me behind. I didn’t have my phone down there so I haven’t been able to contact them.” He leaned back against the hard sofa, absentmindedly playing with the banana peels.

“You know all those zombie movies we used to sneak into my room and watch when my parents were out?” Taehyung waited for Jungkook to nod before continuing. “Well. I think we might just be in the middle of one now.”

As he took another swig from his coke, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice his sudden calmness. Colour had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes had regained some sparkle. “You don’t sound worried,” he noted.

Taehyung avoided his eyes as he got up from the sofa. “I’ve been locked in a basement for god knows how many days. My parents are out there and I have no clue if they’re even alive. Or… worse.” Taehyung blinked, tears stinging the back of his eyes.

When he met his friend’s gaze, Jungkook was surprised to find hardness within. “To tell you the truth, I was ready to die in there until you came along. Because frankly, is it even still worth it?”

Jungkook was taken aback by this. Though this whole situation was new to him, the thought had never crossed his mind. “What do you mean? Is it worth what?”

“Being alive.”

Suddenly the air felt too thick for Jungkook to breathe. He got up as Taehyung continued talking. “For all we know, we’re the only ones left in the Seoul area.”

“We can’t think like that,” Jungkook countered, shaking his head. “I can’t think like that, Tae! My parents are out there somewhere. I need to believe they are okay.”

“Even if they are,” Taehyung said, gaze hard, “They’re not coming back. They won’t allow it. This is a quarantined zone now.”

Jungkook knew he was right, and fuck– had this room always been so small? Trying to keep himself from pacing, Jungkook stalked back towards the kitchen. He wanted to punch something, and he wanted to make sure that something wasn’t Taehyung’s face.

His hand found a stray plate next to the sink and before Jungkook could stop himself, he’d swung it at the wall. The plain piece of china shattered into pieces, shards bouncing off the kitchen tiles. He almost started screaming.

And then he was.

The sound filled the empty house. Angry. Desperate.

A hand closed around his wrist when he grabbed for another plate. “Kookie.” It was barely a whisper. Jungkook allowed himself to lock eyes with the brown-haired boy, not saying anything. His chest felt tight, and by the look Taehyung was giving him, he knew he felt the same.

“What do we do?”

Taehyung let go of his wrist. Taking a step back, he leaned against the countertop. “I honestly don’t know,” he sighed. “We could go look for help. But we may run into some unwanted wanderers.” Taehyung folded his arms over his chest. “Or we could stay here. Wait for someone with a car to get us out of here.”

“Why do I feel like you’ve already dismissed option one?”

Taehyung grimaced. “Do I look like I can fight off those things? The only weapon I ever learned to handle is my bow and arrow.”

“You picked up archery?” Jungkook asked, almost smiling. “God, you are such a nerd.”

The tightness in his chest eased a little, as he suddenly remembered why Tae and he became friends in the first place. Just because their parents ran in the same circle, didn’t mean the kids would get along. Jungkook and Taehyung certainly didn’t at first.

Taehyung was two years older than Jungkook, a lot more outgoing and engaging than Jungkook was. Jungkook was the shy kid, always on his own. Even as a child he enjoyed the silence and comfort of solitude, letting his mind wander to places only he could go. Taehyung wasn’t like that. He loved to intrude, trying to tempt Jungkook to play with him and enter his world.

As annoying as Jungkook found the older boy to be, he soon appreciated the fact that Taehyung truly wanted to be in his company. He started letting him in. They ran to magical lands, mystical forests, and blood-soaked battlefields together. Played pretend sword fights while they rescued damsels in distress. As they grew older those forests turned into not so imaginary parking lots with football matches, bedrooms where they listened to the latest album Jungkook’s dad got him. Trying out the new video game Taehyung had shoplifted. They bonded over comics and crushes and rival sports teams.

Until one day they got into a fight. Jungkook couldn’t even remember what it was about, but it had been bad. They didn’t talk for an entire week. When they did, it was just screaming until there was nothing left to scream about. And that was it. End of a friendship. The two of them changed schools and all Jungkook knew about Taehyung now was whatever his parents told him after they went across the street for their monthly dinners.

Taehyung had graduated at some point and was now majoring in Liberal Arts Studies, whereas Jungkook was about to start uni. He was thinking an IT-based education would suit him well.

“Nothing wrong with archery, you asshole,” Taehyung countered. “Anyways. Since you asked, I do believe staying put is the best option until something better comes along. Unless you have one in mind?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“So that’s settled then. We stay.” Taehyung pushed himself off the countertop. 

Jungkook watched his retreating form enter the living room. “Do you really think someone will come looking for us?”

Taehyung halted at his words, not bothering to turn and face his old friend. “No. But I can hope.”

At that, a thought flashed across Jungkook’s mind. “Hey Tae, do you guys still have those obnoxious Christmas lights lying around?”

The Kims were known for their abundant and dramatic Christmas decorating during the holidays. Reindeers on the front lawn and flashing lights included. This grabbed Taehyung’s attention. He whirled, staring at the black haired boy in bemusement. “We do. They’re in the attic. Why?”

“Show me,” Jungkook said without further explanation. He gestured for Taehyung to lead him onwards.

When Jungkook saw the treasure trove of lights, he grinned. “These are perfect, Tae. Grab any leftover blankets you can find, preferably white, so they catch people’s attention. We’re going to decorate the roof.” Still grinning, Jungkook held several cords of coloured lights in the palm of his hand. As soon as Taehyung realised what the younger meant, he grinned back, rushing down to search his parents’ bedroom.

Climbing through Taehyung’s bedroom window, they managed to get to the roof with little problem. From up here, the devastation and ruins were painfully visible. They took a moment to take in the view, neither saying a word.

Then they got to work. Without completely covering the black tiled roof, they pinned the lights strategically on bits and pieces of sheets. Creating just enough contrast to draw attention from passing air crafts in the vicinity. Jungkook made sure the coloured lights spelled out HELP in letters as big as the cords would let him. After not so elegantly crawling back into the house, he plugged them all in and stuck his head out of the window. “Status?” he yelled, leaning on the window sill.

Taehyung’s head popped into sight, smirking. “Never thought I’d be this happy at the sight of my parents’ Christmas light atrocities.”

After Jungkook had crawled back on the roof to join him, they sat there a little while longer than needed. Taehyung leaned back on his elbows, staring over at Jungkook beside him. The faint green and red glow of Christmas lights illuminated his features. “Do you think the walkers will notice the lights, too?” Taehyung asked.

“Oh, they’re called walkers now?” Jungkook snorted in reply. The sun was already starting to set, marking the end of a very long day.

“Why not?” Taehyung shrugged. “That’s what they’re called on that popular TV show.” Tearing his gaze away, he started into the sunset. “What else do we call them? Zombies?”

His voice was softer now, as though afraid to face the horrible reality. Jungkook looked away as well, laying down beside Taehyung. He listened to the steady breathing of his friend slow down, calming him. Suddenly he felt sleepy.

“Let’s hope they don’t notice.”

A/N: I’ve been wanting to post this for the longest time and I’m glad it’s finally out there. Sorry about it only being two of the boys but the others will follow soon! I would really, really appreciate some feedback on this as this will be my first series and the first time writing something that doesn’t include fluff. Thank you to @transaflanticism for spending hours brainstorming with me on the theme and storyline, and @the-princejinyoung for being my editor in chief. I love you both lots.

#long forgotten sons #noonanet #bts fanfiction #zombie au bts #bangtan #bts au #bangtan au #bts series

[vinayv224]

President Donald Trump walks out of the White House to make a statement to the press about restoring “law and order” on June 1, 2020, in Washington, DC. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

He didn’t invoke a centuries-old law to give him that authority. But he might later.

President Donald Trump on Monday threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act — a centuries-old law that gives the president the authority to send the US military into US cities and towns to quash domestic unrest — if state governors don’t take sufficient action to quell the ongoing protests and unrest happening in cities across the country.

“If a city or state refuses to take the actions that are necessary to defend the life and property of their residents, then I will deploy United States military and quickly solve the problem for them,” Trump said in a short speech delivered from the White House Rose Garden.

As he spoke, loud booms could be sporadically heard in the background as law enforcement officers fired tear gas and rubber bullets at peaceful protesters who had gathered near the White House.

For the past three days, Trump has flirted with sending troops into cities around the country to put down the protests and unrest sparked by the death of George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man who was killed last week when a Minneapolis police officer used his knee to pin Floyd’s neck to the ground for several minutes while he was handcuffed.

On Saturday, Trump tweeted, “Liberal Governors and Mayors must get MUCH tougher or the Federal Government will step in and do what has to be done, and that includes using the unlimited power of our Military and many arrests.”

Two days later, he tweeted that Republican Sen. Tom Cotton was “100% Correct” for suggesting violent activists would cower before a US Army presence.

100% Correct. Thank you Tom! https://t.co/axdLX7kGNn

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 1, 2020

As of Monday, 23 states and the District of Columbia had mobilized thousands of National Guard members to support police officers and firefighters with trying to control the demonstrations and unrest.

Trump, however, is unsatisfied with those efforts. In a private call with governors on Monday, he told them, “If you don’t dominate, you’re wasting your time,” adding that “we have a wonderful military.” Hours later, White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany said the president would soon send “federal assets” around the nation, and mentioned the Insurrection Act as a possibility.

“The Insurrection Act, it’s one of the tools available, whether the president decides to pursue that, that’s his prerogative,“ she said.

However, Trump did say US military police, many of whom have spent part of the past two decades in the Middle East, will deploy to Washington, DC. Importantly, they still don’t have the authority to perform law enforcement duties.

But if Trump were to go through with invoking the Insurrection Act, experts say it would be one of the most dramatic law enforcement escalations in decades, certain to inflame tensions between the demonstrators and their government instead of lower them.

An active-duty US Air Force officer who flew warplanes in Afghanistan told me such a decision isn’t wise. “These protests aren’t combat and shouldn’t be viewed through the same prism,” the officer said, speaking on the condition of anonymity to talk candidly about a sensitive issue. “Expecting a military response is myopic on the part of the administration, tone-deaf in light of yet another intolerable and unacceptable killing, and a misuse of the military.”

But Trump hasn’t heeded that advice. Instead, he’s leaning away from it.

The Insurrection Act, briefly explained

Trump absolutely can send American troops to any part of the United States to deal with the protests. He is the commander in chief, after all. But if he wants them to be able to search, seize assets, and arrest protesters and people who are looting, there are a few legalistic hoops he’ll have to jump through first.

You might have heard of “posse comitatus,” a longstanding law that bars the US military in most cases from being used to enforce domestic law. However, there is actually a way for federal troops to perform law enforcement functions. Simply put, they have to get special, statutory authorization to allow them to do those duties.

By far the most important of those authorizations — and the one most likely to come into play in this situation — is the Insurrection Act.

“This is the legal key that unlocks the door to use federal military forces ... to quell civil unrest,” Mark Nevitt, a military law expert at the US Naval Academy, wrote for the Just Security website last Friday.

Nevitt noted two main ways the Insurrection Act could be invoked for the protests. It’s worth going through each in turn.

1) Local leaders could ask the president for US military assistance

A state’s legislature or its governor could directly request US military support. This actually happened in 1992: California Gov. Pete Wilson sought assistance from President George H.W. Bush during the Los Angeles protests that erupted after a jury acquitted police officers charged with arresting and beating Rodney King. In response, Bush put California National Guard members under federal command and sent in soldiers and Marines already based in the state.

It’s unclear if any governor would actually make such a request of Trump right now. Experts told me governors typically shy away from taking this step because of how controversial it is. Plus, they have National Guard members already under their command who, when authorized, can perform law enforcement functions.

Reports, however, indicate that active-duty troops stationed around the country are on high alert to deploy within 24 hours. “We have our military ready, willing and able, if they ever want to call our military,” Trump told reporters on Saturday. “And we can have troops on the ground very quickly if they ever want our military.”

2) The president could send in US troops to protect federal property or enforce federal law

Trump could invoke the law to send troops even without a state legislature’s or governor’s consent — but there’s a catch.

Trump can only deploy troops within the US “for certain purposes,” Lindsay Cohn, a US military expert at the Naval War College, told me. “Technically and legally, he can send them to protect federal property or enforce federal law.”

Past presidents used this authority to defend civil rights in the 1950s and ’60s.

In 1957, then-Arkansas Gov. Orval Faubus refused to follow federal integration laws after the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education ruling three years earlier. As a result, President Dwight Eisenhower sent soldiers from the 101st Airborne Division into Little Rock to escort nine black high school students into the all-white Central High School despite protests against them.

Five years later, President John F. Kennedy sent Army soldiers into Oxford, Mississippi, after the state’s governor tried to block a black student from attending the University of Mississippi in Oxford (often referred to as Ole Miss). This allowed the student, James Meredith, to register safely even though a mob tried to stop him.

In both the Eisenhower and Kennedy cases, the president used federal troops to enforce federal laws. That’s important, Cohn told me, because the key is that those and other deployments by presidents were to suppress insurrections against US federal laws — not laws of the individual states.

Reading the provision in full helps drive this vital point home:

Whenever the President considers that unlawful obstructions, combinations, or assemblages or rebellion against authority of United States makes it impracticable to enforce the law of the United States in any State or territory by judicial proceedings, the President may call into Federal service the militia of any State and use the Federal military to enforce the laws or suppress the rebellion.

Importantly, to invoke the act, Trump must first — with the attorney general’s help — issue a “proclamation to disperse.” Basically, he has to give the people working against federal law a bit of time to stop their actions. If they don’t, the president is free to send in the US military.

If Trump were to do this, it would be guaranteed to anger a lot of people, and many would likely contend that Trump is behaving in an authoritarian manner, using the might of the US military to crack down on protesters. But while the impulse behind it may seem undemocratic, that doesn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t be legal.

“It’s not implausible to argue that these statutes could apply now,” Steve Vladeck, a national security law expert at the University of Texas Austin, tweeted on Saturday. “And it’s hard to imagine courts second-guessing factual determinations by the President that circumstances warrant use of the military to restore order.”

This makes the future of the protests Trump’s responsibility

If Trump wants soldiers and Marines to go into American cities and start shooting, he’ll be wildly disappointed.

As Nevitt explained, there are clear and severe restraints on active-duty troops using force while performing policing duties at home, even under the Insurrection Act:

[F]orce is to be used only as a last resort, and the force used should be the minimum necessary. Further, deadly force is to be used only when all lesser means have failed or cannot be reasonably employed.

Of course, the rules for the use of force do not limit the inherent right of self-defense of people. It also authorizes force—to include deadly force—to protect three specified assets: (1) assets vital to national security (such as nuclear command and control facilities); (2) inherently dangerous property (such as missiles, rockets, and explosives); and (3) national critical infrastructure (such as designated public utilities).

To be clear, that could apply in some instances, but obviously not in the majority of them. Which means that the US military will serve mainly as more manpower.

The move isn’t without some risk for Trump, either. As Vladeck tweeted, is that sending in American troops puts the onus for ending the protests on Trump.

“If Trump invokes these statutes, he’d own all that follows,” he wrote on Saturday.

Mayors and governors, then, wouldn’t take the credit or the blame for whatever happened next — Trump would.

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