#and i was still a little too sedated to question or object to the choice of plush djshfjdjnd
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heard loud purring while trying to sleep and turned the lights on to find my cat nursing from james sullivan
#ok to rb#the mrrp at the beginning is from my other cat (shams). this is noor kneading#'why do you have a giant sulley from monsters inc plush' my mom got it for me when i finished my ect treatment sessions at the hospital#and she was like you like giant plushies right?? i'll get you one right now!! (bless her)#and i was still a little too sedated to question or object to the choice of plush djshfjdjnd#sunlight#noor
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Villainsicle | Part 10
Okay so I know I said I was going to write backstory. But hear me out. I forgot.
On this episode: Will Medic ever make a good choice. Will Villain ever get comfort? Like, ever? Probably not!
Taglist:
@whatwhumpcomments
@sola-whumping
@professional-idiocy
@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room
@literally-just-kirby
@teachunks
CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, conditioned whumpee, drugging, dehumanization, restraints, muzzles, choke chains, collars, pet whump (kinda), conditioning, forced sedation, just an absolutely unhealthy amount of caffeine
Medic watched as Villain calmed.
They sat on a chair, a simple plastic one, near their patient’s bedside as the various scattered monitors reported on the situation. On the left, the heart rate monitor diligently beeped as a nervous, rapid heartbeat turned to one far more steady. On the other side of the room, the breathing monitor reported much of the same-- shallow breaths grew deeper, slower.
The doctor kept their gaze fixed on those displays until their readings were to their liking. Until they were certain that their patient was asleep.
They glanced over to the bed, in the center of the room. Its occupant’s skin was nearly pale enough to blend in with the white sheets on which they lay. Ever so slightly, they twitched in their sleep, struggling unconsciously against the padded restraints securing their wrists to the bed frame. Such a measure was likely unnecessary, but it meant that Medic had one less concern. Their already-weakened patient wouldn’t be going anywhere, not anytime soon.
With a sigh, they braced their hands against their thighs and stood.
They hadn’t been especially concerned about Villain’s escape in the first place. The captive had learnt their lesson from their earlier escape attempts, certainly, and their weakened, nervous state didn’t hurt. Besides, the base was built as a maze. Any escape attempt wouldn’t go very far.
This wasn’t about that, though.
Medic took one last glance at the monitors before pushing open the steel door to the room, not so much as bothering to lock it. It was late--far past midnight, at this point. Far past the hour at which the others retired to their quarters. The only other waking souls in the building would be the few scattered guards, and perhaps Leader, pacing in their office.
That wouldn’t be a problem, though.
Ensuring that their footsteps stayed quiet, Medic moved through the labyrinthine halls. They passed their quarters, and Leader’s office, moving further and further into the base’s core. They did not stop until turning down a barren hallway, at which point they at last halted, before a door marked with little more than a simple plate.
“Lab,” it was labelled.
It had been too long since they’d been able to visit. In the early days of the resistance, it was where they had spent nearly every last second of their time. Now, there were far too many injuries to treat. Far too many reports to make. They hardly had time to sleep, much less time to return to their old stomping ground.
Medic slid a key into the lock, and entered.
The room was barren. Other than the thin layer of dust that seemed to coat every surface, it was immaculately clean. Every last device had been put away, secured in the various meticulously labelled cupboards. The only object remaining on the tables was a computer-- a simple laptop.
The only thing Medic had taken with them.
They sat at a chair before the computer, prying it open. Some of the dust had even managed to sip in beneath the device’s lid, coating the screen and keyboard. A quick swipe of the hand sent it, flying off into the air.
The laptop groaned for a moment, fighting to start up. When, at last, it did so, a familiar screensaver illuminated Medic’s face.
“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.”
It was almost nostalgic.
They entered their password, smiling as the desktop appeared before them, scattered with folders and files and memos. Selecting the right one was almost muscle memory.
Again, the computer whirred, struggling to remember the contents of the old file. After a few seconds of waiting, at last, the video sprung onto the screen.
Medic had no concern about Villain’s escape. No, they knew such a thing was impossible. This was why they had waited for them to fall asleep. So they wouldn’t see this.
It was going to be a long night, they knew that. The black coffee they had drank would ensure Medic would be awake for all of it-- the Secobarbital they had mixed in Villain’s food would ensure the exact opposite.
The video was old, its file having been passed between far too many computers and flashdrives. The quality was starting to fray around the edges.
Medic couldn’t care less.
They pressed play, and after a moment of digital whining, the first video began.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Counselor looked up as, with a thud, a cup was placed on the table in front of them. The smell of coffee overwhelmed their senses a moment later.
“It’s decaf.” Hero’s voice came. “You look like you could use the sleep.”
“Thank you.” Counselor smiled, picking up the still-scorching coffee and taking a sip, even as it threatened to burn their tongue. It was black, without a hint of sugar or milk-- not the way they usually took it, but right now, they could hardly care less.
Hero sat down across the table from them, a can of Sprite in hand, in place of his own coffee. Sweat glued their bangs to their forehead.
“You okay?” They raised a brow at Counselor.
“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” They tried at another smile, though this one came off far weaker. “Where have you been? I’ve hardly seen you.”
“Leader’s had me off on missions. Four in a row. I’d be lying if I said I’m not tired, too.”
“You just got back from one?” Counselor guessed, raising a brow.
“How did you know?”
“You look like you just ran a marathon.”
“Oh.” Hero laughed. “Yeah... I guess. What, uh, what are you up to? Leader said you’ve been sitting here for like, three hours.”
“You talked to them?”
“Yeah? Is... there something up with that?”
Counselor shook their head.
“No. I’m just- I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”
“Maybe, then... It’s time to put the folders down and get some rest.”
Hero’s gaze turned to the manila yellow folders spread out in front of Counselor-- some marked with coffee stains on the edges.
“What’s in those, anyways?”
“Uh..” Counselor flipped through the folders; closing some, sliding them about, shifting papers between them, before finally flipping one of the folders around so that it faced Hero. “It’s about Villain.”
With those words, they flushed. They’d hardly been able to think about anything else but their captive, recently, and they had to admit that it was verging on becoming an obsession.
Hero pulled the folder closer, opening it and examining the papers within. There were hardly any. Most consisted of printed-out screenshots of security camera footage, or transcripts of radio communications, or emails.
“Leader isn’t really the record-keeping type.” Counselor began. “I think you know that. We have some stuff, though. Most of it is just kinda random, stuff we used once and then shoved in a box somewhere. This is all the records I’ve been able to find, about them. About Villain. We’ve only seen them a couple times, though... There’s not all too much to go off of.”
Hero furrowed their brow.
“Have you been able to find anything in these? I don’t, I mean I don’t want to be rude, but-- Counselor, these kind of all look like crap. There’s nothing here,”
Counselor flushed again, chuckling under their breath.
“I know. That’s the thing.” They dragged the folder back towards themself, flipping it back around. “I know we don’t really keep records, but, I thought there’d be something to go off of.”
“Is there something you’re... looking for?”
“I guess.” They closed the folder, putting it atop the rest of the manila files. “I mean, what do we know about them? Really. That’s not a rhetorical question.”
“Uhh...” Hero looked as though a light bulb had gone off above their head. “You have a good point. I mean... their name is Villain. They control technology. Uhh, they had people with them? Sometimes? Like, two of them.”
“And that’s it.” Counselor sighed. “We don’t know where they came from. We don’t know who they work for.”
“Do you...” Hero lowered their voice. “Do you think they work for Supervillain?”
“I guess it’s possible.” They dipped their head. “That’s the problem. We have no way of knowing. We don’t really know anything about them. I don’t... I don’t know how I’m supposed to help them. If I don’t know anything about them.”
“Help them?”
Counselor shook their head.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I- Help them with what?”
Counselor bit the inside of their cheek.
“They’re sick. Or something like that. There’s something wrong with them. They collapsed, the other day. Leader has given Medic full medical custody-- permission to do whatever they think is necessary. I want to help but... I don’t know how to help someone who may as well be a ghost.”
They’d expected a sympathetic nod, or some quiet words. They hadn’t expected Hero to push their chair back from the table.
“Well,” Hero began, “Who would know? Where do we start?”
“I-” The words woke Counselor up more than any coffee ever could. “I guess Villain would know. Unless they’re some kind of amnesiac, they’ve got to know their own past, right?”
“Right.”
“And then... Leader? Maybe? They seem to act so weird around Villain. Maybe they know something we don’t?”
“Makes sense to me. How about I talk to Leader, and you talk to Villain?”
“Well,” Counselor widened their eyes, averting their gaze, “I don’t know if Villain... I don’t know if they trust me. I don’t think they do. I can try, but...”
“Well, you won’t gain their trust by sitting here.” Hero raised a brow. “I’ll talk to Leader. You earn Villain’s trust. Okay?”
“Okay, uh, okay!”
The two stood at the same time. Counselor turned to leave, ignoring their coffee, but was stopped by Hero’s words:
“We’ll go do that, after you get some sleep.”
By the way they spoke it, Counselor knew that the demand was nonnegotiable.
“Fine.” They sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow. Sleep well, Counselor.”
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The video began.
Medic couldn’t say they recognized the person the screen depicted-- they had probably seen them before, once or twice, but their name eluded them.
They stood, straight-backed and grinning, in a room made of white tile on floor, walls, and ceiling. Their attire was confident-- they wore no armor or guards of any kind.
The only equipment they had was a leash.
The strip of leather attached to a collar-- one made of metal links, chained together, with inwards-facing spikes around the whole circumference. The choke chain was looped around the neck of a far less confident looking person, their jaw gritted against a muzzle and their eyes practically blazing with raging flame. The fact that their arms were tightly bound behind their back did not stop their attempts at struggling-- they yanked and growled against their bindings, despite wincing every time the spikes of the collar tore at their flesh.
“Hello.” The presenter smiled, as if they didn’t notice the grappling of their captive. Medic’s Latin skills were somewhat rusty, but they could still understand the speech, for the most part. “And welcome. If you’re watching this, then you have very likely found yourself assigned as a new handler for our Assets program.
Now, I understand that there has been considerable confusion regarding this program.”
The prisoner attempted to trip the presenter. A quick tug on the sharpened collar around their neck quickly stopped the attempt. Throughout, the presenter did not so much as break eye contact with the camera.
“The Asset program is a new endeavor. So far, we have had considerable success with various test cases. As such, Supervillain has advised that we expand our efforts.
As you are probably aware, the process of creating an Enhanced person is very complicated, and does not always work as planned. Unfortunately, not all those who go through the program end up being entirely themselves, or entirely loyal to Organization. Before, this was not a problem. However, now that we have lost the capability of creating new Enhanced, at least for the time being, we must work with what we have.”
With the hand that did not hold the leash, the presenter grabbed directly at their captive’s collar-- on the outside, where there were no spikes. They dragged them closer by their neck, until they were looking at the camera. The prisoner whined in pain against their muzzle, clearly struggling to breathe.
“Some of these Enhanced turn to our side easily, with enough incentive. Others, unfortunately, are far more stubborn. They are the focus of the Asset program.
Through the program, these unusable prisoners can be turned into valuable soldiers. Several victories have already been attributed to them.
I understand that this likely seems like quite the daunting task. But, in all truth, an Asset can be trained as easily as any dog. Through this video series, I will demonstrate how this can be done.”
With a smile, the presenter moved towards the camera.
“I’ll talk to you again in the next video. Bye!”
The video froze, and after a moment of whirring, another video appeared in its place. Medic clicked play.
#whump#whumpblr#whump community#hero villain whump#villain whumpee#conditioned whumpee#pet whump#powered whumpee#villainsicle#superhero villain#hero villain trope
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Title: Lasting Rivalries.
Word Count: 4.0k
Written for an anonymous commissioner.
Synopsis: Izuku loves you, but he doesn’t like Katsuki very much. It’s just a shame he can’t separate one feeling from the other.
TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Past Assult, Violence, Non-Graphic Injury, Mentions of Drug Use, Implied Death, Unhealthy Relationships, and Delusional Mindsets.
[Part Two]
Within the day, Izuku’s base was abandoned.
It was a temporary measure, he’d explained, just a precaution to make sure Katsuki and all his nasty little friends couldn’t find their way back to his hide-out, which turned out to be a bunker tucked away underneath one of the many discarded office buildings on the edge of the city. It was almost impressive, how with only a wave of his hand, all of his lackeys uprooted themselves from the home they seemed so accustomed to with little more than an exasperated sigh or a remorseful shake of their head. If Izuku had been disappointed, you weren’t able to tell. Despite the rush, the anxiety that came with releasing a scorned hostage, he was all smiles, all gentle touches and soft tones and sentiments so patronizing, you began to think you’d almost prefer his anger.
He knew you were quirkless, now, and there wasn’t an observant civilian in the city who didn’t know about Izuku’s troubled past, of his fondness of those born without a gift. You couldn’t say you blamed him, not if you approached it objectively. It hadn’t been an easy burden to carry, growing up, but you weren’t growing up anymore, you weren’t a kid waiting for a quirk that’d never come or a teenager, balancing the embarrassment of daily life with the humiliation that came with being so undeniably different than your peers, and in such an unhidable way, too. You weren’t over it, but you were past it. You still remembered all those awful, disgusting things people said to you, but you didn’t let them keep you awake at night. You were dealing with it. You were moving forward.
Izuku wasn’t.
He wasn’t even trying to.
But, it wasn’t your place to call him out, not when it came to that, not when you were stuck inside your new prison - someplace just as confining, but only half as tolerable. Technically, it was an improvement. After abandoning his bunker, Izuku’s followers had dispersed, and along with a handful of his closest companions, you’d been taken to a seedy bar on the worse side of town, locked inside of a small, windowless room on the second story and forced to watch as Izuku threw away the key. There were no cards, this time, no unbais locks with a dozen different work-around, just a deadbolt on your door and four-digit code you’d never get the chance to guess at. He wasn’t taking any risks, this time, he wasn’t giving you the smallest opportunity to jump at. It was a new sense of determination that’d come in the form of a shackle around your ankle and a bottle of white, circular pills Izuku forced down your throat every time he took you beyond the confines beyond your four walls. Ones that made you dizzy, weak, sedated. A measure that couldn’t be for your own safety, despite Izuku’s attempts to insist otherwise.
He seemed busier, too, than he was before your abduction. It might just be because you didn’t have anything else to focus on. As far as you could tell, Izuku only let his inner circle know where you were being held, and they still seemed hesitant to do more than deliver your meals or offer a few passive niceties when they were forced to interact with you. Saying your company was limited would’ve been an understatement. He tried to make it up to you with books and gifts and outfits that were more for his enjoyment than yours, but you were lucky if his visits lasted longer than an hour. His wasn’t the face you’d prefer to see on a daily basis, but it was still worrying to have your captor be too preoccupied to serve as a real threat. And when he did make time for you…
Izuku liked to have something to hold on to. He liked to be able to squeeze, and pull, and bruise, even if the pain he caused was more of a byproduct than a goal. His intentions didn’t matter, though, not when his fingertips dug into your thighs, not when his teeth sank into your neck, not when he got a little too excited and only stopped because your complaints had gotten frantic enough to be annoying. You’d learned quickly that Izuku was an affectionate man, but you’d learned even faster that you never wanted to be the one that affection was directed towards. Having him go days at a time without checking in with you was concerning, but having him next to you was unbearable. You tried not to think about it, when you could help it.
Luckily, today was a case of the former, when Izuku had too much on his mind and too little time to sort it out to bother convincing you to love him back. He’d let himself into your room an hour ago, and yet, he hadn’t been able to do more than kiss your forehead and offer a muttered greeting before loosening his tie and setting to pacing, wandering back and forth through the cramped confines of your homey cage. It was starting to scare you. No, it was starting to terrify you. You’d passed the point of just being scared days ago.
You doubted he could say anything to comfort you, but you found yourself talking regardless. If only to fill the silence with something that wasn’t his constant, incoherent mumbling, really. “Something’s going on,” You started, trying to sound more confident than you’d ever be, around him. “Something’s going on, and you’re not telling me about it.”
His answer was automatic, the one he’d given you a thousand times over. “I’m taking care of it, darling.”
“Midoriya, please.” It was more of a plea than a request, an appeal to whatever love he might’ve had for you, whatever trust he might’ve had in you. You weren’t blind, you knew he didn’t think you were strong or capable or of any particular use beyond serving as a particularly high-maintenance ornament, but if he thought you were endearing enough to keep as a companion, he should’ve been able to treat you like a companion, too. “Right now, your safety is my safety. If someone’s going to break down that door and kill both of us…” You trailed off, forcing yourself to let out an airy, humorless laugh. “I should get to know who it’s going to be.”
For a moment, Izuku hesitated, but it was only for a moment. With a small sigh, the tension in his shoulder dissolved, and he took to rubbing the back of his neck, one in a never-ending line of nervous ticks. “It’s really nothing either of us can help,” He insisted, making a half-hearted attempt to break his concerned frown into a small smile. “A lot of my recruits were training to be heroes when I picked them up, did I ever tell you that? I got to most of them too early on for it to be useful, but a few have some experience. It makes it easier to tell with the other side’s planning something, not that they’d ever miss a chance to put on a good show.”
“And it’s been getting worse?” The sentiment left a bitter taste on your tongue. You never thought you’d speak a word against the hero industry, not so generally, but Izuku had a way of rubbing off on you, or the way you spoke, at least.
“It’s certainly busier than it should be,” He admitted, the words grumbled through grit teeth. “I’ve had to lie low, but that makes things difficult. There’s a hierarchy in this city, and people don’t tend to react well when the one on the throne goes into hiding. Weapon distributors aren’t getting their shipments on time, gangs aren’t keeping to their own territory, it’s all devolving into chaos, and all because those bastards can’t take a step back and let me tend to things.”
His hands were curling at his sides, now, his nails driving themselves into his bare palms with so much repressed ferocity, it almost looked painful. It was an impulsive thing to do, an act that’d play right into his delusional little fantasy, but that didn’t stop you from reaching out and taking him by the sleeve, pulling him towards your cot. Your chain rattled as you swung your legs over the side of your bed, but you tried to ignore it, biting the inside of your cheek and letting Izuku fall into place next to you. He didn’t try to resist, only going slack as his head lolled onto your shoulder.
Your next question came reluctantly, guiltily. You couldn’t be sure how long it’d been since you’d last seen Katsuki, but after a month came and went without the slightest hint of your boyfriend, your hopes had dampened, dimmed, turned into something much darker than you’d ever thought they would be. You still knew he’d come back for you. He had to come back, but you couldn’t know when he would. You couldn’t know how he might’ve changed, by the time he did.
You couldn’t know if he’d still be your Katsuki, by then.
“What about Bakugo?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Have you heard anything about him?”
With that, an almost sympathetic aire found its way to his tired expression. Somehow, he found just enough energy to reach up, running his finger through your hair as he drew you closer, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You went stiff, but you didn’t shove him away. You knew better than to reject Izuku so blatantly, by now. “You don’t have to worry about Kacchan. I let him get away, but I made sure he didn’t leave unscathed.” There was a pause, a hand finding its way to your hip. You fought not to recoil, and Izuku pretended not to notice. “He only picked up his patrol routes last week, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. If he wants to get to you, he’ll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”
You wanted to ask again. You wanted to ask again, and again, and again until you ran out of breath and Izuku had to decide whether to gag you, starve you, or find a way to combine the two. It was a common choice to get stuck on, whether to quell your paranoia or side with your common sense, but ultimately, Izuku was the one to make the decision for you. It was soft, at first, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your skin, but things with Izuku rarely stayed innocent. Your body was rigid by the time you felt his tongue run over your jugular, your hands on his shoulder as his teeth ghosted over your neck, but by the time you moved to shove him away, he was already clinging to you, snaking an arm around your waist as his teeth sunk in, as he drew blood.
“I don’t--” You tried to complain, but you were cut off by a low hum from Izuku, a half-hearted sign of dismissal as he moved on to his next target, just above the dip of your collarbone. “Midoriya,” You tried, trying to shove him away. “This really isn’t the time, I’m really not in the mood. You were just talking how screwed we’d be if--”
“I was worried about it, and then, my angel comforted me. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He pulled you closer, nuzzling into your chest. “I’m just repaying the favor. It’d be unfair if I didn’t show my (Y/n) how much I appreciate them.”
He moved to go on, but suddenly, his eyes opened, his posture going stiff before he could say something to make you squirm and do something to make you hate him even more. You heard it a moment after he did, and felt it a second after that - voices, louder than they should’ve been, coming from the floor below, and then a crash that couldn’t have been accidental. There was a subtle tremors, a reverberation that left you locking your jaw into place. Izuku didn’t let go of you, but his grip loosened, his attention suddenly elsewhere.
And then, without warning, the floor caved in.
It happened in the blink of an eye, in the space between one second and another. One moment, you were sitting on a cot, and the next, you were lying on your back, every part of your body aching, a dozen things sprained and another hundred bruised, or cut, or ripped open and left to bleed. You forced yourself to open your eyes, but it was pointless - the world around you was grey and brown and nothing. Dust and debris polluted the air, clouding it beyond recognition, and if there was anything salvageable left of the first floor, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, much less do something with whatever you found. The fall couldn’t have been very far, but the ground was unforgiving, and everything hurt. It was all you could do to push yourself to your feet, your legs threatening to buckle under your own weight. You pulled yourself through a step, then another before you realized what was wrong.
You could stand.
You could walk.
Blearily, you focused on the shackle around your ankle, the thing that should’ve been keeping you bound to the cot now buried under a pile of rubble twice as tall as you were. The metallic circlet was still there, only slightly scoffed, but when you followed the short chain, the only thing it led back to was a pole, one leg of the makeshift bed you’d become so acquainted with. You almost left it there. Right now, you were more focused on finding an exit and getting out than celebrating such a convenient victory, but a low moaning tore your attention towards another mangled form before you could stagger away. A mass of black fabric, a white shirt soaked through with something dark and rusty. Hair, darker than it should’ve been, and just as tangled as it usually was.
Izuku. Injured and beaten, but unquestionably Izuku. For a moment, you thought he was dead, but a guttural cough tore you away from that daydream. He didn’t move, but his eyes flickered open, finding you among the ruins. It almost seemed like he would smile, like he would laugh and call his henchmen and you’d be recaptured before you could get so much as a breath of fresh air. You could hear fighting in the distance, yelling from heroes and villains alike, but they weren’t here, not yet. Izuku could still do something crafty and clever and evil, and you’d have to pay for it.
You’d be the victim again, and he’d come out on top.
By the time you made up your mind, your hand was already closing around the pole, the metal heavy in your fist. Izuku watched you silently, only forcing something out as you came to stand over him.
“You’d be better off with me,” He spat, his voice raspy, feeble. “If you go running back into his arms, into his world, you’ll regret it.”
You were tempted to listen. You might’ve, but you couldn’t. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, if you did.
It wasn’t like he’d ever stopped to listen to you, after all.
You were only returning the favor.
~
You didn’t remember passing out.
You didn’t remember it, but you must’ve, because the next time you woke up, you weren’t in the debris of Izuku’s hideout, anymore - you didn’t seem to be anywhere. The lights were blinding for a second, fospheresent and white and searing, but the onslaught retreated as quickly as it attacked, disappearing completely as you remembered how to blink. If your body hurt before, it was even worse now, but the pain was at a distance, forced back by a translucent liquid and a handful of needles pumping the substance into your bloodstream, one drop at a time. You were tempted to rip them out, if only as a learned instinct, but a glance around the room revealed that you were in a medical bed, not on a cot, that the walls around you were white and speckled with dark blues and greens, rather that the dull grey you’d grown used to. It was a silent relief, not unexpected but certainly not unappreciated, the type that made you want to fall into the stiff mattress and sleep until you got used to the feeling of being able to, but you had a reason to stay awake. You had a reason to want to be awake.
Because someone was holding your hand.
Because Katsuki was holding your hand.
He was slumped against the arm of a sterile, poorly cushioned chair, his eyes nearly closed. He must’ve been here for a while - he was still wearing the essentials of his costume, but his mask had been discarded, as had his belt and his gauntlets, anything he didn’t need to sit by your bedside and fret over you. He looked exhausted, but he perked up as your fingers intertwined with his, a small smile spreading across his lips as he scanned over you.
His voice was raspy, obscure by sleep, but his tone was light, affectionate. You were thankful. That was all you needed him to be. “You took your fucking time.”
“So did you.” You might hold it against him, later on, but right now, you just wanted to settle onto your side and grin as Katsuki’s expression softened into something apologetic. “How long was I--”
“A little more than a day.” He must’ve gone over that a thousand times before you woke up. He wasn’t eager, but the speech was rehearsed, practiced, just bordering on scripted. “It’s just a minor concussion and a few fractures. Taking out Deku’s hideout was riskier than it should’ve been, but we couldn’t think of another way to separate him from his lackeys without putting civilians at risk. By the time we handled his lap dogs, you’d already collapsed.”
You hesitated, but you forced yourself to ask. You needed to know he wouldn’t come crawling back. You needed to know you hadn’t fallen to his level for nothing. “And Midoriya?”
“Died in the crash, as far as anyone can tell.” Katsuki took a deep breath, just a hint of regret finding its way into his disposition. It didn’t last long, though, dispelled with an heavy sigh. “It’s for the best. The sooner that motherfucker’s wiped off the face of the planet, the better. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be so…” He trailed off, running his free hand through his hair. “Would you believe me if I said I still thought he might not be so… fucked up, once we got him back?”
You wouldn’t. You’d spent weeks under Izuku’s thumb, tripping over yourself to keep him happy with you, spending every waking moment trying to please a sociopath, but that didn’t change the fact that he used to be Katsuki’s friend, that they’d grown up together, and that it’d been Katsuki’s fault they grew apart. You couldn’t answer, not in a way that would soothe his lingering doubts, But, he didn’t seem to need you to. Before you could think of something to say, he was already shrugging it off, shaking his head as he turned towards you. “I can’t keep focusing on shit like that, though. You’re back, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”
You let yourself relax, melting into your pillow as Katsuki bent over the side of your bed, pushing a light, delicate kiss into your temple. “I’m just glad I got out of there,” You admitted. Katsuki only nodded in acknowledgement, nimble fingers beginning to comb through your disheveled hair. “I can’t wait to see everyone again, it feels like years since I’ve talked to someone besides Midoriya. Mina’s going to smother me, and Denki -- Wait, do you think I still have a job? They can’t fire me for getting abducted, right?”
You felt Katsuki stiffen. It took him a second to respond, just long enough to let you know something was wrong. “I… I don’t think you should head back to work, just yet.”
“Well, yeah, I’m still in a hospital gown,” You laughed, attempting to ignore his sudden seriousness. “But eventually, I’ll have to--”
“I don’t think you should go back at all.” If he was reluctant before, he’d gotten over it. Reflexively, you pushed yourself up, your arms shaking under the strain, but Katsuki was quick to backtrack, to flinch away and curse under his breath, cupping your cheek as he urged you to hear him out. “I know you’re probably dyin’ for things to go back to the way they used to be, and I know I’m being selfish, but… You were kidnapped, (Y/n), by a villain. Deku was the worst ‘em, but he wasn’t the only one. There’s probably hundreds of-- thousands of people out there who’d be willing to rip your heart out, if it means getting back to me. I don’t know if it’d be able to take it, if you wanted to risk that. I don’t know if it’d be able to let you risk that. I...” He forced himself to stop, to take a steading breath. “I just want to keep you safe. I need you to let me keep you safe.”
Huh.
It hurt a lot less than you thought it would.
It was the numbing sort of shock, a cold wave of a scenario you’d imagined (albeit, one you’d never liked) plenty of times coming to fruition. Part of you thought Katsuki might burst out laughing, that he might be joking, but Katsuki didn’t move to back down, didn’t move to do anything but stare. It made sense. He hadn’t known if you were dead or alive for a month, and Katsuki was the type to get nervous when you went more than a day without seeing him in person. He’d probably been worried sick. He’d probably been pulling his own hair out. He’d probably been… What was it Izuku said, when he was first warning you about Katsuki?
He’d probably been ready to lock you away somewhere so deep and somewhere so dark, you’d be lucky to ever see sunlight again. As long as it meant you were protected.
That didn’t mean you wanted to be locked away, though.
It was all you could do to keep your voice from shaking. You didn’t want Katsuki to lie to you just because he thought you might start crying, if he didn’t. “What happens if I don’t let you?”
He could only frown, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”
He didn’t want to. He’d never want to. Even if he did, even if he didn’t regret it, he’d never want to.
That already made him better than Izuku.
The slow, muted beat of the heart-monitor began to race as you leaped towards Katsuki, nearly falling off of your bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him against you burying your face in his chest, allowing Katsuki to tentatively pull you closer, too. You could’ve called for a nurse. You could’ve screamed. You could’ve done something to put yourself at arm’s length from anyone who wanted to keep you cornered and caged, but you didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t want that. You loved Katsuki. You loved him, and you’d missed him, and the only thing you wanted to do was fall into his arms and let him take care of you, regardless of how paranoid he’d gotten. You just wanted to know he’d be there, if someone like Izuku ever came after you again.
Everything else was a small price to pay, if he could just give you that.
“Please.” You didn’t try to hide your vulnerability, anymore, you didn’t try to hide anything. Tears were already clouding your vision, something jagged and tight burrowing into the back of your throat with every word, every painful thought. Katsuki moved to speak, to comfort you, but you didn’t let him. You didn’t want to be comforted.
You just wanted to feel safe.
"I just want to go home.”
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere scenario#yandere oneshot#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#commission#writing commission#yandere commission#boku no hero academia#boku no hero acadamia imagines#yandere bnha#yandere boku no hero academia#bnha imagines#my hero academia imagines#yandere my hero academia#yandere mha#mha imagines#yandere izuku#izuku x reader#villain izuku#midoriya x reader#yandere midoriya#deku x reader#yandere deku#bakugo x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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A Moment in Time-Ch 7
MASTERPOST
Marinette was the first one to arrive at the bakery, much to her relief that evening.
After warning her parents that she had friends coming to join her, the teen hurried up the stairs to prepare for the evening. Mullo and Plagg flew off, and Marinette paused in the kitchen to pull together a snack tray, before following the Kwamii up the stairs to her room.
She made sure that while it was hidden, the box was now closer to her reach. Then, she pulled up a word document that had been idling in her computer for the past few months. The document labeled Ways Gabriel Agreste has Abused His Son.
Pulling up her email, Marinette opened her thread from the emails with Tim. Since she had the time, she may as well respond to his email.
From: [email protected]
Mr. Drake Wayne,
I can’t believe that I included Hawkmoth in that email! I must have been more tired than I thought. Hawkmoth has been terrorizing Paris since I was 12 years old. In the last four years, the man has possessed everyone from a toddler crying over a candy bar to a man grieving his wife’s death. My city has faced real-life myths and legends, as well as children who just wanted a nightlight. Hawkmoth will target anyone who has a negative emotion. Your ice cream dropped? You are an ice cream monster. You fail a test? Suddenly you are giving everyone passing grades. The worst part is, everyone who dies will be brought back, but the person who is possessed won’t remember anything. Many people have moved out of Paris, and most of the remaining citizens have taken up meditation and smaller forms of magic to protect themselves. Although the news won't admit it, our population had dropped quite a bit. Inside the city itself, there are about 1.9 million people now. Many have moved to areas nearby that have proved outside of Hawkmoth’s range. As far as we can tell he only strikes in the city proper. Before you ask, yes, someone is fighting him. Lady Tyche, Apate, and their new member Princess Meli will free the person of the possession and restore the city. They wield magical objects. It's theorized that Hawkmoth also wields a magical object and that’s why they’re the best suited to combat his creations.
It interests me, that you mention bringing this to Batman’s attention, but not the Justice League? Do you, by chance not trust them? I have heard that many people in Paris have called them for help, nothing has come of it, obviously. In my opinion, people don’t actually believe something is happening unless they experience it themselves. For the most part, people who come into Paris will hear rumors of Lady Tyche in passing, but since Princess Meli is new they haven’t heard of our other hero. To even most Parisians, Apate is a legend. To those who know her, she is a vigilante who will not hesitate to end a situation or clean up what the Lady and Princess won’t. Most of the time, however, she is known for following Lady Tyche’s lead. I’ve heard theories that it's because she is more violent and has a darker power than the other two. Once, I heard that she wants to protect the City of Lights, and won't use her powers unless necessary because of it. Some people think that when she uses her powers she spreads bad luck to the people nearby. On the other hand, many think that Lady Tyche leaves lingering good luck.
Sorry for the info dump, there is a lot going on in Paris right now.
Thank you for keeping an eye on Nona and Jason. Jason, as I am sure you know, can be impulsive. Nona isn’t much better. When he was here, Jason mentioned that you tend to be busy most of the time. He was surprised that you had responded so quickly as well, actually. I wanted to add that I am honored!
Thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to pry too much, if Jason is willing to part with the information, I really would like to know about their tike together. Please do not force him though. I am sure there are other ways to know what is actually going on. I do have to ask, what do you mean by ‘good spar’? do you two spar together often? If so, I do hope Jason doesn’t hurt you too often. I know that he usually put his all into everything he does, and I know that he is quite the fighter when he wants to be.
The slander is the work of a jealous girl in my class. She is of no consequence in the long run. I was surprised to find out (through you!) that the Bruce W on my commission list was for your family. Actually, don’t tell the rest of your family, but it’s not just the suits. There are a few gowns in the mix as well. Your family butler, I believe his name is Alfred, is sending me a list of measurements in the next several days.
Jason and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. If you want, ask him how we met. He will have a more concise memory since he is five years older than me. The best I can say right now is that he was the person I relied on for many years before we got separated. Since then, I think we both have grown, but I can still see who he was when he was 12 underneath everything. As I said, Jason would be the one to ask for specifics. Maybe after you ask him about how he knows my Nona?
Have a good day,
Marinette Dupain Cheng
P.S. of course I put energy drinks in my coffee! Is there any other way? If you ever want one of my recipes, let me know! I have a whole collection at this point.
After she had sent the email, Marinette glanced over her room again to make sure everything was ready for when her friends arrived.
As she was getting up to fidget with the pictures, Chloé burst through the trap door. Behind her, Aurore followed at a more sedated pace.
“Mari! Hi! What is this? And why is she here? I thought you two weren’t talking anymore, remember? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” Aurore raised an eyebrow at the other blonde before smiling at Marinette.
“your parents sent us up with some pastries. I think they were a little thrown off by Chloé and I arriving at the same time.” Here, the girl set the plate she had been holding that couldn’t be seen behind the more aggressive girl. “they mentioned about making sure to remind you that the past is past?” here, the two giggled as Chloé looked between them in confusion.
“Whatever!” she huffed, before flouncing over to Marinette’s chaise and settling herself there with a sniff. After the other two had stopped giggling, Marinette raised an eyebrow at Aurore in question. With a nod, the Ladybug holder turned to smile at Chloé.
“So, Chloé. We know that you and I are not exactly close, but there is something that Marinette and I wanted to bring you in on.” Here, she looked back at Marinette with a smile. Before she could continue, however, the heiress started to interrupt.
“if you two are-” Aurore’s phone started to ring, making the three pause as the girl turned to answer the call
“Mireille? Hey!” she turned and waved to Marinette, motioning her to continue with the conversation while she finished with her friend.
“No, Chloé. It’s more complicated.” Marinette leveled her friend with a look. “plus, if this was the same thing as two years ago, I would have told you earlier. You know that.” as Marinette soothed her friend, a small part of her brain reminded her that there was something that she hadn't told the girl. something that her friend would kill her for.
“Then what on earth is going on, Mari? You know it makes me nervous being out of the loop.” Marinette snorted pointedly at her friend.
“We weren’t trying to keep you out of the loop, C. it’s just…Aurore and I just realized what was going on. We wanted to make sure that we were making the right choice before going further. You have proven that we have.” Marinette paused, watching her friend. When the blonde still looked confused, the younger teen just smiled. “would Pollen like a bowl of honey?” Chloé bilked before laughing.
“Mari, dear. Who on earth is Pollen? Have you made a new friend I didn’t know about?” an indignant voice that Chloé was unfamiliar with responded.
“My Kitten hasn’t, but you have Buzz.” As Aurore finally got off the phone and turned back to the conversation, Chloé let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“OH MY GOD MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG NO FUCKING WAY!” then, Marinette was falling backward under the force of her best friend tackling her in a hug.
After Chloé had calmed down, the three girls spent the next four hours talking. The first 15 minutes had been about how the original two had handled living a double life for four years. After that, the girls turned their attention to the document that Marinette had pulled up.
The rest of the time was spent overanalyzing the spending Habits of the top four people on Marinette’s suspect list.
When asked why she had the list and not Aurore, the duo explained that many times while Lady Tyche was out patrolling and being a beacon of good luck, Apate would be behind the scenes. Many a night, office buildings would register a break-in before the figure would turn into literal shadows. The security guards who would be sent to investigate would be faced with a missing pane of glass that had suspiciously black edges on the frame. Most of the time, when Apate was ready to leave, if anyone was around, they would lose their senses for the time that it took for her to leave. After, they would think that had simply blinked before getting on with their life.
Using this method, the protectors of Paris were able to cross many off their lists. In the few times, they had entered private residences, the break-in would happen when the family was away.
Of course, Marinette’s hacking skills had come into use, as she had taught Aurore the basics a few years back. Unknowingly, the two had set their alter egos up for success.
The duo had spent more nights than they could remember curled up on a rooftop, laptops booted up. They would spend hours at a time sitting there with paper strewn around them as they raced to hack in and access as many schedules and bank statements as they could. Although it was highly illegal, the two had spent almost as much time working on the internet crossroads to narrow their such as they had fighting Akumas.
Chloé’s awe at the work the two had put in showed. When they asked her to help them continue to narrow down the list she agreed. When she saw the first document sitting open on Marinette’s computer, the shock on her face lasted all of ten seconds before the heiress was helping her teammates dig into the private life of one Gabriel Agreste.
When Marinette had said goodbye to her friends, Aurore left to patrol and Chloé went home with the hope that she could access more sensitive information from her father's unlocked computer. When the other two had raised concerns about it, the teen had waved them off. Apparently, the mayor was much laxer on the security of his work computer than he should be.
After climbing up to her room, Marinette closed down all of the programs that she didn’t need to leave running overnight. As she closed out most of her browser, the teen hesitated, before she clicked into her email. Sitting there, waiting for her was an email that had been received in the middle of her session with her friends.
From: [email protected]
Miss Marinette,
I have to say, you know quite a bit about these heroes that have been fighting in Paris. I started looking up the topics that you mentioned but couldn’t find anything. After several attempts, I used a VPN to make it seem like I was in Paris. That made the entire thing open up like a wrapped present. I must say I am surprised that it hasn’t made its way out of Paris yet. Well, I was surprised, until I was reading through some tourist guides. It seems that the new phrase is what happens in Paris stays in Paris. That, and very thorough censorship on public media. How have you made it this long in that city, without losing it completely?
I was able to flag down Signal, who is known as the Daytime Bat, and passed along what you had sent me. I included my own research as well, so don’t be surprised if they go to investigate further in the near future. Well, I guess you wouldn’t hear of it, but if they show up, it is defiantly because they are concerned.
I wouldn’t say that the JL is not trustworthy, but I trust Batman’s Gotham team more. Maybe it is the familiarity that comes from being rescued frequently from hostage situations. I trust them, and they know that I won't give them information just for the hell of it.it doesn’t help that the JL tends to make a massive mess when they come through town. I would rather they stay far away from me, thank you very much.
So, it turns out that both you and Jason are very cryptic. I don’t know how much you know of the time between when Jason was 13 and his 16th birthday, but he said that he was with a friend of your mother’s? He said that you would know her as Aunt Talia and that your mother was always the more levelheaded of the two. This was…confusing for many reasons, one of which is that your Aunt is my little brother’s bio mom. Anyway, Jason said he was with your Aunt when he met Gina, in ‘this little place in Canada.’ He mentioned an island and a bay that sounded a lot like the Bay of Fundy. If you have any idea why your grandmother would be out there, then we can puzzle out how they met. As for how they got separated, I am afraid that this time it had something to do with a chef? Something about him chasing the two of them out of town with a cleaver? Apparently, this chef is another relation of yours. Marinette, I must be honest, you have quite a few deadly relatives. you aren’t going to come through the screen and slice my head off, will you?
This afternoon, I got a call from the police station, by the way. Apparently, Jason and Gina had been busting drug gangs in their free time and there was some incriminating evidence. I am not quite sure how they got into it, but they have been issued a warning by the local Bats. You may be seeing this chaotic duo again in Europe sooner than either of us would like if this keeps up.
As to the sparing question. Jason, as I believe you are aware by now, likes to keep fit in a variety of ways. Bruce made sure all the children under his roof could fight and protect themselves. This means that while Jason may be the biggest in the family, and I am considered the smallest, I can still beat him in an even spar if I put some work into it. For the most part, I prefer not to use the same tactics that Jason uses, and since he and I tend to train at the same time, we see each other but don’t usually go head to head. I have to say it was quite a rush to beat him earlier today.
Alfred mentioned something about housing a guest who would be making sure that the family was presentable for the Gala. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it? If you do come to Gotham, may I show you around? I know that having an experienced guide in any city makes things much easier.
On that note, I am going to make the assumption the Bruce didn’t know who he was commissioned, so I will warn you that he may ask that you get a background check done. Up until this point, he has only communicated with you through lawyers about the press fiasco. he probably won’t make that connection for a while yet.
Have a good evening,
Tim DW
P.S., of course, I would like the recipes! Any that you send would be greatly appreciated! My family thinks that I rely too much on coffee and not on sleep. Do you have that problem much? It has gotten to the point that I have a few shops that I go to that the rest don’t know I like. It’s the only way to get the sweet nectar of coffee! What is the worst thing you have done to procure caffeine? I hope your family helps you more than mine does. They say that if they didn’t monitor my caffeine intake, they would be enablers.
Marinette giggled at Tim’s frustration with her brother. It looked like the two of them were going to keep it a secret a while longer. Although, when she did go for the Gala, and the fittings the week before, it would only be a matter of time before the Waynes figured out the two were related. After all, the features of Willis Todd are hard to hide.
Still smiling, Marinette made a note to tell the others that Batman had been notified.
Glancing at the time, Marinette reached blindly for the cold cup sitting nearby. The grey cup that was covered in pink sparkles read ‘I can’t talk right now. Leave a message after the squeak!’ The cup was one that Marinette had made after she started to wield Mullo, the mouse Kwamii, more.
Mullo and Plagg had been instrumental to her while she had been investigating the many businesses of Paris. Since then, the teen had kept the mouse around as an alternate form of defending herself. While the public had not been introduced to Little Mouse, the quiet vigilante had done quite a bit of work for the City.
As Marinette sipped on her current super coffee, (cold brew, two shots of espresso, one pump of vanilla syrup, and a mocha monster. affectionately named Minnie Mouse) she made a list of her tasks for the night. If she could send off the sketches of what the Waynes wanted for their gala pieces, then she could do the basic list of things she would need to get at the fabric store the next day. After making her list, she could start on her design for her own dress. Glancing back up to her computer, Marinette froze. She had to email Tim back at some point as well.
As she was standing to retrieve her camera and sketchbook, Marinette’s personal email dinged. Glancing over, she realized it was an email from Tim. Again. With a frown, the teen opened the message. The email was in no way close to the formal communications the two had been trading.
From: [email protected]
MARINETTE
I AM SO SORRY. WHEN THE WHOLE PRESS THING HAPPENED, WE ALL TALKED ABOUT IT AS A FAMILY. JASON WASN’T THERE AND I JUST FOUND OUT WHY. HE AND BRUCE WERE YELLING AND I WASN’T EAVESDROPPING BUT I HAD GONE TO TALK TO B AND HE HAD BEEN YELLI GAT JASON ABOUT SEEING A SISTER.
JASON WAS YELLING AND TOLD B TO SHOVE OFF BECAUSE AND I QUOTE-
“MARINETTE WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANY FAMILY EMERGENCY AND IF VISITING HER WOULD GET HIM IN TROUBLE THAN HE WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FAMILY.”
YOU
ARE
JASON’S
SISTER
HOLY SHIT
-tim
Marinette’s brain came to a screeching halt as she read the email once, twice, three times before letting out a string of curses. Dammit, Jason.
She collected her thoughts and pulled up an open template to respond to the other teen
From: [email protected]
Tim. Please tell me you have taken a deep breath and have had time to reflect since you send the last email.
Yes, Jason is my older brother. Well, half-brother. My mother died when I was young, and since she had been having an affair with Willis Todd (a horrible man, by the way.) she had put his name down on my birth certificate. Catherine definitely never liked me, but she put up with my presence. Multiple times, Jason and I would run away or end up on the streets because of the fighting that would happen in that house. One day, I ran when Jason wasn’t around and was caught by CPS. Up and away I was sent to France whit the couple who had found me when I ran away from CPS. Jason thought I was dead until that scandal broke almost two months ago. That’s why he vanished. He came here to visit me. This was the first time I have seen him in 10 years. Neither of us was exactly thinking clearly.
It doesn’t surprise me that your father knows that Jason and I are siblings. However, it also wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t make it very far down that path. Jason thought I was dead for years. I kept tabs on him, but that doesn’t mean he knew about that until he got over here.
I am going to respond to your last email as well.
Yes, the current plan is for me to arrive in Gotham. About a week before the Christmas Gala. That way, I’ll have time to do any last-minute fixes. I would love to have you show me around your city if that offer is still open. I haven’t been to Gotham since I was 6 years old, so I don’t remember much of the place.
-Marinette
Ps, I’ll send those recipes soon. I don’t think you want a super coffee tonight. 😊
After hitting send, Marinette sighed. With luck, she could have her list done by dawn. What was one more super coffee, after all?
HIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!
ok ok ok ok
i have been really excited to post this one, and actually almost posted last night! Self control? don’t know her!
this one i think is really important because Tim and Mari aren’t super formal in their talking anymore. also...who can guess what went down with Aurore and Mari???
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September 29: 3x09 The Tholian Web
Today’s episode, The Tholian Web, was completely new to me and I came in with no expectations at all. I wasn’t sure about it at first but ultimately I really liked it!
In uncharted territory looking for lost ship the Defiant. Space appears to be breaking up. Idk but for some reason this sounds very familiar.
Like truly I don’t know what this is reminding me of but hasn’t space broken up before?
And now there’s a mysterious object! Nothing is going Kirk’s way today at all.
“Fascinating.” / “Explain.” Truly the root of this relationship.
It’s the Defiant! Looking ghostly.
Uhura’s on the case already. You don’t need to tell her how to do her job.
Scotty and Sulu looking badass together.
Conveniently, it’s another constitution class, allowing all the sets to be reused. (Though also I do think it makes sense only a large ship like that would be in uncharted space.)
Look at them in those suits. They look like they’re going to the grocery store in May 2020.
How do they know this isn’t an illusion? Because “we can see it, but the sensors don’t pick up anything” screams “illusion” to me. I wouldn’t want to beam into open space!
The triumvirate + Chekov, fourth wheeling again. (My mom suggested he’d be incapacitated soon, which is fair--he IS the red shirt in this scenario.)
All of this is feeling very familiar--missing ship, unusual space phenomenon, people going mad--but I'm not sure if it's repetitive or classic.
NO mutiny ever? That seem unlikely. Also didn’t Spock literally commit mutiny? Chekov would appreciate knowing this.
Kirk manages to look intense even through the space suit.
I find it really weird he doesn’t know the captain of this ship. Like, first off, he knows everyone, and second, there only about 12-14 constitution class vessel Captains so I really do think they know each other.
“Spock, stay with me.” Don’t have to tell him twice.
Lol the ship looks so silly just...drifting away. Adorable, but silly.
Seeing an Asian man in sick bay reminds me how few Asian people there are in Starfleet. Like... 1.
“What the devil?” That’s a Southern man there.
Is the ship actually dissolving or is it an ILLUSION? (It’s actually dissolving.)
Uh, the transporter’s not working? That’s not good.
I love how Scotty hears that and immediately abandons the bridge, like there is NO other man for the job.
O’Neil’s face when Kirk asks to be beamed aboard is hilarious. Human embodiment of the :O emoticon.
“You too, Spock.” He delays ordering Spock back to the ship because he KNOWS Spock’s going to argue.
“Completing the data set” yeah okay. He just doesn’t want to leave Jim alone. Especially in the extremely suspicious circumstances of there being 4 people and 3 transporter spots.
He’s vanished!
Spock is NOT having this.
The fabric of space is very weak here. Sounds legit. And there are many alternate dimensions that are very close at hand. So in other words... Kirk is literally stuck in an AU right now.
This is sorta like The Alternative Factor but way better.
You know it’s serious when they break out the fish eye lens.
When Bones rushed in, I was expecting him to sedate Chekov but Spock has it covered.
I feel like Spock is extremely concerned for Chekov here. Like it’s subtle, but just the attention he’s paying to him. And Sulu is obviously very concerned too.
His “environmental unit” only has so much oxygen. What a great name for a fancy spacesuit.
Spock will not believe Jim is dead!! Never. (This is the plot of the whole episode in 8 words essentially.)
That’s an alien!
“According to the Federation, this area is free space.” ...Okay, that sounds a little colonialist. In his defense, he doesn’t press the point. He basically says, kay, we’ll go as soon as we’re finished rescuing.
And I appreciate the Tholian’s respect for that even though surely he must feel gaslit by Spock--rescuing WHO there are NO other ships??
Also I like the look of the alien.
Nifty lab equipment there.
MCCOY FIGHT SCENE.
Wow that orderly was easily disabled lol. I guess Chapel hypoed him but it really looked like she just tapped his shoulder and he fell.
Hmm, there are still 30 minutes left so something tells me this Kirk rescue mission won’t work.
Captain Kirk is not in his designated area. I repeat Captain Kirk has wandered away from his designated area.
The space was disturbed by the Tholians. I guess they weren’t factored into the delicate calculations.
Something about this exchange really screams Southerner meets Alien. Like more than most McCoy and Spock exchanges.
You can tell Spock is thinking about this whole "nothing’s being transmitted, it’s just the nature of space; everyone's already sick" thing but also not caring because CAPTAIN KIRK.
Now they’re being fired upon! A lot is happening here.
“Renowned Tholian punctuality” lol. Always a sense of humor on this one.
Spock’s face when Sulu questioned his order was 100% “Did I stutter?”
“I know you don’t like to use the phasers.” Because he’s a pacifist.
Well he changed his mind on those phasers fast enough.
“You’ve lost Jim.” UM no I think NOT.
Everything happens so much.
“That is the mark of a starship Captain like Jim.” I mean Spock is no Jim but there’s no need to be rude about it
“Doctor, go to your room and do your homework.”
Aw, the ships are kissing.
Now they look like little weaving shuttles. Adorable.
Hmm, it IS a web. Appropriately named episode.
“We shall not see home again.” Lol Spock way to be the Most Dramatique as always.
Tholian web screensaver Windows 98.
No, not a funeral!!
“This service requires my attention, Mr. Spock.” Crying emoji.
(I’m with Spock in almost everything in this ep but come on, you can’t ban McCoy from Kirk’s funeral, that’s just rude.)
This seems more like an assembly than a funeral tbh.
[agonizing scream] is also how I feel about Kirk “dying” and that’s why Generations isn’t real.
AOS Kirk would 100% approve of a brawl at his funeral.
Sulu and Uhura <3
“Each of you must evaluate the loss in the privacy of your own thoughts.” Spock definitely will.
Wait, that was it? The whole eulogy? Both Kirk and Spock really suck at eulogizing the other.
McCoy probably could have skipped this honestly.
Wait, Kirk left his space husband and his BFF a final in-case-of-death message? Noooooooooooooooo I can’t.
McCoy is so insistent they watch it and Spock is like “nah, that makes it too real, not gonna do it.”
“The Captain’s last order is the top priority.”
Why does everyone always assume Spock wants power? He obviously doesn’t. He could be a Captain if he wanted, probably. He’s early enough in his career where he still has time to become a Captain, too--eventually he does! Most of his career and literally every statement he’s ever made would kinda imply he’s not interested.
Also, if he didn’t care about Jim and he just wanted to take over the Enterprise, he would have left 3 hours ago? Like multiple people were saying he should? Including Bones??
“He was a hero in every sense of the word.” True.
McCoy is being VERY mean today.
And now he’s mad at him again for fighting the Tholians instead of leaving without Jim! Like which is it! What did he do wrong? At least pick a specific thing to criticize lol.
"I need not explain my rationale to you or to any other member of this crew." That’s true but also all I can hear is “I love him. I’m in love with him. I must have him back.”
What is that art work on the wall? That’s new.
I don’t get how Bones isn’t getting this. He KNOWS about the “warm, genuine feeling.”
Vulcans clearly aren’t immune to the...space weirdness. But yes, another pot shot at his alienness is always welcome lol.
“I AM in command of the Enterprise.” You tell him.
Finally, the secret message!
Omg Jim is literally dead and he’s still reassuring Spock. What a good boyfriend. I know this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you got this bb.
Now he’s lecturing them both from beyond the grave and getting everything right and they’re just standing there like chastised schoolboys.
That “take care” was so soft.
“It does hurt, doesn’t it?”
“What would you have me say Doctor?”
Like??? I can’t stand this.
Uhura! At home.
I like that twirly thing they have in their quarters; very efficient use of space and also I want one.
I also love that her chair has crocodile arms.
Kirk shows up in the mirror just to be dramatic and disappear again.
“Of course you saw him. We’d all like to see him.” Lol. Yes, yes, he’s still with us... in our hearts.
If the Tholians complete the web, what will they do with what’s inside? Eat it?"
“Are we any closer to the cure for space weirdness?” / “No. Except also yes.”
Love all the vague science that goes into solving their problem at the last minute but also extremely quickly by any objective standard.
Is Chekov restrained with seat belts?
Whereas Uhura’s just chilling. She knows what she’s about.
Ghost Kirk! Ghost Kirk!
"Do you suppose they're seeing Jim because they've lost confidence i you?" Damn bones, harsh. I thought we were done with this.
Pretty distressing that everything relies SO much on Scotty lol--arguably the MOST critical single member of the crew.
“I’m sorry.” Glad to hear him say it, finally!
“He would just say ‘Forget it Bones.’“ Adorable.
I feel like everyone’s simultaneously thinking, ‘Okay, we ALL see that, right?”
I am overwhelmed by the longing in that shot of Spock trying to reach Kirk through the dimensions. Like, we’ve established everyone loves him, everyone misses him, everyone wants to see him, but Spock actually approaches him and tries to meet him...
“We were separated. He couldn’t touch me.”
I want to know Scotty’s opinion on Spock’s crazy statue.
So Spock shouldn’t have fired those phasers? Because they... did something... bad to the dimensions? But what other choice did he have, other than to leave without Kirk?
Wasn’t Scotty literally just saying this wasn’t fixable? And now he’s like ‘eh, I can fix it in 20 minutes and get you 80% power’?
The antidote is derived from a nerve gas used by the Klingons...that’s honestly rather hilarious. They’re good for something I guess.
“It simply deadens certain nerve inputs in the brain.” / “Any decent brand of Scotch’ll do that.” Starfleet’s finest lmao.
Lmao Mccoy's no longer drugging the crew he's straight up killing parts of their brains with booze and deadly nerve gas. The man must be stopped.
Noooo don’t give Scotty the whole bottle. We’ve already established the ship doesn’t run without him.
They still gotta get out of the web.
If I shipped McCoy/Spock I would DEFINITELY ship it in that little moment where they look at each other over the glasses.
I have no idea what happened but they seem to be free. Bye Tholians!
Kirk back in the chair where he belongs <3
“No problems worth reporting”--I mean that is technically true, I GUESS.
Kirk is trying to get the gossip.
“Only what one would expect when humans are involved.” / “What humans?” The oxygen hasn’t fully returned to his brain, I see.
Also he is completely lying about understanding McCoy’s explanation.
Sulu and Chekov are having a great time listening in. Collecting future gossip for the cafeteria.
“M-my last orders. That I left for both of you.” He’s adorable.
"The crisis was upon us and then passed so quickly that w-we...." Lol yes the crisis came and then 4 hours later, it was passed! Just like that.
I totally get that Kirk wants them to admit they watched the tape. It was his orders that they watch it first, plus he knows he said helpful stuff and he wanted to be helpful! But I also get why they don’t want to admit they saw it, because it is rather awkward to admit they watched his last words when he’s... not dead.
That was a great ep overall! I really enjoyed it.
My only two complaints are that there wasn’t enough Kirk, and I wasn’t fond of Bones’s characterization. I mean, I get that he was affected by the... space weirdness and maybe his usual prejudices were purposefully exaggerated to show that but it still felt like he was constantly piling up on Spock and in the most unhelpful way. Like, they often disagree, in part because they have different general philosophies, and Bones often misunderstands Spock. But Bones wasn’t really offering anything helpful in terms of command advice, and his criticisms were both repetitive and incoherent. Did he want Spock to leave Jim behind or not? Was firing the phasers bad or necessary? Is Spock doing too much to save Jim or is he just out to get rid of him and take command? And again, he had like 6 moments where he said something cutting and cruel and...one or two of those go a lot farther to show the point. I also just... Bones really, really doesn’t get Spock, and I can see how he’d get meaner given the space aggression. But he’s not cruel. And he and Spock are friends, and he does know that Spock loves Kirk more than anything. So I did not find him IC overall.
But I did really like Spock and his characterization. I could feel all the emotion in him, so pent up and controlled but so present--especially in the moment when he held the tape Kirk made, but in so many other places as well--the “funeral,” the first moment after Kirk failed to materialize, reaching for him on the Bridge...
I also liked this portrayal of Spock in command. He is a good commander and he has obviously grown a lot since the Galileo Seven. But he’s not Jim, and the show is clear about that. Kirk is not replaceable and his job is not easy. I’m not even sure that Kirk would have done much different than Spock--he wouldn’t have left without one of his crew, and that probably would have involved firing on the Tholian ship. But when Spock did it, it really felt like he was overwhelmed, frustrated, and not thinking--he didn’t want to, but then Scotty said he should, and he did. Kirk would have made the decision, not been pressured into it. Would it have mattered? It comes out to the same, but I think it would have been a different scenario. Kirk only ever makes his own decisions--then he can own them, no matter what. That didn’t feel like Spock’s decision, and it affected others’ confidence in him (cough cough McCoy).
I would have to watch again to see if I thought there was any other choice.
This ep made me think of the cave scene in ST09 where Ambassador Spock meets Kirk and thinks he is HIS Kirk, come on purpose to find him. Because obviously Kirk is like that: he comes back from the dead, he finds Spock no matter what, he comforts and reassures and supports him no matter what. He would cross dimensions, he’d travel through time, he’d become No Longer Dead, if that’s what Spock needed.
I was a little disappointed that we didn’t see Kirk’s adventures in the AU lol. I think he was lying about being alone in the other universe. I want to see the fic where he was actually in the AOS verse lol.
Even though there wasn’t enough Kirk in this ep, I appreciated how strong his presence was anyway, seeing everyone love him so much, and seeing just how effective he is as a Captain by comparison with Spock, who is good and who did get them out of the situation, but who lacks that certain... Captain’s quality.
And it outright was a great Spock episode, and a good Spock and McCoy ep except for all of the OOC-ness in McCoy. I’m starting to feel like actually there’s a pretty significant amount of Spock and McCoy stories (this one, The Paradise Syndrome All Our Yesterdays, even Bread and Circuses) and I wish there were more Kirk and Bones stories, too. They are best friends after all!
Next is Plato’s Stepchildren, which is a pretty meh episode, but not awful.
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Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 31)
Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.
Word Count: 3515
Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)
Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo
This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.
Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You’re back kinda late,” Spencer noted as he read a book, sitting in the hotel chair next to the small desk they provided.
“Yeah, uh, Dexter got stabbed at a bowling alley,” you explained.
“Is he alright?” he asked, closing his book and looking at you, trying to find signs of distress.
You mindlessly tossed your purse and keys onto the table. “Yeah, no he’s fine. Sorry, should’ve led with that. Uh, but he was stabbed by his mother’s murderer. Apparently, a few weeks ago, on the horrible advice of his NA sponsor, he went to find him in Naples and confront him. I guess things got heated, they had a fight, and somehow he found out who Dexter was and followed him. He came up behind Dexter. I had to warn him, and help fight him off. He got in his truck and got away though.”
“Sounds like an intense night. Are you okay?”
You nodded as Spencer stood up to come rub your arms and check on you.
“I’m fine, yeah.”
“Is everything alright? You seem a bit distant.”
“Well, I have something I want to ask you and I’m worried how you’ll take it.”
“No secrets, remember? Just ask me. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he assured with a sweet smile. A smile you’d nearly forgotten about. You hadn’t seen it in so long.
You took a deep breath, your eyes casting to the ugly hotel carpeting. “Okay, Dexter and I think it would be a good idea if you came along with us to kill his mother’s murderer.” You let out the breath you’d been holding.
Spencer’s hands let go of your arms. Your eyes flashed up to see what his facial reaction was. It was morphed into a deep frown.
Okay, yeah, you knew that was coming.
“What?” he asked, clearly put off. “Y/N, that’s the most insane idea i’ve ever heard. I don’t want to be any more a part of this than I am, than I have to be. You want to drag me along to watch this? And since when are you going back to killing again?”
“I’m not. I just want to be there to help Dexter. It’s mainly for moral support, nothing else.”
“Funny choice of words,” he said balefully as he began walking around the room, his hands going to his hair, disheveling it even further.
“Don’t start right now. Look, I wasn’t thrilled either, but Dexter made a point. We think maybe you have this horrible imagery built up in your head about what we do, what he does. Some kind of villainous nightmare. Subjectively, yes, he does kill and he kills gruesomely. But objectively, this time we thought you could have some perspective. You nearly killed Cat because she had your mother hostage. This man brutally murdered his mother in front of him and his brother as little kids. Tell me you can’t find some iota of sympathy in you. I’m not saying you’ll enjoy this or want to do it, but maybe if you just watched us, watched his process, you’d see he wasn't some unhinged unsub.” You let out a breath, starting to feel frustrated. You didn’t know why you had to spell this out for him and it was getting old. Either he understood, or he didn’t.
He sighed, clenching his fist as he turned his head to the side, not looking at you. “Alright, you’re right. I said I’d support you in this, and I haven’t given you the full chance to show me what you two have done. I just assumed the worst, and because I love you, I forgave your actions. But you’re right, if I’m going to keep helping you two, Ineed to know exactly what it is you two do.”
“Really? You’ll do this?”
“I’m not excited about it, but if I’m going to fully understand where your mind was at and what you two did together, I need to see it. I think it will be beneficial either way. It might bring us closer together, it might help me see it from your view.”
You nodded. “Good. I think it will help. He wants to do it in the morning because it’ll take all day to get to him in Naples, abduct him, and kill, and dispose of him.”
“Wow, that’s soon. What about work? All 3 of us can’t just disappear for a day.”
You bit your lip. “Shit, I forgot. Well, we just need to wait for a break in the case that could get us all some time off. As soon as things slow down one day, and they give us a break, we’ll go.”
He nodded in response and the next day, you told Dex your tentative schedule. He agreed that all three of you needed to be present, and in order to not raise further suspicion, you’d have to wait on Rossi to deem you all had worked too much, and for there to be a point for your team to just wait.
Doakes was eventually brought in but he barely stayed two minutes before he rushed out. You frowned, wondering why he was so upset, but kept back to your case work.
---------------
Much to your surprise, the BAU team started to look into officers past, but thankfully not into Dexter. In fact, they set their sights on Doakes, so all effort went into locating him. That was mainly on Garcia and Luke. Once Rossi and Matthews had declared him suspect number one, known only to your team, not the Miami PD, the case became hands off. It was a waiting game to see where Daokes would show up. All the profiling in the world couldn’t help with seeing where he might be going, but Rossi declared that the team should take a break while you all wait for some kind of news about his whereabouts. This was it, it was the chance you needed. Albeit noon, it provided enough time to get to Naples, stalk him, and do the rest.
You and Spencer went to Dexter’s lab immediately and told him you needed to go. The three of you drove to his apartment where it was like deja vu.
“Okay, so here’s how I operate,” Dexter explained, pulling out his trunk and duffel bags. “I’ve got all my kill tools in here, including the sedative, plastic wrap, and duct tape. Tonight, all we need is duct tape, plastic, scalpel, slides, dropper, and I’ll need to stop to pick up a chainsaw.”
You glanced to Spencer to see how he was holding up. He had a bit of a sick look on his face.
“Is the chainsaw really necessary?” he asked.
“I typically try to use whatever my victims do. Unless it’s poison or suffocation. In this case, I think it’s highly fitting.”
“Y/N’s said that you usually kill them quickly, so they don’t feel pain. She said you do this with a large knife, like a hunting knife. Are we not using one tonight?”
“Normally, yes, I stab them in the heart so it lowers the amount of spray and they have a rather quick death, but tonight, Jiminez deserves to feel everything.”
“So this is the most personal kill you’ll do?”
“Probably,” he responded with a bit of a shrug. “Alright. I hope you don’t love those clothes because there will be blood on them. I need to pack my apron, mask, and other protective gear. Y/N, you want your clothes?”
“You let him keep your clothes?” Spencer asked, an undercurrent of hurt in his tone.
“We thought it would be safer. He could wash them with his, and you’d never see them…” you quietly responded, feeling as if you were on trial.
With that, you told Dexter you wanted your clothes. You quickly changed into your old kill outfit, feeling an odd sensation being in them with Spencer around. Dexter offered Spencer some old clothes but he declined, rudely.
Then the two of you set off in Dexter’s van. He stopped and picked up the chainsaw. Spencer said nothing to you while you two waited in the car. You were trying to gauge his thoughts and feelings, but he was giving almost nothing to go on. It made you feel anxious. You were somewhat terrified he’d leave this experience hating you, fearing you, seeing you as nothing more than a sick unsub. It could backfire and instead of bringing you closer together, it put you further apart.
Dexter drove all the way to Naples, explaining how he was going to stalk Jimenez. Spencer didn’t have many questions, seeing as it was his job to know how unsubs thought, worked, calculated. He didn’t compliment or condescend him.
Still, you were on edge about his reaction to all of this.
Dexter drove up to the bar where Jiminez worked, and you all followed him, watching, waiting. You were sure Dexter was feeling the same thing you were - rush of adrenaline, all your senses sharpened, the ever vigilant eyes.
Eventually, the stalking led you three to a run down cabin in the Everglades. It was extremely remote. After sitting with the engine killed for a long time and being sure Jiminez wouldn’t come out, Dexter turned to you two.
“You remember this part, right?’
You nodded, in student mode once more. “Of course. We’re going to lure him out and sedate him.”
“Wrong. You’re going to,” Dexter told you firmly. “Get in my bag, get the sedative.”
Quickly, deftly, you did as you were told. You got the syringe out, opened the door quietly, and slipped out. You pulled the cap off and tossed it back in the car. Just as you were about to walk by Dexter’s driver window, he stopped you.
“Wait, come here,” he quietly ordered. You walked back over and Dexter put his hand on yours.
Red flags went off in Spencer’s mind. The simple touch seemed to make all those old feelings resurface. He always knew there was something further than just a friendship between you two.
“Hold it like this, remember?” he instructed, wrapping your fingers in a particular way. “Keep the needle out, away from you. Go check, make sure he’s alone, create something to lure him out, and then attack from behind.”
The small correction suddenly set Spencer at ease. Dexter was, in fact, just teaching you something. There was nothing remotely romantic about it at all. Some of the nerves he had built up, melted way.
“I know,” you reminded evenly, confidence in your tone, but not arrogance. You knew Dexter had done this dozens of times. But he also needed to remember he trained you extensively.
You walked quickly and low to the ground as you went to a window and peeked in. You saw Jiminez and no one else. After a second, you snuck back over to the truck and turned on the radio, before going to hide against the wall again.
Your heart was racing, your hand was shaking slightly until you took a deep breath.
Jiminez came out, you ran up behind him, injected the serum, and he passed out cold. You looked back at the van and held a thumbs up. Dexter jumped out of the van and Spencer following.
Spencer’s instructions were clear: don’t get in the way.
You and Dexter had a system now and half the reason for this trip was to show him how you two worked together. You two grabbed all of the supplies from the back hatch. Spencer followed you and Dexter as you moved quickly in the cabin. Every inch was covered in plastic. You two moved around each other as if you were long time dance partners, every move choreographed, every move done with precision.
Spencer stood and watched, objectively, trying not to let it sink in that you two were really about to kill someone.
Next, you and Dexter carried Jiminez into the room, finished off the plastic, and got him strapped to the table after disrobing him. Not a word was spoken the entire time and Spencer couldn’t help but notice. Dexter didn’t have to tell you what was next, he didn’t have to instruct you on a single thing. This was as methodical as it could get.
You got Dexter’s slides ready, along with his scalpel and dropper. Dexter busied himself with his clothing, getting all the gear in place. You and Spencer put on your face shields, to protect from blood spatter.
“Y/N, do you have your knife?” Dexter asked.
“Yes.”
“Go ahead and show me where you’d stop blood flow,” he evenly requested.
It was becoming increasingly clear to Spencer as he watched you two that everything had a purpose, everything was clinical. There was no malice in it. It was only calculating. The entire time you three had been together today, there wasn’t any jokes, any goofing off. When you and Dexter interacted, it was educational.
You put the knife over his chest, the tip barely cutting through the plastic.
Dexter again, offered his hand, without warning, and wrapped his fingers around yours from the opposite side of the table.
“Almost, just a hair up towards the chin and towards the left just a little,” he calmly explained.
“Right,” you agreed, then pulled your blade away.
“Wait, you’re not killing him?” Spencer asked.
“No, this is Dexter’s kill. In light of who this man is, Dexter has elected to kill him the exact same way his mother was… with no mercy.”
As you finished your sentence, Jiminez began stirring. Dexter made his way to the head of the table.
“Here we are again,” he said, picking up the surgical blade and slicing along his victim’s cheek.
“What-- what the fuck?!” Jiminez gasped out.
“I know. I keep asking myself that same question.” He absorbed the blood, and squirted it onto the readied slides provided by you.
“Let me out of here!”
“But.. I’m finding it’s best to accept things you can’t change. Now is where I have a chat with you, so you know exactly why you’re here. I think you have a pretty good idea, and I certainly know why you’re here, but I have some company tonight that I’d like you to tell.”
He glanced at you and Spencer. Jiminez did the same.
“Let me go. I got cocaine. You can have all of it.”
“It’s funny you should say that. I am off the wagon. But that was never my drug.”
“I’ll fucking kill you!” he cried out angrily.
“Hey,” you quietly commanded, hovering over Jiminez. “My friend told you to talk. Years ago. You committed a heinous crime in a shipping container, a young woman, two boys. I want you to admit it.”
“Fuck you!” Jiminez spat.
You slapped Jiminez hard, but swift. “Cut the sht. You’re strapped to our table, huh? You’re not getting out of this. The least you can do is maybe clear your conscience before you meet your maker. So confess. What was it you did all those years ago to a young mother in front of her kids?”
Jiminez stared at you, he looked like he was about to spit at you or shout more obscenities so you warned him.
“If you spit at me, or say anything other than what happened, I’ll make you wish you never opened your mouth. Are we clear?”
He nodded once.
“Fucking hell! Fine! I cut her up. I chopped her to pieces. I killed that bitch because she was fucking a cop! Not my fault her fucking kids were there! It had to be done!” he cried out. “It wasn’t personal! It was business!”
“It was personal for him,” you said, pointing to Dexter. “You killed a young mother in front of two innocent little boys. They grew up to be killers, just like you. You took their lives away. All for some blow? I hope you rot.” You looked up to Dexter, giving him a nod to signal you were done. Then you took a step back next to Spencer.
Spencer glanced between you and Jiminez. Finally, it was clear to him. This man had no redeeming qualities. Cat adams was a walk int he park compared to him. He finally truly understood what this whole thing was about, how you two worked.
“I’m going to kill you tonight, Mr. Jiminez for what you did to my mother, and because well, this is what I do best.”
At that, Dexter picked up the chainsaw at his feet, started it, and began cutting. You’d seen this before, but not on a live victim. Spencer hadn’t been exposed to this, making you still very unsure where his mind was at.
The goriness was done, the body was cut, ready to be transported into a bag and then moved. Dexter began going through his wallet.
“Is this usually part of the routine?” Spencer asked.
“No, but I’m curious,” Dexter passively said. He dug into the wallet and found a note that had the address of the bowling alley and the time he went. “What the hell?” he mused.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, making your way over to him to read what was in his hand. “What--”
“I only went with you, but I also told my sponsor where I went that night. Lila. Fuck!” he cried out.
“Lila? I told you to get away from her,” you reminded angrily.
“I’ve been trying to. But this means that she called Jiminez and told him where I was going to be.”
“But why?”
He threw his head back in thought. “She probably wanted us to be close. The night I met Jiminez, we got into a fight. I was upset, broken, she and I shared a hotel room. Nothing happened except us talking all the way into the morning. I bet she thought if he attacked me again, I’d go running to her.”
“That’s why you and Rita have been on and off lately, isn't it? She found out about you and Lila.”
“That, and some other things.”
You shook your head. “Dex...” Disappointment laced your tone. “I told you that chick was bad news.”
“I know, I fucked up, but--”
His phone rang and he held up a finger before he answered it. It was Rita, she asked if he had used her key to the house. He told her to get out of the house and call the cops. He hung up the phone and quickly explained he needed to leave because he thought Lila might be at Rita's house.
“I can drop you two off at your hotel, but I really need to go,” he said.
“No, we’re going with you to Rita’s. If Lila is there, we need to help you.”
“Are you just going to leave this guy here?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the body, sounding alarmed.
“Well I can’t take him with me. Use some of those IQ points, Agent Reid.”
“It’s Dr. Reid,” he spat back, his face eerily calm so you quickly stepped between them.
“Okay, calm down. Dexter, let’s just go back to the city. Jiminez isn’t the type to share a cabin full of cocaine with anyone.”
“Can you dispose of him?” he asked.
“With what? We don’t have your boat.”
“Shit, you’re right. Okay. We’ll just have to deal with him later. I need to go to Rita’s.”
With that, the three of you took what you needed and loaded into the van quickly. Dexter nearly broke the speed limit the whole way. You changed into your old clothes and stuffed the bloody ones in a bag and kept them in the van for Dexter to deal with. Spencer took off the cardigan he wore over, leaving him in a normal shirt.
The three of you walked up to Rita’s place. She apologized for bothering you before asking why you two were there.
“We were out for drinks,” you quickly lied easily. “Good to see you again Rita, just wish it were better circumstances.”
With that, Dexter spoke to the police while you tried to console Rita. When he was done, he said he was going to see Lila.
“Let me come. You don't need to face this psycho on your own.”
“No, Y/N, I really do,” he responded, walking quickly. He turned and put his hands on your shoulders. “Thank you, for coming ot make sure Rita and the kids are alright both of you--” he shot a look to Spencer “--but I need to face her on my own. If i show up with you, it’ll just add fuel to the fire of this jealous inferno she has. I can handle it. I’ll drop you at your hotel and then I’m going to her place. I’ll be fine.”
And so he did. He drove you to your hotel where you hugged him quickly, called him an idiot for not listening to you sooner, to which he smiled and agreed, then he left to face his psycho sponsor.
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#inside the criminal mind#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#dexter morgan#dexter#dexter fic
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For Charlotte, A13-15 please!
This got...long.
13. Did your detective save A or Sanja? Why do you think they do so? And how are they feeling about the aftermath? (Sanja dying, A getting hurt, both being fine in the end)
Charlotte saved Sanja.
First, because Adam (who was in charge of the mission) gave the order. While she’s quite happy to argue with him about how to approach something when they’re in the planning stage, in a combat situation in the field, he’s in command. (For the most part anyway - if he ever gave a command that she objected to morally, there might be an issue, but that didn’t apply here.)
Also, because that was the mission. They needed to save Sanja to save the treaty.
Finally, Adam was free, and Sanja wasn’t. So… Adam at least has a chance to fight back. And she saw how Adam handled the Murphy fight - yeah, he got beat down, but he healed, there’s no reason to believe that the same won’t happen here. She had no idea if Sanja has any kind of similar ability, and even if she does, she has no way to fight back.
She knows it was the right call, especially with so much hanging on Sanja’s life, and she doesn’t regret the decision she made now that Adam’s ok, but man did she not enjoy that particular consequence. She really really did not enjoy that consequence. It was the first time in a very long time that she felt panicked - how do you give a vampire first aid? They’re not supposed to need it!
14. If your detective did save Sanja, how do they feel about the famous “Tu Omnia”? If they saved A, how are they feeling about them saying that they are glad that they thought of them first? (But, of course, they say they mustn’t feel this way)
Ah, yes, Tu omnia.
First thought? “Well, that’s definitely not French. Unless it’s Old French. Latin, maybe? You… something?”
Once she has the translation? She’s got some processing to do. Because on the one hand, that’s a hell of a confession, especially from Commanding Agent There Are No Feelings. But on the other hand… does a confession like that really count? Given how unlikely it was that she speaks Latin, he probably felt like she wasn’t going to understand what he said anyway - and a confession that the other person doesn’t understand isn’t much of a confession. He was drugged to the point where it knocked him out within a minute of him saying that, and people say all kinds of things they don’t necessarily mean while heavily sedated and/or anesthetized. And even if he meant it (which isn’t guaranteed), does he even remember saying it?
So...Charlotte isn’t really sure what to make of it (but it does give her a little bit of hope after, during the meeting with Falk and then again at the carnival, when Adam leaks feelings everywhere, that maybe, even if he didn’t mean to say it, he did mean it.)
15. What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with A before the end of Book 2, what would they think?
Poor. Not as bad as it could be, but it’s very tense. And while Charlotte can forgive the evasion because of the Agency’s secrecy (she’s a Detective, she understands not being able to share cases), there’s a lot that she has no interest in forgiving, both in the past and in the present.
Rebecca might be important, but the Agency is huge. Clearly, Rebecca could have taken some time off when Charlotte was growing up and it would not have impacted the Agency much. Which means that Rebecca had a choice, and was choosing to be away.
In the present, Charlotte’s not really going to argue the necessity of bringing Unit Bravo in to make sure that she doesn’t get Murphied, but she’s incredibly pissed off about what she sees as the bone-headed way Rebecca went about setting that up. As Wayhaven’s detective, it was her responsibility to solve the murder of Janet Greenland. But because UB was actively interfering rather than assisting (she does see the withholding of information as active interference, and Rebecca makes a comment to the effect of ‘we didn’t anticipate how determined you would be’ and Charlotte is not impressed with that, because it effectively means ‘we expected that you would be incompetent’), Murphy was able to murder Garrett Hayes too.
Charlotte understands that the Agency has a process and that secrecy is paramount, but surely there would have been ways to prevent her from finding out what Murphy was while also actively assisting? For one thing, they didn’t have to use a photo. They could have used a sketch of the photo and said it was taken from witnesses from previous murders. She wouldn’t have known the difference. They could have invented a murder weapon - said something about how the guy seems to think he’s a vampire, they’ve found prototype bear-trap style teeth that would account for the wounds. Just… anything to make it easier for her to do her job.
In summary, she’s still not really pleased about how Rebecca handled the Murphy case. She’s willing to work with her professionally, and that’s about it.
So if she saw the conversation between Rebecca and Adam?
If it was strictly as a “I am asking you this as your CO” then Charlotte probably would have prickled a little, but ultimately would have understood because it would be about whether they could keep it (whatever it is) professional in the field.
But because it’s “I’m asking you as a mother,” wow, no. Charlotte would have her hackles up, for sure. Back the fuck up, Rebecca. You can’t choose not to be a part of my life for the better part of 26 years, and then suddenly get involved because it’s convenient for you. You chose to be out, so stay out. (Needless to say, the conversation in the book 3 demo does not go well for Rebecca).
Thanks for the asks from Wayhaven Route Questions!
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Incident 239-A, Excerpt Four
wow this one took a while. there's an iris here, though, so i feel like it's okay!
.
The walls of the site were wooden.
Some sort of anomalous effect, Iceberg deduced, scanning the dark material. Not touching it. He would not make that mistake. It was likely caused by SCP-4231's anomalous capabilities, specifically a typical stress response. So Wojciechowski had not managed to sedate it, then. The failure would be noted.
The fact that the bullet shells scattered across the floor were non-lethal was noted as well. That was likely not an anomalous effect. So the attempts to stop this termination were non-lethal as well? He hadn't expected differently of Wojciechowski, really. Gears would not appreciate that his hypothesis had been correct.
Gears. His assistant would prefer that he come back unharmed, wouldn't he? Objectives clicked into place in Iceberg's mind. Personal safety would have to be a concern, then. Not a priority, exactly, but a concern nonetheless.
Protecting 239, on the other hand, was a priority. Subduing 4231 was a priority. So he would take whatever measures were necessary.
The comm in Iceberg's ear buzzed, receiving an incoming signal. He allowed it through. "Status?"
"Iceberg? Oh, thank fuck." Wojciechowski's voice came through in a nearly inaudible crackle. It was strained, Iceberg noted. Injuries, then, were likely. "You have to stop Arlens. He's going for-"
"239. I'm aware." Iceberg's eye twitched slightly. "Status, Wojciechowski."
"Alive. Beat-up. Did you know Lens liked locking people into empty containment cells? Or breaking their ribs?" Wojciechowski coughed. "I sure fucking do. He tracked me down and shoved me into a room with no shadows. Fuck knows where James Talloran is. God, when I find him--"
"We'll address your revenge later. Where is 4231?"
"Jesus." Wojciechowski swore. "Don't call him that!"
"I'll call him what I like, director. Where is it?"
"He is going for the butterfly chamber." The other man laughed. "Not that he's getting in. I made sure of that. He'd have to cause a CK-Class scenario to get in, and... well. He likes his being 4231 about as much as I do."
"Do you really think we can rely on its discomfort with a number? It blew up your doors, Wojciechowski. It deserves to be an SCP right now." Iceberg's expression was almost cold enough to be called a scowl. Almost. "Evacuate your personnel. I will handle your breach myself."
The comm was silent.
"... you're going to kill him?"
"If it's necessary." And it almost certainly was. "Evacuate your men, Francis."
Iceberg could practically hear the silent fury on the other end.
Finally, finally, Wojciechowski answered.
"No."
"Then neutralize it yourself," Iceberg ordered. "I don't have time for your sexual tension. Get it under control and make sure it doesn't cause a goddamn breach. I will handle 239 myself."
"... Fine." Wojciechowski growled on the other end. "Don't get in my way. You're a very replaceable man, Doctor Gilles. That assistant of yours deserves a promotion anyway."
"I'd be happy to sign one for him," he responded. "Get your pet project under control."
There was the sound of a comm being crushed under rubber soles.
Iceberg sighed, turning his own comm off. The dramatics. Honestly. If he didn't want his pet SCP terminated he shouldn't have let it try to kill a little girl.
Especially not that little girl.
Iceberg stepped through the halls with a purpose, a hand on the grenades hanging from his belt.
"Damn it!" Butterfly slammed a fist against the closed door to 408's containment cell, anger burning bright inside him. He could feel the flickering life of his butterflies inside, the familiar feel of it only fuelling his fury. "G-d damn it, Clef. You and your g-ddamned lockdowns."
The 408s couldn't get out. Not with those protections. Butterfly had a feeling what was in place had been set up a long time ago, and it hadn't been meant to keep them in.
No. It had been to keep him out.
Damn Clef. Damn his director, planning and planning and lying his way through questions, through explaining what protections were on what. Damn the fact that terrifying competence had been turned to...
To what? To the whims of a little girl high on her own power, not even knowing what she had turned him into?
Fuck her. Fuck 239. Fuck this whole mess. When he found that girl, he was going to rip her to shreds.
Butterfly's hand slipped down the reinforced metal of the door, going down, down with his hope.
Hopeless. This was hopeless. He'd never get to her. Was he already too late? The alarm had probably alerted other sites, too, so he almost definitely had Iceberg on his trail. And even if not Iceberg, even if it was someone he could subdue without issue and get past to kill 239-- could he even do it? Could her powers overtake his? Could she look at him, twist him, turn him into something beyond his worst nightmares because he made her think of a monster?
Could he even do this?
... Not without help. Not without allies. And without the 408s... did he even have any?
The room was silent around him. Cursing him. Mocking him. He didn't. He didn't have anyone. The SCPs would have been evacuated and fucking Francis was against him and- and--
"... You look like you need a little help."
Butterfly jerked, spinning swiftly to find a young woman standing in front of him. She didn't so much as blink when he leveled his sword to her throat.
"... Iris Thompson."
"In the flesh," she responded, deadpan. "Lower the sword, Benjamin Kondraki. We need to talk."
"Don't call me that!" Benjamin Kondraki was a dead man. He'd died with his wife and he'd died with the thought that his son was a monster to be contained. "Don't you ever say that name again."
"Sorry." Thompson smiled. At least, it looked like a smile. His depth perception was shot to hell, of course, and his third eye stung with heat, but he swore even past that it looked more like a snarl than a grin. "This isn't the right world to be calling you that. But, well, with that name or not... I'm offering you an out."
"An out?" As if he'd trust her. 239 had never seen her, yes, but Thompson was personnel. Dating Francis's own daughter. Why she'd side with him over her site and her girlfriend he hadn't the slightest idea. "Spare me the bullshit, Thompson. What do you want?"
"It's obvious, Doctor Butterfly," she said, enough surety in her voice that he strained to hear anything inhuman past that. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing but the dregs of a dead god inside her. "I want you to win."
That made him pause. "What?"
"There are tunnels the director doesn't know about. Meant for Factotum use. O5 use," she explained. Something in her voice tired as she did. "How did you think I stayed hidden while they evacuated? The Council thinks it hides its things well, really. But it's easy to find them when you have all the time in the world. And we both know how much time I had."
"... Damn. 3999 really did a number on you, didn't it?" He remembered back when she had first come to the site, when she was still nervous and kind of snappy and excited. Now... well. "Where are they?"
"Right here." Thompson reached out, taking him by the wrist and tugging him past a corner to find a large door where there once had been wall. It hung open to reveal a tunnel, leading down, down, down. "And turn off the voice, Butterfly. No-one here's scared of you. Except maybe you."
"... Asshole." His voice, past the anomaly echoing it, was weak. Raspy. "How the hell did you find this?"
"I killed O5-6 in it a month ago. How else?" She pulled him in. "Do your best, Doctor Butterfly. Leave me a corpse to burn."
And didn't that send chills down his spine.
"Wait," Butterfly called, stopping Thompson as she walked away. "Why are you doing this?"
It took her a few moments to answer. The tunnels loomed empty around him.
"I like watching reality benders die," she answered simply. The door closed before him.
... Ominous. But helpful. Butterfly shook his head, descending into the dark of the tunnels. Hopefully she only wanted 239 dead. Hopefully it didn't extend to him.
But if it did...
Butterfly shook his head, looking through the tunnels. They seemed to match the halls of Site 17 enough, didn't they?
He wasn't exactly a stupid man. He knew his enemies-- friends?-- were dangerous. He knew it'd be risky to fight them without help.
And, well... 408 wasn't the only group of butterflies on-site.
Butterfly turned left, headed for the enclosure storing SCP-3209.
Iris Thompson travelled the halls with barely a sound. She knew well how to avoid making a sound on these floors, covered in wood or not. In her pocket, a six-sided die sat wrapped in her handkerchief, familiar and unturning.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" she heard Francis Wojciechowski demand in front of her. Iris did not look up. Instead, she shrugged, her fingers playing idly on that die.
"I'm with Butterfly on this one," she said softly, pulling the die out of its cloth. "That girl did something, that's for sure. The only thing to do now is stop it."
Francis scowled. He was hurt, Iris noted, with badly burned hands and broken gear, and he walked with a limp that screamed of a broken leg. "Iris. She's only a kid."
"And you're only a man." Iris met his eyes. "I could kill you without flinching."
"You wouldn't."
She shrugged. "Get out of the way and I won't."
Stubbornly, Francis stayed. Iris sighed. "Fine. Make your choice."
The die landed on three. And the hallway flooded with water.
#scp butterfly au#butterfly au#incident 239-b#iris is... scary#i don't know what i did to her but she scares me#writey asks#scp foundation#iceberg's kind of an ass in this wow
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Black Leather - Chapter 8
I’d had to wait an additional twenty minutes at Steve’s house, because despite his near fanatical dedication to Farah Faucett; his hair had continued to fall flat.
Lucky for him, Nancy was there, otherwise I would’ve broken down the damn bathroom door and shaved the birds nest off myself.
Eventually; he’d managed to get his hair to a reasonable level of poofiness, and we’d gotten to Tina’s just an hour after the start time on the flyer; fashionably late without it being too busy to make an entrance.
Sitting in the backseat of Steve’s thankfully spacious BMW gave me front row seats to the newfound awkwardness between Hawkins most beloved royal couple.
Despite Steve’s insistence that everything was fine between the pair and that Nancy was just still upset about Barb; I couldn’t help but feel there was a bigger void between them than that. One that was gradually getting bigger by the day, judging by the near complete lack of conversation for the entire car ride over.
He wouldn’t even let me talk to her for him; insisting he could handle it himself, but Steve really didn’t know girls like I did.
There was something big on Nancy’s mind; something that parties and corny jokes alone wasn’t gonna fix.
“That is a lot of carnage...” Steve remarked, drawing my eyes from the world’s slowest relationship train wreck, to the much more literal train wreck outside my window.
The word “carnage” was putting it lightly.
The party had already spilled out onto the street; bodies in varying stages on unconsciousness littering the front lawn like the vast amount of beer cans and bottles surrounding them. Those that were conscious were reveling in a variety of vices, from cigarettes to cheap booze to near all out sex on the AstroTurf. High school partying at its finest.
“Half the school must be here!” Remarked Nancy; eyes wide at the near renaissance painting of absolute debauchery outside.
“You got that right...” Agreed Steve as he slowed his car to park; and if Hawkins High’s keg king said that it was a rager, then she must be right.
Steve eventually found a space just outside Tina’s house; surprising considering the sheer amount of people present, however I guess most people considered a night in Hawkins PD’s cells too steep a price to pay for one night of drinking and dancing.
We got out of the car, and already the music hit our ears at full blast; someone’s parents were gonna get a lot of noise complaints in the morning.
“We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” was the song of choice, but clearly the song’s message fell on deaf ears, as most of the boys were down to shorts and skins, and the girls in even less.
Steve led the way through the highway to hell, ringing the doorbell to Tina’s, which chimed out in an almost comedic rendition of “Messiah” considering the situation.
Moments later, the door swung open to a smiling Tina, dressed in a skimpy leotard and fishnets, in what must’ve been a cat costume considering the black velvet ears in her perm.
“Steve! Nancy! Love the costumes!” She exclaimed with such enthusiasm; it must’ve been partially forced.
“Risky Business; right?” She asked, taking note on the pair’s cute matching black and white combo.
“And Lola! You’re..?” Her ever expanding smile faltered as she struggled to work out what exactly a tartan miniskirt and a Bon Jovi tank top had to do with Halloween.
“A vampire.” I replied with a fake smile, showing off the plastic fangs glued to my canines. She wasn’t the only one who could feign enthusiasm.
“Well; you all look so great...” She spieled; that plastic smile returning even quicker than it fell.
“Why don’t you come on in and get a drink...” She beckoned us in as she led us further into her temporary den of teenage rebellion.
Costume party could be used very loosely to describe what Tina’s Halloween party was.
People wore costumes alright; ones that made them look sexier, less restrained, more depraved. Anything from a pair of sunglasses, to an oversized bedsheet counted here; and trust me, someone had tried them all. My outfit honestly looked like a nun’s in comparison to some of the other girls.
Since when did lingerie count as a Halloween costume?
“Looks like a good party.” Steve remarked, though I wondered if it was only for our host’s sake.
“Yeah. If you like cheap liquor and herpes...” I muttered, earning myself a chuckle from him; so we were on the same page.
I glanced around the room, unable to believe people had managed to get this fucked up in an hour. There had to be some pregaming, or a high amount of class C drugs involved; definitely drugs, judging by the smoke in the air.
I was definitely gonna have to do the laundry before dad got home.
My eyes glanced over to the living room where some jock was spread out on the coffee table, whilst a line of cheerleaders did body shots off his chest.
I was definitely gonna need a drink to get through tonight.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink...” I told Steve, not waiting for a response as I slipped through the crowd towards the kitchen and what would hopefully be semi drinkable booze.
—————————————————
The liquor was shitty; the punch wasn’t much better, but still better to suffer the taste and be drunk, than suffer the company sober.
God knew there was nothing worse than being the only sober one in a crowd of drunks.
Steve had long abandoned me for his princess, in yet another attempt to drown an underlying uneasiness with cheap alcohol and fake happiness. Jonathan was a no show, but there was no surprises there, and I was kinda wishing I’d done the same, even if it’d cost me my left ear to Steve’s nagging.
The only consolation was that Billy Hargrove hadn’t spoken to me once. It was quite possible he hadn’t even noticed me; he was so sucked into the superficial cloud of party popularity that seemed to circle him like a storm.
Every girl in their fake leather biker boots and discount rack leather jackets was hanging off him, in a poor attempt to act as my replacement; as if being the resident basket case was as simple as smudging on a bit of eyeliner and smoking more Camels than usual.
I don’t think Billy was convinced; his mind so preoccupied with stealing Steve’s crown that he didn’t have time to think about getting laid.
No doubt when he came back down to earth; I’d be the first person he’d have in mind to help with that little problem.
But for now; my night looked relatively sleaze free. No one had tried to hit on me since Billy had taken an interest; probably valued their molars too much for that.
It’s strange to think that despite my total disdain for Billy and the clear message that I’d rather eat my own fingernails than date him; people still acted like he had some sort of “reservation” over me, as if I was unofficially “his girl”.
Right now, the man in question was challenging the royal reign of keg king; a position previously held by Steve, before Nancy had him saddled and bridled.
Even I had to admit; Billy Hargrove made quite the Lancelot to Steve’s Arthur. Billy had Steve in term of upper body strength; his keg stand lasting twice as long as Steve’s had, without any of the signature unsteadiness.
The keg court already loved him, counting down with unrivalled enthusiasm and chanting Billy’s name as if he’d just won a championship belt.
He’d even managed to steal Steve’s right hand man; Tommy H naturally taking his place behind the new alpha male, reminding me of a snappy hyena at his heels.
Billy’s keg stand finished on a impressive count of forty two; him touching ground soon after and spraying the crowd with lukewarm beer.
“That’s how you do it; Hawkins! That’s how you do it!” He yelled triumphantly, in that moment seeming more of a celebrity than the cocky asshole with a Camaro.
Even I had to admit that Billy seemed different tonight.
Maybe it was the punch talking, or the overall excitement of the crowd as they practically worshipped him like a god, but he just seemed larger than life.
He’d styled his hair different; his curls actually holding shape, rather than just falling into a dirty blonde mess. He also followed the crowd in terms of forgoing a shirt; just a leather jacket draped over his impressively built torso.
I could see why the other girls went crazy over him. Everything about him screamed dominance and raw testosterone.
Now Billy was walking my direction and I was running low on punch and confidence.
Yes; originally I’d planned to play the role of tease tonight, and drive Billy crazy with what he could see, but couldn’t touch. But he was forty two seconds of beer down and pumped up on the adoration of half the school, so I was having second thoughts.
Sober Billy was fun to tease, if not a little over persistent; drunk Billy was an unfamiliar entity that could turn out to be downright dangerous.
So I made my exit, slipping back into the crowd and relative anonymity.
—————————————
The kitchen looked like it had become the first fatality of what was sure to be a deadly night of binge drinking and bad decisions.
The tile floor now closely resembled a a swimming pool, complete with indeterminate objects that I had no intention of inspecting swimming on the surface.
The kitchen counters looked like the world’s largest game of beer pong, cups of various colours and fullness on every available inch of clear space. I didn’t even want to know what was in some of them; the smell of them strong enough to hit you from across the room.
I’d managed to find Steve and Nancy again earlier, though it was clear Nancy was well in her cups, and Steve was trying desperately to stop her from becoming any deeper.
I’d managed to convince her into trying something that didn’t have enough of an alcohol content to sedate a horse, but it seemed Tina had stockpiled just as many mixers as booze; though the former seemed vastly less popular.
I made my way back through the thick of the crowd, wanting to make sure I got Nancy something that’d actually stay down, rather than end up painted across the front of her sweater. I could already see the top of Steve’s hair, rising high above the crowd like a homing beacon; at least it wasn’t completely useless.
“Hey Nance; do you want soda or...” I began, threading through the crowd towards them, when I suddenly realised they weren’t alone.
I felt like I’d walked on set in the middle of one of those Wild West movies my dad liked to watch; the sheriff facing off against the stranger in black.
Billy stood nearly chest to chest with Steve, looking as if he was moments away from flooring him, but at the sound of my voice his focus shifted; his demeanour no less predatory.
“Lola...” He purred, with a smirk that made me feel like he was undressing me with words alone. Up close I could see the evidence of his keg stand running down his tanned chest; slick trails threading between his taught abs.
Still; I kept stony, not trusting Billy in the slightest.
“Hargrove.” I spat; arms crossed over my chest in a way hoped said back off, but may have came across as nervous.
His smirk spread across his face; eyes falling to trail over my body, stopping at all the strategic points along the way.
”Like the costume...” He commented, wetting his lips as if I was desert on a platter. “Just like I imagined.”
I could already figure out exactly what he’d imagined, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t include clothes.
“Thanks.” I forced a smile faker than Tina’s attitude; dry and bitter just like half the booze on offer at this shithole of a party.
Still; Steve wasn’t gonna just stand around whilst Billy stared at me as if I was something from his private Playboy collection; the usurped king was instead experiencing a serious case of white knight syndrome.
“Hey; why don’t you back the hell off...” Steve warned, stepping forwards between me and Billy, so Billy could no longer blatantly leer at me.
It didn’t put his successor off in the slightest; Billy stepping past Steve as if he was an inanimate object to continue to proposition me.
“Why don’t you come and have a dance with me?” He asked with one of those smiles that made Tina turn into a shivering puddle of hormones.
“I’ll pass.” I replied with another dry smile, then turned to make a swift exit before he could come up with another bullshit reason to waste my time and my patience.
“Come on; sweetheart...” He purred, and I felt his hand lock around my wrist; not painfully so, but just firm enough to tell me that I’d leave when he let me, and not a moment sooner.
I gave him a dark look, because really? He was gonna try this with me?
But before I could give him the verbal lashing of a lifetime; Steve beat me to it, ripping Billy’s hand from my wrist with more force than I thought was possible for the doe eyed brunette.
“Dude; she said no!” Steve said, and despite his gentle chastisement; his face and tone told him that he wasn’t messing around.
But neither was Billy. He turned to Steve; his former aggression returning as quickly as it left.
“I’m sorry; I wasn’t aware you were her boyfriend...” Spat Billy; already ready to open an entire new can of worms and with it, let out a whole lot of alcohol infused testosterone.
Steve wasn’t gonna take it; though sometimes I really wish he would.
I really didn’t need saving; I’m goddamn Lola Hopper. Boys like Billy Hargrove should shit themselves when I approached.
But Steve; always the hero, came at him with all the verbal reasoning that Billy had no patience for.
“Just because she’s not my girlfriend; doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you drag her around like-“
But Billy truly didn’t have the patience or the mental capacity. He was half a keg in and looking for a fight.
Steve never got to finish his argument; Billy slamming him hard against the wall like some freshman, and not the previous reigning keg king.
“Excuse me?” Billy growled; his voice low and threatening, and really doing more for me than his sleazy flirting, but I had more important things to worry about than how Billy’s temper was a turn on!
My best friend was about to become an interestingly shaped stain on Tina’s parents’ wallpaper.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Harrington?” Billy’s voice dropped another octave; his body inches away from Steve’s and although he didn’t touch him,
I knew he was seconds away from knocking the noble idiot unconscious.
Even then, Steve couldn’t take a hint. Always honourable; he was prepared to go down fighting, but I wasn’t ready to see him become a martyr.
“Billy; I’ve changed my mind...” I quickly thought on my feet, slipping between the two of them in the vain hope that the possibility of physical contact on the table was enough to shake Billy out of his rage.
“I think I want that dance...” I forced a pretty smile, grabbing his wrist softly in the hope he might unclench his fists in favour of touching me again.
It wasn’t working. Billy was far too worked up; it was if I was invisible. So I moved a bit closer; letting my body brush up against his as I slipped my hand down to grab his.
“Come on; Billy. He’s not worth it...” I whispered; my voice just husky enough to hold a little promise.
“But I might be...” I gave him an impish smile; all raw sexuality and desire, one that I’d of previously thrown up at the prospect of exchanging with Billy Hargrove.
To my great relief; he relaxed, his shoulders lowering and his jaw unclenching. His hand wrapped around my own, squeezing with just a little bit of pressure; a reluctant retreat on the condition that I upheld my end of the bargain.
I took him by the hand and pulled him away from Steve, heading towards the dance floor and hopefully putting as much distance between the two alphas as possible.
But even now; Steve wouldn’t relent, stepping forward ready to defend my honour.
“Lola; you don’t have to...” He petitioned, as if I wasn’t doing this to protect him.
“It’s fine, Steve.” I reassured him, making the words more forceful than necessary in case his dumb overprotective brain continued to reject self preservation.
But of course; my pushy prospective dance partner couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Yeah, Steve; it’s fine.” He mimicked; his smirk so full of venom, I’m surprised it didn’t melt his pretty face off.
At last, Steve relented, letting me lead my volatile pretty boy onto the dance floor without blood on his knuckles.
————————————
Surprisingly; Billy was actually a semi decent dance partner. He kept rhythm well enough and gave me enough room that I didn’t feel he was trying to hump me in front of the whole school.
We were two songs down; “Dancing With Myself” pumping through the overdriven sound system, and I hadn’t once accidentally-on-purpose tried to step on Billy’s toes.
If I was to be painfully honest, and believe me; admitting this was painful, I was actually enjoying dancing with Billy.
When he wasn’t so heavily focused on appearing the bad boy, he was actually pretty cool. He smiled more often; a genuine warm smile that was nothing like that sleazy grin he used on me all the time. He was actually cute.
“Are you feeling alright?” He asked after spinning me under his arm for the third time tonight; and I’m not sure if it was the dizziness or the alcohol, but I was actually beginning to feel giddy.
“Yeah; why?” I replied with a smile; my gaze getting lost in those bright baby blues that were staring at me with something other than lust.
“It’s just; it’s been half an hour and you haven’t threatened to shiv me with a beer bottle...” He joked; yeah, actually joked, with a wide smile on his face.
And God! His face just lit up when he was being genuinely funny and not an ass; and for a split second I was hit with the almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him.
Almost uncontrollable. I reigned it in at the last minute; not trusting my tipsy brain to have that much control, at least not when it came to Billy Hargrove.
I bit my lip instead; feeling an honest to God blush spread across my cheeks.
“Shut up once in a while and it might happen more often...” I retorted, lowering my voice just enough that he could tell his joke hit right.
He just smiled, and my pulse just skipped another beat as he swept me into another spin; happy just to keep his body close to mine for the remainder of the night.
#stranger things#stranger things 2#stranger things fandom#stranger things2#fanfiction#fanfic#strangerthingsfanfiction#strangerthingsfanfic#original character#stranger things oc#strangerthings oc#jim hopper daughter#hopper daughter#Billy Hargrove#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove fanfiction#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#Nancy Wheeler
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november 30
one way or the other (or maybe neither) by @nakasomethingkun [requested by @foxsoulcourt and @sig66]
see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!
this is an absolutely amazing exploration of neil’s sexuality and what it means within the context of his and andrew’s relationship. with the best description of demisexuality i have found in a fic, everybody needs to read this immediately.
i loved this so much, not just because i’m a fan of everything you write, but because how you portrayed neil in this. so much of what you wrote is something that i can relate to and i think that’s so significant because there is so little acespec representation out there.
parts that really stuck with me:
”neil had kept mum, and when he had been asked about his opinions, he had shrugged and said, ‘they’re both pretty good-looking, i guess.’” oh, this is a big mood
”the thing is, being called gay doesn’t bother him at all, it’s just - he doesn’t think it’s something that fits him correctly” !!!
”but his sexuality hasn’t been a concern for him” i think this is interesting, mostly because i wonder if it’s like this for a lot of people who identify as acespec. i definitely felt this way, always assuming that i would understand ‘when i get older’ and then just continuing to believe that eventually i would feel like that.
”the blow of his mother’s hands and the sting of her words had pummeled any sense of curiosity out of him, but he doesn’t think she extinguished his sexual desire. he thinks that he never had any in the first place” YES! YES! EVERYBODY NEEDS TO READ THIS SENTENCES. this is so wonderful for so many reasons. it shows that his demisexuality isn’t one of the ways that his mother ‘broke him’. it demonstrates that sexuality is something intrinsic to somebody, not something that can be shaped and changed if someone tries hard enough. yes, you can ignore it or act against it, but it doesn’t change how you feel.
”the thing is, even with andrew, neil hadn’t initially thought about it in a sexual way” yeah
”and then he had realized how beautiful andrew is” this is so soft!!!
”the thing is, he can objectively tell who is pretty and who is good looking… he had a good long look at matt and nicky and a few other boys, just to see if he felt any semblance of attraction to them. he didn’t, and he still doesn’t. girls, too, he supposes, are nice to look at, but he doesn’t ever think about doing anything romantic or sexual with any of them” okay, sorry for copying basically the whole paragraph, but this is so perfect. to me, it feels like you’re really validating neil’s sexuality
”a metal tab bounces off his cheek” LOL I LOVE IT WHEN ANDREW DEMANDS NEIL’S ATTENTION
”he���s had enough of assuming a different identity and playing a fictional character, thank you very much” ohmygoodness NEIL
”andrew burrows his feet further under neil’s thighs, trying to leech off more warmth” THIS IS THE CUTEST SENTENCE THAT HAS EVER BEEN WRITTEN (also this is me in the winter anytime i sit next to someone)
”he’s still watching neil, slurping on his beer loudly, probably on purpose, because it gets neil to meet his gaze and arch an eyebrow in question” andrew likes to pretend he doesn’t care about things, but in reality, he’s so so curious and i love that neil is able to see past that haha
”neil counts it as a win; andrew can usually hold out in silence for much, much longer” andrew really cares about neil and it shows! he’s not as hesitant to hold back and expresses his opinion more often with him
”neil would have been able to keep calm if not for how andrew presses neil’s hand flat against his chest and lets go; a sign of trust. neil’s mind goes into overdrive” neil, straddling andrew: super calm, neil, being shown a sign of trust: spontaneously combusts from all the feelings
”this has become slower, much gentler - gentler than two people with so many jagged edges are supposed to be capable of” oh, this is so wonderful. i love the wording that you used
”but andrew’s heart beats steadily beneath neil’s palm, thud thud thud, and neil understands this, even if he doesn’t quite understand labels and sexual orientations and the concept of being attracted to other people” YES THIS IS WONDERFUL
”neil must have been quiet for too long, because he sees the bob of andrew’s throat as he swallows, hard, his jaw stiff” oh
”this, too, is something neil thinks about, how andrew lets him see these little shifts in his expressions, rare and almost undetectable as they are” aghhh seeing the growth in these boys? i feel like a proud mother
”suddenly curious and anxious” neil ;-;
“andrew admits, voice sedate” something about the words that you choose really guides me in how i read this sentence, i can better understand what is saying through his tone
”andrew himself isn’t unaffected; while his face remains unmoved, his hands are clenching and unclenching at neil’s sides” i don’t know, i just love it when we see andrew outwardly react to things. it’s so rare
“it’s one thing for neil to acknowledge how attuned he is to andrew and another for andrew to point it out” i love this sentence, and really the whole content of this conversation. neil is bringing up his insecurities and andrew is affirming him. saying that he believes him when so many people have denied him that. it means so much and i’m grateful for a fic that really takes the time to fully flush this out. i think that a lot of other fics ignore or only mention demiseuality in passing and that’s understandable (sometimes it’s not relevant to the plot to do more than acknowledge it and sometimes people just don’t know about the ace spectrum) but it’s so important to have this representation because there is a canonically demi character in the series!! that’s so huge
”andrew’s hand returns to his cheek, and he meets andrew’s eyes, moored” i love the word moored (or unmoored).
”the thing is, even though he likes the physical aspect of their relationship, there are times when he doesn’t like the heat tugging at the bottom of his belly, the manifestation of desire” this isn’t what my own experience is like, but it’s so interesting to see how other people feel, what kinds of experiences they have and i think this kind of knowledge is really valuable in understanding how people work and what motivates them
”if there is one thing about his mouth that he appreciates, aside from granting him the ability to verbally eviscerate his enemies” NEIL OH MY GOODNESS
”on the days that andrew can’t stand to be touched, neil is content to simply sit next to him” i feel like i’ve read things like this before, but i’ve never appreciated fully how neil’s sexuality complements andrew’s touch aversion in a way that shifts the dynamics of their relationship. andrew is allowed to be the one to initiate everything and that’s so so important to him
”i don’t understand how somebody could look at another person and say they’re hot, or that they would like to sleep with them if given the chance. it just doesn’t work that way for me” i do not think that i have ever fully related to a paragraph more than i relate to this one.
”there is a flicker in andrew’s expression, a water ripple” this is a beautiful sentence
”andrew empties out a shuddering breath. ‘it is the same for me,’ he says, so very quietly, like he is afraid… ‘i would not have done this with anybody else.’” I LOVE THIS. love the wording you used and the lack of contractions for andrew’s dialogue, it feels more impactful and changes the way that i read it. and i am so so invested in the idea of andrew being on the aro/ace spectrum, thank you for bringing this up!! (i personally think he might be demi-romantic, i can’t imagine him being able to easily form a relationship with anyone else given his intensity and his reluctance/difficulties trusting)... what are your thoughts?
having this fic review as my last one for this month feels really fitting to me. you’re definitely one of my favourite authors and i really enjoy everything that you write. in addition, you’re so so lovely and kind and sweet that i am so glad to have the chance to appreciate your writing.
this fic is intensely personal, for the characters, for you, and for me as a reader. there is so much still for me to learn, but to read this and see myself in the text, to realise that there are other people who feel the same way as i do about this topic? i can’t come close to describing how important it is, how it makes me feel. the book series is really close to my heart for many reasons, but a big one is because it introduced me to asexuality, and based on the interactions i’ve had, it has attracted many others like me. this fic is so special for me because it really articulates and clarifies neil’s sexuality in a way that the series didn’t. the insight that you provide is something i think everyone should be exposed to. it might make people more understanding and compassionate. there was a part that reminded me of something i read on aven that says “[demisexuality] is often mistaken as an admirable choice rather than an innate orientation” and i think you did such a good job explaining this in this fic.
as with all of your writing, i love your characterization, the way that you have the characters move, speak, and interact. the descriptions that you use are beautiful. i think one of my favourite things about the way that you write is that every sentence has purpose. it’s all there to do something, whether it be describing the environment, setting the tone and atmosphere, displaying characters attitudes, personalities, and behaviours, or moving the plot along. i am definitely guilty of skim-reading a lot and come across a lot of content that contains what i consider to be superfluous sentences/words. but with your writing, i am always careful that i don’t miss a thing. there are so many little details that you include that add to the overall feeling that i experience while reading, but they’re not noticeable if you aren’t looking for them. i think that takes a lot of talent, but more importantly, a lot of skill. when you are able to produce writing that comes across as effortless, but you can’t quite pinpoint why? that’s something that i think is really special. anyway, thank you so much for writing this fic!!!
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Long fics rec post is long
What better way to while away the time than fanfiction? Long fanfiction! And when I say long, I mean long, like so long it is three novels put together, how on earth did you find time to write this, so long it takes even me more than one day to read long. I'm irrationally jealous of all of these writers, as I am the type of writer who has a hard time dashing off 10,000 words in a timely fashion, let alone writing anything longer.
I'm using the SFWA's definition of a novel here, which is anythiing over 40,000 words.
These are all stories I've loved, and most of them I've actually got saved as PDFs so I can re-read them wherever I want. I'm digging pretty deep into the archives for this one, kids, so hold onto your hats.
Fandoms: Avengers/Marvel, Firefly, Inception, Leverage, Merlin, Stargate Atlantis, Star Trek AOS, Supernatural, Torchwood
Fandom: Avengers/MCU/Marvel/Whatever we're calling it these days
in deep with you darling by topaz
Author's Summary: Darcy could have, under normal circumstances, resisted the aesthetics (however awesome they are, and holy crap are they awesome), but there's an itch under her skin—apparently, nearly dying by giant, fire-breathing robots from space in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico will start you questioning your life choices. Who knew?
Main Pairing: Clint/Darcy
Words: 48024
runaways are running the night by anothercover
Author's Summary: Clint did like that the photo stayed private. He’s shit at social media, only on it because, you know, he has to be, but even Clint knew it was the kind of candid that was Instagrammable - #queen, #legend, #rawmemama, etcetera, ad nauseam, he’s pretty sure he could predict the comments before anyone actually typed them. (Bucky once said “raw me, mama?” to her with a goddamn straight face and Natasha’s expression of abject horror while she tried to work out if he meant it had made Clint laugh so fucking hard he was certain he’d ripped an organ in half. He still wants to find a way to work that story into his act, because on the one hand, people love it when he talks about his marriage, but it’s hard to find a way into it that doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of their fans, and that’s a big no-go.)
AU: Natasha's in a band, Clint is basically John Mulaney, it's great
Main Pairing: Clint/Natasha/Bucky
Words: 53873
Ready, Fire, Aim 'Verse by gyzym
Author's Summary: There's no "I" in "Avenger."
Main Pairing: Steve/Tony
Words: 63019
Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) by spitandvinegar
Author's Summary: It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.
For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.
I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.
Steve sits down hard on the steps.
Main Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Words: 107076
Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series by owlet
Author's Summary: The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect
Main Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Words: 264438
Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes
Author's Summary: Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)
"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."
Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself.
Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky
Words: 67059
Nobody Lost, Nobody Found by ClaraxBarton
Author's Summary: "Look, dude, I get it. You’re fucked-up. HYDRA fucked you up. I’ve been there. But you’re my fucking Soul Mate!"
“I can kill you. I could kill you without even realizing what I was doing. I’m not fucked-up, I’m a monster. I’m a nightmare. You can’t be here. You can’t- All the people I’ve killed- I will not murder my Soul Mate too. Not after everything else I’ve-”
Clint worked his left hand between their bodies and managed to land a punch to the man’s right side, forcing him to shift his weight, and Clint brought his right hand down on the place where the man’s metal arm met his torso - hidden by the shirt he wore, but on full display in the video Clint had watched.
The man released Clint with a grunt of pain, and Clint pressed his advantage, landing another punch to his abdomen, backing him up against the opposite side of the RV and then pressing the kitchen knife he had pocketed while cleaning up earlier to the man’s throat.
“Like I said, I’m not a Boy Scout. I’m plenty dangerous myself. We clear on that?”
OR:
This looks bad, because it is.
OR:
How Clint Barton met his Soul Mate
AU: soulmates!
Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky
Words: 108331
Ronin!Clint 'verse by shatteredhourglass
Author's Summary: “Who the fuck are you and how did you get this line?”
“I have my ways,” the voice says, amused. “Don’t worry, I’m just enjoying the view, Captain America.”
Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky
Words: 63266
Fandom: Firefly/Supernatural
Weight and Motion by sevenfists
[note: the podfic by dodificus is excellent]
Author's Summary: The pears were ripe, Kaylee told him, but Mal wouldn't eat any of them. They were a present, nestled all sweet and green in a wooden crate that a grateful passenger gave them right before they left her on Greenleaf.
AU: Crossover, Dean ends up on Serenity, just roll with it
Main Pairing: Mal/Dean
Words: 43117
Fandom: Inception
All the World is Bullet Shaped by pushdragon
Author's Summary: If Arthur thinks that, just by waving enough money around, he can get Eames to risk his life and reputation to rescue him from a death sentence, he's got another thing coming. So Eames sets a malicious, undignified price on his services, one he can be certain that a man like Arthur would never condescend to pay. It turns out to be the first of many mistakes.
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 76656
I Seem to Be a Verb by Aja
Author's Summary: Arthur owns a quirky hipster science bookstore. Eames is a world-famous mega-celebrity.
Clearly this calls for a meet-cute.
AU: Notting Hill AU
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 93837
In Medias Res by starlingthefool
Author's Summary: What's the most resilient infection? What's more infectious than a cold, deadlier than cholera? What lingers in your blood forever?
Love, of course. Mal has always known that. Her pointman Eames may dismiss her for a romantic, but for better or worse, love has gotten her this far.
AU: Mirror-verse
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Mal/Dom
Words: 52662
The Music Makers by mami_san
Author's Summary: A. Graham Cole was twenty-one years old when he was killed in action in Iraq. This is the official story. The truth is, of course, somewhat different.
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: I dunno, because it's not on AO3. But my PDF is 451KB so it's over 50k, most likely.
Presque Vu by rageprufrock
Author's Summary: Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 69588
Wherever You Will Be (That's Where I'll Call Home) [The DomesticVerse] by gyzym
Author's Summary: People you kiss in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Arthur's chest is doing. There are rules.
Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 74828
Fandom: Leverage
Psychic AU series by Laughtsalot3412
Author's Summary: He had a sniper rifle scoping the girl’s bright eyes and the guy’s smile.
AU: They all have psychic powers
Main Pairing: OT3 Eliot/Parker/Alec
Words: 89955
Fandom: Merlin
[note: look, I don't even go here. I've never watched the show. But.]
Drastically Redefining Protocol by rageprufrock
Author's Summary: In which Prince Arthur meets Merlin and all hell promptly breaks loose.
AU: Modern AU
Main Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Words: 46,059
The Student Prince by FayJay
Author's Summary: A Modern day Merlin AU set at the University of St Andrews, featuring teetotal kickboxers, secret wizards, magnificent bodyguards of various genders, irate fairies, imprisoned dragons, crumbling gothic architecture, arrogant princes, adorable engineering students, stolen gold, magical doorways, attempted assassination, drunken students, shaving foam fights, embarrassing mornings after, The Hammer Dance, duty, responsibility, friendship and true love...
AU: Modern AU
Main Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Words: 145222
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves by auburn
Author's Summary: Vala Mal Doran and her partners, renegades Jehan abd-Ba'al and Meredith McKay, hijack the Tau'ri ship Prometheus and leave the Milky Way behind in search of the Lost City of the Ancients, Atlantis.
AU: Space pirates!
Main Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 180299
The Price That Life Exacts by cathalin
Author's Summary:When John disappears without a trace during a routine mission, people in a beleaguered Atlantis eventually have to try to move on. Rodney never completely gives up hope of finding John, and though he soldiers on to help Atlantis, a year later he still lives every day with his grief.
Main Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 63369
Written By the Victors by Spreranza
Author's Summary: Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011.
Chapman, Denise. Several Kinds of Genius: The Life of Rodney McKay. NY: Harper Perennial, 2015.
Croft, Rosalind. City of Spires: A Memoir. Toronto: The Mercury Press, 2009.
Dugan, Paul. A Political History of Atlantis. Oxford: OUP, 2012.
Main Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 52843
Tongues of Men and Angels by Mad_Maudlin
Author's Summary: When SG-4 is ambushed offworld, an injured Major John Sheppard must put his trust in a Tok'ra agent named McKay to survive. But what secrets is McKay keeping about his mission, the planet, and his own motives for helping John?
AU: They didn't go to Atlantis
Main Pairing: John/Rodney
Words: 58523
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
The Least of All Possible Mistakes by rageprufrock
Author's Summary: If ever a people deserved tasering, it’s Holmeses.
Main Pairing: Lestrade/Mycroft
AU: Genderbent Lestrade
Words: 118096
Fandom: Supernatural
Red by Big Pink
[note: seriously, this is one of my favorite fics/series ever and I have the ebooks if you want to not read this on LJ or FF.net]
Author's Summary: Something evil is killing treeplanters in the forests of the Pacific Northwest, possibly the same predator that Dean narrowly escaped years before. How Grimm will things get before the brothers figure it out?
Main Pairing: none
Words: 81839
Fandom: Supernatural/Stargate Atlantis
And All the World Beneath by seperis
Author's Summary: Dean remembers Texas as blackland stretching in marker-thick strips of vivid brown and black, broken with the sprawling metroplexes of Dallas and San Antonio and Houston; farms spread with the yellow tops of maize waving in pre-autumn winds, threshers moving complacently through the fields with drowsy men in hats waving at the road. He remembers green and gold fields dotted with cows, half-year calves running on the outskirts of the herds. He remembers these were what he saw between jobs, lives being lived that had nothing to do with creeping twilight and sleeping only behind salt circles and ritual wards.
AU: Cthulhu mythos
Main Pairing: Dean/John, John/Rodney
Words: 67279
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Leave No Soul Behind by whochick
Author's Summary: If you're Starfleet, you spend your whole life wishing you never see an EPAS uniform right up until the moment they become your only hope. Whether you're dying a slow, cold death in space, or a long painful one on some godforsaken planet, they're going to come for you. So count your last breaths, son, and hold on tight. They leave no soul behind.
AU: Spock did not join Starfleet, he joined the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service (EPAS)
Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Words: 258951
The Lotus Eaters by aldora89
Author's Summary: Stranded on the planet Sigma Nox while searching for a missing away team, Spock and Kirk find themselves pitted against a disturbing native life form. With the captain out of commission on a regular basis and Spock struggling to preserve his stoicism, staying alive is difficult enough – but when a slim chance for escape surfaces, their resolve is truly put to the test. Together they must fight for survival in the heart of an alien jungle, and in the process, uncover the mystery of the planet’s past.
Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Words: 93594
Only Good for Legends by leupagus
Author's Summary: Detective Spock, born on Vulcan and resident of San Francisco, is assigned to the Midwest police bureau. I think everyone can guess what happens next.
AU: Spock is a Detective. Otherwise it's pretty much the same, including Kirk's petty criminal tendencies.
Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Words: 149640
So Wise We Grow by Deastar
Author's Summary: "Commander Spock, we have located your son," the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock's face that he's never heard of this kid before in his life. "If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week."
AU: kidfic
Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Words: 81248
Switch by Ceres_Libera
Author's Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Main Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Words: 230867
Fandom: Torchwood
The Rose of Jericho by kaydeefalls
Author's Summary: Post-CoE. When Martha Jones encounters a dark UNIT cover-up in the wake of the 456, it's up to Gwen's new Torchwood team to bring the truth to light -- and save Ianto.
AU: alternate ending post Children of Earth
Main Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Words: 62606
That should keep you busy for a while, right? If you have other long fic recs, let me know in the comments/with a reblog!
#fic recs#long post is long#fanfiction#fanfic#avengers#marvel#mcu#firefly#inception#leverage#merlin#stargate atlantis#star trek#star trek reboot#star trek aos#supernatural#torchwood
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Memento Mori
Memento Mori: a reminder of mortality.
(Or in which Draxum attempts to be emotionally supportive for Recruit despite having looming omens of mortality.)
The Foot Clan’s research in quest of the Dark Armor led them to a secluded remnant of yokai land on the surface. What was once a very well maintained hedge labyrinth had become overgrown and easy to miss through the bramble and trees that had risen from the earth. Their branches grew over the hedgerow, shading the path and making it impossible to see the other side. The labyrinth itself looked more looming and threatening than it had ever been. Draxum remembered seeing the labyrinth a few times all those years ago, prim and pristine, and never again wished to venture in for good reason. Behind the clean-cut edges of branches and leaves and golden glint of sun off leaves lay a threat.
“So…how literal is the name “Labyrinth of Souls?” Jocelynn asked, visibly a little put off. She, Recruit, and a few others were with him at the labyrinth’s entrance. Despite Recruit’s absolute hatred of her, which Draxum understood fundamentally, she was one of only five recruits Draxum deemed suitable enough to handle the labyrinth and procure the armor piece. “They said the translation was a bit literal but is it? Could it just be…a poetic device?”
Draxum refrained from rolling his eyes - the original yokai name was much better and fitting but didn’t translate well, admittedly. “No, it is literal. The generation that named it was known for its less figurative language.”
Before Jocelynn could continue her growing line of questioning, Recruit cut in with her own. “What exactly do you mean by ‘literal’? What are we going to face in here?”
“The maze is called “the Labyrinth of Souls” for good reason,” Draxum began. “It’s haunted.”
“Haunted? What the-” another recruit began to prattle. “I did not sign up for ghosts! I ain’t Scooby-Doo!”
“Your reference is lost on me, and additionally I don’t care,” Draxum said. “Now if I may continue without any more outbursts…the labyrinth is haunted. It simply became that way a very long time ago.”
“Ghosts just don’t come from thin air! What if the labyrinth is magic and killed whoever cheated?” a second nameless recruit added. Draxum stared at them harshly, and Recruit joined him, and they shrank back behind Jocelynn.
“The labyrinth is magic, yes, but the most it does send you back to the beginning if you do cheat,” Draxum continued. “It changes its shape every so often as well, every thirty minutes. To get to the center where the armor is, you all will need to go quickly. Do not separate. Do not cheat. Do not engage with whatever you see.”
“Permission to speak!” Recruit said. Draxum nodded. “Is there any more information on the ghost? It will be relevant.”
Draxum paused. “Do not look at it, and do not let it see you. Whatever the spirit is, because it isn’t a ghost, technically, it can and will try to manipulate you to turn and run, either getting lost in or leaving the labyrinth. As I said, you have thirty minutes to get to the center. From there, the labyrinth will allow you passage out. Understood?”
The recruits snapped into a tight line and saluted. Recruit quickly took the lead of the other four, and they ran into the labyrinth. Draxum watched as they disappeared into the unknown, and stood watching and listening. Huginn and Muninn began to place bets on who would run out screaming first with a few laughs. Draxum ignored them, his attention solely on the passing minutes and the screaming sound of silence, trying to keep his mind away from the times he had gone in - times brought on by a goading dare or from desperation to see faces he missed. He forced the memories down deep, kept himself in the present.
The thirty minutes were up, and the labyrinth began to twist. The entrance stayed the same, but the labyrinth began to echo and groan as it rearranged itself, like old bones forcing themselves to bend and creak. They should have been out by then. Another few minutes passed, Draxum allowing for some benefit of the doubt. When there still wasn’t any sign of them, Draxum brushed the gargoyles off his shoulders. “I’m going in after them. Do not leave this spot. I can at least follow a time constraint.”
“Bye boss!”
“Don’t die!”
Whether or not Draxum paid attention to them was of little relevance as Draxum entered the hedgerow. Skeletal branches jutted out from the green, almost grabbing at him as he made his way into the depths, listening and keeping an eye out for his recruits. The path twisted, breaking into different directions, never once repeating the same design. There were no clues of traces of any of the recruits, forcing Draxum to act solely on instinct alone. He ignored the sound of the wind echoing around him - it sounded like a funeral wail and march all at once, and he didn’t wish to verify the source be it wind or otherwise, not yet. As he turned past corners and through little clearings that may have once been pleasant little hideaways with their gazebos and benches, Draxum’s mind went back centuries - he told himself it was to help make sense of the maze. He didn’t have any more time or patience for being sentimental, only for objective facts.
Objective facts from his memory: the ghost, spirit, what have you was the only one. The form it took was an impression of your most vulnerable memory and meant to scare you. It wasn’t a true shade, only an excellent, harrowing mimicry. Find and follow it to the other people in your group. From these, he had the outline of how to cheat the maze without being sent to the lonesome entrance and forced to begin again. Up ahead, he saw a film of fog slip away behind a corner. There was his quarry, and he bolted, gunning straight towards the specter. He slid around the corner, narrowly avoiding tripping over exposed, neglected roots, long forgotten in their overgrowth. Draxum found himself in another one of those little gazebo hideaways, the flowers overgrown and choking on themselves and the sweet smell of floral rot.
And the ghost stared at him. It stood in front of him, unmoving and eyes blank, blinking sedately every so often. It made no sound of anguish or heartbreak, made no move to reach him. Draxum stared back. It was all he could do, despite the pit of horror in his gut. He straightened his posture, squaring his chin. The ghost mirrored him then, its one and only movement.
“You are not real,” Draxum said coldly. The ghost made no response, only disappearing into the ether. It’s only a hint of a presence was a curling trail of smoke that almost dissipated into the ground before moving out of the clearing. Draxum stood still for a moment, trying in vain to make sense of what he saw, before running to follow it through the maze. It proved difficult, only having a trail of smoke that just escaped from the corner of his eye. It almost felt like he was being led in circles! It was senseless! It was mad!
It was the nature of the maze.
The specter evaded Draxum, shaking him off its tail as the path forked in three directions. Draxum snarled and angrily snapped a dead branch from one of the walls. Three choices laid ahead, and he despised guessing games. A hint, at the very least, came in the form of a distressed shout, coming from the left. He couldn’t tell which recruit it came from, not that it mattered as he followed the sound. As he approached an intersection in the path, a parallel sound of footsteps came running towards the center, towards him. Draxum barely came to a stop when Recruit nearly collided with him. She let out a yelp, immediately going into the offense before recognizing that it was just him. Her hands balled into fists in an instant and she struck at his chest, adrenaline flashing out in a fight response. Draxum was quick to grab her wrists.
“Recruit! Stop!” Draxum barked, finally getting a look at her face. Recruit’s eyes were wide, but he couldn’t read if it was horror, distress or adrenaline or some mix of the three. Her fists were still clenched, just as tightly as her jaw was. He could feel her heartbeat race against his palms, frantic, and it was hard to ignore the full body tremor. Whatever she had seen had been bad. Recruit’s pallid face twinged, her lower lip tucked under her teeth, and suddenly her head dropped and her shoulders slumped. Her fists were still clenched, but Draxum loosened his grip as the top of her head leaned into his chest. He knew she was upset. She, for all her bravado and fearlessness, wore her emotions on her sleeve - her pride, her joy, her anger, and now her fear and distress. He knew she needed comfort.
Draxum was at a loss for what to do.
Giving her what she needed back at the Botanical Gardens was easy. External confidence in her abilities, belief that she was more than capable of retrieving the armor piece, all easily given with an action and a sentence - besides, it all fell into place with his overall plan that night. This was different. While Draxum understood what and why she felt the way she did, he didn’t know the right words to say, the right actions to do. He wasn’t like Lieutenant or Brute and he wasn’t like Lou, and copying any of them would be disingenuous. There was little he could think of doing that could even be in the realm of possibility for him.
Recruit let out a breath that shuddered, snapping him out of his head.
So, in all his loss, he stood still but loosened his grip on her wrists so she could relax them at her sides. Her head was still pressed on his chest and he couldn’t see her face at all. Draxum reasoned that it was for the best that he didn’t, at least not until she had calmed herself down. Recruit’s own pride wouldn’t let her be seen too vulnerable, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. She was already down enough as it was. Cautiously, he placed his hands on her shoulders, not pushing her away but just to brace her.
“Hush,” Draxum said, softly. It was the only thing he could think to say. He knew it wouldn’t help, save to maybe offer some noise to the silence. It was neither an order or a suggestion, just a sound. They stood like that for a few moments, ignoring the rasp of the wind and a creak of the vines. Eventually, Recruit’s breathing evened out, and she stopped shaking. Roughly, she cleared her throat and stepped back, putting distance between the two of them.
“Apologies,” she said gruffly, raising her face mask over her mouth and nose. Draxum nodded, knowing that this would never come up again. “We need to locate the other four. Three of them got spooked and ran off, and Jocelynn and I were separated by the maze while trying to find them.”
“The sooner the better,” Draxum replied. “We’ve spent long enough in here as it is.”
And with that, they began to quickly navigate the labyrinth, although Draxum did notice Recruit keeping behind him instead of trying to keep pace. Like before, it wouldn’t be brought up unless it became a habit - something Draxum doubted. Before long they caught the spirit’s trail again, following it to the sound of startled cries and footsteps. They found Jocelynn first, shaking more than a leaf and rambling about her grandmother. Recruit barely relished the chance to snap Jocelynn out of it with a quick jab to the side. The next two recruits were found together in an almost comedic huddle. One of them repeated that, once again, he was not “Scooby-Doo,” and once again Draxum didn’t care. The last one they found closer to the center. They were unnervingly calm, simply stating that they wanted to go home, wanted out of the Foot Clan, and wanted to apologize to their mother.
“Only after we get the armor piece,” Draxum stipulated. The recruit only nodded and fell in line with the other four. “This time, no separating, understood?”
It was understood and laid unquestioned as they ran through the rest of the maze, ignoring the wind creeping and wailing at their backs as though begging them to turn and look behind them. They ignored the whispers of gray fog and smoke that curled in the corner of their eyes through gritted teeth and clenched jaws as vines and branches grabbed at them from the depths of green leaves. Ignored and run past even as it all seemed to grow more and more frequent until-
It all stopped and went silent and still. They had reached the center of the maze, Draxum realized. The whatever spirit that ran rampant there no longer had reason to go after them. The center was nearly a perfect circle, save for the solitary entrance. In the middle was a small marble fountain, once grand and bubbling with water, now crumbling and choked with dead and decaying leaves. Water sat stagnant with nary a ripple to mar its mirror-like surface. Equally choked, covered with vines and debris, was the piece of armor on the top tier, standing as a former, glittering centerpiece. Ominously, the maze changed behind them, with all its creaking, snapping branches. They had made it by a hair.
The recruits, naturally, stepped closer to Draxum at the sound, with only Recruit finally going to Draxum’s side. He hoped she was getting over the earlier incident. Much like in the Botanical Garden, he gestured to the armor piece with a nod of approval. He just saw the twinge of a smile or something similar on her face before she lept on top of the fountain, snatching the piece from its resting place.
They returned to the entrance and, just as quickly, back safely to New York. One recruit did as he said and quit, leaving his gi and alliance at the door. Jocelynn and the other two lingered around the lair before heading to their respective homes. Recruit promptly handed the armor piece to Draxum, lowering her mask.
“About…earlier, I swear to never show weakness like that again,” Recruit stated. “I’m not a child. What I saw-”
“Is of no importance. It wasn’t real,” Draxum cut in. “I don’t need to know. However, what I do know is that you are capable of handling things like this and even greater. Unlike the other recruits, you snapped back quicker from the experience.”
Recruit straightened up at the praise, whatever trace of nerves gone. Relief and pride replaced them. She nodded her head. “Thank you, Draxum.”
He nodded in return. “Go rest, Recruit. I have things from here.”
Draxum turned to face the armor, walking up the stairs. The armor piece seemed to grow warm in his hand as it grew closer to its proper place and home, nearly snapping from his hand to join the rest. Now he could relax, albeit momentarily, and let himself think about what had happened in the maze.
The first time he stepped foot in there was on a dare from Big Mama before she was Big Mama and back during the brief few decades they actually liked each other. He dared her back, and neither made it far. He couldn’t even remember what the maze’s sole inhabitant had taken the form of, just that it frightened the both of them, probably a dead relative back when the concept of death was still new and frightening. The second was a few centuries after yokai had been forced down below, and he was desperate to see faces long since passed. The forms the spirit took weren’t what he expected, instead finding twisted death masks of the dead pleading with him. Like the first time, he didn’t make to the center, nor did he even plan to. The last time had been thirteen years ago and for the same reasons as the second. A last-ditch, desperate plea to see Lou’s face again, even if it was contorted by anger and rage. He only stayed long enough to see that and then he turned and left.
All the forms were were last memories of those departed and those long since dead - or in Lou’s case, presumed dead. A clever ploy to frighten maze-goers into leaving or confronting some twisted idea of mortality. Draxum thought he understood it, the mechanisms of the spirit and the maze, just like he did with alchemy or battle.
What he couldn’t understand is why the spirit became his mirror image, without a flaw marring the surface. And that was what frightened him.
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after all sh*t that happened in the manga do you still believe ymir is alive? because it's kinda hard to believe it anymore
According to the past two years of my life interacting with people, it was hard to believe in the first place.
Meanwhile, here we stand.
In a post-Porco world.
Yeah, I think Ymir is alive.
Worse than that, the past month has led me to decide that Ymir is NPC Farmer Guy. We aren’t just in casual, ‘hey this seems odd,’ theory territory anymore. We’re popping wheelies on tin hats.
Even worse than that, Ymir being NPC Farmer Guy is directly tied into how Historia is actually hiding Eren’s leg stitched to her stomach, and in the coming chapters Ymir is going to discover Hange and Levi and bring them back to the house only to discover thunder and lightning very very frightening bursting out of Historia Alien-style, and that’s how Eren accesses his extra life.
You might ask why. Not as a question, simply as a statement in response to that collection of words. You feel the word in your soul, and it goes far beyond what any explanation could offer.
Allow me to provide an explanation.
Our story begins with Ymir being pronounced dead after consenting to provide her life to Marley, the government entity responsible for stoning her and turning her into a titan for decades.
She volunteered for this? We hear the person who ostensibly ate her asking.
Absotively, comes the answer from the person whose life she saves twice over with this decision. In payment I have delivered a letter. All is well, and my guilt complex shall not touch upon the eaves of trauma I ought to have delivered upon mine own shoulders.
In the midst of ocean, reading that letter, the object of its love holds the parchment aloft, and proclaims softly, with feeling, is this to be the end of this fuckery? Where is the rest?
The omniscient plot, moving on from such petty concerns, pronounces her pregnant in sheer defiance of her entire arc revolving around breaking damaging cycles, and declares that enough of that.
Anguished and enraged, the inheritor of the Jaws our dear volunteer crossed paths with
dies without the fact that he ate the friend of the people he’s attacking ever being a blip on anyone’s radar even a little.
I’ll stop now, because as much fun as this is, I can’t keep up that style very long, and every once in a while someone who hasn’t heard me rant about this comes along, and I do try to be like. helpful.
The basic point is that Ymir’s death is strange. You have a character whose primary motivation is to fuck fate and fuck a pretty girl (and fuck suicide too), and she consents to die. She consents to die in a way that gives her enemies power. She consents to die to save the lives of two boys who will continue to receive nothing but abuse from being alive in the system they’re trapped in.
Ymir does not save Reiner and Bertolt. She rescues them from titans, but helping them go back to Marley is not a rescue in any sense of the word.
People are killed in unsatisfactory ways all the time in this series.
That is very different from agreeing to it.
Ymir receives nothing for her trouble. Reiner delivers a letter for her that only needs to be delivered because she’s in Marley’s clutches, and he nearly dies before he manages that. Bertolt does die in that same battle.
There is no functional purpose to Ymir’s death. Past delivering her letter, Reiner thinks about her sacrifice once. When Galliard brings it up. Guilt over other things drives him, but not over her. He and Bertolt are depicted as grateful, and obligated to honor her wishes, but they are not conflicted over whatever became of her.
Her death’s greatest influence on the plot is that Galliard has the Jaw Titan.
Which basically means nothing. He’s dead. Family memories, and the memories of the most recent holder, pass on best for most Shifters. Falco has neither link to Ymir. She’s just another dead random, without even the chance for the angst of her friends doing battle with the person who ate her.
The function of Ymir going with Reiner and Bertolt is that Marley has an extra Titan to play with, and Ymir is removed from the plot.
War Hammer explicitly establishes that the writing was down for inventing a new Titan for Marley to play with. What, then, is the effect of Ymir exiting the plot?
Her letter provides motivation for Reiner in RTS, but past that, anyone could have eaten Porco’s brother and been later fed to him. As an individual character, Ymir being the participant provides nothing, except the question of why someone who is so aggressively against suicide would agree to die for a cause she has no reason to ally herself to.
No one mentions her. She comes up in Eren’s flashbacks of her conversation with Bertolt, but no one outside of Porco (once) (in the scene implying her death) talks about Ymir.
Much in the way that a grand total of zero of Historia’s friends think about her pregnancy, but we’re not going there because this post is exhaustive enough as it is.
As a character, she might as well not exist. In fact, if she didn’t exist, Historia’s arc would be much simpler. Historia wouldn’t be pushed to find her own motivations and cause, and going along with everyone wanting her to bear children for the sake of her kingdom’s future could slide along the excuse of Krista being too close to her heart to let go of.
In theory though, she exists. So where are her contributions?
Historia.
She exists in the heart of Historia’s arc.
The arc which, by all implications presented, is in shambles.
Her eyes are dead, and she’s stated to be pregnant. She stares at the stated father with no interest, edging on despair, while the myth that theirs is a love story is passed to the higher brass.
Historia protects kids. Giving up her autonomy so that a child can bear the burden of her generation’s failures is such a strong violation of her character development that any justification for it would have to be a few chapters long to even approach counting as honest development.
Both Ymir and Historia’s arcs, as they stand, appear to be precise counters of everything they want. Which can be effective, but the story is asking the audience to accept a narrative where these characters abruptly turn their backs on their beliefs, and how sad it is, oh well, nothing to be done. Isn’t it tragic.
I think that’s about the stupidest waste of time I’ve ever been asked to consider a legitimate use of story.
I am not, in any way, kidding when I say that I think Historia’s arc, if this is where she’s intended to land, works better without ever having Ymir involved. Keep Historia in her overwhelmed depression with her need to please people, and this outcome still sucks, but it doesn’t betray anything fundamental about the character.
I also believe, if Ymir is dead and done contributing, her character is an empty cutout existing for nothing except the progression of the plot, serving the need of certain characters to survive rather than a character’s internal desires.
“You’re going to kill yourself, the ultimate act of submission. Is that how much you want to please the people who treated you like a nuisance?! Why are you trying to hurt yourself?! If your will is that strong… then shouldn’t you be able to change your fate?!”
A character who says this consenting to die, granting her tormentors a powerful weapon against the people she loves, is an egregious violation of character.
There isn’t enough time (any) showcasing that change for it to be tragic. There is no reason for it except that she’s written to make that choice.
Isayama does not write his characters that way. Whatever horrible things happen to them, there is always something you can point to that provides a clear explanation. When there isn’t, we have Eren, where we all look at him and think, “good golly gee this is fucked up, can’t wait to hear why.”
We trust, when things don’t make sense, for there to be a why.
In-universe, the only reactions we have to Ymir’s death are, “uh. are we. sure that’s all? no one finds this strange?”
Historia looks at her letter and asks if that’s it.
Galliard looks at his new memories and asks about her volunteering.
Reiner says yep and goes about the rest of his miserable life.
Nothing to see here.
Sure, the only two people who mention it are left with proverbial question marks about their heads, but there is absolutely no reason to think that anything other than what we said happened happened.
None whatsoever.
So that’s step one.
Accepting that Ymir’s death is fucking weird.
Step two is presenting a plausible escape.
Also known as presenting the jackass known as Zeke, known expert in magically getting away with conning people into doing what he wants by figuring out what they want.
Zeke knows, by RTS, that the Reiss line is royalty. Reiner and Bertolt deliver to him a girl who writes a love letter to the last living member of that line.
(That girl is mysteriously missing from Reiner and Bertolt’s reunion with Zeke. Bertolt’s dead, and he’s everywhere in flashbacks, because it makes sense for him to be there. Ymir, in a scene she definitely existed in, based on canon, is nowhere to be spotted, even in a passing mention.)
Ymir and Zeke are in the same place at the same time. There’s room for conversation. There’s room to find out what they’re after.
Ymir wants freedom. She can’t ever really have it, tied down to the Jaw Titan, but she wants a life beholden to no one. Plus Historia.
Short of keeping her sedated for the whole trip, turning her death back into a murder, Ymir’s going to have opportunities to escape. She put in some nice face time for Reiner and Bertolt’s sake, so they get to live, but now she can skedaddle.
But okay, what if she doesn’t have to?
Zeke presents it very easily. When Reiner and Bertolt watch her sign her life away, it’s with solemnity, but a confidence that isn’t their job to save her from.
What if there’s a way to free herself from the Jaw Titan’s limitations?
It’s that drug of hope that dreamers like Ymir can’t quite let go of.
It’s that drug of another pawn on his side that Zeke knows better than to abandon.
The Queen of Paradis has no reason to bargain with him. As a matter of fact, even in the future, their links are downplayed. Eren does not tell his older brother that the other living member of the Eldian royal line is a personal friend. He says “something” happened to unlock his memories.
Ymir gives Zeke a bargaining chip.
Zeke gives Ymir a shot at a life free from all of this.
Spinal fluid transfers aren’t convenient (biting a person’s head off is just plain easier), but Porco can be under his control. Failing that, he has his Volunteers with a vested interest in keeping their hostage alive. They’re willing to try to keep her alive. Is Ymir?
Then Ymir’s memories transfer to Galliard in the process, and that’s just perfect, because that doesn’t just give them a hostage; they have a compliant hostage.
“Hang out with this girl on a farm for a year, then we could not care less about what you do.”
My original version of this theory brought up photos, and that’s still an awesome thing to use, but you know what’s better? Dangling Ymir right in front of Historia, showing her exactly what’s what, and putting an amnesiac Ymir in a position she’s fine agreeing to for now; make sure the girl’s pregnancy (or ‘pregnancy’–the Yeagerists being in on this could go either way) goes smoothly, and don’t let her out of your sight.
Historia won’t want to leave Ymir. Ymir won’t remember why. She won’t really be the same person.
(The old Ymir would have know this. One more reason to leave her backstory in a letter. Historia’s a kind idiot. She’ll try to bring her back, even if it doesn’t make sense.)
Then at the same time you’ve got Eren being in way over his head, and he’s aware enough of Historia’s situation that he figures there’s a way for them to leverage this a little. He’s going to be doing some really stupid stuff, and he could really, really use a save point, and Historia needs to look like she has some extra flesh under her shirt anyway, so it’s not like this really changes her life quality for the near future…
(None of Eren’s friends are happy with Eren, but Historia was probably unhappiest first.)
Cutting off that style now.
I really don’t know why Eren’s amputated leg getting stitched to Historia’s stomach would make any kind of sense to anyone thinking any kind of clearly, but no one’s thinking very clearly in canon, so I don’t have to know yet the logic of how the individuals get to certain spots.
In other words we’re leaving Watsonian for Doylist again.
The concepts of this are really very basic. Eren’s as dead as Zeke was when that titan found him. There’s precedent for using another living being as an incubator. Titans are Eldians. Historia’s Eldian. Founding Titan + royal blood can probably stretch that deus ex machina a bit further.
That would give a reason for Historia to keep up the pregnancy look; she really does have something vital under there (her actually having a kid adds. it really adds absolutely nothing to the story. it doesn’t.).
Then we have NPC Farmer Guy. All we know about him is that he feels like he owes Historia. Getting him to provide a lovely backstory, then shipping him off far away, is pretty dang simple. He owes her.
Ymir’s just here because a bunch of people told her they would kill her if she didn’t play house with a hot pregnant girl for a year. The hair dye is weird, but so are the death threats and how much this royal babe seems to hate her.
It is at this stage of the post where I look at all of this and think this has got to be the most ridiculous crack I have ever deigned to put in a post, so I think I’m just going to present this in the way I thought of it, without trying to reverse engineer it into sense.
Right now, Eren’s dead, unless he’s not, and about to revive. That doesn’t really change the Ymir of this all, so it’s incredibly not relevant, but damn it guys, I can make all these threads dance together.
If his body’s fucked, traveling along Paths to get him out of the disastrous battlefield he’s landed himself in is a valid option.
The only other place any plot could conceivably be happening is with Hange and Levi. Who are out in the wilderness.
So okay, here’s the idea, right?
Eren vanishes from Shiganshina.
Chaos.
Hange and Levi are rescued by the shadow of NPC Farmer Guy, and brought back to the house. Historia helps, Levi bleeding all over the place, when suddenly, lightning stomach shocks.
Alien scene commences.
The audience asks why in the fuck we’re being subjected to this.
The answer is laughter.
But at the end of it all, suddenly, you’ve got room for plot that isn’t just Shiganshina being full of titans. again.
You have Eren in the same room with a benign presence with royal blood. You have the Commander of the Survey Corps staring down at both of them. You have very clear evidence that lies have been sprouting freely from everyone, and you’re in an isolated house in the middle of nowhere. There’s no reason to keep the secrets going. Anyone who argues there is will probably find themselves with another bullet through their head.
Then in the corner, you have Ymir, who is evidence that people can survive passing on their Titan. With Hange, leading research specialist of Paradis, sitting right there.
All of Paradis’ legitimate authority in one room, secrets unveiled, and time demanding that they all hurry the fuck up and do something about this.
Solution?
Founding Titan.
Second solution?
Founding Titan magic to wake up Annie so she and Historia can trade places so Eren can make the Founding Titan go zoom zoom.
Complications?
Eren still doesn’t tell anyone why the fuck all of this is necessary.
We’re getting off task.
Anyway, that’s the whole mad theory, but the reason why Ymir has been assigned NPC Farmer Guy’s position is very simple.
The assumption here is that she’s alive, and a hostage.
She’s a very boring hostage if she’s nowhere she can interact with the situation.
NPC Farmer Guy’s face is hidden the one time we see him in the present.
Either it’s just a dramatic cue that means nothing, or there is something about that face that has deeper implications. For the purposes of me going absolutely berserk with nothing to feed my brain on, my current theory is that his face is hidden because it isn’t NPC Farmer Guy at all.
There’s either a Reveal there or not, and if there is one, and Ymir’s alive, why the fuck not?
We keep hearing the story’s ending. This is the time to consolidate plot details, not spread them out further. All of this combined gets a rogue team of operatives with legitimate power, a serious scientific discovery with massive implications for their future, deep emotional strife between every member, and a time crunch they’ve got to fight while all their friends are trying not to die.
You can tell me I’m on crack, but you can’t tell me crazier things haven’t happened in canon, and you can’t tell me this wouldn’t be a fucking blast.
.
.
.
Is any part of you glad you asked, anon?
This will be pried from my cold dead fingers.
Thank you all for your time.
(Remember when this theory was less drugs?)
#Shingeki no Kyojin#Historia Reiss#Ymir#attack on asks#you don't need to be dead to haunt someone#tl;dr
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Thanks, man. Definitely agree with you. The novels really drove home the point that Vanitas was a sad, tormented character. I wish he’d gotten more of a satisfying resolution, too. Like his pain being acknowledged and then going back to Ventus. I will never forgive Disney and Square for how badly the story got butchered because now I cannot move on with my fucking life. I wanna know what was going to happen SO badly, LOL.
I could not BELIEVE that KH3 was trying to pass Saïx off as a normal dude (as far as Nobodies go) on the same level as Axel, and that he just fell of the right path in the process of looking for some girl. Um, no. That explanation might work for casual fans, but for hardcore fans who were paying the slightest bit of attention and especially the ones who followed every detail, it’s unmitigated bullshit. How are they just gonna have Isa show up and play frisbee and eat ice cream at the end without distancing him from his Saïx persona?
Roxas was fast asleep in his bed, alone—until two other figures stepped into the room.
“Naminé must have begun her work,” said Saïx, observing Roxas’s slack face. Beside him, Xemnas was doing the same.
Whatever was happening at Castle Oblivion, no intelligence had come beyond the news of a termination. It was enough to arouse suspicion that the lack of communication was deliberate. At this point, Saïx and Xemnas had no choice but to put faith in Axel’s efforts there.
“Will he wake from this?” Xemnas asked.
“I am told he will,” said Saïx, “provided she strips the hero of all his memories.”
“Then much hinges on the affairs at Castle Oblivion,” Xemnas murmured, as if to remind himself, and looked at Saïx again.
But it’s not even just that. There were so many other things about Saïx that were left a complete mystery. Just countless little things I noticed. Ever since I beat KH3 I’ve been obsessed with figuring out what his deal REALLY was, because it was so interesting and now we’re never going to find out what it was. You know, I always fucking wondered…WHO told him this about Roxas’ condition? The novel went out of its way to describe that communication from Castle Oblivion had been halted. This scene takes place on Day 27 ~The Dark Margin~.
“Xion has gained power over the Keyblade, as we intended,” Saïx reported dispassionately. “She can fill Roxas’s role in collecting hearts for the time being.”
If number 14 could wield the Keyblade, the mysterious slumber that had seized Roxas would not pose a problem. They observed him in silence for a few moments, until Saïx turned toward the door.
“And the chamber?” Xemnas asked, halting him. “Have you found it?”
This was a crucial inquiry, deeply connected to the existence of Castle Oblivion itself. He had not, however, found the room in question.
“No, sir. I would say progress is slow…if we were making any to speak of.” With that, Saïx sedately walked out, leaving Xemnas alone with the sleeping Roxas.
Xemnas stared down at the boy. “So sleep has taken you yet again…” If the words had reached Roxas in his dreams, the boy gave no indication.
This is when Roxas dreams about being on the beach and Xemnas touches his shoulder and calls him, “Sora”. I think Saïx was talking to the voices again here, too. And I think that’s the only reason that he is so valued by Xemnas and became his right-hand man. He is receiving communication from the Dark Realm.
Xemnas’s motivations for planting these things were still more unclear. At some point, he had mentioned complementary memories that would fill in the gaps and perfect Xion—or Roxas. It made sense that they would be able to garner more hearts with a perfected Keyblade wielder. But was that really what he was after?
Saïx couldn’t fathom what Xemnas’s true objective might be.
“Sora or Xion—it matters not. But we need one of them under our control. Bear that in mind.”
Saïx nodded, and a serene smile came to Xemnas’s face.
If that smile meant anything, it was beyond him.
I definitely think Saïx has Multiple Personality Disorder (aka Dissociative Identity Disorder).
“You and Xion will be working together on your next mission,” said Saïx.
“Well, thank you, sir, for coming all this way to tell me.” Axel went to the mirror and started to fix his hair. Saïx glared at Axel’s reflection, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
“We’ll also need you to go back to Castle Oblivion.” Axel turned to look at him directly, his lip curling. “We? So that came from our fearless leader, did it?” Saïx, of course, didn’t answer that.
“The castle hasn’t given up all its secrets. And there is one in particular that Lord Xemnas—”
“You mean that chamber again?” Axel interrupted, turning back to the mirror.
“We turned the place inside out and upside down. If it’s there, we’re not gonna find it by just looking.”
Because there’s one side of him that genuinely wants to figure out Xemnas’ true goal and is conspiring with Axel. But there’s another side of him that seems like he knows exactly what is going on. It really confused me when I played this game again recently. I think sometimes Saïx is talking as a Nort with Isa’s human memories who is genuinely clueless about Xemnas. And other times, I think it’s the “demon” or whatever that is speaking through him.
“We have but one objective,” said Xemnas. “Be sure to keep that in mind.”
Saïx looked up at him.
“Don’t let Xion out of your sight. Watch her and you will come to understand the Keyblade master.”
Having issued the day’s final order, Xemnas vanished on the spot.
I think Saïx sometimes switches alters when he looks up or down. And eye fluttering is a common symptom of alter switching. He looks up when he’s in the “demon” mode. And he looks down when he goes back to “normal” (not that Saïx could ever really be called normal, but ya know…).
Leaning against the wall with folded arms was his once-upon-a-time best friend—Saïx—probably waiting for him. But Saïx was keeping his gaze fixed on an imaginary point below the floor.
“You’re sure things are better this way?” Axel wondered aloud.
Finally, Saïx looked up. “I never expected you to question it.”
He was looking down when Axel approached him. His gaze was fixated on an imaginary point on the floor. It’s like he was hypnotically programmed to wait there for Axel and was just staring like a zombie until he arrived. When he looked up “they” were talking, instead of Saïx.
In the Round Room, Saïx looked up at Xemnas high above. “Are you sure we’re dealing with Xion and Roxas the right way?”
His tone was markedly different from usual, as if he spoke to an old friend rather than a superior.
“Our plan seemed like a failure at this point, but then it occurred to me. Xion is keeping Sora’s memories trapped by claiming them as her own.”
He looked up and spoke with Xemans like an old friend. Much different than he normally acts. Then Xemnas discussed “our plan”.
“That gadfly? See that he stays away from Roxas. He only poses a threat if his buzzing reaches Xion’s ears.”
That was an order, and Saïx politely bowed his head. “Then we shall return to our original plan.”
As he kept his head low in obeisance, Xemnas couldn’t see his bitter approximation of a smile. Back to the original plan. No room for hesitation.
Isn’t that right, Lea?
But when he lowered his head afterwards, he started thinking like his normal self—someone who had Isa’s memories and was conspiring with Lea against Xemnas.
The aforementioned “novice”—Saïx, the lowest ranked of those present—didn’t even glance up from the dais.
It’s really weird.
Alone in the Round Room, Saïx raised his eyes to the high domed ceiling.
All they needed was Sora’s power. Everything was proceeding as anticipated. If Xemnas’s plan remained unchanged, then so would his. Still, Saïx saw a potential wrench in the works—Axel and his patently obvious doubts. It might have been a mistake to let him get so close to Roxas and Xion.
Saïx let out a rather human sigh and vanished from the room.
During this scene, he does it. And Saïx is said to sigh very much like a “human” a LOT.
“Turn great hearts into Heartless and let Sora defeat them.”
Saïx raised his head at that.
“And you know where to find suitably substantial hearts, I trust?” Xemnas went on.
The other three nodded.
“Change a great heart into a Heartless, and you might end up with an extra-useful Nobody. Leave it to our fearless leader to figure out how to replenish our personnel,” Xigbar remarked with a nasty grin.
“Again, everything is proceeding according to plan,” said Xemnas. “Do not let anything interfere.” With that, he stood up and summarily disappeared.
He raised his head when Xemnas mentioned “great hearts” in KH2. I think he switched alters at that moment. In KH2FM+, Xemnas praised his ability to plant seeds of doubt (just like him), then Saïx lowered his head. And afterward, he sounded genuinely concerned about Axel when he asked Xemnas about him.
“He was involved in the incident at Castle Oblivion… I warned you he had a hand in the demise of Marluxia and the others, and yet someone failed to eliminate him.” Saïx, number 7, glared at Xigbar from under his hood with a sharp glint in his eyes.
“Hey, he’s the only one who’s had direct contact with the Keyblade wielder,” Xigbar replied, unruffled.
“Observe them.” Xemnas issued the order quietly.
“Saïx, you go after Axel. Demyx, you follow the kid.” Xigbar translated it for the rest of them as if he were privy to Xemnas’s thoughts.
“The kid? Roxas, you mean?” Demyx got to his feet.
“Yes… That’s right. Roxas.” Xigbar smiled darkly and exchanged a glance with Xemnas.
Then there’s this. Okay, WTF? When the hell did Saïx ever warn Xigbar that Axel had a hand in what went down at Castle Oblivion?
Day 71: The Traitors’ End
Author: Xigbar
Saïx had a hand in what went down at Castle Oblivion—well, more like a whole arm. Which means Axel was in on it as well. It’s a fact that Xemnas ordered Axel to take out the traitors, orders which went through Saïx. No specific names were given, but naturally Xemnas knew who the turncoats were right from the get-go.
Because last I saw, Xigbar blamed Saïx for what Axel did to Marluxia and the others. I think at that moment Xigbar was talking to the “demon” inside of Saïx, which is why he had his hood up while talking to Xigbar. It also implies that Marluxia was not one of the traitors that Xemnas wanted eliminated. But then…who were?
Day 94: All Goes Apace
Author: Saïx
The hearts collected by our two Keyblade wielders, Roxas and Xion, have gathered together; and now, almighty Kingdom Hearts waxes large in the night sky. Our efforts have come to bear fruit, nearly ripe for the plucking. All plans proceed smoothly—alarmingly so, in fact, though this is no time to be deterred by paranoia.
Look at the title of this report. “All Goes Apace”. He talks exactly like Xemnas does.
Day 277: True Agenda
Author: Saïx
Axel and Roxas are up to something. No plot they concoct will change the fact that the Organization has cast off Xion, though. Our plans have split, diverged, and advance now to the next stage. The No. i project and Replica Program merely paved the way. Our true goals lie elsewhere.
This one’s called “True Agenda” and he acts completely in the know.
Day 298: Change of Plans
Author: Saïx
Axel failed to report that the impostor and Xion are working together. Instead, that news came from Roxas. The boy is far more easily handled than Axel, but now Axel has captured Xion and returned her to us. His motives are impossible to read. Our plans can be altered if necessary, but doing so can only delay their realization.
Then there’s “Change of Plans”. It seems like they’re all referring to the same thing.
Day 7: Meaning
Author: Xemnas
A name defines an object. Describes the span of it. Gives it purpose. We embarked upon the Replica Program to ensure our new power stays ours. Now, our shadow puppet, “No. i,” lives. It needs a name. Something to define it. To give the hollow vessel purpose.
Xemnas talks the same way Saïx does. And they’re the only ones who talk like this in their reports. It doesn’t sound quite…human if you ask me. And the way Saïx and Xemnas refer to “we” might not even be Organization XIII, but the “demons”.
Day 322: The Plan
Author: Xemnas
Be they a puppet or the hero’s Nobody, we merely need a functional Keyblade master. The details are unimportant. The puppet has developed to a point where the hero of the Keyblade may be entirely redundant. Indeed, perhaps we ought never allow Sora to awaken. He cannot be controlled. He will rise up against us. We must move our agenda ahead with that firmly in mind.
Here’s the “Plan” again.
Day 358: Goals
Author: Xemnas
With luck, we can bring Roxas back into our fold, but even if Sora should awaken, as the hero of the Keyblade, he is bound to keep unlocking hearts. If he should come to target us, we need simply subdue him and use his powers ourselves once more. I must become one with Kingdom Hearts. I will become a higher existence. All of my true ambitions begin there.
And there’s “Goals”.
The lesser Nobodies that served them were unfailingly obedient, but that was the only thing they ever did. The greatest difference between them and Organization members was not appearance but the capacity for independent thought. Where did that capacity come from, then? Did it have anything to do with the heart?
“I’m gonna go nuts in here…” Axel scratched his head and continued his search of the bizarre castle.
When Axel goes to Castle Oblivion after looking at Saïx in the mirror, he thinks about the connection between the heart and independent thought. This is on Day 119 ~Work to Do~, the day that Xaldin said that caring about something is a weakness.
Day 150: Dealing with Xion
Author: Saïx
As expected, the Duplicate is starting to show its limits. The Program showed promise, but a puppet is just a puppet: something to be toyed with until it breaks. I am utterly at a loss as to what Roxas and Axel see in that thing. How best to dispose of it merits my consideration going forward.
Here Saïx sounds more like his “normal” self. This takes place on Day 150 ~Fear~ the day Roxas asks Axel if there’s anything he can’t bear to lose.
Day 171: The No. i Project
Author: Saïx
Xion failed to complete its mission. If this continues, destroying it and using the next Replica as the Duplicate would undoubtedly yield a higher-grade copy. No. i was among the initial lot, which naturally raises questions about its capabilities. At present, it is nothing short of broken. I cannot fathom why Xemnas would want to keep it.
This is on Day 171 ~Love~, the day Roxas asked Axel about the power of love. He doesn’t understand what Xemnas wants because this is a different alter with subconscious memories of being treated like a toy and being broken.
Day 174: Just a Replica
Author: Saïx
Xion continues to sleep. All analysis on its function suggests no marked change. The copying appears to be working, but a Replica is a Replica. My latest report to Xemnas on this net me no clear answers. He simply stood, smiling. At times I find his thinking impenetrable.
In this report, Xemnas smiles at him creepily, and he admits he can’t fathom what goes through his head. He doesn’t understand the purpose of the Replica Program here.
Saïx: Why… Kingdom Hearts… Where is my heart?
In KH2, Saïx genuinely just wanted his heart back.
Saïx: Nngh… How much longer…Kingdom…Hearts… Will your strength never be mine?
When Roxas defeated him in Days, he sounded more like the “demon”.
“You don’t trust me?” she said as she passed. “I know when to let up. I’m not stupid enough to break my toys.”
There might even be a third alter which is the REAL Isa, who is lost in the Realm of Sleep, and he acts more like a zombie/robot. Like Roxas was at first, like Ventus was, and like Sora was in DDD while he was sitting in the Organization’s chair. Xion’s theme is called “Who Am I?” and I think it fits Saïx as much as everyone else. Subject X also wondered who they were. Probably because Subject X was originally Isa.
There, a lone boy lay fallen. The boy stood up slowly, and stared blankly in front of him. There, a pitch black hole—a portal of darkness opened. From there, a black-coated man walked up to the boy. The boy looked up at the man, silent and vacant.
“Do you want to know?” the man asked the boy.
The boy nodded, staring fixedly at the man. The man raised a hand, and letters rose up in front of the boy.
“You don’t feel a thing—you can’t have feelings. Do you want meaning?”
The boy gave a clear nod. The letters in front of the boy spun around, and then, another letter joined them. That letter was ‘X’. That which floated there was to be the boy’s name, from then on.
“…Roxas,” the boy read out, in a clear voice.
Xehanort called Roxas a good candidate for a vessel until he became too aware of himself.
“So what do they call you?” asked Axel. The boy only blinked, not enough to signal that he’d even heard.
“Let’s try that again. What’s your name?”
“…Ro…xas…,” the boy croaked, as if he’d never spoken before. Then Axel realized that Xemnas had named him only moments ago. It had been the same for him and his own name.
“Okay, Roxas. I’m Axel. Got it memorized?” Roxas just stared at him blankly.
“Well, let’s get outta here.” Axel had his doubts about taking someone who had just come into being to that stark, cheerless castle, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of other options at the moment.
Axel said that he was in a similar state when he first received his new name. Apparently Xemnas hypnotically programs the members to think they cannot feel emotions while they are in that trance-like state, when they first become Nobodies.
“As your flesh bears the sigil, so your name shall be known as that…of a recusant.”
This is probably what he said to Isa when he first became a Nobody. The Recusant’s Sigil is translated as “Mark of Heresy”. A recusant is a person who refuses to submit to an authority or to comply with a regulation. So the mark signifies total submission and obedience. Saïx is the only character who has a scar of this symbol. And it’s large and right in the middle of his face. I definitely think he was Xehanort’s favorite lab rat.
Saïx observed him from behind with what appeared to be distaste. In stark contrast to Demyx, Saïx left his long blue hair unstyled. The X-shaped scar on his forehead was all the style he needed.
“What d’you want? I’m kinda busy.” Irritated, Demyx turned around.
Instead of responding, the other man simply disappeared.
“Excuse me?!” Demyx shouted at the space where Saïx had been standing.
And then, as if to take Saïx’s place, Xigbar appeared with his hood low over his eyes. “Ready yet?”
Isa was a toy that was broken, like the Riku Replica after his memories were wiped clean. And the way Saïx acts in this scene is even more abnormal than he usually is.
Regardless, Aqua cut off a bite-sized piece of the cake with a fork and held it up to Ventus’s mouth. His head slowly revolved to look at her, like he was some mechanical automaton.
It reminded me of the way Ven was described in the novel while he was “broken”.
Ventus observed absentmindedly from where he sat on a bench. Actually, it was hard to tell if he was truly watching them. A small bird swooped down toward his feet. It hopped onto his foot, then onto his knee before finally stopping on his shoulder. Ventus didn’t react at all. Terra and Aqua saw this and shared a glance.
While Ventus had proven himself capable of taking care of his needs and doing what he was told, he never acted of his own volition. Unless Terra, Aqua, or Master Eraqus said otherwise, he would spend the entire day staring into space, and the biggest thing was that he never spoke.
Saïx is more functional than Ven was, but Isa probably was reduced to a similar state to Ven during the experiments. Subject X took a week to speak. Saïx is probably only more functional because he has Xehanort and the “demon” in control of him. But Isa’s alter is probably still a total zombie/robot. Totally unaware of his surroundings and just mindlessly follows orders, doing nothing of his own volition.
Xion got up and looked in the mirror. It’s me. Nothing new.
After getting ready for the day, she went to the Grey Area and found Saïx and Xigbar there.
“…Where’s Roxas?” she asked Saïx.
“None of your concern.” Xion had expected as much. Saïx never answered her questions.
Then Xigbar poked his face between them. “There you go again, Saïx. Why’re you so mean to our Poppet?” Saïx pointedly ignored him.
Xigbar always talks to me, at least, thought Xion. He’s so much nicer than Saïx. I like him.
“They’re saying Roxas fainted or something, and he’s still out like a light,” Xigbar supplied.
“Huh?” Xion started. Roxas was unconscious…?
“You worried about him?” Xigbar nodded understandingly. “Aw, sweet little Poppet. Why don’t I take you to visit him later?”
“Okay…” Xigbar patted her on the head. Why is he always calling me “Poppet,” though? she wondered.
Xion looks in the mirror twice while Roxas is sleeping, and remarks that she looks the same as usual. Xigbar and Saïx are both mentioned being present in the lobby both times.
“And who gave you the authority to—? No, I suppose there’s no harm in visiting him.” Saïx relented. “After your mission.”
For once, he wasn’t shutting her down. “What’s the assignment today?” she asked.
“Investigating, the same as yesterday. Although you’ll be going to a different world this time.” Saïx described the place to her.
“…All right.” Xion nodded and stepped into the dark portal.
Xion is worried about Roxas and Saïx is actually pretty accommodating, which Xion finds unusual for him. I think it’s referring to the idea that THAT was Isa’s true personality. Someone who worried about people he cared for and didn’t shut others down constantly.
Xion got up and took care of her morning routine in front of the mirror in the corner of the room. I’m the same as ever. And yet, I’m not.
She stared hard at the mirror’s reflection. It showed…someone else. But she knew who it was. The boy who looked like Roxas.
For a moment, she lowered her gaze, then looked again. Just her.
Her and her identity crisis. Xion laughed at herself.
I have time here. Riku gave it to me.
But not forever. I’ll ruin everything if I stay. I have to decide…before the Organization decides for us.
Xion looks in the mirror on Day 353 ~Resolve~, the one where Axel tells Roxas that Xion is a mirror that reflects him. But that time…she doesn’t see herself in the mirror. She sees Sora. Take note of how she lowers her gaze, looks up again, and sees herself.
“You’ve meddled again,” said a voice behind him.
Axel stopped short. He hadn’t even noticed Saïx’s presence.
“Sorry, did you say something?” He turned with a slight smirk.
“We don’t need them both. Just one. And pretending won’t change it.”
We, who? Axel wanted to ask, but he held it in, along with a bitter laugh. He wasn’t sure if that “we” meant Organization XIII or just Saïx and himself.
“Think about that.”
On this day, Saïx is telling Axel they need to choose one or the other.
“…Can’t you hear the world’s screams?”
“Screams?”
Axel finally turned around, and looked up at Saïx standing on a stairway.
“The time when we should move will come soon.”
“I dunno, whatever.” Axel turned his back on Saïx, and opened a dark portal in front of him.
I think the “we” Saïx was actually referring to was the one here. I think this is also hinting that this is NOT who Isa really was.
Oh, I am. And I’m sick of it. I’m even desperate enough to ask you if there’s another way.
The words nearly escaped him, but Saïx was already walking toward the Grey Area. The set of his shoulders told him plainly what the answer would be.
Axel realized how great the rift was between how he remembered their past and what he saw now.
Why am I even here? I don’t know anymore. What am I trying to do?
Axel specifically notes that there’s a huge rift between the past an the present.
“Are the three of us teamed up today?”
“You have your own mission, Roxas,” Saïx told him before Xion could answer.
“I can’t trade with Xigbar or something?”
“What an extraordinarily childish notion. Do you need Axel to walk you everywhere now?”
Roxas bit his lip and looked at the floor. “That’s not it…”
Then Saïx makes a comment that was most likely referring to Isa (his other personality), more than Roxas. Isa was a shy boy who was clingy to Lea. He acted more like Xion did with Roxas than how Saïx acts with Axel. Saïx is a compartmentalized alter, and NOT Lea’s best friend from childhood, Isa.
HE RECOGNIZED THE WHITE CEILING AND, SOON AFTER, HIS ROOM.
Something was different about it—but he couldn’t have said what it was.
This is my room. I’m a member of the Organization. Number 13, Roxas. But…something’s changed.
Roxas sat up in the hard bed and shook his head. His mind felt so fogged over.
Did I fall asleep yesterday? How?
He couldn’t remember. He really had no idea.
As he swung his legs over the side to get up, a pile of seashells beside his pillow caught his eye.
Similar scenes happen with Roxas. It’s suggested that Roxas is Ventus, but his memories were all wiped due to trauma. Roxas is an alter of Ventus. He passed out in Agrabah because the situation with Axel subconsciously reminded him of what happened with Terra and Aqua. He thought he’d never see Axel again, like Vanitas told him he’d never see Terra again. In that moment, he switched alters and went back to sleep, like Ventus.
Where did these come from? I don’t know. I don’t know anything at all.
He left his room, and his legs seemed to know where to take him now that he was awake. Muscle memory was carrying him to the Grey Area.
Right—I’m supposed to report in for my mission.
Some kind of pressure was gathering between his eyebrows. He walked down the hallway, and when he arrived at the lobby, no one was there.
“Axel…?” He murmured his friend’s name without thinking, then touched his mouth at the outburst. They had told him that Axel might have been terminated. He remembered that part.
See how the descriptions of his head pain are exactly like people with Dissociative Identity Disorder?
Roxas hadn’t expected to sleep very well, and he was right. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The center of his head felt heavy, like something pressing from the space between his eye brows all the way back.
But yesterday… Yesterday I saw Xion. Why was she avoiding me? Why was she running away from me?
It’s because Roxas was not envisioned to be a separate character from Ventus. He IS Ventus, just without Ventus’s memories, and he has a lot of Sora’s memories. I’m sure stuff like this is why Nomura was so confused while trying to write KH3′s story.
Xehanort’s Report IX
We Keyblade Masters have a special gift. We can extract a heart, be it our own or that of another. By continuing this cycle, it is possible to remain in the world of the living forever.
This sounds like something a Lich would say.
— By the way, Braig’s dealings with Master Xehanort in Birth by Sleep make sense now, as he was to become a vessel.
There is a certain reason for Braig to proudly exclaim, “I’m already half Xehanort.” Isa (Saïx) is included too. I think you’ll understand the details about their circumstances eventually.
No, we really didn’t. But thanks for getting my hopes up and making me wait an entire decade for nothing, I guess…
— What happens to the hearts of those who have had Master Xehanort’s heart planted within them?
They’ll gradually be swallowed by it. As for Master Xehanort, he plans to control them completely. The planted parts of the heart are captured rather than disappear.
And I’m sure the Lich had NOTHING to do with any of this.
358 Days is one week short of a complete year, of course…
Yes, of course for people who played KH2 they know that the game is like a countdown to the final day. And of course they know the realize why it’s missing that one week. So they already know the reason for the title is that it is “a week short of a year, split between two people.” But is that really the true answer? I named this game hoping that people would think on it even after they’ve finished playing it.
Where did the Organization’s coat and mark come from?
Xemnas remembering his human years. One year after BbS, Xehanort as well as five other apprentices toss aside their hearts. Then the Nobody Xemnas was born, and the Organization which he creates take a lot of things from his memories as a human. But as Xemnas had two people who he was, Terra and Master Xehanort, he takes from both of their memories. The coat used by the Organization was something that Master Xehanort originally wore. The Nobody mark used by the Organization is a similar shape to the mark Terra used. Xemnas gives Organization members names with an X in them. This has something to do with Master Xehanort’s interest in the X-Blade.
Last but not least: Is there a connection here? Was the one year between BBS when Terranort was discovered by Ansem the Wise and the apprentices losing their hearts, supposed to be parallel in some way to the year Roxas spent in the Organization? That’s my last bit of theorizing for this post.
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Congrats on 500!! (And you had another follower now lol) I really wanna read a ficlet with the prompt number 13 with Simon using Pitch as his last name cause that would be the cutest thing everrr!!!
sorry this has taken forever @whatevercarriesstuff and @poppy27! But here it is at last–number 13.
13: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?
Simon
Baz is always taking me on dates.
Dinners out, films, theatre performances, to see bands I’ve never heard of in dark, crowded clubs.
Afternoons at the British Museum.
That was actually our first date in a way, wasn’t it? Baz stealing books and me eating curry, all that time ago.
And then Baz spent months trying to distract me from my chaotic thoughts, his last term at Watford.
He’s good at knowing what to do. Planned or spontaneous. It always ends up being just what I need.
All I usually manage is take-out and movies at my flat. Or Baz’s. If Fiona’s out of town.
Baz doesn’t seem to mind those nights at home. But I want to plan a good date for him, like he does for me. A night out where he’s not the one coming up with all the ideas, making all the reservations.
I’ll start simple. Dinner and a film simple.
But it’s not so easy. Because I don’t want to take Baz somewhere familiar, someplace we always go.
I want to surprise him with a new place. A dinner out that’s unexpected.
He’s a lot better about eating out now. He actually eats.
Baz has always been so self-conscious about his fangs. But he and Penny worked out a spell a while back to glamour them away.
So now he looks even more like a model, the insufferable twat, since he started using “pearly whites.”
The question is where do I take him?
I’m not particular. I’ll eat anything.
So I plod through reviews of new restaurants but I can’t get a good idea, reading some other bloke’s comments.
I’ve got Baz’s Open Table password. He never really uses the app anymore. He knows where he likes to go and just calls them directly when he wants a table.
I end up downloading the app onto my phone.
I suppose I could set up my own account but it’s so much easier to use Baz’s. He’s got his favorite restaurants already bookmarked.
I can find ones similar to those, maybe.
Don’t want Baz to know. I want to surprise him. Switching off the notifications on the app seems like the best way to manage that.
I get together a list of likely options. Now I’ve got to go try them out, see if they’re good enough for Baz.
That’s trickier to manage.
He’s here most nights, unless he has a late tutorial or study group meeting (he hates those) (says they’re a waste of his time.)
I’ve only got two classes so I’ve got time. I faff about with the list, saving only the restaurants that have a lunch service too. That way I can try them out and Baz won’t be the wiser.
I can afford it. Penny nagged at me a while back to finally convert the leprechaun gold. It’s a fair sum.
Pays for all these posh lunches, it does.
It took me aback the first time it happened. I probably should have said something right then but it was awkward. I had made the reservation under Baz’s account.
Of course they would assume I was Mr. Pitch.
I should have just gone and set up my own account then but didn’t see any point to it. I was trying restaurants. Didn’t matter what they thought my name was.
Did make me feel a little funny though, being called Mr. Pitch.
Funny in an odd way. A good odd way. I can’t think about that right now.
I tried to dress a bit smarter, wore some of the clothes Baz bought me. Tried to keep from slouching, eating too fast and whatnot.
All the things Baz used to sneer about at Watford, when he’d watch me eat.
Didn’t really mean any of it, the wanker. Well, some of it maybe.
Says my table manners are atrocious but mesmerizing. Whatever that means.
I find a few restaurants I’m sure Baz will like. Kind of narrow down the list. Go back for a second round.
I’ve got two places that I really like and I think they’re just right for Baz. One to use for our date and one for spare.
Really most of the ones on the list are good enough. But I want this to be really special, even if it’s just dinner and a movie.
I go round one more time for lunch, the day before our date. I should have realized what might happen.
I love seeing the expression on Baz’s face when I get dressed up to go out. Really dressed up. Nice shirt and jacket, the tailored trousers. His whole face just lights up and he gets this look in his eyes. I used to think he was going to attack me, when he got so focused.
Now I can’t get enough of it. He still wants to attack me but it’s more in a snogging way.
We get to the restaurant and Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “Not your typical choice for dinner out, Snow.”
“You called me Simon, before.”
Baz tugs me closer. “Not your standard fare, Simon. What’s the occasion? I thought we were just going to see a film tonight.” He leans in, lips just brushing my ear. “Or do you have other plans for us?”
I flush, of course, because Baz at such close range is fucking devastating. I could just melt into him and snog him here in the street.
I control myself. This is my posh date. Can’t be snogging in the street.
I tug him through the front doors and give the host a nod.
“Ah, Mr. Pitch. So good to see you again.”I freeze.
Shit.
He’s not looking at Baz when he says that. He’s definitely not looking at Baz.
The host pulls two menus and motions us to follow him, smiling in my direction all the while. “Your usual table, Mr. Pitch.”
I don’t think Baz’s eyebrows can go up any higher. I’m sweating now, my face beet-red. I’m literally radiating heat.
I should have gotten my own bloody account. Fuck. I hadn’t thought they’d remember me.
I’d made the reservation in the app. And after all my visits here of course they fucking think I’m Mr. Pitch.
I’m never going to live this down.
We somehow get seated at the table, handed our menus and the host finally buggers off, tormenting me with one last “Enjoy your meal, Mr. Pitch.”
There’s a look in Baz’s eyes. Amused. Thank Merlin he’s not annoyed.
But there’s a funny glint there too. A kind of proprietary smirk.
“Mr. Pitch, is it now, Simon?”
“Just a mix-up.” I grab my water glass and take a drink. “Sorry, used your reservation app.”
“Doesn’t quite explain their familiarity with you, does it though?” Baz is smiling now. He’s dazzling with that damn spell.
Well, a bit more dazzling than usual.
Fuck it, he’s always stunning.
“Uh. Well. I um might have used the app a fair bit? To check some places out, before tonight.” I can feel the sweat running down my back. My face feels hotter.
This is not going as planned. Not at all.
Baz’s smile grows even wider. He’s literally grinning at me over his menu. “Mr. Pitch. Can’t say I object much to hearing you called that, Simon.”
He looks back down at his menu sedately as I proceed to choke on my water.
“What?” It comes out garbled as I struggle to catch my breath.
Baz raises his eyebrow again. “Just something to think about. Someday.”
I proceed to choke on air this time.
And realize I haven’t objected to hearing myself called that all these weeks either.
Fuck.
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