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panharmonium · 4 years

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I would like to add Gwaine to the list of friends Merlin had. Especially in the 3/4 seasons he really was ride or die for Merlin, they shared intimate details with each other, they truly trusted each other. There were instances where the show alluded that Gwaine knows about Merlin's magic and is fine with it.

hi there! i’m assuming this is in response to the post i reblogged about will and lancelot being merlin’s only “real” friends?

i’m actually happy to write about this, now that the question has been posed - it’s been a while since i wrote anything long about gwaine!

fair warning in advance: i don’t personally classify gwaine the same way i do will and lancelot, and that’s what this piece will cover in more detail, but these are just my own thoughts, and it is totally cool for everybody else to have different opinions. my take is my take, but it does not have to be everyone’s take - if people wanna scroll past because this isn’t their vibe, i don’t mind in the slightest. :)

so, without further ado - i LOVE gwaine, and i have written extensively about how amazing his relationship with merlin is (some examples here, here, here, and here, if anybody’s looking). he is the most likely of all merlin’s living friends to ditch arthur in the name of addressing merlin’s needs, which is super important, and he also has a much healthier friendship with merlin than arthur does (in my own personal opinion, of course, which nobody is obligated to share). he definitely does go ride or die for merlin in S3/S4, i agree.

but my own thoughts on this particular point are still the same as they were in that original post. i tend to hide my clarifications/explanations in the tags, so they might have flown by, but i’ll just copy/paste the relevant bit here for ease of access, as some background for the rest of this post.

re: will and lancelot were merlin’s only ‘real’ friends:

#what this does not mean: merlin has no other friends! merlin doesn't have meaningful and important relationships with other people! #what it does mean: #every single one of merlin's other relationships is undergirded by the sickening knowledge that those friendships are conditional #every single one of his other relationships is accompanied by the constant undercurrent of 'they would hate me if they knew' #merlin knows his friends 'care' about him #except they don't really; because it's not truly him they're caring about #they care deeply - about someone merlin made up #about a facade. #in the most basic sense #those relationships aren't Real #the love merlin feels for the people in them is real #but you cannot truly be 'friends' with somebody who doesn't even know who you are #you cannot be loved without being known #you certainly cannot be loved without being safe

obviously i suppose a person’s thoughts on this would be different if they headcanoned that gwaine knew about merlin’s magic, and that’s fine. i personally do not believe canon indicates or supports that, but i’m not out to convince people to abandon their own fanon interpretations of things; i’m happy just hanging out in my own space talking about my thoughts. me writing meta is the virtual equivalent of me talking to myself in my room - if other people have different conversations with themselves, that’s fine :) i don’t mind if other folks organize their thoughts about things differently.

in accordance with that - everybody please feel free to continue on with your own interpretations, and ignore mine if mine do not appeal to you! if people are interested about how i organize my ideas on this, though, they are essentially as follows:

1) a cage fighter, a class traitor, and a fake sorcerer walk into a tavern

ok, to start with - here’s a graph.

(...who tf starts a meta post with ‘here’s a graph’ lol i just drew a venn diagram for the first time since like...middle school...i LOVE fandom, man, this is RIDICULOUS)

anyway

this is a very rough interpretation of how i think about gwaine, lancelot, and will:

to address some of these elements individually:

lancelot and will give merlin something that gwaine can’t - safety, authenticity, the comfort of being known and seen for real, a respite from constantly qualifying every friendship with ‘they would hate me if they knew’

lancelot and gwaine, likewise, give merlin something merlin wouldn’t be as likely to get from will (if will were still alive, i mean) - an understanding of merlin’s devotion to the Crown, a supportive ally in the fight to promote arthur’s reign and keep arthur/camelot safe

will and gwaine, for their part, are more likely to tell arthur to go fuck himself, if it’s important for helping merlin, and that’s a different kind of support that merlin also really needs.

and will, on his own, gives merlin something that neither lancelot NOR gwaine can provide, which is a friend who isn’t connected to or even particularly interested in arthur pendragon (merlin has nobody in his life like this, not after will dies) - somebody who knew and cared about merlin before merlin had any proximity to arthur, before this whole ’destiny’ issue reared its merciless head.

everybody in merlin’s life matters to him and gives him something important. gwaine is STUPIDLY important to merlin. the love there is real. but in canon, because gwaine is not in the know, gwaine is still one of the people from whom merlin feels compelled to hide himself. gwaine is right up there alongside gwen, arthur, elyan, percival, etc - every other person who merlin loves, who merlin nonetheless constantly, back-of-his-mind fears, ‘they would reject me if they knew.’

the above is part of why i personally have never been too interested in ‘so-and-so knows about merlin’s magic’ canon-imaginings. there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, and i’m sure people must have tons of fun with them - and in an AU context maybe i would have fun with them too - but as hopeful interpretations of actual canon, they don’t appeal to me. merlin’s near-total isolation and desperate, constantly-frustrated desire for real, honest love is an inalienable aspect of his character for me, one i can’t separate from who he is and why he does the things he does and why he eventually ends up in the place where we find him towards the end of the show.

2) i just want someone to see me for who i am

i have seen a bit of sentiment out there along the lines of ‘merlin should have told (x person) about their magic’ or ‘(x person) obviously doesn’t have a problem with sorcerers,’ but i guess i personally don’t think it’s as clear as all that, and i think me saying it is would be doing merlin a disservice.

merlin’s desire to be seen/known/accepted is literally the most base urge he has. if he truly thought he could tell somebody safely, he would.

i think merlin knows the people in his orbit well enough to know how they feel about sorcery, at least in a general sense. and even if they aren’t bloodthirsty bigots like uther, they aren’t exactly welcoming magic with open arms, either. at the most basic, elementary level, merlin understands something that we don’t like to think about: none of his friends ever challenge arthur on the sorcery ban or express any dissatisfaction with the political status quo, and, even absent outright bigotry, this fact speaks loudly enough in and of itself. merlin’s friends might not be out clamoring for sorcerers’ blood, but they aren’t criticizing a society that criminalizes sorcery, either, and they are never shown to have a problem with the way things are, even though the way things are is wrong.

The Way Things Are is, in fact, unjust. it’s oppressive. and allowing that state of affairs to continue, unquestioned and unchallenged, when you have access to the king’s ear and aren’t personally in danger of being persecuted, indicates that you’re okay with the injustice. that you’re comfortable with the oppression. that you don’t see a problem with the status quo, and that you're unbothered enough by it to let it be.

it doesn’t matter that merlin’s friends have never straight-up said ‘boy, magic sure is evil’ onscreen. they never say that camelot’s policies are wrong, and that delivers a clear enough message on its own.

3) it is not a crime to fight for your freedom

to bring this back to gwaine specifically, since that was originally the focus of this ask -

for me, for all that i adore gwaine, and for all that i think he was, for the most part, an INCREDIBLY sound, healthy relationship for merlin, the truth is that gwaine is as much a part of this problem as everyone else. does that mean i personally think gwaine would have summarily dumped merlin if he’d found out merlin had magic? no. but i don’t think it’s as uncomplicated as maybe we wish it might be, and i think merlin has every right to be as uncertain of gwaine on this issue as he does of everyone else.

for one thing, like i said before, even gwaine, who used to have fewer qualms than any of the knights about pushing back on arthur’s BS, has never said a word about camelot’s injustices, or ever acknowledged that the laws of the land are unjust to begin with.

for another, there are specific moments that kind of make you wonder.

5.05 (’the disir’) is a good example of this - when gwaine finds osgar in the woods, the two of them have this exchange:

you are a sorcerer, a heretic, and a murderer.

the rhetoric of this sentence frames all three of these things as equivalent entities - criminal ones.

to pick this apart more carefully:

a) sorcerer

it’s worth noting here that we’re never told osgar has done anything worse than evading arrest for the crime of being a known sorcerer. when leon mentions him in the council meeting, the conversation consists solely of the following:

“as you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of breckfire intercepted the man who goes by the name of osgar.”

“the sorcerer.”

“the same. they were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape.”

and…that’s it. osgar’s crime, as far as we know, was simply being a sorcerer (and then, after that, attempting to escape an unjust arrest, thereby killing a knight in the process). there’s no mention of any other activities that would have warranted his arrest in the first place, other than the possession of magic.

but magic, even on its own, IS a crime in camelot - and gwaine levels the accusation at osgar as such.

b) heretic

that’s a hell of a word to throw around, if you think sorcery is chill.

“heretic” isn’t a mild accusation. "heretic” has vitriolic severity behind it. people are accused of heresy when they’re perceived to be in brazen defiance of what is (in the eyes of the accuser) unquestionably right and correct. “heretic” is like…it’s like blasphemer. the connotation is not just that something is bad, but that it’s sinful.

for gwaine, either osgar’s association with sorcery and/or his defiance of camelot’s army makes him a heretic. and that’s not something a person who is down with sorcery or supportive of a magic-user’s struggle for freedom would say.

c) murderer

if gwaine were cool with sorcery, we would expect him to understand that a sorcerer who resisted arrest for the crime of being a sorcerer isn’t a murderer.

it’s like kara said in 5.11 - it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.

camelot has been killing sorcerers for decades. osgar mortally wounded a soldier (not an innocent civilian, i might note) who was trying to imprison him. he was resisting the armed forces of an oppressive state. that’s not murder.

somebody who understands that camelot is an oppressive regime wouldn’t think of this as murder. they would understand that it is not a crime to protect your own life when the state has literally been trying to exterminate your people for years. and even if osgar had been engaged in rebellious activities against the state (which as far as we know is not the case - nothing like this is ever referenced!), they would understand that people with magic have long been overdue for a righteous uprising.

but gwaine is a little more like arthur, in this moment - he sees the “wrong” that osgar has done (in the form of sir ranulf’s death) without seeing the thousands upon thousands of wrongs that camelot visited upon the magical community first.

4) you can’t go armed into a sacred place

the rest of this episode is similar. gwaine pays just as little heed to merlin’s warnings as the rest of the knights, when merlin admonishes them that the disir’s cave is sacred. gwaine doesn’t relinquish his sword or take special care upon entering the cave. in fact, he is the one who outright interrupts the disir while they’re speaking - as they’re telling arthur a series of hard truths, that he’s persecuted magic-users, “even unto slaughter;” that he’s desecrated their space: “you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn - trampling hallowed relics - treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom - with arrogance - with conceit - with insolence - ”

and gwaine cuts them off, pushing to the front of the group and shouting at them “enough! you speak of the king!” and that’s when the fight starts, when mordred gets stabbed.

someone who was fully accepting of magic, or who knew anything about it at all, would not have behaved this way. they would not have bristled at hearing how arthur’s regime unfairly persecutes the magical community. they would have known that it was true.

5) i just want to be myself

the above is just one example, but it’s a clear enough one to illustrate what i mean. gwaine IS an amazing friend to merlin. he does treat merlin well. and merlin loves him to death. but gwaine is NOT totally chill with magic. i’m not saying he actively hates it, but he is not, from what merlin has witnessed, entirely safe. merlin loves him, but he can’t be himself around him.

and i do think that pains merlin terribly. all these people who he loves so much, and every time he’s with them there’s always that whisper: ‘this is a charade. all the love in my life is a lie. they only like me because they don’t know me. if they knew who i really was, this would be over.’

and we wonder why he never tells anyone. we tell him he ‘should’ have told gwaine, gwen, morgana, arthur, like it would have been easy, or even possible, for him to ever consider putting himself in a position where he could lose what precarious, partially make-believe connections he has.

merlin, in the later seasons, when he worries about his magic being exposed, isn’t afraid of being executed. he’s afraid of becoming even more alone than he is now. and he has good reason to feel that way - even people who appear to put him first aren’t fully on board with the thing that makes him who he is. and merlin knows this. he’s seen it. none of his friends are out fighting for people like him at court. some of his friends shake their heads and assure arthur “you are a good and just king” when arthur expresses concern that maybe the disir are right, maybe he has indeed transgressed. some of merlin’s friends used to buck the system in defense of the powerless, but now they defend the regime even when the accusations levelled against it by an oppressed population are true.

merlin knows that revealing himself is a kind of risk that could very plausibly end with him utterly disowned. every single friendship he has is subject to this justified fear, this bitter knowledge. merlin has every reason to doubt the soundness of his relationships.

and, circling back to the thing that started all these musings - the only friends who never made him feel that way were will and lancelot.

that’s all i mean when i say that will and lancelot were merlin’s only “real” friends. i wish there were a better word to use than that, because i really don’t mean it like…as if merlin’s relationships with other people weren’t…valid, or important, or based on true love and care. they were. but there’s just not a better way to express that will and lancelot were the only people who ever even knew who they were friends with, who saw merlin for exactly who he was and said “i love you still.” they were the only ones whose friendship was something merlin didn’t have to be afraid of losing solely for existing.

i always think of morgana’s line in 2.11 - ‘i don’t want to be brave. i just want to be myself. i don’t want to be alone anymore.’

around everyone else, merlin has to be brave. he has to keep up the pretense, which means even when he’s surrounded by friends, he’s completely isolated.

with will and lancelot, though, he could be himself. with will and lancelot, he wasn’t alone.

6) post-script

i really appreciate being given the opportunity to muse to myself about this in more detail - i actually needed to think through some things regarding gwaine anyway, for writing purposes, and this was actually really helpful in organizing my brain. so thanks, anon, for the prompt!

i know my answer probably runs counter to your own interpretation of things, but as i said, this is just my own personal outlook. i typed it up because the message got me thinking, and because i know i have a couple of friends who might find it interesting, but my thoughts apply only to me, and i do not mind at all if folks think about these things differently! nobody is obligated to agree with anything i write, or give it any further thought, or even read it at all - we’re all going to engage with this story in different ways, so if anybody finds that this isn’t their cup of tea, please feel free to scroll on by, and keep having fun with this show in whatever way makes you happiest! :)

#tumblr is doing something weird and not letting me use read-more's in posts that are replies to an ask #i was able to screenshot the last ask i replied to and just turn the whole thing into a text post with a read-more #because i knew the sender would see it anyway #but i'm not sure an anon will see this without getting the notification #sorry this is a #long post #i will play with it more and see if i can get the cut to actually show up #=/#the once and future slowburn #you're the only friend i've got #meta #replies #the bravest and most noble of them all #no kings no masters

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #1: That Night in Mykonos

[Heatwave // Godless] [Drabble Masterlist]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: That one not-so-forgotten filthy drunken night in Mykonos that you and Taehyung never speak about again. For good reason.

Genre: drabble, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do it), beach sex, oral (m/f), taehyung’s tongue technology, dom!Tae, daddy kink, exhibitionism kink, facial (lol oop), cumplay, spanking, degradation if you count slapping your face with his dick, may make you fall in love with this couple even more soz

Word count: 6k (why am i incapable of making even a drabble short and quick?)

A/N: As per highly requested… :) If you’ve randomly stumbled upon this, definitely read Heatwave first to understand the plot.

The gentle washing of the waves sings a lullaby to your ears. You have always loved the sound of the ocean, so serene, yet holding so much power. Wiggling your toes, you watch the minute grains of sand trickle off your feet like a waterfall. Nonchalant, you take a swig of cider, its fruity acidity burning a bittersweet trail down your throat.

‘Man, I fucking love Mykonos.’ Taehyung slurs beside you, tipsy from his fourth bottle of beer he’s clutching like a trophy.

‘Thank you again for bringing me here, Taehyung.’

The two of you are sat on a towel by the beach, watching the moon paint its own reflection in the water. Sky crystal clear, as it is every single night here in Greece, the constellations hanging over your heads set a tranquil tone to the last evening of your trip.

‘Hey, what did I say? Stop thanking me. Now you have to finish your drink.’ Playfully, he flicks the tip of your nose in reprimand.

Grinning, you roll your eyes but follow his stupid rule. Not that you can’t hold your liquor, but this is your seventh drink, and you’re starting to feel it pulsating up to your head.

‘No, but you were right.’ Words tumble out of his pretty lips that you can’t help but admire. ‘It was a good call not to go out tonight. If we actually went hard at VOID, our flight tomorrow would be hell.’ He is referring to the club you have been religiously visiting almost every night this week. ‘This is much better. Nice and chill.’

With a mighty sigh, he falls onto his back, head hitting the edge of the towel, narrowly missing sand invasion in his hair. Rolling your empty bottle away, you join beside him.

‘This has to be the weirdest but also best holiday of my life.’ You ruminate. The stars are shining particularly bright tonight, you wonder if they know it’s your last night here and want to bid farewell.

The chesty chuckle Taehyung lets out reverberates into you. ‘Definitely the weirdest.’ He turns his head to face you. ‘I can’t believe I’m in Mykonos with this random chick I met in the club, who offered to rent me her place, so I guess she’s now my roommate, when this whole trip was planned to be a surprise for my girlfriend who had been cheating on me for months.’

Taehyung is especially chatty and vivacious when drunk, you’ve noticed from the past few days. Normally he’s laid back, spaced out even. But give him some booze, and all his emotions and thoughts cartwheel out of him. Though you’re only beginning to know him, he’s immensely interesting, you can tell he holds so many layers to him that requires inquisition over time.

‘Wow, random chick from the club? Bitch, you ripped out my hair.’ You laugh and smack at his chest, hand lingering for a little too long.

Wait, chest smack? Why are you using your classic move on him?

You’re a flirt, you can’t help it. The cider’s doing its thing, you guess.

‘Man, I’m so sorry about that, you have no idea how awful I felt.’ He inches closer to you until his head is rested upon your shoulder. Right, he’s also especially touchy when drunk. Anyone who walks past right now could mistaken you as close friends, when in reality, you’ve known each other no more than a month.

To be completely fair, you have spent everyday of this said month together since that club night, helping him move in and unpack, and now travelling together. You guess you’re kind of friends now.

‘These past few weeks have been so crazy. I was just trying to have a good night out when a wild Kim Taehyung appeared and somersaulted into my life. And now we’re lying by the Mediterrenean sea together, tanned and drunk.’ His hair is tickling your neck so you push it away. Your fingers brush against his forehead and he hums at the contact.

‘But hey, on a serious note, hand on heart,’ Taehyung gazes up at you, ‘I’m so glad I got to do this with you. You are one of the coolest people I know, and I wouldn’t have wanted to come here with anyone else. Not like I have anyone else right now… My ex can go fuck herself, or fuck Jimin. I have a bigger dick anyway.’

You sit up, choking on your laughter. Out of the blue, he’ll always hit you with these one-liners that are absolutely pure gold. ‘Okay, Mr. I’ve-Fucked-Nine-Girls-This-Week.’

Pride beaming from his smile, he tugs you back down beside him. ‘Hey, I was in a relationship for three years, I need this. Miss I-Had-A-Threesome-With-Two-Guys-On-Our-First-Night.’

The two of you splutter your drunken giggles. The two guys were Italian, come on, how could you have passed up on the opportunity?

Despite the time of evening, the breezes that gust pass are humid. The temperature is perfect, actually, no sun blazing down to melt you into puddles. You’re probably too drunk to appreciate this moment but one day you’ll look back at this night cherishingly, you hope.

‘You’re right. I’m glad I came with you, Taehyung.’ It’s your turn to look at him. ‘I’ll get such an earful from Lotta when I get back but it’s all worth it. I can’t believe we got away with half of the things that we did!’

‘I know right?’ His arm feels particularly warm against you. It may be the alcohol working its magic but his voice sounds so deep and mellow tonight, like dark chocolate dissolving in your mouth. ‘The way they upgraded our room to a premium when we pretended to be a couple on our honeymoon.’

The memory is fuzzy but fond in your inebriated mind. ‘You’re welcome. I’m a master bullshitter.’

‘We even got that couple’s spa treatment and free wine and dine night.’

To be completely honest, it wasn’t difficult pretending to be loved up newly-weds. A lot of that affection you were displaying towards Taehyung wasn’t fake; he’s this perfect specimen of a man, gorgeous face, toned body, captivating personality, quirky humour - anyone’s dream boyfriend, really. You’ve tried to tone your attraction to him down, you can’t be lusting over your new roommate after all. Things would get too messy. But it was just for fun anyway, there’s no harm in a few pretend embraces and neck kisses to get those couple’s perks.

You’re just friends.

Though a part of you envies the nine girls he’s slept with this holiday, because you’ve seen the outline of his bulge in his swim trunks and Holy Shit… But as much as you like to fuck around, there’s a clear line that separates roommates and guys you bang. Those are two mutually exclusive groups of people in your life, the Venn Diagram does not intersect.

‘Hey, you wanna go for one last swim?’ You’re pulled from your thoughts by Taehyung’s suggestion.

It’s a bad idea, swimming this late at night, having downed a few bottles. But when has your inner conscience ever stopped you from doing what you want?

‘’Course.’ He is already removing his shirt as he stands, and you can all but ogle at the muscle of his moonlit back as you reply.

Following his action, you turn away from him and peel off your shorts that have stuck to your skin from sitting for so long. Are you perhaps trying to tempt him with the view of your bent over ass? Hmm, possibly… He does pay an awful lot of attention to your rear every time you wear these shorts... Carelessly flinging your top onto the rest of your things, you spy him staring at you in your periphery, hands stuffed into his shorts pockets. You adjust the pad of your bikini top, perhaps more dramatic than you needed to.

A smirk plays at your mouth. Why are you trying to get his attention?

Feet sinking into the soft sand, you pad after him towards the calm beckoning water. Your head is feeling hazy from the ciders, and when you spot the lazy smile he’s wearing, you know it’s hitting him too. Gazing up at the moon, you realise you feel blue. Not blue in a sad melancholic sense. But blue as in cool, relaxed, heart-at-peace blue; you’re going for one last night swim in the most beautiful country with your handsome new roommate, blue. A hint of romantic lyricism. Maybe.

‘I’m really gonna mis- Taehyung!’ You screech into the quiet night when he all of a sudden picks you up and carries you bridal-style into the sea.

And tosses you into the water.

Arms flailing midair, you’re catapulted into the waves like a pebble. The cold hits your curled spine first, harsh and shocking. Then it detonates within you, a volcano of ice numbing all your senses and aching your bones.

When you find your bearings and gasp up for air, you see him, ocean up to his knees, head whipped back in laughter, clutching his tensing core, eyes pinched into crescents as the most warming sound leaves his mouth.

‘You piece of shit!’ You lunge for him, but your limbs feel heavy in the water, restricting the power of your attack that he dodges so effortlessly.

But you don’t give up so easily. Tide washing you towards him, you launch yourself again, saltine droplets splattering all over his face. Resigning, Taehyung lets you drag him by the hand away from the shore, waddling clumsily against the stubborn current that’s determined to push you back to the beach.

‘Dick and balls, it’s freezing.’ He heaves.

‘Wuss. You’re not the one who got dunked.’ The chill is licking at your skin, seeping into your hair that splays out in floating silk tendrils. You’ve stopped walking on the sand now, instead spreading onto your front and allowing your swimming arms and paddling legs to move you.

Water up to his chest, you see the goosebumps rise on his blue-bronze unsullied skin, star-freckled sea reflecting wavering diamond silhouettes onto his chiseled front. Following the defined protrusion of his salient collarbones, then the sleek inward curve of his neck, your gaze arrives at his face. His strong brow never fails to strike you; tongue loitering out between his folded lips; brown tufts of salt-kissed, breeze-licked hair a mess but a masterpiece still. Eyes painted with a warm summer glimmer, sapphire and still, he observes you from where he stands.

The fluttering in your heart is now indistinguishable from your shivering due to the wet cold.

‘Come on, let’s swim out a bit further.’ He nods to the open ocean, refusing to spare you from his pinning stare.

Body heavy from the alcohol, the cold and simply your lethargism, you dive below the surface. With your water-blurred vision, you swim after his slow walking legs, bubbles you release tickling your face. You grapple onto his ankle, hear his muffled yelp and stifle a mischievous giggle.

Launching off the sand bed, you lurch up to the surface, inhaling sharply at your first breath of air. You push your hair back to see Taehyung regard you with a mystical expression.

‘It’s too deep here,’ you whine, ‘I can’t touch the floor.’ Not particularly athletic, treading water in order to stay afloat is wearing you down.

‘Hold on to me then, midget.’ He chuckles and holds out his hand which you quickly grab onto. With the stability he provides, you pull yourself up his arm like a buoy line and perch your elbow on his shoulder.

Which draws you unexpectedly close to his face. Nose mere inches from his chin. You smell his familiar honey musk.

Unfazed by your proximity, his arm circles behind you before landing one your waist, the warmth of his touch blooming like flowers on your skin. Why does his hand feel so nice on you? Why can’t you stop staring at him?

‘Better?’ Vibrations of his throat hum into your core.

‘Thanks.’ Your poise on his shoulder is sliding so you snake your arm around his neck, hoisting your body up against his. The contact snaps a cord inside you, sensation of him tingling everywhere you touch.

‘You’re such a little princess.’ He rolls his eyes theatrically in feign mockery, but his smirk betrays his mirth.

‘Shut up, you love it.’ This playful banter weighs heavy in your chest, constricting it, winding it. Because if it were anybody else, it would be flirting... Or maybe you are flirting with him right now. You’re not sure anymore.

A droplet of water is trickling along the edge of his jaw, your focus is transfixed at its smooth descent to his chin. Your bodies are bobbing with the calm waves, up, down, up, down. Then your eyes lock and-

Fuck.

You want him.

You really fucking want him.

Right now.

Right here.

Taehyung’s glare sears a mark in you, and it’s burning like the flames of hell all the way down to your sex. With the side of his finger, he doesn’t need to so much as touch you to tip your head up his way because that’s how willing you are. One tilt, that’s all it takes to kiss him right now. His fingers are sinking into your tender waist, and immediately you wonder how they must feel inside you.

‘I do love it.’ He slides his cheek against yours and traces the bridge of your nose with the tip of his.

And then.

You taste the sea on his lips, salt and cold. It feels like diving into the ocean, plunging into the deep blue and simply allowing your body to be swept away. His kiss is greedy, hungry, willing you to submit to him and follow his lead. And in your intoxicated state, you do so.

Legs wrapping around his torso in the water, his hands caress up your thighs to your ass, digging into your plump flesh with an ardour that releases a damp arousal from your slit. Your own fingers grope down his chest and toy with his hair, scratching and tugging. When he nibbles on your bottom lip and you know that you’re done for. You melt like putty in his control, meeting his tongue with a soft obedience you don’t normally exert.

‘Taehyung.’ You gasp into his mouth.

‘I’m all yours tonight, baby.’ is all he says before diving back into you. Those words sends the possessive animal in your mind wild with satisfaction. Because yes, he better fucking be all yours tonight.

Kissing Taehyung feels different. Perhaps it’s because of the build up of tension you have been harbouring these past few days. Or maybe it’s the thrill of knowing that you shouldn’t be doing this, the thrill of doing the forbidden. Or rather, it’s the way he wields his dominance over you so ferally and fervently, like he’s been waiting for as long as you have to do this.

Kissing Taehyung is teeth and tongue.

Kissing Taehyung is salt and the midnight breeze.

Kissing Taehyung is blue. The kind of blue you see only in the hottest of flames.

When you feel his stiff length poke underneath you, your cunt is set ablaze with desire. Desire to sink down onto him this instant and have him pound into you amidst the ocean until you both feel faint. Desire for him to break you in half with all his might, make your eyes water with from the pleasure he stabs into you.

Slowly he begins to walk you back to the shore, gripping your legs around his waist as you lock your arms around his neck. Lips never leaving each other longer than a second to breathe.

His ravenous mouth travels down to your breasts, and he doesn’t hesitate to devour them from your bathing suit, suckling angry red marks down your cleavage and around your nipples. Though clothed, the prominence of his cock burrows between your wide open entrance, rubbing against your bikini-clad clit and making you thrust your hips further into him.

Feverish from his touch, you don’t realise you’re on land until he gently falls onto his knees and carefully places you on the towels below him. Too drunk to even care if anyone else is on the beach, not that there was before you got in the water, you pull him by the neck onto you.

As he kisses a torching trail down your wet body, your mind is somewhere else, in a heaven that worships Taehyung. Hands kneading your exposed breasts, the wisp of his breath tingles down your navel, tying a knot in your core. With his teeth, he obscenely tugs loose the string that ties your bikini bottom together. The fabric falls loose lifelessly, revealing your soaking cunt, shimmering with want for him.

‘So wet.’ He muses as he kisses your pelvic bone, finger stroking up your slick to gather the liquid of your arousal. Then he prods his finger into your mouth, your tongue compliantly lapping up your own taste, salty from the sea. ‘Who made you this wet?’

‘You.’ You’re practically pleading as he sucks viciously at your inner thigh, so close to your weeping pussy.

‘I want you to call me daddy.’

You stiffen under him. Daddy. He wants you to call him daddy. Oh, but of course Taehyung has a daddy kink. It’s so ridiculously characteristic now that he has revealed it, that if you aren’t drunk, you would be rolling your eyes and laughing.

‘Fine, daddy.’ There’s an undertone of travesty to your reply. Whether he notices, he doesn’t show as he kisses closer and closer to your slit.

At the first contact of his lips to your clit, your hips buckle upwards and fingers fly to entangle his hair. Sucking harshly on your sensitive bud, all you’re capable of is squirming and writhing underneath him like a possessed body. The sensation of his mouth sucking on your succulence sends a shot of ecstasy down your quaking legs. Your head feels dizzy.

‘Fuck!’ You whine.

‘You like that, baby?’ When he looks up at you, wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winds in your stomach.

‘Yes, daddy.’ Your grip on his hair tightens.

Then he’s gorging you like a feast, tongue fluttering on your swollen bundle of nerves, your kryptonite, teeth scraping along your folds seductively. After several licks of your entrance, he pushes not one, but two digits into your cunt. They ease in, lubricated by your moist walls that welcome the pressure of his intrusion into you like the open sea. He draws wide circles inside you, and it feels like your innards are being stirred to perfection by a metal rod. In the meantime, his assault on your clit does not falter, rhythmically hitting his tongue against you, allowing the vibrations of his humming to penetrate your core.

Looking down, this is simply the most beautiful sight you’ve ever witnessed. Taehyung, eyes glimpsing up at you hungrily, face buried nose-deep in your pussy, hands gripping under your thighs that are rested on his shoulders, all the while the moon shines its ethereal glow onto you and the iridescent ocean in the background plays a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps.

Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure arrives at your clit. ‘Oh, fuck yes!’ You screech, throat raw from the pure elation that washes over you. The throbbing in your cunt releases at his continuous friction, pulsating so wildly you think you will burst. His fingers pump out your high as he sucks one last time, long and hard, on your beating clit. ‘Ah… Oh my god… Taehyung…’

Finally he emerges from between your legs to breathe. You watch as your fluid dribble down his chin lewdly, your thumb swipes to catch the wetness.

‘How was that?’ Untangling his arms from your legs, he walks up on his elbows to meet your lips in a tender kiss.

‘Mind-blowing.’ You utter against his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head for dramatic effect. ‘Let’s continue back in our room.’ Quickly you do up your bikini, impatient for more.

Without needing another word, Taehyung sweeps you into his arms, gathers all your belongings and hastily carries you back to your hotel located just a minute away from the beach. Although, it takes much longer than a minute for you to arrive seeing as multiple detours are made along the way, fondling behind a tree, kissing in the elevator and missing your floor.

And when you’re finally in the confines of your room, he pins you to the closed door, not even bothering to switch on the lights, lips latched onto your magnetising neck. Your wrists trapped in his grip against the hard wood, you ache to touch him as his teeth find your earlobe. Nipping at your soft round flesh, a pleasant shock is sent down your spine at the twinge of pain.

‘Daddy…’ You sigh.

He pulls away to stare into your beseeching eyes. ‘What do you want daddy to do to you?’ His voice is a low grumble of dominance, digging its talons into your brain.

‘I want… I want you to fuck me until I cry.’ In the dark of the room, your attention flickers to the moonlit terrace outside. ‘Right on that balcony over there.’

Something in his obsidian eyes ignite at your suggestion. Zealous with lust, he brings you through the glass door that opens to the fresh night. ‘You want me to fuck you right here, baby? For everyone to see?’

Danger lurking one kiss away, you sense the precarious position his sanity is at. So you reach down and grab his hard member over his shorts, and tip his mind to a carnal frenzy.

‘Yes please, daddy.’ The name is the last straw for him. His breath hitches as you tug down his pants and allow his enormous cock to spring free.

Spinning you around roughly, he bends you over onto the rail of the balcony and strips off your swimsuit in one deft gesture. From here, you have an unobstructed view of the coast, lined by bustling bars and closing restaurants. The neighbouring terraces are a metre away, if anyone walks out now, they would horrifically witness Taehyung’s gargantuan length about to drill into you from behind.

Your heart is pounding in excitement of the risk as well as the anticipation of his cock. Not being able to see him, he can thrust into you any moment now, he must be revelling in such control he holds.

Then you feel it, his large round tip pressing against your entrance curiously. Your legs shake expectantly while fresh arousal leaks out of you, mixing with his precum he’s pressing into you. ‘Beg one more time for me.’

Taehyung and his motherfucking ego.

‘Please, daddy.’ Allowing the words to drag out on your tongue, you twist your neck to look at him with wide pleading eyes. He looks like a king, towering over you with this much assertion, relishing in the power he holds above you in this very moment.

‘Good girl.’

Hands holding your hips in place, he slams his tremendous member into your gaping cunt in one forceful plunge. You can’t help but cry out at the sheer stretch of your walls he’s spanning. Holy fuck, he’s so big he makes it feels like your first time.

All you feel at first is an incredible cinching of your core, the ache of him impaling his rigid shaft through the resisting pressure of your vagina. God, is he fucking massive. He seems to know it as well because he gives you a second to adjust to his size, palm scaling smoothly up the hill of your back to gather your hair in his hand like a rein. Then he is pummelling into you, hips slapping against your bottom, ringing such vulgar sounds in your ears. His cock, hard as if carved from marble, piercing through the pain and moulding a thing of sweet sweet pleasure inside you. You grip the rail so tight its edge gouges marks into your skin, your head hung low between your tense arms.

‘Fu-u-u-uckk-k-k-’ He fucks those syllables out of you one by one. At this angle, his cock is curving up the wrong way into you, jabbing at pockets that normally aren’t reached.

A part of your soul is no longer with you, propelled elsewhere by his ceaseless merciless attack on your cunt. Then comes the sting of his palm when he spanks a searing hot mark into your ass cheek. The sharp pain is refreshing alongside the dull ache behind the euphoric throb he is penetrating into you.

‘This fucking ass of yours, baby. Been driving me nuts in those shorts all week.’ Another slap echoes in your ears, and you welcome it by curving your back more to tip your tush higher for him.

‘Daddy, you fuck me so good.’ Playing along with this narrative he’s into, you egg him on further, stroking his ego as your walls are stroking his dick. Because, damn, he is fucking you so good. Pounding into you with such vigour and violence that your folds are beginning to sting.

You’ve reached a point now where you’re no longer intoxicated by alcohol, but more the addictive fumes of him.

Moans that fall from his lips tingle at your clit, which you start to play with to add to your stimulation. Another smack on your ass, this time so surprising that you scream out. ‘Yes, be loud for me. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.’ He coaxes.

Taehyung begins to slow, which you know is a sign that he’s close but doesn’t want to blow his load yet. He bends over you, your hair still tied around his wrist, and nips at the shell of your ear. You’ve never known your ear to be such an erogenous zone, for when his tongue flickers at your inner shell, a shudder convulses through you. Leaving slobbery kisses down the curve of your shoulder, he slowly pulls out of you.

‘Finish on the bed?’ As Taehyung embraces you from behind, his strong arm comes under your cold lonely breasts that perk up at his attention, his dripping wet cock sitting between your red ass cheeks. The hum of his deep rasp on your neck sends your head lolling back onto his sweat-dotted chest.

‘Sure.’ What leaves you is a mere huff, you can’t even conjure your voice.

His lips seal yours as he walks you back into the room, leaving the glass door open for the night breeze to grace you. Amidst the savage sex, you treasure such a soft, delicate moment on your tongue, delighting in the way the tips of his fingers trace up your side. When his hand slithers up to your face, you melt into the warm flesh of his palm, mouth opening up for him to unfurl into.

Then the back of your knees hit the bed, and you know it’s about to begin again. Without breaking the union of your lips, you clamber onto the sheets with his frame hovering over you. Grappling on his neck, you drag Taehyung atop you as your head sinks down onto the plush of the pillow.

He sucks on your plump bottom lip one last time before pulling away. Fluid still profusely oozing out of the slit of his tip, telltale of his concupiscence, he perches between your legs. ‘How do you want it, baby?’ His tone endearing, yet eyes deadly dangerous.

Impatient for him to fill you to the brim again, you lift your both legs up for him to grab and place onto his shoulders. ‘Like this please, daddy.’

That’s all you have to say for him to grunt okay and push deep into you, knees digging into the mattress like lampposts. In this position, his cock reaches your cervix without hindrance, his swollen head slamming into your end every thrust he gives. It’s a different type of ache this time, more acutely targeted at the one sensitive spot inside you. As he continues you thrust into you, bollocks swinging at your ass, a build up of sensitivity gathers at your core.

You feel it approaching, that imminent contortion of your cunt, looming over you, on the brink of toppling your senses.

‘Keep going.’ You whimper, the filthy feeling of his prick hammering so fast into you enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to keep them open, watch his tongue poke out in concentration as he watches your body quiver under his. But the intensity of his fucking is truly too overwhelming that a single droplet leaks out and flow down your temple.

‘I’m so close.’ Taehyung heaves, pecking the bone of your ankle. Something ruptures within him, his sanity, humanity, and suddenly with an even more arduous determination he drives into your walls like a crazed beast. Sole purpose now to reach the climax awaiting him, he spreads your legs open wide before him and rabidly plunges his twitching prick.

And for the second and third time this night, your orgasm hits you, one immediately followed by the other. ‘Taehyung, I’m-’ You’re a crying thrashing body beneath him, the ecstatic pleasure obliterating your mind into ruins as your cunt erupts. The string of profanities that leave you sound incoherent to your own hearing.

You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow, you’re sure of it.

Taehyung watches you break on his cock, walls tightening impossibly around him, until only a husk of your being remains.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna come.’ Frantic with excitement, his hips move sloppily. ‘Where should I come?’

‘All over my face? In my mouth?’ Cupping your breast, you gaze up at him with salacious eyes.

‘Oh my fuck- Yes.’

Yanking himself out, a string of your own release threaded at his tip, he slides himself up the bed until his knees are on either side of your head. Pornographically he slaps his hot length on your cheek several times as you roll out your tongue for him. ‘You like that? You like my dick on your face?’

‘Hmmm.’ You engulf his seeping tip in your ready mouth while he jerks himself off with a teenage boy’s zest, his knuckles hitting at the underside of your chin.

Eager to coax his orgasm, you lick fervently at his sensitive head, right on the patch of skin around his slit that drives every man insane.

‘Oh fuck! Baby-’

Abruptly, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Not after two strokes, he is shooting hot white spurts of his seed onto your face, your eyes shutting just in time to avoid being fired at. Some of his fluid lands in your mouth, brewing bitterly on your awaiting tongue. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulses involuntarily in his hand as he lurches his high to an end.

‘You look so fucking good with my cum all over your face.’ Taehyung stares at his piece of work, splattered across your cheeks, on your forehead, and unfortunately for you, in your hair. Feral demeanour dimming, he leans down and gently smears his ejaculation all over your skin before nudging it into your mouth.

Like his good little baby you are, you swallow it like it’s your milk.

‘Mm…’ Throat hoarse from all the moaning, you suck his taste off his thumb.

Exhaustion dawns over the both of you when the adrenaline drains from your blood. Ache straining between your thighs, you waddle over to the bathroom quickly before him cum dries into a crusty nightmare.

Your sex-ridden, hair-dishevelled, hickey-speckled reflection greets you in the mirror. Realisation of your actions sink into your heart along with the sour taste of guilt.

What the fuck have you done?

You just had the wildest sex with Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you try to form back the logic shattered by his brutal fucking. Why do you have to be the way that you are? Just why are you so incapable of controlling your nymphomania?

‘You okay?’ Taehyung’s bass booms from the bedroom, startling you from your turmoil.

You gave into your temptations. You fucked up.

But this isn’t unsalvageable, you two can recover from it. After all, it’s not like you have been lifelong best friends, you’ve only just met each other, still stepping into deeper stages of your friendship day by day. As long as you don’t let this happen again, stop seeing him in a sexual light, you two should be fine.

Yes, you’ll be fine.

Drying your washed face with a towel, your answer is muffled. ‘Yep, all good.’

When you roam back to the room, you see him sprawled out like a Greek God, still shirtless but now wearing sweatpants that outlines his bulge all too well, bed sheets bunched to the side to aerate his sweat-dampened body. His eyes crawl over your naked form with a thirst that has you willing to drop to your knees and suck him off again. Spoilt in the attention he’s doling you, you climb beside him perhaps too seductively than you should.

Stop. You shouldn’t.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his chest and smother you with slow, passionate kisses. Such contradiction to his rough handling of you sheer minutes ago. His tongue feels heavier, nicer as it rolls along yours, maybe because you’re now sober, senses no longer dulled by alcohol.

It’s a difficulty to retract from his romantic poet of a mouth whose sole purpose is to entice you into its warm embrace. But you do. ‘Hey… We really shouldn’t have…’ You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence because you care too much for his feelings to hurt him.

But then the cool nonchalance in his pupils relieve you of your fear. ‘Yeah… Probably not the smartest move.’

His fingers toy fondly with your hair, twirling it like a velvet ribbon. Eyes wide with his boyish innocence, you wonder if this is the same person who was just slapping his dick on your cheek and made you call him daddy. This trip was meant to allow you to understand him better, yet you remain stuck, perhaps more than before, in his enigma.

And you wonder how his girlfriend could ever have sought after anyone else Taehyung is… Well he has just done that…

‘It doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still friends?’ You want to roll out of his clasp yet his arms feel so soft and smooth and perfect to fall asleep in.

‘Of course, Y/N’ From the earnesty in his tone, you know you can trust his word.

To resume your previous playful dynamic, you pinch his nose between your knuckles. ‘Then let go of me, friends don’t cuddle.’

‘Friends do cuddle.’ He frowns, shocked as if you’ve just slapped him across the face with a whole cabbage of kimchi.

‘Uh… No they don’t.’ Repulsed by such affection, you try to wiggle away but he locks his arms around your torso like a vice.

‘I don’t know what kind of friends you’ve had, but you’re stuck with me now and in Taehyung-land: Friends. Cuddle.’ Blowing raspberries on your ticklish neck, he lets you squirm like a fish in attempt to escape his coddling, chest rumbling into your back with laughter. Your squeals of help turn into giggles. Raspberries turn into kisses.

You freeze. ‘Oi, friends don’t kiss friends’ necks.’

‘Come on, we just had sex, let me just kiss you a bit more.’ Watching him pout so babily, your heart squeezes. Fuck. Why is your heart squeezing?

But you kiss his jutted lips, still. Savouring his taste that you know you won’t have the chance to delight in again. ‘Fine, but if you try to kiss me tomorrow, I’ll kick your nuts.’

Taehyung takes that as a green light to use you as a snuggle toy for the rest of the night, mouth gallivanting the ocean that is your skin.

07/09/18

@shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @taexxxiiaa @spring2787 @monixreal

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Jason Voorhees x Reader || Oneshot

Title: I Wouldn't Fit In That World Anymore. I Want This One

Notes:

· This is post FVSJ and also links to the comic where Bubba and Jason meet ^^

· I just really wanted some Jason hugs today!!

Plot: Lots and lots of Jason fluff. A liiitle angst concerning a ‘normal life’, but the reader wants Jason. So really it just makes way for more fluff!

Warnings: None that I can think of

~~~

“So, um… Jason?” Okay, enough of this. I can’t just sit here and weave a basket with Jason sitting right across from me, and not say it anymore. It’s a skill, to be able to guilt trip someone without even knowing it, without even the ability to speak, but Jason has it. He looks up from his carving, which is starting to look a bit like a fish now. I look back down at my basket-in-progress and run a hand over the prickly, smooth strands. We like creative, hands-on activities, we do. “So, um… “Ah, repetition. Intelligent. “The other day… well, you know how I told you a guy was annoying me lately? Talking to me a lot at work and trying to tag along with me to work outings and shopping trips I told him about?”

Of course, he remembers and makes a nodding movement, focused on me. I look back down at the basket again. “Well, he uh… I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before, he always sits way too close to me but I just figured he had personal space issues, you know? Like Bubba. But.” I take a deep breath in through my nose, slowly. Raising my shoulders high and look disapprovingly at my basket. “It turns out he liked me… as, more then a friend. You know.” Like how you feel about me. But, of course I don’t need to say that. He’s intelligent, he knows. You can tell by the way he stills even more then he already was, with his not-breathing and all. He doesn’t freak out or anything though, doesn’t move to get up and pick up his machete, or clench his fists. He waits for more information from me, and I’m thankful for it. “And he asked me out.”

I peak up at him to see his reaction, hoping to not catch his gaze because then I know I’ll panic and start talking nonsense and in this situation, which is telling a killer that loves you that someone else tried something with you, would be a huge mistake. With Jason, its much better to be clear and simple. And repetitive. “I said no. I didn’t want to be with him, because he’s nothing like you and I love you. Not that anyone, even a carbon copy could beat you out, at all. But… I said no. I didn’t have any interest. I love you. I just thought you might want to know, cuz we’re in a… a mature, relationship and all.”

His stiffness goes away after a few more agonising moments of silence, and staring-into-eyes and he turns back to his carving. After brushing away some dust with his thumb, he looks back up at me and nods, lifting the awkwardness from the air, but not from my heart. I still have more to say… but I’m still debating saying it. For a few more minutes, maybe an hour, we go back to what we were doing. Him creating, me methodically weaving the straw and planning out what I would say, if I said it.

As he gets up, having finished his fish and put in the ground between us so he can stare at it for a little longer, deciding if it needed anymore touches or maybe imagining it being a real fish, or maybe thinking something completely separate from sea life because who knows what goes through Jason Voorhees’ mind, I move and nearly call him back to say what I was planning. I even let go of the basket and reach for his hand, but I stop myself a millisecond later and jolt back to an awkward position holding the finished handle of my creation. My heart beating fast and hard in my chest.

I want to be honest with him… and I do trust him. I trust him with my life, and my random thoughts, and so much more… But above all I trust his loyalty… that often times is in the middle of a Venn diagram of loyalty and possession. I know, if I tell him this last part that’s been on my mind, there is a good 70 percent chance that he’ll take it the wrong way and do something rash, like when he went to Manhatten. He’s capable of anything, really, and that is what I’m afraid of.

Or… well, that’s 50 percent of what I’m logically worried about. The other half of me is more concerned with his feelings. It would kill me to hurt them. Jason’s like a huge puppy and telling him this might be like kicking this giant puppy.

Deciding to wait and think on it for a little bit more, at least until my heart stops beating so fast that my fingers shake and my skin goes pale, Jason safely makes it to the kindling and starts cutting it up for the fire later tonight.

When its about 7, and the fire is lit and bright in the front yard-or… what I call the front yard. Really, it’s the clearing in front of his cabin, - and finally push myself towards him to say it. I leave the cabin and find him on the porch, watching the flames. They dance in his eyes, and I interrupt his thoughts by sitting comfortably, sideways in his lap and leaning my head onto his shoulder. Immediately he looks down, assesses the situation silently and moves his arms to make me more comfortable. I sigh. “So, you remember what I told you earlier?”

I feel him nod, above me. But instead of looking at each other, we look at the fire. Its so hot that even from here I can feel it, and its so bright that the orange light touches our forms. “There was more that I wanted to tell you. Because… well, I like to tell you things. And because you deserve to know.” I turn to wrap my arms securely around him and press my face into his jacket, probably alerting him to the fact that this new thing might be bad but I don’t care. I definitely don’t look up when I feel him look down at the top of my head. “I thought about saying yes.” I whisper. ��For a moment, I pictured a life with him. Or, really, any normal guy with a… a nine to five job and a tie who wants 2.5 kids and a picket fence.” He’s so nice to cuddle. So round and strong and cuddly. It makes this easier to push out. “How I could… I could say yes, and still get what I thought I would get all my life before meeting you. A normal family, with people like me. To raise a baby the way I always said I would, not like my parents. And for a second it… it was exciting. I even half wanted it.”

He goes stiff again, and I nearly panic again. I want to tell him immediately that I’m kidding, its all a joke! I would never want anything apart from this life here with you, I’m sorry!! But again, I know panicking would be a bad idea. And I’m past blabbering in the face of danger, at this point. Being in love with a monster.

“But then the moment passed over me, Jason.” Its nice to say his name. Makes everything feel right. Puts it all in perspective. This is Jason. He’s the reason I transformed my life into this, and I wouldn’t take back that decision for anything. He is everything. “Second of all, I realised: I met freaking Leatherface, and he’s the most adorable pseudo-cousin-in-law a girl could ask for. I fought Freddy Fucking Krueger. I’m in love with you so much I’m beyond repair. I wouldn’t fit in that dream life anymore. In no universe would it be enough next to this.” I’ve met the darkness, and I could never go back. It’s weird, I’ve never been more comfortable anywhere. “But the first thought that came to me, stopping me in my tracks was you, of course. What else, honestly.” I tighten my grip on him, and feel his big hand slowly touch my back, nearly the width of my back. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“I never understood what people meant when they described their partners as their worlds before but during this moment, I figured it out. I realised that that is how I was feeling about you. I didn’t even know it. But you are, you’re my world. And that is as complicated and as simple as that.”

He doesn’t utilise a moment this time, and just hugs me to his body, enwrapping me in his arms and his chest entirely and leaning forward so his knocks against my head gently. I take this as a ‘I feel the same’, and giggle, enjoying our cuddle.

“Oh, sweetheart. I made a whole little speech there. I serenaded you, do you feel overwhelmed??” I slightly tease, but my grip back on him is too tight I’m sure, for him to take me seriously. He still sighs heavily into my shoulder though, making me giggle.

I give him a little kiss of the closest bit of skin available to me, the side of his head and secure my arms around him again, settling into this, smiling. I guess we’re making a night of it now.

#Jason Voorhees #Jason Voorhees x Reader #Oneshot #I Wouldn't Fit In That World Anymore. I Want This One #Bubba Sawyer #Freddy Krueger

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elsabarnitt · 3 years

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CASE STUDY - ‘The Book That Grew’ DandAD 2020 Annual Graphite Pencil Award

youtube

1. FRONT PAGE (slide 1)

For my case study I chose “The Book That Grew”, which won a graphite pencil in the DandAD 2020 awards.

On screen is the first image I saw that made me want to find out more, so I thought it was appropriate for it to be the first image you see. I’ll be honest, I only started looking into this project because this image looked cool, and I’ve never seen anything like it before so want to find out more. Looking in further I found high levels of collaboration, thought and a moralistic purpose to help a community become better.

2. WHAT AM I GOING TO TALK ABOUT (slide 2)

I am going to talk about a book that was grown with the aims to improve farming practises.

Ireland heavily relies on farming as their main source of economic income.

This development of this book was a project which spanned 6-7months and was a collaboration between the Allied Irish Bank, Teagasc; Irelands agriculture and food development authority, Rothco a design agency and the artist Diana Scherer.

In this presentation I elaborate on the creation of this idea, the processes involved, the limitations and the design.

3. WHY IT WAS MADE (slide 3)

Agriculture accounts for 30% of total emissions in Ireland which is its largest carbon emissions contributor. This can’t continue. The Irish economy is dependent on farming, with 6 billion euros of food and drink specifically reliant upon grasslands for their production. So for this level of farming to survive, it has to become sustainable.

AIB, the Allied Irish Bank has a business relationship with 35% of the farmers in Ireland and therefore this issue is of much importance to them. AIB partnered with Teagasc, who identified 10 tangible lessons and 10 pieces of practical advice to maximise sustainability and increase the profitability. The 10 steps help farmers to achieve a ‘perfect’ 10 rotations of grass grazing per year and produce 10 tonnes of grass per hectare – this is a powerful number that will greatly improve the sustainability of even the most efficient farm.

Hence, 10 being a major theme for this campaign. Which appears in their campaign video as well as the book.

This advice was compiled into a 22 page organically grown book using the very grass that Irish farmers nurture as the medium to carry these important lessons. And I believe this is a perfect example of getting the right message to the right people in the most suitable way.

4. INTRO INTO IDEA (slide 4)

I contacted the Irish design agency, Rothco via Instagram with a few questions and the offer to have a virtual coffee. To my surprise I got a response and Rob Maguire and Fabiano Dalmacio on the Creative team at Rothco were more than happy to have a zoom call with me.

It was great to be able to hear first-hand, how an agency works with a well-established client relationship to anticipate issues and be able to be proactive about providing solutions. It was also great to explore the whole process and the problems they came across face to face.

From my research I realised they had a long-standing relationship with AIB, and so one of the questions I asked was “Did AIB come to you with a brief, or did you go to them with an idea?”

The answer I received was that: No brief had been released, but Rothco knew AIB was passionate about sustainability and they have a lot of ambitions to do greener work, and knew there was an agricultural brief on its way. They were constantly looking out for things, and said they have a WhatsApp chat where they send ideas to each other at all hours of the day and night.

Fabiano initially came across an article about a visual artist called Diana Scherer who used grass to sustainably make fabrics. His initially reaction was ‘this is really cool, and we have to do something with her’, so they contacted the creative director at AIB who suggested a book or an annual report, because if Diana can grow patterns and textures, she can grow letters and numbers. And from there they contacted Diana to see if it was actually possible, and even she wasn’t completely sure, which shows the risk everyone was willing to take.

Rob and Fabiano were also kind enough to send me photos they had taken of some testers and unused versions. Two of which are on screen now.

As you can see the number 25 hasn’t formed properly.

5. DIANA (slide 5)

Diana Scherer, a German artist living in Amsterdam, explores the relationship of man versus natural environment. She has come up with a truly unique process, which no one else in the world knows how to do.

She has designed templates which had to be to a specific standard to allow grass roots to grow into them to form patterns. This is called ‘root-weaving’. I got told she is very protective of her work and didn’t show anyone else how to do what she does throughout the whole process.

She has a lab in Amsterdam where she curates her work, which is where the pages were all grown.

6. LIMITATIONS (slide 6)

The Rothco Design Team went out to Amsterdam to visit Diana to learn about the limitations of her process. One of the main limitations of the technique she has created is that everything has be connected in the template.

For example, if there was a font, it all has to be connected otherwise the roots would simply not take to it. As you can see in this picture there are very small lines connecting each of the letters together.

This project was being curated during Winter, which in terms of gardening isn’t the best time. Diana informed the team that growing in Winter versus Summer would have quite different outcomes and urged them to wait, however due to the time limit Rothco were under they weren’t able to wait but had to make it work in Winter.

From the moment it was harvested the pages started to die. Due to the nature of the project the team decided against using a preservative as that went against what they were trying to achieve. Because of this they decided to have a photography project running alongside it so that you could capture what it looked like the moment It was harvested.

Another limitation was that the size of the page. This really mattered as that would be a deciding factor of how big the typography could be and therefore how legible it was. They decided on 11 x 17 inches, which is roughly the size of an A3 page.

7. GRID SYSTEM, FONT, SYMBOLS (slide 7)

Due to the constraints I have just mentioned, the design team had to come up with a way to display all of the information in the most efficient and understandable way. They ended up condensing all the information they needed into a grid system inspired by the farmers fields using symbols to tell farmers what to do instead of words. I think its also important to say each page was set out to mimic the yearly calendar to make it easier for farmers to follow.

To the right of the screen I have displayed just a few of the symbols they used. The middle one being one of their field diagram designs.

Top left means Soil

Top right means fencing,

which I’m glad they have a key because I never would have guessed these otherwise.

When on the Zoom call with the creative team I asked what Type style they used and they couldn’t remember, however through one of the images they sent me after our call there were hints that it was ‘Helvetica’, and since comparing the book to this font I am almost certain it is.

SWITCH SLIDE (slide 8)

This is a close up of one of the pages to show you what the symbols look like in the book. Letters were also used as a symbol, for example the T and the F stand for Test and fertilise.

8. TEMPLATES AND DIANA CHECKING THEM (slide 9)

As spoken about on the previous slides, getting the right size and making sure everything was connected was vital. Therefore, it wasn’t as easy as just choosing fonts and point sizes from a printing point of view, but you had to do it from a gardening one as the pages would grow pixel by pixel. Every time the design team would finish a template, they would send it off to Diana for her to then check it over and see if there was anything wrong with it.

An example that Fabiano gave was that they had some numbers on their templates and Diana would say ‘the size of the zero, you need to increase that otherwise it is going to close in on itself. If you wanted that circle edge you need to make it bigger’.

With this kind of collaboration and exchanging of information the outcome just kept getting better.

SWITCH SLIDE (slide 10)

Here is an image of a digital template beside the root woven version of itself.

As you can see the root woven version on the right hand side isn’t as legible as the digital version. The roots aren’t as bold and perhaps as structured as white is against a black background, however as they were working with nature, it was okay for it not to be perfect, and for the letters to not form 100% accurately.

9. BOOK BINDING (slide 11)

The book was grown in Amsterdam and was being bound in Dublin by letter press printer and bookbinder Jamie Murphy of the Salvage press.

Each page took roughly 2 weeks to grow and then were all sent separately by courier. As this book is the first of its kind, one of the main challenges was finding the best way to bind it. Jamie was given several test runs that had failed to practice binding with. Everything was so delicate which you can see from the picture on the screen now so special techniques had to be used.

A challenge that Jamie faced was that Rothco were persistent on everything being made out of grass as keeping it as pure as possible was very important to them, so despite Jamie asking for some plastic features he had to find another way to do things.

Jamie burnt the grass in order for it to find a new life as an ink, and also used it to make more pages to act as dividers in the book to protect the delicate pages. Even the cords that hold the book together are made from bamboo

This all demonstrates that when a material such as grass is managed correctly it can work wonders.

10. CHANGE (slide 12)

The Book That Grew toured round Ireland, and was given the title ‘The best Grassroots campaign of all time’, with the main event being the National Ploughing Championships.

I have been told the book had a very good reception there as well as the knowledge that some farmers have already implemented some of the lessons within the book.

I think that this project has huge relevance in today’s society as sustainability is becoming a top priority for a lot of businesses.

I started off this project with the impression that this was cool, however after researching further no wonder I thought this as it is the world’s first, every page, every word, and every diagram in a book to be formed by real grass roots as they grow. An aspect of this project that has really stuck with me is the fact that you had to wait for the book to make itself as opposed to being able to physically make it and therefore patience was key.

After speaking with Rob and Fabiano on the Creative team at Rothco, I saw the human aspect behind the project and saw the good that they are trying to make which is something that has really inspired me. It is bigger than just its typography which is what it won the award for.

REFLECTION

- I have found this case study project to be very helpful and very interesting. I feel as if I have learnt different ways to find out information as at the beginning of this project I found it quite hard and was coming across the same information over and over. Something that I think had hugely benefitted me was getting in contact with the design agency RothCo and I am so thankful they took time out of their day to speak with me.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

https://www.lbbonline.com/news/aib-releases-worlds-first-book-literally-grown-from-grass-roots

https://musebycl.io/makers/agency-grew-book-out-grass-support-irish-farmers

https://m.bizcommunity.com/Article/196/614/210434.html

https://marcommnews.com/aib-and-rothco-release-beautiful-new-book-literally-grown-from-grass-roots/

https://www.irishtimes.com/sponsored/teagasc-making-money-by-watching-the-grass-grow-1.1619570

https://www.thedrum.com/creative-works/project/rothco-aib-the-book-grew

https://www.thestable.com.au/rothco-aib-grow-a-book-entirely-from-grass-roots/

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inessencedevided · 4 years

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The Untamed, episode 24 - watching notes

Happy Wangxian-bunny-fest everyone! 🐇💐🐇 Because that's what I have to think about every time I see an Easter bunny these days. :D

We're picking up where we left off, with Shijie's and Jin Zixuan's future being decided for them

And everyone looking distinctly uncomfortable

WWX said fork the patriarchy and I respect that!

He also probably just violated about a hundred rules of conduct 😂😂😂

God, I adore him just not giving a flying fork anymore

(Yes I'm cursing good place style now, because tumblr 🙄)

Ooooh, I hadn't realised that lwj had stood up for this whole exchange for no reason whatsoever. Now that's telling :D

I love the fact that Jiang Yanli is good and modest and dutiful, but she has her own opinion and here, she acts on it, even though it's in defiance of what most of the cultivation world wants.

I love how the short haired minor clan leader whose name I have forgotten just acts as a commentator the whole time :D

What is a "Baifeng Mountain crowd hunt"?

Okay, the background "whisper" explained it to me. Thanks random cultivator extra #34

Whaaaat is JGY planning? 🧐

Honest question: can someone explain the hat to me? Is it a Jin tradition? Or is it somehow indicative of jgy's new status?

I just had a though about jgy and wwx that I'm not quite sure is entirely formed yet, but I have to share anyway. I feel like their journeys might be a parallel of each other, but in opposite directions ... if that makes sense? Like both were born outside of the clan world. Wwx got accepted into it through the kindness of someone who loved his mother. Jgy got rejected through the cruelty of his own father who very much did not love his mother. Wwx grew up a respected cultivator, jgy was an outsider and always looked down upon as the sun of a prostitute. Then they witness the war against the Wen clan. Wwx sacrifices everything to save the ones who took him in. Jgy betrays and almost kills the ones who took him in. Wwx comes back more bitter about the cultivation world than he has ever been and seems to only care about his own moral judgement and the wellbeing if those closes lt to him anymore. The last thing he seems concerned about his status. Then there is jgy, who at this point has murdered, lied.and killed innocent civilians,but also aided those who were kind to him (i.e. lan Xichen), and st least partially this is how he climbed the socisl ladder on the cultivation world. In other words, these two are both outcasts at some points in their lives, but their reaction seems to be almost opposite each other. For wwx it seems to be to fight the system, for jgy to adapt and survive and use the corrupt system to his advantage.

Moving on ...

Oh no ...

I feel like jgy actively acting again wwx kind of fits my rant about them from earlier

Oh he is good! He just planted the idea that wwx has the last shard of the Yin iron in Jin guangshao's head and then acted as if he was speaking reason. And the idiot completely fell for it because it flatters his ego.

Who is that spy going to be I wonder?

Oh no, lotus pier looks different 😥

Cloud Recess!!!!! I've missed you :')

Lan Xichen's long suffering sighs are a mood :D

Oh I see where this is going. First Jin Guangshan now Lan Quiren. The old guard seems to be extremely displeased with what wwx is doing.

Also, it must be very strange to all involved that suddenly, lwj is the one having yo be reminded of the rules

Character development, man!

"Do you know why I wouldn't let you leave with Xichen?" *dramatic zoom from the side* dramatic zoom from the front* ... *drumroll* ... "Leave now" 😑

IT'S BECAUSE HE DISAPPROVES OF YOUR BOYFRIEND! THAT'S WHY!

I feel so proud of Jiang Cheng right now :')

I'm so here for Lan Wangji's crisis of faith right now! Character development!!!

Jiang "tough love" Cheng

I kind of understand his frustration. From his perspective, it seems as if wwx is abandoning them

Lan Xichen's fond amusement with wwx will never not be endearing

Also, wwx is caring for the Jiang guests after all :D

Um ... does wwx have an alcohol problem at this point? 😕

That can't be healthy

I love the moral argument Lan Xichen makes here and it shows how one set of moral beliefs can come from entirely different places. His uncle seems to believe in rules for the rules sake, whereas lan Xichen cites a more humanistic argument: rules exist because we exist in a society and for society to function for all, especially the weakest, there most be rules to reign in behaviour that would be harmful to others. That's why breaking those rules harms not only one person, but society as a whole. My question for him then would be: But what of those rules themselves are harmful?

I stopped the stream to type this. Let's see what wwx has to say :D

Okay, lan Xichen isn't finished yet

Honestly, I think in terms of his combination of character traits, lan Xichen is the most genuinely good person among our characters. He is both well-meaning in his goals and measured in his means. He treats everyone fairly and although he loves his live by the Lan sect rules, he is not unkind in applying them to others. The fact that he can see wwx's good heart, even though they are such fundamentally different people, speaks volumes.

I'm genuinely wondering why wwx doesn't tell anyone why he can't do traditional cultivation anymore. (I'm still pretty convinced he gave Jiang cheng his golden core. I even went back to the scene where he showed Wen Qing the diagram and that was as good as a confirmation.) I get that he wouldn't tell Jiang Cheng and wouldn't want it to be known by most, for Jiang Cheng's sake alone, but why doesn't he at least tell one person who could vouch for him. I guess wen Qing knows by default, but she is part of the Wen clan and thus pretty low on the social ladder right now. He doesn't want Lan Wangji to know because he doesn't want to drag him down with him. I get that, too, even though it's bullshit. But Lan Xichen would be a good choice. A) because he is even-tempered and wouldn't act rashly and b) because I'm pretty sure that he would even aid wei Wuxian in shielding lan Wangji.

At the end of this rant, I kind of realised why Wei Wuxian doesn't tell anyone. It makes perfect sense, character-wise. He absolutely strikes me as someone who thinks he has to bear all his burdens alone. And now that he probably thinks of himself as doomed anyway, he might as well run with it. :/

Again, all the awards to his actor. He does an amazing job at giving wwx an aloof and cocky air that crumbles the moment nobody is looking. Way to breakmy heart ... 😔

I honestly believe Jiang Cheng is also worried about Wei Wuxian. He's just never learnt to separate worry from anger

Wei Wuxian is so far from okay :/

Btw, are the light colours that Jiang Cheng and especially Jiang Yanli sre wearing indicative of the fact that they are still in mourning?

I know I've said so before but the only one he is even remotely himself around is Shijie. Even as he tries to put on a good face, at least he lets himself cry, too. He acts almost childlike around her. She's more mother to him than sister, I think

Oh God, little Wei Ying on the streets 🥺🥺🥺

"You were born with a smiling face. Always smiling. You never mind too much about any sorrowful things. No matter how bad your situation is, you can always be happy." But he can't anymore, can he? He's just playing the part at this point, to varying degrees of success.

"Why do you still act like a kid?" See, Shijie thinks so, too

Oh god, the question why one would like someone so much! I'm so anxious to find out, when wwx has any inkling of his own feelings, because at least in the show, this seems to be a very good moment, tragically. Because the way he tries to shield lwj from harm? That's not the way you treat an old school acquaintance.

Very random observation, but wwx's sleeves are mismatched. One is studded in silver, the other one has a simple leathery pattern :D

Aww, the banter between wwx and jc makes me almost tear up at this point, even though they're acting like 6 year olds and I wonder how Shijie kept her sanity for all these years 😅

At the library pavilion at Gusu: "Please don't report this to Hanguang Jun." Lol :D

Is he purposefully going behind his uncle's back right now? 😱

"It seemed not so hard to go back to the old days." That is a very ominous sentence to end an episode on 😬

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #the untamed episode 24 #lan wangji #wwx #lwj #wei wuxian #jiang siblings #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #yunmeng siblings #lan xichen

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chemicalmagecraft · 3 years

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A Black Wind Howls Chapter 4: Winter Solstice Part One

Previously on Avatar...

"You can run but you can't hide, airbenders!" the leader of the firebenders shouted.

"I'm sorry," Dorji said quietly, seemingly to thin air. "This is all my fault."

Dorji grunted lazily and touched the thumb of her open hand to her chest and then her chin."

I also managed to find a scroll on healing with waterbending. It's not anything you can use in a fight but, well... Let's just say I speak from experience when I say that healers are the kind of thing that are always great to have around. I'll try to find practical waterbending scrolls to get to you."

"And finally, I added in a few scrolls on Earth Kingdom Sign Language," Tsering said. "While it's not my place to tell you why, Dorji sometimes prefers talking in it so it'd be for the best if at least one of you learned enough of it to hold a conversation."

"I... Sometimes I have... problems processing sounds. It's not too bad anymore, I hope anyway, but please be patient if I need you to repeat things," Dorji muttered. "I would also prefer if you faced me while speaking to me, for similar reasons. I can read lips, in case I'm having trouble with hearing."

Dorji turned to Sokka. "Perhaps you would like to learn chi blocking? You seemed pleased with the concept of disrupting firebending. And it can do more than just disable bending for a few seconds."

oOoOo

"Bending is connection to an element," Dorji said, her hands on Appa's reins. She was sitting backwards, though, so she could talk to the others more comfortably, and only occasionally looked behind her at where Appa was going. She held her hand out to a passing cloud, causing a miniature funnel cloud to form from it. "When you move air, when you lift water, you become one with it. To a truly masterful bender, their element is an extension of their very body."

"What does this have to do with us wearing blindfolds?" Aang asked from Appa's saddle. He and Katara were both sitting down on opposite sides of the saddle, wearing blindfolds. Sokka was sitting in the back, studying Dorji's chi blocking scroll.

"The reason the Air Nomads used to shave their heads was to give them more connection to air, was it not, Aang?" Dorji asked. When he nodded, she continued, "By shaving their heads, the Air Nomads made themselves more sensitive to the air currents around them, if only a bit. My grandmother trained me in a more... advanced version of this. Thanks to her I learned to feel the very air around me in a wide range, as another sense. Think of the blindfold like... a weight, I suppose. By restricting one of the senses you use the most, you will unconsciously draw on other senses. And once you begin to feel the elements more, your control over them will only increase."

"That makes about as much sense as bending always does," Sokka snarked. He looked at the diagram on his scroll, then carefully pressed his thumb into a spot on his other arm. "Tingly," he muttered.

"Is this really going to work?" Aang asked.

"I learned your little trick, didn't I?" Dorji stated. With the same deadpan expression as always, Dorji showed off the spinning stone trick that Aang entertained the people of Kyoshi with. "At least try to learn mine, please. Though I suppose the blindfolds work better when you're being forced to move around or something else that you would otherwise rely on sight for, which isn't something you can safely do on a flying bison..."

"You didn't do it right, though," Aang noted.

Dorji winced. Despite the blindfolds, Katara and Sokka glared at Aang.

"Sorry, sorry," Aang raised his hands apologetically. "I meant that it doesn't have the same affect if you don't have the expression right." He frowned. "How did I know that, actually?"

"I can have that affect on people," Dorji said. "Or perhaps you're beginning to learn. Regardless, let me try that again."

As if the mental exertion required to even think about purposefully adopting such a whimsical expression was too much for Dorji's brain to handle, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she went limp. The only thing that prevented her from sliding and falling off of Appa was the fact that she somehow managed to drop the reins in such a way that her foot got caught in them and she ended up dangling off the side of Appa's head.

"DORJI!" Sokka screamed in horror.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad, Sokka," Aang said, oblivious to what just happened due to his blindfold. Katara just scowled at him.

oOoOo

Dorji groaned as she woke up. "I hate the spirit world..." She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was sitting in Appa's saddle, and it appeared that they had landed in a forest that had been burnt down. Work of the Fire Nation, she judged from the komodo rhino tracks. She tossed herself off of Appa's saddle, slowly falling to the ground.

"Ah!" But when she touched down, she cried out in pain despite how lightly she landed. She dropped to the ground and clutched her knee.

Dorji's awake!" Katara shouted. She and the others rushed over to her. "Are you okay?" Katara asked.

"I probably just twisted it when I fell..." she muttered, pulling some bandages out of one of the pouches on her belt and taking off her shoe.

"Here, let me," Katara offered. She took the bandage and started wrapping up Dorji's foot for her.

Dorji blushed and fidgeted.

"Sorry, am I putting it on too tight?" Katara asked.

Dorji's blush deepened. She pressed her fingers together nervously. "Mmh. N-no, sorry. I'm just a l-little... ticklish, I guess..."

Katara finished bandaging her foot. "There, is that better?"

Dorji gingerly tested the range of her ankle's motion, then nodded. "Thank you." She pulled the two halves of her staff from her belt, then used them to push off the ground. She balanced on her good leg, then put her staff together and started leaning on it. "It doesn't feel too bad. Hopefully it'll be better in a few days if I keep my weight off of it."

"So what happened back there?" Sokka asked.

She sighed. "I'm... afraid I lost track of the days when I was in that prison. Is the winter solstice approaching?"

Katara nodded. "It's in a few days, but what does that have to do with you passing out?"

Aang gasped. "Did you... pass over to the spirit world?"

She nodded. "That... happens to me sometimes, at times when the two worlds draw closer."

"How is that even possible?" Sokka asked.

"Airbenders, for whatever reason, have souls more easily separated from their bodies. So those among us who are more receptive to the spirit world can actually cross over without meaning to, especially when near areas with strong spiritual ties." She nodded at Aang. "You were warned about this, right?"

Aang nodded back. "Yeah, when we were really young the monks took us aside before one of our holy days and warned us about how we could cross over on accident if the circumstances were right." He thought of something. "Actually, I think they might have asked us to be extra cautious because of me. Sorry, did I accidentally make you cross over? I am supposed to be the bridge between worlds..."

Dorji rubbed her chin. "No... You might have exacerbated it slightly, but I knew that might happen when I decided to travel with the Avatar. The real reason, I think, is that there's something near here that is very connected to the spirit world." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if concentrating on something else. "It looks like... a statue to a bear spirit. Maybe the guardian of this forest?"

The other three looked over at a bear statue, which was on the other side of Appa from where Dorji was standing. "Amazing," Katara said. "How'd you do that?"

"As much as I don't act like it, I'm very spiritually receptive. I was born that way," Dorji explained. "Grandmother told me a theory she had, once, that because most of the airbenders died, when my father and myself were born we were given a high degree of spiritual power by the universe in an attempt to restore balance."

Sokka raised his eyebrow.

"I... probably didn't explain that very well, did I?" She leaned against Appa. "In all honesty, I don't get it. But... I don't have any other explanation for it. Because of my strong spiritual receptivity, my ability to sense the air around me also allows me to sense... other things. Spiritual presence among them."

"That makes sense, I guess," Aang said.

Sokka frowned. "I still don't get this whole spirit world thing, but that's good to know, I guess."

"That bison... could you be the Avatar?" an old man asked as he walked through the ruined forest to the group. He smiled when he saw Aang's tattoos. "Please help my village, Avatar."

"Um, I'll try my best, whatever you need," Aang said. "Just take us there."

"I don't suppose you know anything about medicine?" Dorji asked.

"How bad is it?" the man asked, seeing how Dorji was leaning on a staff and not using her bad leg.

"Just a sprain, hopefully," Dorji told him. "Would like for someone who actually paid attention in their first aid lessons to take a look, though."

Everyone stared at her. "Flopsie wanted cuddles," she explained with a shrug.

"As in the King of Omashu's pet Flopsie?" Katara asked.

"He likes it when you scratch him behind the ears," Dorji smiled slightly. "Now, perhaps we should get on Appa? That way he can examine my ankle on the way to his village."

oOoOo

"Its name is Hei Bai," the village chief said after the old man brought them to his house. "It started attacking the village every night recently, I'm sure you saw the houses it destroyed, and it has been spiriting people away, too. The winter solstice, when the boundaries between this world and the spirit world begin to weaken, is drawing near, and we would prefer not to find out what sort of havoc Hei Bai could wreak on that day of all days."

Dorji, who was given the comfiest chair in the house and a footrest to prop up her injured leg, cleared her throat. "A spirit's powers don't grow on the solstice, thankfully. It only takes less effort to cross between the worlds, and powers that involve a connection to the spirit world are easier to use. It might even be that this spirit can only cross over the way it does thanks to the solstice approaching, and the amount of power it'll 'gain' on the day of is negligible at best. Or, I suppose, worst."

The chief nodded in thanks. "That is reassuring to hear, thank you. Regardless, I think that we would all rest much easier if there wasn't a monstrous spirit that wants to attack us. Avatar Aang, please help us and pacify the spirit besieging our village."

Aang bit his lip. "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you, Avatar."

Katara put her hand on Aang's shoulder. "Let's talk," she said gently, then brought him over to the part of the room where Sokka and Dorji were still sitting. "Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm not too sure, but... I have to try." Aang looked at Dorji. "Actually, what else do you know about spirits?"

She shook her head. "Not much. My father apparently used to explore the spirit world frequently, but I have a few... issues with it, so I didn't pay much attention to what he told me about it, except for a few things."

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you," Sokka noted.

Dorji blushed a little. "I swear I'm normally more competent than that, but in my defense I don't like the spirit world."

Sokka stroked his chin, like he was stroking an imaginary goatee or beard. "And what about your first aid lessons, young lady?" he asked in a weird, authoritative, father figurely voice.

"You can't stare into Flopsie's soulful eyes and tell him no," Dorji defended. "But Flopsie's soulful eyes are irrelevant to our current situation. What I do know is that most spirits will not attack humans without first being provoked... though sometimes the provocation is something that one would not expect a normal person to react so strongly to."

"That's extremely helpful," Sokka snarked.

Katara elbowed him.

"I apologize that I can't offer much more advice," Dorji said. "It's probably something recent, though. If the spirit looks like a bear you might want to start with the forest."

"That... thank you," Aang said. He smiled and hugged her. "I'm feeling much better about this than I did earlier."

She nodded. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Now, you may want to start preparing yourself."

"The girl is right," the village leader said. "The sun is starting to set. Hei Bai will be here soon."

Aang nodded and retrieved his staff. "I'm ready." He walked out the door, a serious look on his face.

"Yyyeah, we're all gonna die..." Sokka said.

Katara hit him. "Don't say that!"

Dorji nodded. "I have the utmost faith in him. And not just because I, as the disabled girl with the sprained ankle, would be the most screwed should Hei Bai attack us, even with my father's staff." She tapped the staff, which was currently leaning on her chair

"In any case, it won't do us any good to worry about it," Katara said. She coated her hands in water from a pitcher that she was given. "And speaking of your ankle, I read that one scroll on healing your grandmother gave us. I'm not sure how successful I'll be, but I still wanna try it."

"It can't hurt," Dorji agreed.

Katara placed her hands on Dorji's foot, which she had left bare other than the bandage after the old man took a look at it. Dorji's cheeks and ears turned pink as Katara closed her eyes and started rubbing her foot. "Does it feel any better?" Katara asked.

"I-it does, b-but only because of the c-cool water, I think," Dorji answered. She smiled slightly, and her blush turned very red. "A-and, a-a really p-p-pretty girl g-giving me a f-foot rub also m-makes me feel a l-lot better."

Katara started laughing so hard that she dropped her water. "Sorry," she said as she retrieved more water, "but that sounds like the sort of thing Sokka would say to some girl." Dorji's face was burning now, though Katara hadn't noticed because she was concentrating on trying to heal Dorji.

Sokka raised his eyebrow at Dorji. "Yeah," he said with a smug grin, "that does sound like the sort of thing I'd say. With someone other than Katara, obviously." Dorji shrank down in her seat and timidly tried to hide her face. Sokka, with an even more smug expression, pointed to the left with two fingers and then made a fist with his thumb pointing up, the signs for 'h' and 'a.' Dorji looked like she very much wanted to use her grandmother's invisibility technique.

"Dorji, are you sure you're okay? You're starting to shake a bit," Katara asked.

"Y-yeah," Dorji squeaked. "M'fine."

"I have no idea what you three are doing, but Hei Bai just showed up in case you want to watch your friend," the village chief said.

"Katara, help Dorji stand," Sokka ordered as he got up.

"Th-that's not really..." Dorji started to say, then trailed off when Katara grabbed her hand. Katara smiled at Dorji as she helped her up. Dorji leaned on her, still blushing heavily, and summoned her staff to her free hand with airbending. "Th-thanks..."

"That is not a bear," Sokka said about the monstrous spirit Aang was trying to talk to.

"I hope Aang knows what he's doing," Katara said.

Dorji stared at the spirit as it smashed down a house with a roar... or perhaps a scream. "He's crying," she muttered.

"What was that, Dorji?" Katara asked her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aang looks fine to me," Sokka said.

Dorji shook her head. "Not Aang, Hei Bai."

"That monster is not crying," the village leader said. "It's creepy."

"I think he looks kinda cute, rampaging aside," Dorji shrugged. "He's fluffy and I wanna pet him."

The chief raised his eyebrow at her, then looked at the four-armed monster attacking the village. He stepped away from Dorji.

Aang shouted at Hei Bai to gain his attention, causing Hei Bai to turn around long enough to hit him, sending him flying, before turning back to smashing a building. "That's it, I'm helping him," Sokka said, then ran for the door.

"Sokka, wait!" Katara shouted.

"You can't fight it!" the village chief shouted as Sokka ran out the door.

"I'm going out there too," Dorji said. She defenestrated herself, and once she was clear of the window she unfurled her staff. The revealed glider wings were as black as the rest of the staff. An air current had already formed when she opened her staff, catching Dorji and causing her to shoot off in the direction of the rampaging spirit. She was just a little too late to stop the spirit from grabbing Sokka, who'd thrown his boomerang at him to get him to stop, and running back to the trees.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted, and unfurled his own glider. He joined Dorji in chasing the spirit through the trees, until they reached the part of the forest that had been burned away. Dorji grabbed hold of one of Hei Bai's arms, using her glider to try to slow him down. Aang got close enough to reach out to Sokka, but as soon as Sokka grabbed Aang's hand the spirit shimmered and disappeared, taking Sokka with it. Aang and Dorji remained, but they both fell despite their gliders and were knocked unconscious.

oOoOo

"Ow, my head," Aang said as he woke up. He rubbed his head as he sat up and looked around. While it was still nighttime, it looked like a few hours had passed after they'd been knocked unconscious. "Sokka?" he shouted. "Are you there?" He sighed. "I failed, didn't I?"

He heard a sob. Aang turned around to see Dorji, cowering by the foot of the bear statue. She was curled up in a ball, trembling and covering her head with her arms.

Aang knelt down in front of her. "Are you okay, Dorji?" He asked. She didn't respond at all. "Hey, is your ank-" He gently touched her shoulder.

She shrieked and jerked back. She looked at him, startled and with eyes red and puffy from crying. "A-Aang, y-you're up." She gave a shaky sigh of relief. "Y-you wouldn't w-wake up, a-and I was s-scared..." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry, I guess." Aang looked around. "Do you know where Sokka and the spirit went?" he asked, not looking directly at Dorji.

"U-um... c-could you p-please look at m-me?" Dorji asked.

"Hm?" Aang looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Dorji hugged her knees nervously. "I-I..." She bit her lip. "I... c-can't hear y-you..."

Aang tilted his head, confused. "You... can't?"

"I... I can't hear in the s-spirit world..."

"That... sounds arbitrary," Aang said, then looked around again. "But we're not in the spirit world, are we?"

Dorji's grip on her knees tightened. "It's... more complicated than that. A-and we are. T-this is a sort of... borderland, that only appears at times like the solstice. It's... a thin layer that forms over the material world. I-it's what makes it so easy to cross over to the spirit world. We can see the material world, b-but only those attuned to the spirit world will be able to see us."

"So... how does that translate to you not being able to hear? Or is that too personal of a question to ask, sorry?"

"Well... it is a personal question... but I suppose I should tell the truth..."

"Oh, don't feel the need to tell me if you don't feel like it," Aang said, shaking his head.

Dorji frowned at him. "...It's hard to read your lips if you do that."

"Sorry!"

"It's... fine..." Dorji took a deep breath. "The reason I can't hear in the spirit world... is because I was born deaf."

"You were what?" Aang asked.

"P-please let me explain," Dorji said. "I hear through my ability to sense air, and when a bender crosses over to the spirit world in spirit alone, which is what we did, we lose all bending ability..."

"Including air sense," Aang finished. "Though how does air sense translate to hearing, if you don't mind me asking?"

Dorji nodded slightly. "It's a valid question. The sound you hear is basically just... vibrations in air, so I was taught to read those vibrations." She sighed. "It's... not perfect, though. I have trouble detecting tone of voice sometimes, and if I'm too distracted..." She bit her lip. "I... That's how I got found out..."

Aang put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She took a deep breath. "I... was practicing. Alone. In a clearing. I shouldn't have, but I wanted to surprise Father by learning a technique he had showed me. I let myself become distracted, and while I was practicing it seemed that a Fire Nation soldier snuck behind me." She sobbed. "I-i escaped, b-but the soldier called reinforcements and they chased me. I... I led them right to my father."

"That's not your fault," Aang assured her. She didn't react because her eyes were closed, so Aang squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, that wasn't your fault," he said when she looked at him.

She shook her head. "Father is so much stronger and faster than me. Some call him the most powerful bender in the Earth Kingdom, if not the world. Had he not had to protect me, Father could have slipped away invisibly, or killed them all. But I was there, so he had to slow himself do-"

Aang hugged her. She sobbed and buried her face in Aang's chest. Aang let her cry, neither of them trying to speak, and rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. Her sobs abated eventually. Aang gently pushed her off of him and squeezed her shoulders lightly. "I think... Maybe, we did make mistakes. I ran away from the Air Temple, and more recently I said some horrible and uncalled for things to you. And you might have been surprised by some Fire Nation people. But... we're both kids. Sometimes we'll make mistakes. We should apologize for them, and try not to make the same mistake again, but beating ourselves up over it won't change anything. Tsering didn't blame either of us, and while I don't know your father I do know that if he's anything like Tsering he wouldn't blame you for what happened." Aang got up and held a hand out to Dorji, smiling. "So let's not blame ourselves either, okay?"

Dorji sniffed. It felt as if a weight lifted off her chest as she processed Aang's words. "I think... I think I needed to see that." She took Aang's hand and let him pull her up, leaning on him due to her bad ankle. "Thank you."

"And for what it's worth, I'm still really sorry for the 'you're not a real airbender' thing..."

Dorji nodded, but still frowned a little. "Let's just... not talk about that again, please. Now, what are we going to do."

"If you want, you can try to go back to our world. I'll try to look for Sokka until morning, if that's how it works here."

"There is morning here." Dorji bit her lip, then squeezed Aang's hand a little. "I think... I think I'll stay with you. For now. I don't know how how much help I'll be, but I want to try. And it might be better for both of us to have someone else."

Aang nodded. "Thanks." Then he squeezed Dorji's hand. "How about we hold hands, and when I need to talk to you I can squeeze your hand or something to get your attention?"

"That sounds good, thank you."

He smiled at her. "Great. Now, let's try to find Sokka."

The walked around the ruined forest in silence, looking for anything out of place. Eventually, Aang heard something. He quickly turned to face Dorji and squeezed her hand. "I think I hear... wings flapping?" he said when she looked at him. He wasn't quite sure that was what it was, but it was his best guess.

"I'll take your word for it." She looked up, then her eyes widened and she pointed at a figure approaching from above. It was a red, serpentine creature that flew towards them on great red wings. "Could that be it?" she asked, surprisingly calm. She glanced back at him for his response.

"Is that a dragon!?" Aang asked. The dragon landed in front of them.

"It looks like Avatar Roku's dragon. Could it be here for you?" Dorji speculated.

The dragon nodded, then leaned forward. Aang flinched back, but calmed when the dragon touched his whiskers to his head.

"Oh. Thank you," he told the dragon. He turned back to Dorji. "He wants to show me something. Is it okay if I leave with him?"

Dorji nodded, then bit her lip. "Go, but I think... if you're going I want to leave the spirit world."

Aang squeezed her hand. "That's fine. There's nothing wrong with leaving somewhere that makes you uncomfortable."

"Thanks," she nodded, then closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out. Her body glowed and turned transparent, then she shot back off to where they'd entered the spirit world. The sleeping form of Dorji's body in the material world stirred when her spirit body entered her. Dorji got up, leaning on her staff again, then nodded to Aang and the dragon. As Aang got on the dragon, Dorji twirled her staff. The motion generated more wind than should've been possible, allowing Dorji to shoot herself up into the air, then unfurl her staff. The wind shot her back to the village.

oOoOo

Dorji landed in the center of the town.

"Dorji, you're back!" Katara shouted, then ran over to hug her.

Dorji squeaked.

"Oh, I was so worried about you!" Katara exclaimed, letting her go. "What happened? Where are the others?"

"A-ah..." Dorji fidgeted a little. "Sokka... is probably in the spirit world. I know Aang is in the spirit world, we entered there on accident. He was contacted by a... representative, of sorts, of Avatar Roku, so hopefully he'll know how to best resolve the situation when he returns."

Katara raised an eyebrow. "A representative of..."

"Avatar Roku, the Avatar before Aang. I've heard that the Avatar before the current one acts as a spiritual advisor for the current one, so he's in good hands. All that's left for us to do is wait."

"That's good to hear," the village chief, who had walked over to them, said. "Is there anything we can do while we wait for the Avatar to come back?"

Dorji slumped into Katara's chest. "Food, please," she muttered, still keeping eye contact with the village chief. "Going to the spirit world can be draining. I need food, Aang will need food, and when he gets the others back they'll need food. And I have an idea that might help, but I'll need to regain some energy before I try it." And then she closed her eyes and started snoring.

Katara picked her up. "I'll take her somewhere more comfortable. Can you get some food for her?"

The chief nodded. "I'll get right on that."

oOoOo

The sun was beginning to set, though it was hard to tell under the cover of the clouds that blanketed the sky, but Aang was still nowhere to be found. Katara was waiting for him outside the village chief's house, but she was starting to look worried. "Where are you, Aang?"

"He's approaching," a soft voice said from behind her.

Katara jumped, then turned to see Dorji standing behind her. She wasn't leaning on her staff anymore, as her ankle had healed up a bit. "Oh, Dorji, you scared me."

Dorji bowed her head slightly. "Right, sorry."

"It's okay. What did you want to tell me?"

"I... sensed... Aang's spirit moving towards his body. Very fast, too. He should be back in our world by now." She tilted her head slightly, as if "listening" to something, then pointed at the sky behind Katara.

Katara turned around and looked at something in the distance where Dorji was pointing. "Aang!" she shouted.

The small figure flying in the distance grew to reveal that it was Aang, and Aang landed in front of Katara and Dorji. "Sorry, am I late?" he asked.

"I think you'd know if you were late," Dorji said flatly.

"You're back, Aang!" Katara hugged him. "Do you think you know what to do about the spirit now."

Aang gave her a determined expression. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'll try my best."

Hei Bai seemed to fade into existence right behind him.

"As soon as Hei Bai appears I'm going to..." Aang felt something breathing down his neck. "It's behind me, isn't it?"

Dorji and Katara nodded.

Aang turned around and stared at Hei Bai, determined. "You're angry because the Fire Nation destroyed your forest, aren't you?" he said.

The spirit growled at him.

Aang pulled out an acorn. "I was so angry when I saw it, too. But my friends showed me that, even if it looks bad now, there's still hope for it to regrow in the future."

Hei Bai's expression softened.

"Actually," Dorji butted in, "I heard that forest fires can cause the soil to become even more nutritious, because the nutrients from dead trees get turned into ash and then mixed with the soil, or something. Obviously it's still better for the forest not to get set on fire, but with some rain to let the ash absorb into the soil..." As if on cue, a raindrop fell on the spirit's nose. More started falling, a light drizzle at first but slowly getting heavier. "The forest might regrow healthier than ever."

Hei Bai seemed to be processing that, his expression softening further as the rain soaked it. He shimmered and morphed into a panda, then picked the acorn Aang had offered him up with his mouth. Dorji stepped forward, holding her hand up in front if his face.

Interestingly enough, Dorji didn't seem to be getting wet at all despite the pouring rain coming down all around her.

The bear spirit pressed his forehead into Dorji's hand, accepting her invitation. Dorji hugged him, then started scratching him behind his ears. He made happy bear noises in response. Aang slowly placed his hand on Hei Bai's neck, then started rubbing it when he didn't object to it.

"That's nice and all, I suppose," Katara said as her friends cuddled with the spirit that had attacked them and took her brother away yesterday, "but could you please give back the villagers you spirited away? And my brother?"

Aang stopped petting Hei Bai, but Dorji, whose face was buried in his neck, didn't seem to notice what Katara had said. "Sorry," he said.

Hei Bai made a noise that sounded like it might also have been an apology, then slipped through Dorji's grasp, heading to the forest. As he walked, ethereal bamboo started to sprout from the ground. Aang and Katara walked after him.

"Huh?" Dorji said when Hei Bai passed through her arms, then noticed Aang and Katara following Hei Bai. She trotted after them, walking in between the two.

"How'd you know it'd rain just then?" Katara asked her. As with before, Dorji didn't seem to hear her.

Aang grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Dorji turned to him. "Sorry, did you say something? I have trouble hearing things when it's raining."

"I didn't, but..." Aang pointed at Katara.

"Sorry, I should've gotten your attention first," Katara apologized when Dorji looked at her. "I asked how you knew it'd rain, it seemed like you already knew it was about to rain when you said what you said."

"Those rain clouds have been gathering since I woke up," Dorji pointed out.

Aang frowned. "I know you probably meant that you just guessed it might rain soon, but to be honest it kinda sounded like you were implying you caused the rain."

Dorji didn't seem to notice what Aang said, and instead ran forward as Hei Bai started to disappear into a thicket of bamboo of his own making. As people started to emerge from the thicket, she ran through some bending form that both Aang and Katara thought looked a little familiar, but couldn't quite place. As she did, the effect that caused the rain to avoid her expanded, a swirling field of air that looked something like a lazy, hemispherical funnel cloud protecting the people who were coming back from the spirit world from the elements.

"Wow, how are you doing that?" Aang asked her.

"Airbending," she muttered. "Perhaps we should check on them?"

Some of the villagers, led by their chief, ran into the air shield, small gaps forming in it whenever they were about to touch it. It seemed like Dorji had somehow talked with them about it beforehand, as they didn't pay it much mind aside from a small amount of wonder at the barrier made from of wind and clouds. They came with towels and hot meals (though unfortunately they were a little wet...) for the people who just came back from the spirit world.

"Sokka!" Katara exclaimed when she saw her brother stumbling from the bamboo. She ran up to him and hugged him. "I was so worried about you! How are you doing?"

Sokka danced weirdly. "Thanks, but... I really have to pee!" He wiggled out of the hug and ran out of the cloud barrier. He went so fast that Dorji didn't have the time to fully open a hole in it.

"There are no bathrooms in the spirit world," Dorji noted dully.

oOoOo

Sokka left the bathroom, sighing in relief.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dorji said. She was leaning on the wall near the door, holding a bowl of curry. She offered the curry to Sokka. "Courtesy of the village chief." Sokka reached to grab it, but then Dorji pulled it back. "Actually, did you not wash your hands?"

Sokka growled at her, then went back into the bathroom. A few seconds and sounds of water later, Sokka came back out, still growling, and snatched the bowl from Dorji.

"Seriously, though, are you okay?" Dorji asked him as he downed the soup. "While there were... circumstances that made my first time in the spirit world more terrifying than if could've been, chief among them being the fact that I was five, the spirit world is a confusing place to just randomly be dropped against your will in regardless of circumstances."

Sokka shrugged. "It was pretty freaky, but to be honest that's just been my life since we met Aang."

"Still, if you do need to talk about it I'll be there for you," Dorji said. "And... thanks, for not being weird about it when you noticed..."

Sokka nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Though I do feel like I should remind you that, as Katara's older brother, I will have to tease you about having a crush on her."

"I was worried about that..." she muttered. "Now, I think Aang's about to do something rash, so let's go catch up with him."

Sokka gulped some of his curry. "Yeah, let's go."

oOoOo

"What was Aang just about to do?" Sokka asked Katara. Aang and Katara were standing in front of Appa, who looked like he was being readied to fly.

"I was-" Aang started to say, but was cut off by Katara.

"He was about to leave without us," she said. "Something about Avatar Roku."

"I have to go to an island in the Fire Nation by tomorrow," Aang explained. "I didn't want..."

Dorji jumped onto Appa. "Nope," she said, reclining in the back of his saddle. The rain started avoiding Appa, though without quite as much of the vision-obscuring cloud barrier around him.

"Yeah, we're not letting you go without us," Sokka said, then started trying to climb Appa. "We're going to the Fire Nation together."

Aang sighed. "Thanks, guys."

#fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #Avatar The Last Airbender #A Black Wind Howls #ABWH CH4

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gizkasparadise · 4 years

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how did you know you were pan? do you have advice for someone under the umbrella trying to figure out if they're bi or pan? maybe it's something i'm overthinking, any advice appreciated!

this is very long but LOL welcome to my Journey i guess. i bolded things to separate my figuring out “queer” and then figuring out “pan”

[homophobia cw/tw, mentions of abuse] figuring out i was queer took a long time. i grew up in a homophobic household and i was raised Very catholic. when i was coming into my teens/encountering was sex meant for the first time, it was during a time where legalizing gay marriage was very very much in the public sphere (i cant remember the exact legislature, but i want to say proposition 8?). i lived on military bases throughout my entire childhood.

i was also LOL living in wyoming at the time brokeback mountain came out & at the same time i was reaching the sexual curiosity stage--there were literally protests and sit-ins at the movie gates to prevent people from going to buy a ticket. wyoming is the most homophobic place i’ve ever lived and is where the matthew shepard murder occurred. it wasn’t uncommon for people who lived openly lgbt+ to be physically beaten up after school, and no one in authority cared when it happened.

so i spent my adolescence in a household, culture, and location that hated everything it meant to be queer and made me hate myself and my relationship to sex very deeply because that’s what i was taught. i’d have go on what was called an abstinence retreat but now realize was a lowkey pre-conversion session where some fucker named chad (literally chad) wore puka shells and played an acoustic guitar and sung songs about jesus in between diatribes on how being a lesbian causes your family constant pain and how women’s bodies were meant to “receive” according to god. that wasn’t an uncommon attitude in the catholic church, probably still isn’t, but for obvious reasons i am no longer catholic.

i had A LOT of internalized homophobia that likely registered as discomfort and fear around those who were out and made my relationship to sex toxic as fuck, which would later register in my relationships with men going forward. i’ve had a bad relationship to sex since i was a child, for reasons i wont get to here, but it was made even worse as i exited high school and began college. because of how i presented (”tomboy,” played softball, did construction, dressed punk, etc), people assumed i was queer. which made me uncomfortable because i was still warring with that identity, still very much living in a homophobic household and area, and still processing my own internalized hatred. then people insisted i was queer to the point of physical, sexual harassment--both from women and men. in the case of a particularly terrible relationship, the man i was dating insisted i was bisexual and constantly used that as a way to try to manipulate me into having threesomes (sidenote: when i came out i got a lot of ~i always knew and DO NOT DO THAT to people who are coming out)

so that set me back LOL

here’s what changed:

i moved. i cannot stress enough how important it ended up being to physically distance myself from the people who made my life so toxic (not just w/ sexuality, but again, that’s a whole ‘nother post). i was able to cut people out of my life who very much needed to be cut out of it. i moved away from my family (who i love, but love much better at a distance)

i made queer friends. eventually my number of queer friends outgrew my number of straight friends. i talked to people who made me feel like i belonged and feel like i didn’t have to hate myself

i took off dating for awhile after a particularly hard, emotionally abusive relationship. 2 years? i think?? (not that it matters. i was in a consecutive line of them for almost all of my adolescence) it was time i needed. and when i started dating again, it was with someone i could 100% trust (current spouse)

it still took a few years. comparatively i havent been out that long, but i am feeling so much better and emotionally healthier now that i am

why pan?

this is very flippant, but i said it out loud and it felt right. i dont experience sexual attraction based on gendered characteristics (which NO is not the same as ‘hearts not parts’ which is a fucking gross statement that i do not endorse. at all). i dont see it as more inclusive as bisexual. more that there’s a big venn diagram between the two

figuring out where you’re at under that umbrella of sexual fluidity, however you define it, is a tough thing to do. im gonna be honest in saying get the fuck off tumblr and talk to people you trust about it. tumblr is so inundated in discourse and vitriol it will make you think that every single person hates whatever you identify as in the current moment. it fosters toxic exclusive/gatekeeping behaviors in the LGBT+ community. tumblr =/= the world. it IS helpful to talk to people and follow blogs through careful curation. talk to individuals on tumblr instead of going into tags.

almost everyone i know who is under that umbrella has moved under that umbrella, ex: pan to bi. there’s nothing wrong with trying on the different hats until you find something that feels right. none of them are inherently better or more valid than the other. i feel like tumblr contributes to the pressure of identity politics, esp if you (you poor soul) stumble across pan vs bi Discourse. i, for instance, am pan but if im called bi it’s not the end of the universe. sometimes i even use that identifier when im with people who are not from the queer community and i am too tired to be an Educator

you don’t have to know right away. in fact, you don’t have to know at all. you can also change, because you change as you live your life. you could also use both! i know a few people who identify as both pan and bi. or identified as one and moved to the other.

long winded way of saying these two points:

don’t only listen to tumblr

take your time

it’s your life. take as many detours as you need and don’t let someone else take control of the navigation

#asks!#Anonymous

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gothamdetected-a · 4 years

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an idiot’s guide to the wayne family.

now complete with new diagrams! i wish i wash kidding, ive really made a diagram to help illustrate this.

[ follow the link here for actual visible quality. thanks tumblr.]

some points to make quickly -

• this is not complete. there were probably more siblings and wives and children, but i just focused on the main lineage i could piece together from DC knowledge

• apologies for the lack of knowledge on the women in the family past the last century. this is unfortunately common in real life too, as women were not landowners etc, and without a marriage certificate they basically don’t show up on records. dc happily talk about the male line but not about the wives and daughters so :/

• the dates are fairly made up, and especially at the bottom are just me twisting things to fit my own personal canon

• and finally, i just wanted to say that while this is pieced together from what DC have told us, there are a lot of holes that i have filled with headcanons. not all of this is canon. sometimes i just want to give a person a cool life that dc are too cowardly to do.

so, although this varies by “earth”, i have tried to combine the various histories given for pre- and post-52 waynes into a full comprehensible timeline. i’ve probably failed, but this is what i’m sticking with.

to start with we’re supposed to believe that there was a norse guy calling himself the Bat-Man, running around in the 10th century killing frost giants. is it plausible? yes. is it exaggerated? most definitely. am i wiping it from existence because it was one issue in a faintly terrible run that has technically been retconned anyway? absolutely. ignoring that makes the earliest recorded ancestor of the wayne family a man called gawayne de weyne, a french crusader in the 14th century. on some earths he’s called lancelot wayne (too on the nose) or harold wayne (thanks i hate it), so im personally going to retcon that and just say gawayne is it. also because i love the etymological aspect of the name beginning as de weyne in old high french and it slowly changing through out the centuries. gawayne, also sometimes written as gevain, was one of the knights sent to retrieve the holy grail, but, as knights tended to do, he died. sorry gawayne. the weirdest part about all of this is that he asked for his heart to be embalmed, and there’s a plot line revolving around this (batman: scottish connection). now i’m not saying that madness runs in the family, but the waynes absolutely do not get a good head start in history.

gawayne must have had at least one surviving heir who goes on to have babies etc etc, and eventually we get to the 16th century, and the next instance of the waynes. specifically, contarf wayne. which, i have to say, super dumb name. if i ever have a kid, im calling it contarf. so it’s now the 1500s and the waynes have somehow become scottish, probably from getting given land after crusading and that. apparently gawayne was aknight of the scottish court, despite being french, which actually happened a lot back then. literally the only notable thing contarf does with his life is build castle wayne, and i swear these people are all born with both madness and a flair for the dramatic. yes at some point bruce does go to this gloomy scottish castle where it’s always rainy and stormy and fits right on in, so that’s terrifying.

around a hundred years later nathaniel wayne tries to emigrate across to the “new world”. nathaniel likes witchhunting, and has come over to what will one day be the US following a witch fleeing from england - annie. annie who he may have dated. annie who may be pregnant with his child. good on you nathaniel, that’s a healthy relationship you’ve got right there. after the baby is delivered, he finds her and. you know, people were not kind of witches back then, so she dies. and with her dying breath, curses nathaniel and all his descendants. which includes her OWN BABY (super punk move), and one day bruce wayne. this curse manifests in very few of the extant waynes surviving beyond 40, often going mad, and absolutely tuning on each other. nathaniel’s particular grisly end comes when his is the fateful colony that ends up in what-will-one-day-be-gotham (see my idiots guide to gotham for more juicy details), releasing the deacon blackfire from his little cave and ending up missing, presumed dead. (definitely dead). this is the start of the “waynes probably should avoid gotham” saga. spoiler alert - they don’t.

somewhere in the interluding 100 years, a branch of the waynes do actually successfully make it over into the americas. 2 brothers, caleb and thomas simon wayne, reach the east coast from britain, and go their separate ways. caleb joins a convoy heading out west, leading a wagon train, and, as so many pioneers do, he also dies, while trying to make this trip. but caleb really isnt the interesting brother here (sorry man), because what thomas gets up to is far more exciting. he settles in, lo and behold, the newly formed town of gotham, and for some strange reason (probably because all the waynes are fairly nuts, as we’ve established at this point) decides to give devil-worshipping a go. maybe its fucking curse. maybe its something in the water. maybe its maybelline. but whatever it is, thomas wayne tries to summon and ensnare the demon barbatos by killing some innocents, in a wild, but understandable, attempt to gain immortality. he doesn’t succeed. or does he. it half works - instead of summoning the bat-demon (yes the same bat-demon that the founding fathers later summon and also trap beneath gotham) he gets one of darkseid’s hyper-dimensional bounty hunters, and some how, through some space age magic, the energy of this event corrupts him into agelessness/slowed ageing, we’re not totally sure. later dear old tom pops back up as the villainous dr simon hurt, and literally fights his own descendant. DC give no fucks.

after the whole corrupting not-magic thing, but before he disappears, thomas/simon impregnates one of his cult’s disciples. a lot. (is this why the waynes can look 30 at 50? more on this at 10) and between 1747 and 1771 (because immortal people also have immortal sperm apparently), she bears him 3 sons. probably some daughters too but again, who cares about that. not DC, that’s for damn sure. these sons are all absolutely fucking insane, just like daddy dearest. the eldest, who is LITERALLY known as “mad” anthony wayne, is said to be the spitting image of bruce, which is confirmed through some time travelling bs that we’re not going to think about. anthony and horatio wayne, the middle brother, both sign up to fight in the revolutionary war. unfortunately THE CURSE STRIKES AGAIN and horatio perishes while burning british ships. anthony goes on to becomes a brigadier general, serving directly under george washington and pulls some crazy good strategies that help to kick the british out of new jersey, earning his nickname of “mad” anthony, because only someone fucking nuts could come up with these plans, and pull them off. the youngest brother darius wayne is only 4 when the war breaks out, and is therefore too Babey to fight, but does later become notable for being the man to start construction on wayne manor. in 1795, using the money inherited from his brother horatio on his death, he hires an architect nathan van derm, to begin planning and building. sadly darius will never see it completed, with funds dwindling and his older brother’s death, eventually darius takes his own life.

not to worry, he leaves behind 2 sons - herkimer and charles wayne. literally herkimer’s only notable feature is that he fights in the war of 1812. sorry my guy, DC hate you. charles, on the other hand, is a businessman, who manages the failing company his father had left behind and starts to grow the wayne fortune. charles buys more land surrounding the manor, as well as a lot of general gotham real estate, and is the man accrediting for starting wayne enterprises as a series of several small business, ranging from merchant trading to land ownership to mining, in 1845. however charlie contracts tuberculosis at the ripe old age of 62 and shuffles off the mortal coil.

the oldest of his sons, charles lincoln wayne, also known as charles junior, does 2 things - begins construction on the wayne manor again in 1855 after purchasing it back from jerome k. van derm, the destitute son of the original architect, who had been living in the bones of the construcion, and uses a considerable portion of his inheritance to build the gotham botanical gardens in 1870. the next son, winslow wayne, is another enigma - the only thing mentioned about him in the comics is that he fought alongside teddy roosevelt, which i’m guessing is in the spanish-american war. but the youngest two brothers, joshua thomas and solomon zebadiah wayne are the real spicy pair. not only do they tackle the bat infestation on the manor grounds, but the pair work to change the federal system of america - joshua, when he’s not managing the wayne companies, is an abolitionist who engages in secret missions to free slaves by getting them across the border into canada, and solomon, the vaguely more sensible of the two, becomes a judge, attempting to be as fair and incorruptible as possible. sadly joshua is killed due to his slave smuggling antics (THE CURRSSEE), and this sends solomon slightly nuts, and causes him to contract the architect cyrus pinkney, who is even more nuts, to basically. build gotham. these two men are the reason 97% of buildings have gargoyles on them.

solomon has only 1 child before he dies, who fortunately, grows up to be a very shrewd businessman capable of growing wayne ent even through with the advent of shipping and rail sectors. this man, alan wayne, constructs the original wayne tower in 1888, and it completely swamps the gotham skyline. he also marries catherine van derm, the great granddaughter of the original architect of wayne manor, and finally manage to complete and move in to the building in 1895, exactly 100 years after the project was started. for a while they are very happy, and catherine falls pregnant. but this darn curse just won’t leave these wayne boys alone, and in 1897, catherine dies giving birth to their son, kenneth wayne. a year later, lost and traumatised and going insane thinking about his wife’s death alan wayne mysteriously disappears (read as: fell down a well and was maybe or maybe not tortured and killed by the court of owls).

kenneth wayne, raised as virtually an orphan, turns out to have his papa’s business management skills, and, foreseeing america's impending industrialisation in the 20s and 30s, makes some risky moves that pay off, including the advent of wayne chemicals, and wayne ent expands yet again. kenneth, like the recurring pattern that you can see here, dies fairly early due to WW2 however, leaving his wife laura to care for their 4 sons AND the company, which she does like a boss ass bitch. seriously, women barely had the vote and she was already a titan of industry and raising 4 teenage boys like. massive props to you babe. these boys are

ishmael wayne, a whaler who is an incredible parody of captain ahab and also dies trying to catch a white whale, elwood wayne, who goes and reclaims what is now called waynemoor castle in scotland, living there until his death, silas wayne, who may or may not be a thief posing as a wayne because the real silas died, AND at long last, patrick wayne - bruce’s granpappy, who founded the wayne tech arm of the company at 20 years old, aiding the war effort, and where this stupidly long post ends, because there is 0 point in me recounting the lives of thomas, bruce, or any of his children. everyone knows them. could i write more about thomas’ siblings and the kanes and how they tie in? yes. but this post is like 2100 words long and i want to sleep at some point today so this will have to do askjdbjsdhgf

#im #this is virtually incomprehensible #\system\directory\hidden.txt ›› META #long post /

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

Talks and Transfers

A JSE Fanfic

I was not expecting to write the next part of this so soon, but I’ve hit a block on other stories, and also one of my friends read the last two parts a few days ago and went absolutely feral when I started being cryptic and it was weirdly motivating XD Anyway, here’s number three. We finally get to see a boy besides Schneep! Which is great, because things aren’t going so well for Schneepy boy

You can now find the other two stories under the #pwtimeline tag!

“Why am I doing this, why am I doing this, oh god why am I doing this?” Dr. Laurens kept muttering this under her breath even as she dialed the number. She listened to the phone ring with slowly building dread. Maybe she should just go to work anyway. She could power through this; maybe she shouldn’t miss the session. But she was making the call. And soon it was picked up. “Hi, Dr. Newson?” She asked.

“Oh hey Rya, what’s up?”

“H-hey. I, uh, I can’t come into work today. I’m sick.” It wasn’t a lie—for the past few days there had been a slowly building headache behind her eyes, and today she woke up with a sore throat and a raspy voice. “Can, uh, I know you talked about how you’d be willing to take the Schneep case, so can you cover my session today?” Laurens winced privately. She hated to do this; she always believed in consistency, especially with schedules.

“Oh yeah! Sure, I can do that!” Dr. Newson sounded excited, and eager to help. Which was weird, because Dr. Newson didn’t do ‘excited.’ Or if she did, she didn’t show it.

Still, Laurens breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I keep my notes in the turquoise notebook, it should be on my desk in my office.”

“Uh-huh. Got it.”

“And the session is at one o’clock. Room 309.”

“Rya, chill, I’ll take care of everything,” Dr. Newson assured her. “You just rest. Your voice sounds awful, if you need some more time off just tell me.”

“I usually get over things in a day,” Laurens said. “But thanks. I-I’ll let you know.”

“You do that. See you later.” And with that, Dr. Newson hung up.

Laurens sighed again, exhaling all the nerves she’d built up as she leaned backwards against the seat of her car. She felt kinda guilty for not coming in to work. Like she was abandoning Schneep in a time of need. But he’d been doing pretty good ever since the hoodie incident. Hadn’t made much progress, but at least he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone anymore. And besides, wasn’t what she was doing now also a way to help?

It was true, she was feeling kind of under the weather, but under normal circumstances, it wasn’t bad enough to stop her from going to work. But she’d used the sick excuse so she could have the day off to search.

Laurens pulled her keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car, looking around. She’d never been in this part of the city before. In the suburbs. If she was forced to guess, she’d say that most of the houses here were taken by families. But still, from what Schneep had said about this guy during their sessions, he lived somewhere around here. Laurens groaned silently. Guess she’d have to go door-to-door. Like a Girl Scout.

Twenty minutes later, she was starting to wonder if she was maybe wrong about thinking she was well enough to spend the day walking around an unfamiliar neighborhood. Her sore throat had faded a bit, but her head was pounding, and it felt stuffed full of fluff. Just a couple more houses. Then she could maybe drive home and take a nap, and try again that evening.

Laurens walked up the path to the door of the next house. She rang the doorbell, and while she waited she looked around idly. The yard was less well-kept than the others on the block. The grass was yellower and there were no flowers in the flowerbeds. But not everyone had the ability to do yard work. That was why she lived in an apartment.

The door opened, and she snapped to attention. “Hi I’m looking for...” she trailed off when she got a closer look at the guy who answered the door. Okay, this was him. God, Schneep had said the two of them looked similar, but she wasn’t expecting such an uncanny resemblance. He’d said they weren’t related, right?

“Uh...yeah? I mean, excuse me?” The man had brown hair and blue eyes, just like Schneep, though his hair was partly hidden beneath a snap-back cap. He wore a gray shirt underneath a red jacket with some sort of logo on the lapel, and his voice had a slight American accent.

Laurens blinked, clearing her head. “Sorry, are you Chase Brody, by any chance?”

“Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?” Chase seemed to examine her. “If you’re selling something, or if you’re like, I dunno, looking for autographs, then—”

“Oh no, no no,” Laurens hurried to say. “Um, my name is Rya Laurens. Dr. Laurens. I, uh, I know your friend Sch—Henrik, and I, uh, wanted to talk to you about him.”

The change was instantaneous. Chase, who’d been previously leaning against the doorway, stood up straight, his eyes widening. “Oh, yeah, h-hang on, d’you want—please, come in.” He stood aside and let her step past him into the house.

The living room looked about what she thought it would look like. Chase had a quality entertainment system, with a widescreen TV and several video game consoles, as well as a shelf full of DVDs, most of which seemed to be kids films or Marvel movies. “You have a nice home,” she said politely.

“It’s a little messy, sorry about that,” Chase muttered, closing the door. “D’you want anything to drink? I can make tea.”

“That would be lovely.”

She followed Chase into the dining room, with adjoining kitchen separated only by a counter. While she took a seat at the dining table, Chase busied himself making the tea. She looked around, noticing a pile of dirty dishes by the sink and what looked like children’s drawings stuck to the fridge with magnets. After a few moments, during which she sat at the table in silence and failed at not feeling awkward, Chase set a mug down in front of her, sitting in the seat next to her. “Hope you like Lyons. Actually, I probably should’ve asked you before I made it.” He laughed a bit.

Laurens took a sip. “It’s good. A bit hot.”

“Oh good. Anyway. You said you knew Schneep? Do you work with him?” Chase started to take a sip of his mug of tea as well.

“Uh, no, not...I’m not that kind of doctor.” Laurens cleared her throat, which only served to make it raspier, so she coughed instead. “I work at Silver Hills—”

There was a sudden splutter as Chase seemed to spit out his tea back into the mug. “Sorry, just—” He wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. “Jesus christ, has he been there the whole time?”

“What...do you mean ‘the whole time’?” Laurens asked.

“Well, since August. When that whole...thing happened. You heard about that?”

“Oh, I know what you mean. And, uh...” Laurens shifted awkwardly in her seat. “You haven’t been watching the local news, have you?”

“No, I don’t watch news at all.” Chase looked down at the table surface and shrugged. “It...depresses me.” He looked back up. “Why?”

“A-ah...well...” God, this was awkward. Laurens kept drumming her fingers on the mug. “Henrik—Schneep—has been...implicated in several...murders.”

Chase blinked. “You’re joking.”

“No, I-I am not.” Laurens tried to smile apologetically. She wasn’t sure it was working. “You, um, should be able to look it up. It became quite a big deal.”

“Oh my fucking god...” Chase briefly covered his mouth with his hand before lowering it again. “Did...did he do it?”

“The, uh...the evidence pointed that way,” Laurens said slowly. “They had video and DNA and everything...sorry.” She didn’t know why she apologized.

“Oh my fucking god,” Chase repeated, gaping. “I—I knew Schneep had issues but I didn’t think he was—was capable of—jesus.”

“Well...” Laurens looked down into the mug of tea. “Sometimes when...you know, the human mind is complicated, especially when it lies to you.” Chase didn’t answer. Laurens wished she could say something better, somehow more reassuring, but...ironically, despite being a psychiatrist, she wasn’t the best with people. So she tried to move on to the reason she actually came. She took a deep breath, and looked up. “He misses you, you know.”

Chase’s eyes snapped toward her. “Really?”

“Yeah. He talks about you a lot. And two others, uh, Jackie and Marvin?” When she saw recognition in Chase’s eyes, she continued. “I think it would help him if you visited. And maybe those others two.”

“That’s not possible.”

Laurens’s heart turned to rock, thinking that this day had been a waste. Chase seemed to catch her expression. “Oh I mean Jackie and Marvin visiting, I’d be happy to. Just...they can’t.”

“Oh I see.” Laurens exhaled slowly. “Why?”

“Well...” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Marvin skipped town. He’s not answering any of my calls or texts. I think he’s mad at me but I dunno why. And Jackie...” He took a deep breath. “Jackie’s been missing for a few months now. He—he disappeared.”

“Oh, god.” Laurens’s mind went blank. What were you supposed to say to that? She didn’t know. “I-I’m so sorry.” That was the best she could do.

“It’s fine.” Chase paused, then sighed. “Well, no, it’s not, but thanks.”

“The police—you’ve told them?” She didn’t know why she had to ask it, but she felt she had to.

“Yeah, of course. But after five months, I think they’ve given up.” A new, hard light entered his eyes. “He’s still out there, though. It’s hard to knock Jackie down. He’s tough. I don’t know what happened, but I know he can handle it.”

Laurens gave him a reassuring smile. “Well, I hope it works out.”

“Thanks, doc.” Chase took a long drink of the tea, seeming to stare into the distance. “So...how’s Schneep doing? He’s alright?”

“Last I saw him, yes,” Laurens nodded. “It’s...it’s a bit of a roller coaster sometimes, but I think he’s getting better.”

“That’s good. Great.” Chase’s fingers were drumming a rhythm on the table surface. “Silver Hills has—has visiting hours, right?”

“Oh! O-of course. They’re on our website,” Laurens explained. “But the diagram can be a bit complicated, because they vary based on a couple factors. It’s safest to visit on Fridays, from three to seven.”

“Okay. Hang on a sec.” Chase reached into his pocket and took out his phone, opening it up and tapping for a bit. “That’s on my calendar now. I guess I’ll see you on Friday, then?”

“Yes, of course! I-I should get going.” Laurens pushed her chair back, standing up. “Thanks for the tea.” She said this despite not drinking most of it.

“No problem. Thanks for stopping by and, uh, filling me in on all this.” Chase nodded. “Do you want me to walk you to the door, or...?”

“I can see myself out, thanks.” Laurens smiled awkwardly. “See you on Friday. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Only ten minutes later, and Laurens was back in her car, contemplating whether to drive home or go to work anyway. On the one hand, she was loathe to miss anything that went on at work, and if she went now, she could barely make it in time for her session with Schneep. On the other, her headache was starting to blossom into a migraine, and her nose was stuffing up as well. She probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate like this, and a session done poorly wouldn’t do anyone any good.

After a few more moments of wrestling with this dilemma, she started her car and set off. It would probably be fine to miss one session. Dr. Newson could handle it. What’s the worse that could happen?

——————

One o’clock rolled around, and Dr. Newson strolled into Room 309. Schneep, who’d been pacing the length of the wall by the window, stopped, staring. He watched as she sat down in one of the chairs, setting Laurens’s notebook down on the table. “Hello, Henrik. Are you ready to start? Please sit down,” she said cheerfully.

Schneep stayed where he was. “Where is Dr. Laurens?”

“Oh, she called in sick today, asked me to fill in. I’m Dr. Newson. Please sit down.”

“Sick? With what?” Schneep’s eyes flicked over Dr. Newson’s shoulder. Two people came into the room behind her, closing the door behind him. “Who are they?”

“Don’t mind the orderlies, they’re here just in case.” Dr. Newson waved away his question. “Now if you would please sit down so we can start.”

“In case of what?”

“If you would please,” Dr. Newson’s voice hardened, “sit down.”

Schneep stayed where he was for a few seconds longer, before slowly walking over and sitting in the other chair. He crossed his arms, posture stiff.

Dr. Newson simply settled into the chair, folding one leg over the other. “So, I’m obviously not caught up on how far Dr. Laurens has got in these—”

“You could check in there.” Schneep nodded at the unopened notebook on the table. “She kept very detailed notes.”

Dr. Newson smiled. “Well, I know that. I’ve checked it, but given how detailed they were I wasn’t able to read it all. I’ve skimmed it, though. And that was enough to understand that she hasn’t gotten far in asking you about what really happened.”

Schneep narrowed his eyes. “What really happened when? About what?”

“Oh, you know.” Dr. Newson pulled Laurens’s notebook toward her, flipping open to a blank page. “How about we start with Christmas? Do you remember that night?”

“Do I remember that—you are not police, Doctor,” Schneep scowled. “They have already asked me about that. I do not think it is your place to do so.”

“Well, I’m just doing my job, Henrik.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Well alright, then. I’m just doing my job, Mr. Schneeplestein.” When Schneep opened his mouth to berate her for using the wrong prefix, she pushed forward anyway. “And I think it is important to my job if we discuss the events of that night. You remember, right? Those videos?”

“I had nothing to do with those videos,” Schneep insisted.

Dr. Newson laughed. “Well, you were in them, so I doubt that. Led the police on a merry overnight chase, making them keep watch for, what, twelve hours? It was quite a feat for you to pull off.”

“I did not make those.” The words came out between gritted teeth.

Dr. Newson raised an eyebrow. “Well then, who did?”

Schneep didn’t answer. He seemed to fold in on himself, and his eyes flickered to the side. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Oh, I get it.” Dr. Newson took a pen from her pocket and jotted a few words down. “You believe someone else did. Or was it that you thought someone was forcing you to?”

Schneep jumped, but then his eyes suddenly flashed. “I said I do not want to talk about it. I do not have to say anything to you.”

“Yes, you do, that’s why you’re here.” Dr. Newson looked up from the notebook. “Now let’s get back to the question at hand. Was there any particular reason for the Christmas incident? Did you want to try something new? Oftentimes sending letters, or videos in this case, to the police speaks of arrogance or says that it’s seen as a game. Was this a way for you to have fun?”

“Will you shut up!” Schneep sprang to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. The two orderlies in the room jumped to attention. “Shut up and stop pushing your questions to me! I am supposed to have a chance to speak here and you are not giving it!”

Dr. Newson merely smiled. “Well, you weren’t answering, Mr. Schneeplestein.”

“Because you were not listening! I told you I do not wish to speak of it! Yet you keep asking and asking and—do you know how bothersome that is?!” He folded his arms again. “Maybe I will be ready to tell you about that night one day, but this is not that day. So shut up!”

“Mm-hmm. So you were involved in that somehow?” Dr. Newson made another note, seemingly unconcerned by the death glare Schneep was giving her. She looked up at him. “You want me to stop asking? What are you going to do to make me? Are you going to try to kill me?”

Schneep suddenly burst into laughter. Loud, screeching laughing that hit him so hard, he had to double over and lean onto the table. The two orderlies, now standing behind his chair, exchanged uncomfortable glances as he wore himself out, laughter fading to giggling as he slumped into the chair. He looked up, and there were tears in his eyes. “I do not know. Maybe I will. But I do not know. And I do not like that.” His voice was tired.

Dr. Newson stared at him. “Well, that’s good to know,” she drawled. “Maybe—”

“Maybe you really should shut your stupid mouth before it gets you in trouble.” The change of tone in Schneep’s voice was so sudden that Dr. Newson had to take a moment to recognize it as his. “Maybe you should just leave now since you clearly do not want to be here.”

Her lip curled. “I don’t think I ever gave any indication that I don’t want to be here. In fact, I didn’t even need to fill in for Dr. Laurens today. And there aren’t a lot of employees here willing to get close to you, so you should be happy you’re even getting a session today at all.”

“What, people are afraid of me? I wonder why.” A smile flashed across Schneep’s face. “Is not like I did anything to deserve that. Only that thirteen are dead and more injured.”

“Oh, I thought that ‘wasn’t your fault’,” Dr. Newson said, a sudden edge to her voice. “I thought you were ‘sorry’ about that.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Schneep’s head slowly tilted to the side. “Especially when things are not in your control. Who is in control? And who is just playing pretend?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant, Mr. Schneeplestein.”

“But it is! You do not understand because you do not see. You do not see these things.” Another smile. “Perhaps your eyes are in the way. Would you like to get rid of them?”

Suddenly, Schneep lunged forward. Dr. Newson pushed her chair back, ready to flee, but the orderlies sprang into action. Before Schneep could get far, they managed to grab hold of him. It wasn’t an easy task. He kept twisting and wiggling his way out of their hold, and wasn’t afraid to lash out.

“Right, then.” Dr. Newson smoothed down the front of her shirt, trying to mask the way her heart had suddenly leapt into her throat. She picked up the notebook, tucking it under her arm. “I know the sessions usually last an hour, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short. Very short. Maybe you’ll see me tomorrow, maybe you’ll see Dr. Laurens tomorrow, who knows? Oliver, Theresa?” She nodded at the two orderlies. “I trust you came prepared?”

Maybe her question distracted them, maybe what happened next would’ve happened anyway. Schneep snarled “Let go of me!” and managed to get an arm free, shoving one of the orderlies away. Then he threw his weight against the other, who shrieked and fell—

Crack!

Time stopped. The world concentrated down into that single sickening crack, and the red that was suddenly decorating the sharp edge of the table. The orderly was still on the ground, a pool of identical red spreading from her head. It was a stain against the white floor, stark in the bright light.

Dr. Newson was the first to react, reaching for her pager. “Oliver, can we get a sedative while I page the med team?”

That sentence brought Schneep to his senses. “What? No! No, it was an a-accident, I did not mean—”

“That’s true. But two things can be true at once.” Dr. Newson’s voice was cold. “Oliver? Now, please?”

The orderly stopped staring, shocked, at his fallen coworker, and soon there was a needle buried in Schneep’s neck. Schneep gasped and stilled, though he kept muttering that it was an accident.

“You should probably take a good look around this room, Henrik, cause you won’t be seeing it for a while, if ever,” Dr. Newson said stiffly. “You’re getting a new one. On the first floor.”

Schneep’s eyes widened, before the sedative really kicked in and he closed them. Dr. Newson nodded, then looked down at the still orderly. “When the med team gets here, get them to take him to the medical wing, too. He can stay there until the new room is ready.”

“Yes, Dr. Newson.” The orderly hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Dr. Newson, if I may...you’re sure about this?”

Newson sighed. “I should’ve done it a lot sooner, if you ask me. Rya convinced me not to, you know it’s hard to say no to her. But god.” She knelt by the orderly on the floor, picking up her wrist and pressing two fingers to it. “We can’t let it go further than this.”

——————

When Laurens arrived at work the next morning, she was immediately called into Dr. Newson’s office. Once there, she listened in shock as the entire story was told. “The new room number is 1010,” Dr. Newson said at the end. “I know the numbering makes no sense, but it’s in an older part of the building. And you’re now required to bring an orderly in with you whenever you visit. You know Oliver Hopkins? He’s volunteered.”

“Is...is Theresa going to be okay?” Laurens asked hesitantly.

“She had to be rushed to the hospital,” Dr. Newson explained. “Last I heard, she was still in critical condition.”

“Oh my god...” Laurens covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn’t help but feel that if she was here yesterday, she could’ve somehow prevented this. Guilt settled down into her stomach. “I hope she...well, I hope it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Newson sighed. Her eyes drifted over to the picture frame on her desk. “While you’re here, is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”

“Um, well...” She wasn’t sure if this would sound in bad taste after this serious talk, but... “So, uh, residents on the first floor still have visiting hours on Fridays, right?” When Dr. Newson hesitated, she pressed. “You can’t take away visiting hours, those are required by the county board.”

“‘Unless there have been incidents wherein the patient has shown hostility to visitors,’ yeah, I know, I read the section,” Newson snapped. Then she took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. Just on edge. Yeah, it’s still Fridays, that’s the only day for most of the first floor patients. Why?”

“Well...yesterday, when I was home sick, I got a visitor.” Laurens was aware she was adjusting the story, but she didn’t want to sound like she’d been skipping out on her duties. “He said he was a friend of Sch—of Henrik’s, and that he just found out he was here and wanted to visit him. So I, uh, told him the hours and he said he’d stop by on Friday.”

“That’s three days away.”

“...yeah.”

Dr. Newson sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, fine, that’s allowed. But you have to supervise it, okay?”

“Okay.” Laurens nodded. “I’m, uh...going to go find Room 1010 now.”

“Oliver knows the way, ask him to take you.”

Laurens did just that, finding the orderly nearby. Soon, she was following him down the corridors of the first floor. Unlike the ones above, the first floor was distinctly more...hospital-like, choosing to forego the wallpaper and carpeting of the upper floors, and replacing their lamps with fluorescent lights. There were also a lot more orderlies bustling about, all wearing that beige uniform that made them sort of blend together.

“So...you were there, yesterday?” she asked Oliver.

He nodded. “Yeah. It was...it was scary, man. Just all of a sudden there was yelling and then Theresa was on the floor.” He glanced at her. “Was...was that guy ever like that with you?”

“His name’s Schneep,” Laurens reminded him. “And...well, there were moments when he was loud, and sometimes seemed...a bit aggressive, but he never attacked me.” She bit her lip. “I wonder if Dr. Newson triggered that somehow...”

Oliver didn’t answer, merely looking back away. “Hey, we’re here. Room 1010.” They stopped outside a door that looked just like all the others. “I’m, uh, required to go in with you.”

“Yeah, Dr. Newson told me. She also gave me this.” Laurens pulled out a key card. While doors on the upper floors could open on their own, doors on the first floor were locked, though some of them could be opened from the inside but not from the outside. Laurens didn’t know if Room 1010 was one of those. She swiped the card through the reader next to the door. It beeped, and there was a click. Laurens pulled the door open and went inside, followed by Oliver.

The difference between the first floor and upper floors was even more evident here. Room 1010 was smaller, but also emptier. The only furniture was the white-blanketed bed, a circular table with rounded edges next to it, and a single, rather uncomfortable-looking chair next to that. A half-open door showed a connected bathroom beyond. As it was an internal room, there wasn’t a window, and the overhead lights were controlled with a single switch, no lamps anywhere.

Schneep was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and hugging the bed’s single pillow to his chest. He was wearing a simple white shirt and pants, which Laurens recognized as standard-issue clothing, since regulations on the first floor didn’t allow patients to bring any of their own. Schneep didn’t look up as Laurens crossed the room and sat in the room’s only chair. Oliver, meanwhile, hovered in the corner, seeming to sense that he had to stay out of this.

“Hi, Schneep,” Laurens said. “I’m back. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

He nodded. “Was not your fault. You were sick. I’m sorry.” That last statement sounded less like an expression of sympathy and more like an actual apology.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault either,” Laurens said gently.

After a quiet moment, Schneep cleared his throat and asked, “The woman, the orderly from yesterday, is she alive?”

“Yes, she’s alive,” Laurens confirmed. Seeing how Schneep relaxed, she decided not to mention the critical condition.

He looked at her for the first time since she entered the room. And she almost physically started when she realized his eyes were rimmed with red. “It was not my fault. You know that, right? You believe that?”

“I know. I believe you.”

“You always do.” He nodded. “Or at least, you sound like you do. Even if you don’t and you only sound it, I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, Schneep.” And it really wasn’t. Laurens straightened. “Well, I have...news for you. I don’t know if you’ll see it as good or bad, but it’s news.” Schneep didn’t say anything, but he did sit up a bit. Laurens continued, “So, uh, yesterday, while I was sick, I met one of your friends. Chase. He said he...wanted to visit.”

A wide variety of emotions flickered across Schneep’s face. Surprise, joy, realization, worry, fear, consideration, then back to joy, though a bit tempered. “I think I would like to see him,” he said, squeezing the pillow tighter.

“I told him you would,” Laurens said. “He’s coming on Friday, three days from now.” She paused. “You think...you’ll be alright until then?”

A strangled laugh. “Is hard to predict. But I hope so. I would not want...anything to...happen.” The words were chosen haltingly, as if he was trying to find the simplest way to say it.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Laurens said, surprising herself with the firmness of her own voice. “You’re doing good, you know. You can do it.” She wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but sometimes you just needed to hear it. “And I’ll be there that day, too.”

“That would be good,” Schneep agreed. For a moment, he was silent. “I...I do not feel like talking today. Would you leave, please?”

“Oh. Of course.” Laurens stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes.”

Laurens left, finding her steps taking longer than usual. She glanced behind her one last time before leaving to see Schneep had buried his face in the pillow. She hesitated. Maybe she should stay...but he seemed like he wanted to be alone. In the future, she might be able to bring something so she could be alone with him. After all, there were times when that was really what was best. But she couldn’t, today.

She followed Oliver back through the first floor halls. “That was...different than I was expecting,” he admitted.

“It usually is,” Laurens agreed. “But people aren’t just one thing, you know?”

“...yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Laurens took a deep breath, and sighed. Three days. She just had to hope things would improve in three days. And then she had to believe things would continue to improve from there.

And somehow, she did. Perhaps she was more optimistic than she’d thought she was, but she believed things would get better. They usually did.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #dr schneeplestein #chase brody #i was planning to have chase and schneep actually interact in this part but it got long #welp! something to motivate me to write the next part i guess!#brigid writes fanfiction #pwtimeline

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catgirlthecrazy · 4 years

Text

Muse and Knight

Warning: this fanfic contains major spoilers through Tiamat’s Wrath.

AO3

Summary: The transition from uneasy allies to family doesn’t happen in a single moment. Not even a dramatic one. It’s a slow change, like a sunset. You can’t see it happening, just see the results when it’s already happened.

Holden and Clarissa’s relationship, through the years.

The coffee machine was broken. Again. Holden pressed his forehead into the cool brushed steel surface of the machine. “I don’t ask for much. Really, I don’t. Is this so unreasonable?” The red text of the error message shown even through his closed eyelids. It seemed almost irritated at him for expecting it to perform the function that was the entire purpose of its existence.

The galley door slid open. “Oh,” a soft voice said. Clarissa hovered at the galley door.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re up.”

Clarissa seemed to teeter on the edge of leaving. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were awake."

Holden shrugged. "Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d start shift early. Or, I was going to." He gestured helplessly at the red error message. Holden’s head already ached in anticipation of caffeine withdrawal.

Clarissa frowned and crossed the galley, inspecting the error message. "It’s not working?” She power-cycled the coffee maker and hit the brew button again.

“Already tried that,” Holden said. As if agreeing, the machine buzzed angrily and spat out the same error message as before.

“Hmm. Let me take a look.” Clarissa left, and returned with a bag of tools and parts. A minute later she had the machine on the floor, back panel removed and parts exposed to the open air. Not for the first time, Holden was struck by a sudden sense of surreality. Just a handful of years ago, this woman had tried to destroy him and everyone he loved. He could still remember the murderous rage she’d inspired in him. Now she was fixing his coffeemaker, and he was weirdly ok with that.

He’d like to say that the assault on the slow zone had been the tipping point. The moment when she’d moved in his mind from “person who’d tried to kill him” to “part of his crew.” But these sorts of things never worked like that. It was like a sunrise: you couldn’t see the sky turning from black to blue while it was ongoing. You could only notice the results after they’d already happened.

“Ha!” Clarissa pulled out something metallic and charred, with little dangling wires like tentacles. “Power leads burnt out.”

“Is that hard to fix?"

"No, this part swaps out pretty easy.” She opened a utility organizer labeled Replacement Parts: Galley in neat handwriting that definitely wasn’t Amos’. She pulled out the pristine twin of the burnt out part and wired it into the machine. She put the machine back together, and ran diagnostics. This time the message was a happy green. She made a little animal noise of satisfaction. “There, all fixed.”

Holden clapped her on the shoulder. “You are my favorite person in the solar system.” He turned to the machine and started a new brew. “You want me to make some for you?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her.

There was an odd expression on Clarissa��s face, one his caffeine-deprived mind couldn’t quite decipher. “I… yes, I would love that,” she said.

Weeks later, Holden would learn that Clarissa actually hated coffee. That morning, though, she drank the whole cup.

***

Pátria was a big colony. To Holden, a child of cramped and crowded Earth, that still felt a little strange. Pátria only had a few settlements, and only one that could rate the label ‘city’- barely. But by the fledgling standards of extra-solar colonies, it was a metropolis. It had paved roads and a sewage system and real buildings not made from scrap and mud. And it had recreational swimmers.

The day was uncomfortably hot, the kind of hot that made his shirt damp. A few families with young children were splashing in the local lake on the outskirts of the town. A floating platform had been set up in a deeper part of the lake. One adolescent took a running leap off and cannonballed into the lake, splashing his friends and prompting screams and shouts. A few nearby waterbirds croaked their annoyance and flew off. Holden found himself grinning.

“People do this for fun ?” Bobbie’s voice was acrid with disgust and amusement.

“What, swim? It’s not that uncommon on Earth,” he said.

“Those birds have been pooping in there. And the fish. And whatever the hell kind of microbes they’ve got.”

Holden shrugged. “That’s true on Earth too. People still swim in ponds and lakes there. Remind me to tell you about some of my family’s trips to Flathead Lake.”

She shot him a look. “Yeah, and that's also disgusting. But at least Earth lakes have our flavor of shit and microbes in it. This will have alien shit and microbes in it. Who knows what that does?”

Holden opened his mouth to answer, but Clarissa beat him to it. “They test the water regularly here. It’s not safe to drink without treatment, but you can swim in it just fine. So long as you don’t swallow too much, anyway.” She was taking off her shoes and rolling up her jumpsuit pantlegs as she talked. “I looked it up before we landed.” She set her shoes aside, socks neatly tucked in, and walked purposefully towards the water. It took Holden a second to understand why. Then he grinned and shucked off his own shoes.

Bobbie groaned. “If your feet melt into green slime, don’t come complaining to me,” she called.

They both ignored her. Clarissa was already up to her ankles by the time Holden reached the water. Her face was turned up to the sun like a flower, her expression pure bliss.

“I don’t think I’ve been anywhere near a real lake since I was a kid,” Holden said. The water was delightfully cold. The soft wet sand slid comfortably between his toes.

“Last time I was near a lake was when me and Amos were trying to get off Earth. Not much time for swimming then.”

“And before that?”

“Probably the same lake, the last time I summered there with my parents. We used to go there every other year. It was… nice.” She had the same distant tone she got, discussing her old life. He’d never pressed her much about it. So Holden changed the subject.

“I forgot how good cold water feels on a hot day,” he said. He crouched down and started splashing water on his face, careful to keep his mouth closed as he did so.

Clarissa was digging out handfuls of sand out of the lake bottom and watching them flow through her fingers underwater. “I know. I almost want to just dunk myself in and float for a while."

"But?”

“But I don’t fancy walking around in a soaking wet jumpsuit the rest of the day.”

“Those colonists got their swimsuits from somewhere. We’ve got a few hours. We could go get some. Have some shore leave on the beach.

"You think anyone else will be interested?” Her tone was amused. Holden glanced behind him. Bobbie was still shaking her head at the whole affair in amused disgust. Amos was staring at them with the blank non-comprehension of someone watching a foreign religious ritual. Alex and Naomi were back on the Roci, but he suspected their reaction would be much the same as Bobbie’s. Lake swimming wasn’t something people did outside of Earth- or it hadn’t been until now. And Baltimore didn’t have any bodies of water a sane person would want to swim in. It occurred to Holden that, though Clarissa wasn’t the only other Earther on the crew, she was probably the only one who shared any of his fondness for the place.

“Maybe not,” he said. “Do we need anyone else?”

She smiled. “I guess we don’t.”

By the time they were done at the lake, the day was nearly gone. The two of them walked back to the Roci’s landing pad, chatting animatedly, beneath a sky transitioning from blue to azure to black.

***

When you lived day in and day out with the same people on a small ship, a certain level telepathy emerged. From the tone of Naomi’s humming, or the way Bobbie took a ladder, or the rhythm of Alex’s fingers on the controls, Holden could take a barometer reading of each of his crew. So when Holden saw Clarissa sitting in the galley, gripping her mug of tea in a very particular way, he knew something was very wrong. Unfortunately, the telepathy didn’t tell him why.

To buy himself time, he started making coffee. Holden knew so much detail about his crew personal and work lives that, whatever their mood was, he usually had plenty of context to guess what the cause was. He didn’t know of anything in Clarissa’s life that could be behind her anxious mood. She hadn’t had any fights with the other crew that he knew of. There weren’t any looming mechanical problems or existential threats. He wondered how to go about asking what was bothering her.

Holden sat down at the table across from her. “What’s bothering you?”

Her eyes focused on him, like she’d only just noticed he was there. Then she laughed. “Always the direct approach.”

He grinned and shrugged. “I’m not very good at this.”

She grinned back for a moment. Then it faded. “I got a message from my sister.”

Two thoughts collided in Holden’s head: I thought your sister was dead slammed into I hope she’s doing well and jumbled together in his mind. Just barely, he stopped himself from blurting I hope she’s dead out loud. He knew Clarissa had siblings besides Julie. She never talked about her birth family except in the past tense, so it was easy to forget that most of them were still alive.

“Not good news, I take it?”

“My father is dead.”

The news was like a dropped tool in an empty cargo hold. Her father. Jules-Pierre Mao. The man who had probably held the record for bloodiest hands in the solar system until Marco Inaros came along to steal the title. It was hard for Holden to think of the arrogant man he’d encountered on Luna so many years ago as related to the tired looking mechanic in front of him. The Venn Diagram between the two had so little overlap these days that they were nearly separate circles in his mind. “Um. Wow.” He took a long pull from his coffee. He couldn’t make this about his own feelings right now. “How are you feeling right now?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, but Holden chose to wait and sip his coffee. He didn’t have to wait long. “When I was young, he defined my life. Father was like a gravity well. So much revolved around him, and you couldn’t pass near him without accounting for how he’d alter your trajectory. Now he’s gone, and it’s hardly worth a story on the news feeds.” She smiled wryly. “He would have hated that.”

Holden frowned into his coffee. “You know, now that you mention it, that’s kind of weird. I mean, yeah, it’s been a while since he was in the news, but he was kind of a big deal back in the day. I’m surprised I haven’t heard more about this.”

“I’m not. He was held in Mossoró when the rocks fell. They were hit bad by tsunamis. They couldn’t find most of the bodies. It’s only now that the courts have made it official.” Clarissa’s voice was so flat, like she was reading off a list.

“So you’ve known this was coming.” Holden wondered if that was the reason for her mood. He could remember one of his grandmothers, who’d been gravely ill for so long before she died that he’d felt more relief at her passing than loss. And with that relief, guilt.

“I suppose I did.” Clarissa cocked her head in bemusement. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. You’re the one who put him in prison.” There was no hint of reproach in her voice. Almost, they could have been talking about a famous football player whose career Holden hadn’t kept up with.

Holden shrugged. “Honestly, I kind of stopped giving a fuck about him once he was in prison. So long as he couldn’t start wars, I didn’t really care.” Holden winced. “I uh, may not be the most comforting person to talk to about this.”

Clarissa just smiled at him. “I think he’d hate that even more than the lack of news coverage.”

Holden wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. “So… You sound pretty calm about this. But I can tell something’s bugging you. Anything you want to talk about?”

Clarissa frowned into her mug. “When I got the message that he was dead, my first thought was 'good.’ I don’t like that.”

Holden took a long sip from his coffee to buy himself time. “No love lost between you two, then?”

“I don’t feel anything about him. No love, no hate. I’m just very, very glad that he’s gone forever now. And I don’t like that I feel that way. I didn’t think I was that kind of person anymore.”

“I mean, to be fair, it makes me a little happy to know he’s gone for good.” Clarissa looked up at him sharply, and he shrugged. “It probably doesn’t speak well of me as a person. But I think it’s just part of being human.”

“Maybe.” She stared at her drink. “I still feel like I’ve failed somehow.”

Holden strongly disagreed. But he knew by now that she didn’t really want him to prove her wrong. Just listen while she worked through it on her own.

And the truth was, Holden could sympathize with her sorrow, but he couldn’t entirely empathize with it. Mao was her father. He understood intellectually why parent-child relationships could fall apart so completely and irreparably that she could react this way. He could agree entirely with the reasons why. He knew that the only right you had with anyone in life was the right to walk away. But he couldn’t really feel it. He had always gotten on well with his own parents. It was hard to imagine anything different.

He took her hand. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like the person you are now,” he said.

“And who do you think that person is?”

“The person who fixes things. The person who won’t let so much as a squeaking hinge stick around for long. The person who builds things.”

She didn’t answer him. She just smiled a small smile. They sat together in companiable silence for a long time.

***

When his interrogators told him about the body on Medina, Holden thought they were lying. Surely, it was a tactic to make him admit something. Surely, the photos and autopsy reports were fake. Surely, they couldn’t have found Clarissa Mao, shot twice amidst a half dozen dead Laconian soldiers. When Holden finally let himself believe them, he waited for them to tell him who else in his family had died. Months, then years passed, and the news never came.

He couldn’t grieve. He couldn’t afford to. If the Laconians knew just how deep a weakness it was, if they understood that she was more to him that a mere crewmate, they’d never stop hammering away at it. So he threw all his efforts into diverting them. He opened up as much as he could on the alien threat. The Tempest anomaly. The Ilus artifact. Elvi Okoye.

When he finally got free, he was too preoccupied to think much about older pain. The flight to the gate, Bobbie’s death, Amos’ strange resurrection: all of these overwhelmed his attention like a well lit room overwhelms a single candle. When the grief reminded him of its presence, it wasn’t how he expected it.

The cabin door squeaked. It was such a soft little sound, it took Holden weeks to notice it. He was so wrapped up in the joy of being back on the Roci, of not being on Laconia, that most other things were background noise. But as time went by, as they passed through the Laconia gate, through the slow zone and into the Gossner system, Holden noticed the small rattling whine of a mechanism not quite in alignment.

“It’s just a squeak.” Naomi shrugged with her hands when he mentioned it to her. “I can have Amos put it on the to-do list, but I guarantee you he’s got a couple dozen other items on it already. This might never make it to the top.”

“I know it’s pretty minor in the grand scheme of things,” Holden said. Experimentally he cycled the door a couple more times to see if the noise was consistent. “I just can’t remember the last time a squeak stuck around this long."

He meant to sound casual. Evidently he failed, because Naomi’s expression softened. "I miss her too.”

Holden sagged a little, like a spring losing tension. “I wanted to believe it was a bad dream. Or a lie to make me admit something. The Laconians sprang it on me suddenly. I think they were trying to surprise me into letting something slip.” He could still remember the feeling like a dunk in ice. Like a confirmation of his worst nightmares.

“Did they tell you how it happened?”

“Some. 'Likely involved in terrorist activities’ was I think how they put it.”

“She saved my life. She saved the whole underground.” And Naomi told him the story of the jailbreak, the traitor, and Clarissa’s last stand.

Holden couldn’t speak. In broad strokes, what Naomi told him wasn’t far off from what he’d already guessed. But he hadn’t fully appreciated just how much he owed to Clarissa’s sacrifice. Naomi’s life was one item at the top of a very long list.

Naomi pulled him into a hug, and Holden broke. His body shook with the quiet sobs that he’d never allowed himself on Laconia. She murmured soothing words whose content mattered less than their tone. He could feel some of her tears wet on his forehead. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that. He had the raw sense of having burned a deep infection out of a wound.

“I’ve got a few spare hours,” Naomi said. “I could grab some tools. We could fix it together."

"That,” Holden said, voice still ragged, “would be great.”

#the expanse #Jim Holden #Clarissa Mao #fanfic #spoilers #Tiamat's Wrath Spoilers #my fanfic #my post

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