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teawaffles · 3 years

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The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 8 / End

——It had been an absolutely bizarre day.

After Sherlock Holmes and the others had solved the case, that was what the man known to them as Jerry Dorff thought.

Presently, he was walking along a thoroughfare in the city, a piece of paper in hand. He still wore the bandages that had made him a suspect in the arson-and-murder case; as people walked past, his unusual appearance sent them casting dubious and uncomfortable glances openly in his direction.

However, he’d already grown used to such negative reactions. Paying no mind, he continued walking towards his destination, and thought back to the events that had resulted in this curious appearance of his.

——Originally, he’d been a capable businessman: one who had expanded a retail shop into a major commercial establishment. But one day, he was betrayed by a noble he’d thought of as a close friend. He was kidnapped abruptly in the dead of night, shot in a deserted area of London, burned all over while still alive, and thrown into the River Thames.

Yet he survived. After being swept downstream, he regained consciousness; somehow, he managed to climb out the river and save himself. At this point, he thought of returning home, and telling his child and his friend that he was alright—— but the moment he considered that, he stopped.

The man who’d tried to kill him was part of the nobility: an institution which wielded absolute power in this country. If that man knew he’d survived, he would attempt to eliminate him once and for all. On top of that, he could even be placing the people important to him in harm’s way.

As such, the man relinquished everything. He gave up proving that he’d survived, a life of peace, as well as the chance to see his family and friends again. From then on, he never revealed his true identity to anyone, and led a solitary life in the slums under the false name Jerry.

However, just the other day, a mysterious letter had arrived at the inn where he was staying. Written on it was his real name, and some simple instructions.

To summarise its contents: an incident would break out at a nearby inn; he was to get himself involved as one of the suspects; after which, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes would solve the case. Then, once the man had seen that the case was resolved, he was to go to this address.

And in reality, in the case involving the famous detective, the man had indeed been caught up as a suspect.

At first, when he read the letter, he was wrought with unease that his survival had finally been discovered. But if that had been the case, it would’ve been an assassin rather than a letter that arrived on his doorstep. As such, he surmised that at the very least, the author of the letter meant him no harm.

Moreover, the occurrence and resolution of the incident had happened exactly as the letter said it would; from that, it was apparent that this person had considerable foresight. Hence, powerless as he was right now, it would be mean nothing for him to disobey those instructions anyway. Having arrived at that conclusion, the man resolved to head to that address, even as apprehension took root within him.

“……Only being able to go with the flow — just like a puppet on strings, huh.”

He murmured self-abasingly, then stopped. He had reached the address written on the letter.

He was in the heart of one of London’s shopping districts. It was dusk, and the street lamps were lined up like candles on a birthday cake, casting a gentle glow all around. As usual, the passers-by cast strange looks in his direction, but the man didn’t care a whit.

Amidst the stream of people, he stood stock-still, his gaze fixed on the enormous building before him.

This was the department store he had, in the past, guided to success together with his friend. It seemed that a big incident a while back had forced the business to close. But as he soaked in its majestic atmosphere, a sense of nostalgia surged into his chest.

Nevertheless, at this point, he was no better than a recluse. No matter what end awaited this department store — the very one he had watched grow like his own child — that had nothing to do with him anymore. How was his precious family spending their days? That was immaterial to him too.

A firm resolve; and within it, an inexorable sorrow and regret. Perhaps the one who’d sent this letter was hoping to dredge up these emotions within him. If that were the case, then although he didn’t know who they were, he was certain they had rather bad taste.

Carrying a faint indignation, as well as an emptiness in his heart, the man made to leave.

Then, a little further down the street, a carriage caught his eye as it slowed to a stop.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“——Hey, William. You came to my house all of a sudden, picked me up in this carriage, then brought me all the way here — what on earth are you doing?”

As they rode together in a carriage, that was what Helena Curtis asked William James Moriarty seated across her. His elder brother Albert was seated next to him, and their youngest brother Louis held the reins in the driver’s seat.

However, both William and Albert simply responded with meaningful smiles.

“You’ll know it when you alight……. Since everything up till now, has been part of my plan.”

“………?”

She still couldn’t grasp the meaning behind his words; but for the time being, she did as he said and descended from the carriage.

Then, she found herself standing before the place where that brutal occupation had occurred several days earlier, and where she had ended up making William’s acquaintance: that very department store.

“……Maybe they’re going to unfurl a banner saying ‘Congratulations on your reopening!’ or something like that?”

Helena murmured as she gazed up at the building before her. Now, its enormity seemed almost hollow. She had thought of this store as her second home; part of her had been reluctant to see it fade away, but she also understood that there had been no other choice. For better or for worse, she was an intelligent girl.

What on earth was their purpose in bringing her here?

With that question on the tip of her tongue, Helena was just about to turn back to the carriage, when a voice came calling out to her from the side.

“……Helena?”

“——Eh?”

Her gaze shot toward the direction of the voice; there, stood a man whose face was wrapped all over in bandages. As the evening sun shone on him from behind, he looked almost like a demon from a child’s picture book.

Helena was shocked.

But it wasn’t because this suspicious-looking man had suddenly called her by name. What had taken her by surprise, was that ‘colour’.

——A warm, and slightly lonely colour, like clouds drenched in the evening sun.

It was dusk now: perhaps she had simply confused it with the sky? No, definitely not. That colour had certainly come from this man.

Then, the man seemed to have realised something all of a sudden, and turned his face away.

“Apologies. It seems I was mistaken. You reminded me of an acquaintance’s child.”

He said that as if making excuses to someone else, then turned away and tried to leave.

But Helena stared right at his back and shouted.

“Dad! It’s you, isn’t it!?”

Her voice had been clear, and imbued with a strong conviction. The girl’s plea washed over him, and the man looked down.

“……You’re mistaken. I’m not related to you.”

“That’s a lie! Your colour is the same as my dad’s! I’m absolutely sure on that!”

At this point, her voice was already trembling. With all her strength, she dashed toward him. He’d stood there with his fists clenched, and his back still turned; but finally, as if tearing himself free from everything, he spun around and knelt on one knee, hugging his daughter in his arms.

“I missed you so much……”

Helena spoke, her face buried in the front of his tattered, worn-out shirt. Even without looking at her, the man knew tears were flowing freely down her cheeks.

“……It’s been so long. And you’ve gotten so big.”

He too smiled at his daughter, no longer caring about the gazes of the people around him. Just for a moment, it was as if the bustle of the city had faded away, and the evening sun bathed the reunion of this long-separated family in its tender glow.

If only time could stop at this moment, they wouldn’t have to suffer the anguish of the impending tragedy. With that thought in mind, even as he felt a pang of regret, he pulled his daughter away from his chest.

“Helena. I’m glad I got to see you again. But, it’s no use: if he finds out I’m still alive——”

“——You need not worry about that anymore.”

Right then, William called out to him as he got off the carriage.

“……You are?”

“My name is William James Moriarty. I was fortunate enough to have made friends with Miss Helena.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Helena spread out her arms in joy.

“Thanks to William, I also saved Mr Kevin’s life, you know. Also, that noble, Andy — he can’t lay a hand on us anymore.”

“Is that…… true?”

From within the depths of his bandages, the man’s eyes widened, and he looked in William’s direction once again. At that, William responded with a smile full of warmth.

“This may be a bit too sudden, and perhaps you will need some time to process it, but that will not be an issue. We have completely eliminated that which has been tormenting all of you.”

“That…… How?”

“About that, please speak with your daughter in your own time after this.”

The man was more bewildered than overjoyed; but William left only those words with him, and stepped into the carriage once again. Her face brimming with smiles, Helena looked at William in the carriage, as well as Albert seated inside, and Louis in the driver’s seat.

“To everyone in the Moriarty family: truly, thank you. No matter how many times I say that, it will never be enough.”

William bowed respectfully, and then the carriage set off. As he watched the man stand there blankly, and the young girl waving at them as hard as she could, a gentle smile rose to his face.

Seeing that, Albert chuckled.

“So, is this the finishing touch?”

William nodded.

“That’s right, Albert nii-san.”

——Searching for Helena’s father, and reuniting them. That had been William’s plan this time around.

In order to pronounce judgement on Andy at the survival game, they had been looking into what the man did to Helena’s father, when William landed on the possibility that he was still alive and in hiding somewhere.

They had commenced their search right away, but it seemed the man was leading a rather inconspicuous life — his whereabouts were a mystery. Hence, William took advantage of the department store attackers who had fled from the police.

Those men were born and raised in the slums; having committed numerous petty crimes for a long time, they were well-versed in the art of escaping from the Yard. Of course, among the streets they’d grown up in, they were also familiar with the best places to evade detection. Putting it another way, one could take it that wherever these men had chosen to lay low, that same place would be perfect for Helena’s father to hide himself, seeing as he wanted to mask his existence. Hence, as soon as the fugitives holed up in one place, William would probe the surrounding area, and when he’d determined that Helena’s father was not there, he would let the fugitives catch wind of the Yard’s presence, and drive them on to their next hiding spot.

After repeating this a few times, as William had predicted, they finally discovered a man who appeared to fit the bill. He stayed at a certain inn, calling himself Jerry Dorff; but having laid low for such a long time, the man had become extremely distrustful — it would be no mean feat to call him out to meet Helena. Forcibly abducting him was out of the question, and even if they had brought Helena to meet him, he might mistake it as a trap set by the noble who’d betrayed him.

After exploring various methods, William chose to send him a single letter. Written on it was a full description of the incident that would occur — serving as a prophecy of sorts, to show that he meant him no harm, as well as a final notice: hinting that he couldn’t escape the net William had cast. After which, all that was left was to send an anonymous tip-off to the police regarding the fugitives’ location.

Then the detective and the Yard moved to hunt down the two fugitives, and Helena’s father was led to this place. Everything had unfurled from atop the palm of the “Lord of Crime” — and all of it occurred without the slightest deviation from his plan.

As a modest reward, William had been able to witness a beautiful love between parent and child. Sharing a meaningful look with Albert, he called out to his younger brother.

“Shall we, Louis?”

“Yes, William nii-san.”

With that, Louis urged their horse on a little faster.

Now that their twilight-coloured plan had been accomplished, they were headed in the opposite direction from the sunset sky, still radiant with the sun’s last rays — and towards one which was already dyed pitch-black.

When the sun went down, this city would once again be ruled by the darkness of the night. They would continue to race through its darkest parts, and work towards their goal. Finally, dawn would arrive. All the darkness would be dispelled, and a new day would begin: one that would bring people hope.

The carriage continued racing forward in a straight line. As it disappeared into the streets that had begun to dissolve into the gloom, William James Moriarty smiled.

One day, the morning sun would shine upon this world, and the ideals they created would come to life — that, was what he believed.

T/N: …When Helena’s father was revealed to be alive, I was oh my god what if—— and then they did get reunited and I was about to cry… It’s a better end than I could’ve imagined! (tears of joy)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

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You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 2

So the first part did decently well, so I figure I could add a second part.

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For the next few hours I waited, making sure he was truly asleep. The Michael I knew was a heavy sleeper, but I would never be able to tell if that was a lie too. During that time, I tried to make a plan on how to escape. If this was Michael’s apartment building, it meant it was on the outskirts of town and nowhere near the police station, so my only option was running. But it had been a while since I had any food or water, so my ability to do any running was limited to one short sprint. As far as getting out of the chair went, there was the knife that Michael threatened me with at my feet. But I was conflicted about using it. Had he left it there on purpose to taunt me? It was my only way of escape, so caution had to be thrown to the wind.

Using the rubber on the soles of my shoes, I carefully got the knife handle between them. The next challenge was to get it up to my hands. All those crunches Coach did were paying off. I took the knife from my shoes and relaxed, gripping the handle tightly. Awkwardly, I began slowly cutting at the duct binding my hands together and then around my chest until I was free. Every cut took what felt like hours, but I didn’t want to be loud to make sure he didn’t catch me. By the time I got finished it was the end of the afternoon, the sky slowly fading from blue to the sunset. Once free, I stood up slowly, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak underneath my feet. I took my steps slowly, feeling my heart pound. The door to the outside world felt so close yet so far away. Out of the corner of my eye, Michael’s door was in my vision. But the problem was that the door was closed earlier, but now it was opened with just a crack.

He was awake, but he hadn’t heard me. It was now or never, I walked quickly to the front door and made my way into the hallway, the heavy door slamming behind me.

“(Y/N)!” I heard Michael shout. I started to run, Michael’s apartment was on the third floor so running down the stairs was the only option since taking the elevator would mean he would be at the bottom. By the time I had made it to the second floor, I could hear his booming steps behind me.

“GET BACK HERE!” I picked up my pace, almost tripping down the steps multiple times. Until I saw the front door of the building, slamming into it and making my way outside. The parking lot was empty except for a black Camaro, a man was leaning against it, looking towards the woods. It was a risk, this guy could be working with Michael. But Michael never really worked well with others in school.

“HELP!” I screamed, feeling my legs start to ache from running all those stairs. The adrenaline running through my veins halting, “HELP ME!” The man turned and my heart almost stopped. It was Derek Hale. One of the survivors from the Hale fire six years ago.

By now he had turned to face me, looking at me and then Michael who was hot on my heels.

“Help!” I shouted, crashing into him. He didn’t move, it felt like running into a wall, “Please help me.” I held on tightly to his leather jacket.

“Please.” I pleaded, hoping that he was just there at the right place at the right time. By that point, Michael had caught up.

“Hey, man.” Michael panted, “Thanks for catching her. My girlfriend gets a little crazy when she’s off her meds.”

Derek looked down at my face, his expression became hard and frightened me a bit. He took my hands from his jacket. It’s over, he’s going to hand me over. But then, he pulled me so I stood behind him, keeping him between me and Michael.

“I think you should leave.” Derek said. I had never heard him speak before. From what I could remember from high school, after the fire Derek had become reclusive and kept to himself.

“Listen, pal, if you don’t hand her over, I’ll need to get physical and we both know you don’t want that to happen.” Michael warned, gripping a knife in his hands. But the way he spoke made it seem like they knew each other, but Michael had never mentioned Derek before.

“(Y/N), come on. Let’s go home.” Michael said.

“No.”

“Fine.” He glared, “Then leave.” He spat his words like they were laced with venom. Derek glanced towards the passenger door, like an invitation to freedom as he made his way to the other side of the car. Michael, however, went back on his words. He stalked towards Derek, knife in his hands.

“No!” I scrambled to stop his path and the knife meant to Derek’s back found its way into mine. The pain itself made my body seize up, making me fall into Derek once again, his green eyes looked full of panic.

“Shit.” Michael hissed, pulling the knife from my back and sprinting away. My knees buckled, the last of the adrenaline gone.

“Hey, hey.” Derek held me up, pulling me with ease towards the back of his car, “You’re gonna be okay.” He laid me down in the back seat, slamming the door and getting into the front, starting the car. The Camaro’s wheels screeched on the pavement as they sped off onto the road. His eyes kept looking back at me in the rear view mirror.

“Hey, stay awake, (Y/N).” I tried to speak but my vision was going black, as it was I could hear Derek’s voice farther and farther away.

“(Y/N)?” A sweet voice called, “(Y/N), can you hear me?” My eyes slowly fluttered open, then squeezed shut at the bright lights.

“Where am I?” I whispered, my throat was sore.

“You’re in the hospital. We took you into surgery, everything went well and you’re healing just fine.” She said sweetly. I was finally able to open my eyes and found the nurse who had been talking to me. She wore burgundy scrubs and had her blonde hair pulled back into a bun.

“The Sheriff is here to see you, but I told him that you still needed rest.” She said, standing up and writing her vitals.

“No, it's okay to let him in.” She took a deep breath, “He’s my godfather.” The nurse nodded and she walked out the door. But instead of Uncle Noah, Stiles rushed into the room, the nurse right behind him. I slowly began to sit up to greet him.

“Hey, hey, hey, you sit right back down. Are you okay?” His words rushed from his mouth.

“Slow down.” I smiled weakly, “I’m okay.”

“You got stabbed.”

“I’ve been better. How’s that?” Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the Sheriff make his way in the room.

“Hi Uncle Noah.” I said softly. He looked like he usually did, stressed and tired.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was somber and brought back the memories that my parents and my home were gone forever. My eyes brimmed with tears, my lips tight to hold back my sobs. Uncle Noah came to my side, and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, rubbing her shoulder softly. I turned into his side, wet spots growing on his uniform from my tears. Stiles held my hand, moving his thumb across my knuckles.

Later after feeling a little more lucid, Uncle Noah wanted to take my statement.

“Can you tell me about what happened last night?”

I took a deep breath, “I went out to go to a party. Around eleven o’clock. On my way there I ran into Michael. He….” I looked up, trying to avoid tears again, “He knocked me out and took me to his apartment. And he tied me up. He showed me the news telling me mom and dad were dead.” I hiccupped back a little sob, “He threatened me with a knife then he went to bed. He dropped the knife at my feet, I cut myself out, and ran. He was running behind me and I ran into a guy in the parking lot, Derek Hale.”

“Derek Hale?” He asked, stopping his note taking.

I nodded, “Yeah, he was just there in the parking lot. I ran up to him, he was going to drive me away from there. Michael came after him with the knife and I got in the way. I don’t remember much after that.”

He nodded, taking his notes on a small flippad.

“Isn’t that the guy who survived in that fire five years ago?” Stiles piped in from a chair in the corner.

“Yeah, that’s him. I’ll have to track him down to find him. Get his statement.” Uncle Noah put his notepad in his pocket. “Get some more rest, kiddo, you’re getting discharged tonight into my care.”

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Read part 3 here!

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Message me or comment below to be added to the taglist :)

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic

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spencesglasses · 3 years

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sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 3

a/n: no spence in this part, sorry to disappoint you simps. but uhh, y/n and jj rights! but as besties <3

tw! there are mentions of sexual assault and a minor character death! please be aware before reading!!

part one | part four

“St. Augustine, Florida,” Penelope starts, showcasing the most recent case. “Two bodies were found early this evening in a remote wooded area just west of the city. Neither have been identified yet.”

“This woman’s complexion…” Tara said, looking at the pictures of a woman with various injuries on her face.

Y/N looked at the board beside Penelope. “… she was exsanguinated.” she hissed.

“Correct, my dearest, which is a really fun word to say, but I didn’t know its terrible meaning until I started working here.”

“Odd that the only female had her blood removed,” Rossi said across the round table.

“Well, the male victim might have been collateral damage or a witness that needed to be silenced.” JJ added.

“I mean, it is the kind of message that would be sent to each other. The Curiel Syndicate recently set up shop in Florida,”

“Except it looks like these two were meant without anyone the wiser. How is that a message?” Asked Rossi.

“Well, cartels have also been known to use murder as a form of voodoo.” Derek pointed out. “In 1989, a University of Texas student was murdered by a satanic gang while on spring break.”

Y/N leaned further into the table, reviewing the photos they were given. “My guess is that this has nothing to do with drugs. Maybe someone with a blood fetish-”

“Vampirism?” JJ asked.

Y/N hums in response, glancing at her for a brief moment.

“It’s late and we need to hit the ground running. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said as he closed the file he held, gathering any necessary belongings for the case.

Without another word, the team mirrored his actions and followed him out. This was one of the first few cases she has worked on with the team without Spencer. She didn’t mind it, of course. The team welcomed her with open arms and treated her as if she had always been there, which she appreciated. She had gotten used to everything that came with the job, and grew closer to the team, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said that some things she sees still make her skin crawl.

Y/N looked out the window of the jet, admiring the contrast of the dark, star filled sky beneath the white clouds. She was seated with JJ, Hotch, and Morgan at the small table, the rest of the team claiming their spot to the seats to their right.

“The coroner attributed the lacerations on the bodies to animal bites.” Morgan said. “Apparently there are a lot of raccoons in that area.”

Y/N felt JJ nudge her slightly and brought her attention back to the file on her lap, flipping through the photos. “The media’s going on about satanic mutilation.”

“It’s happened before. The West Memphis three case showed how animal activity on a corpse can be mistaken for a ritualized torture.” Hotch noted.

“After the first bite, the insect infestation expands and distorts the open wounds,” Said Rossi.

Y/N heard Garcia groan over the laptop speaker, seeing her face scrunch up in disgust on the screen. “Ok, here’s my finger, here’s the mute button. Are you guys done talking about the critter damage?”

JJ and Y/N shared a look, and she smiled. “You can put your finger down, Pen, we’re done,”

“Thank you, and Y/N’s right; local news and radio outlets are going wild with this being a blood-worshipping cult murder.” she continues typing. “Hey, new information. Both of those bodies have just been identified, Cheyenne Pravato, 23 and George Henning, 71.”

The team leaned forward to inspect the photos of the recent victims popping up on the screen.

“Any connection?” asked Hotch.

“My level-one search says no, my level 2 through 20 await. Cheyenne was a waitress that is currently unemployed. Henning was a retired steelworker from Pennsylvania, lived in Florida a few years. They both went missing 3 days ago.”

“3 days?” Tara questioned. “Coroner estimated the time of death as less than 24 hours from the time of discovery?”

“Preliminary indicators show no sign of torture or sexual assault,” JJ said.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in thought, trying to piece together the information. “What was he doing with them?”

The team brought their attention to Hotch, and he said, “Dave, you find out what you can about Cheyenne from friends and family. Morgan, you do the same thing for Henning. JJ, I need you to rein in the media. And, Lewis, Y/L, you two go to the M.E.. Hysteria’s growing and we need to contain it.”

“Still waiting on the full tox screen for the male victim,” said the medical examiner.

“We think they may have been held for up to two days.” Tara said. “Were they fed?”

“Stomach contents were empty, but nutrition and hydration levels were normal. My guess is they were both fed through an I.V.” he said, lifting the fabric that covered the body. “I did find one curiosity,”

He uncovered the victim's calf, showing a mark on the skin with red rings around it. Y/N furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning the injured spot. “It looks like an animal bite?”

“Not under magnification. It’s actually a surgically precise triangle,”

She saw Tara’s face harden in the corner of her eye; she turned to her and they shared a questioning look. They heard the telephone ring from across the room, and the medical examiner was quick to answer it. Tara lifted the fabric once more, bending down to look closer at the injury.

“You’re positive of that?” Y/N heard him ask over the phone. The medical examiner hung up the phone, turning on his heel to face the two women. “The tox screen and DNA tests on George Henning just came back. You ready for this? Most of the blood in his body isn’t his…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then whose…”

“It’s Cheyenne’s…”

Her whole body tensed at his words, and Tara’s jaw dropped in shock.

Y/N tapped her pencil against the table as she read over the tox screening. “The blood drained from Cheyenne was put into George Henning?” Morgan questioned, gesturing to the document in her hand.

She slid the paper across the table for him to read. “It is strange, a triangle was cut into his calf muscle too,”

“And there’s still something in the toxicology screen that the M.E. can’t identify.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, we’re hoping to find something more in the next few hours,”

Morgan slid back the report to her. She heard footsteps coming closer to the room they occupied and turned to see JJ walking in. She greeted her with a small wave and smile, to which she returned. JJ leaned against Y/N’s chair, resting her hand on the back of it. “So, it took a little arm-wrestling,” she starts. “But the media finally saw the wisdom in toning down the whole demon worship angle,”

“Don’t take a victory lap just yet,” Rossi said, Y/N handing her the tox report.

“You’re kidding,” JJ huffed.

Tara picked up the photos from the M.E., flipping them over for JJ to see. “Y/L and I are just trying to work out this whole calf muscle business,”

“Triangles are big in illuminati symbolism.” Rossi recounted.

Morgan let out a sharp exhale. “This is just bending back toward cult behavior.”

“What did you find out about George Henning?” Hotch asked him.

“According to the neighbors, the guy was a shut-in. No friends, a lot of health problems — hypertension, parkinson’s,”

“Cheyenne was the opposite,” Rossi interjected. “Vegan, into new age lifestyles. Never met a harmonic convergence she didn't want to converge on.”

“Well, I mean, I get it with him; he was a recluse, but how did nobody notice her missing for 3 days?”

“Her friends said that Cheyenne was flighty. It was not unusual for her to take off without notice for a week or two.”

“Transfusions and sustained I.V. feeding takes skill, planning and access to materials, and as crude as it was, the replacing of old blood with new is dialysis.” Hotch said. “ What if the triangle isn’t a symbol, but a tissue sample? Could this be medical experimentation?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a youthful, healthy host in Cheyenne and a sick test subject in Henning,”

“If the new missing girl’s his next victim, the unsub could be getting ready to try again,” JJ said, clutching the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N gave her a look of confusion. “New missing girl?”

“A missing persons report came in earlier today, Andrea Gambrell,” JJ explained. “Her car was found abandoned at a cemetery near Jacksonville. Cheyenne and Andrea waitressed at the same restaurant.”

“If Andrea mirrors Cheyenne, then who mirrors George?” Y/N asked.

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

Y/N stood with JJ and Hotch looking over photos they’ve gathered throughout the case, trying to come up with a conclusion. She tapped her foot anxiously against the tile beneath her feet, her brows furrowing as she looked closely at the photos. The sound of Hotch’s phone ringing startled her, making her jump. She let out a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. JJ took notice of a very flustered looking Y/N and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay there?”

She gave her a half-hearted smile, moving past her to stand next to Hotch. “‘m fine.”

“What do you have, Garcia?” he asked.

He asked her to search for doctors or any medical professionals in the area, anyone that could pop up as a red flag, and of course, Garcia was quick to find just what they needed. “Nothing on my crimson flag doctor search, but I did learn about something with a super cool name,” she said through the speaker. “The mad scientist club,”

JJ took a step, now standing beside Y/N. “And what is that?’ she asked.

“They’re a student group from the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. Before the disbanded, they used to get together and talk about experimental ways to cure disease.”

“Do you have any names of the people in the club?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, kinda, sorta, not really. They were totally informal. Here’s the part that made me sit up straight. They used to meet at a local cemetery,”

JJ scoffed. “Let me guess, the same cemetery where Andrea Gambrell disappeared.”

“Yeah! The very one!”

“Alright,” Hotch started. “Keep working on the names and see if you can find out what the club disbanded.”

“Okay,” Garcia said before hanging up.

Before the three of them could say another word, Y/N's own phone started ringing. She reached into her back pocket and held the phone up to her ear. “Agent Y/L,”

“Yes, agent, I’ve got the full tox screen of George Henning,” he said, Y/N bringing her phone from her ear so she could put it on speaker. “There were massive levels of massive levodopa in his system.”

“The parkinson's drug?”

“Correct,”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “But the blood was replaced with Cheyenne’s. Does that mean the levodopa was introduced into his system after the transfusion?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got the results of the other DNA samples and the surprises keep coming. Found traces of mesoglea and testudinata keratin,”

“That is…” she urges him to continue.

“Jellyfish and turtle. George Henning had animal DNA in his system.” He said.

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking up to see JJ with her mouth slightly agape and Hotch with a deep frown. Y/N quickly says ‘thank you’ before hanging up. But before she could turn her phone off, a quiet ding! went off notifying her about a new message.

“Guys,” she alerted. “Another body was found.”

“You two check that out, see what you can find. I’ll brief the team on the tox screening.”

Y/N and JJ walked in silence, their shoulders bumping as they made their way to the site where the latest victim was found. “Okay so, a homeless man found him,” Y/N breaks the silence, lifting the police tape for her and JJ to go under. The officer close by handed them both gloves to search the area and a bag of belongings found on the victim. “We I.D.’d him as Harold McDermott, longtime local resident.”

“He didn’t even bother hiding the body this time.” JJ said. “The unsub might be unraveling,”

“He must’ve been the new George Henning.” Y/N muttered, crouching down and her eyes scanning the injuries the man ensued. “I don’t even want to think about what might be swimming around in his bloodstream.”

JJ crouched down to her level. “No obvious tissue removal, bruising on his face and chest.” she looked at Y/N, then to the bag in her hand. “What’s in there?”

Y/N eyebrows rose, following JJ’s gaze to the items in the clear bag. She stood up, opened the bag and it was a wallet. With a medical card. Ah, of course we’d find something like this in here, she thought. “It’s a medical I.D. card” she said, pulling it out for JJ to see. “Our victim suffered from epilepsy and cortico-basal degeneration…”

They tore their eyes away from the card, glancing up to each other. “We better deliver the profile.”

It’s been a few hours since they’ve delivered the profile to local authorities, and since then, they’ve gotten more information to help them solve the case. The M.E. had found more animal DNA in George Hennings body: sea urchin and some other type of tropical parrot neither of them could identify.

Penelope was able to locate one of the former members of the Mad Scientist Club, Diane Haller, and she was able to go in to talk to Tara; finding out that there was a man that could be a potential lead. Robert, or Richard, Diane couldn’t remember his name, but the club called him the magic man. He only went to the gathering a few times, according to Diane, and while he was there he would go on about how they were in a ‘magical place’. He attended the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville while the club was still active, his interest being in neuroscience.

A local doctor went missing, Laura Braga. She was a neurologist, which they believed was a connection to the unsub. Dr. Braga was heading back to her office to get files she’d forgotten when she discovered that the unsub broke into her office trying to get extra levodopa.

“Garcia compiled a list of every medical student in the North Florida area with the first name of Richard or Robert, and I got to tell you guys, it’s a long list.” Tara said as she stood to the side of a board filled with photo evidence and a map of the area.

“So which one is our magic man?” JJ asked.

Y/N sat in the chair next to her, facing the board. She spun her chair around to face the other way and noticed a peculiar look on Rossi’s face. “What is it, Rossi?”

“They identified the bird DNA in Henning as coming from a scarlet macaw,”

“Mmhm. And?”

“That got me thinking about Turritopsis Dohrni,”

“Turri… what?’ Tara questioned him.

“It’s called the immortal jellyfish,” he explains. “Endlessly recycles its own cells through a process called transdifferentiation, a kind of lineage reprogramming.”

“Oh, my goodness. Dr. Spencer Reid, master of disguise.” JJ joked.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed that you were the resident genius, Rossi,”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No disguise. I called the kid last night.”

“Ahh,” Y/N and JJ said in unison.

“But think about it, jellyfish, turtle, sea urchin, and now a scarlet macaw. What do they all have in common?”

“A long lifespan.” Tara answered.

“Exactly, longer than a human’s.”

“So that means the unsub may not be focused on a specific disease but longevity,” Said JJ.

“Oh, God. Guys,” Tara gasped. “I think I know why the magic man thought this place was so magical,” She uses the file in her hand to point at the map. “We are right around the corner from the legendary Fountain of Youth.”

A local zoo reported a macaw stolen, the owner suspecting it to be a former employee, Robert Boles, who they’d believed to be the unsub. He went to medical school and flunked out in the middle of his first year. They found key information linking him to the case when Penelope found that he currently worked at the same hospital as Dr. Braga. The team rushed to the location where Boles did his experiments on his victims.

“All right, so, in high school Robert Boles got a summer job at a gift shop near the Fountain of Youth archaeological park.” JJ explained. “He got fired for breaking in after hours.”

Y/N and JJ sat in the back seat of the car, leaving Morgan and Hotch in the front. “That’s probably where his obsession with eternal youth started.”

They trudged through the hallways of the abandoned building with their guns pointed forward, ready to shoot if needed. “And I won’t let you get in the way!” they heard a man shout from one of the rooms.

The team followed the sound of the voice and turns the corner to see two men standing over a young woman. The younger man they’d identified as Robert Boles, and the young woman being Andrea Gambrell, Y/N assumed.

“Robert Boles, drop the weapon.” Hotch said sternly.

He whipped his head around to them.

“It’s over, man. You’re not getting out.” Morgan steps closer to him.

“Put the knife down, slowly.” JJ said.

Y/N watches as Boles lifts his arms in surrender, opening his hand to drop the knife. Morgan hurried to cuff him, while JJ rushed to untie Andrea strapped to the hospital bed.

“My wife needs help!” The other man, Ben Kebler, tells Hotch urgently.

“Where is she?”

“In the next room!” Mr. Kebler rushed out.

“Show me.” Hotch said, following him, and Y/N followed along. “Call an ambulance,” he tells her.

“Medics are on their way,” Y/N said softly, entering the room Hotch and JJ were in and she stood between them.

She looked down to see Eileen Kebler in the hospital bed, her husband leaning over her her. And her heart breaks. Eileen was dying.

“How is she?” Ben Kebler asked, eyes brimming with tears.

The three of them stayed silent, Y/N unable to comprehend what's happening, let alone come up with words to say in that moment. Hotch peers down at him, and Ben knows. He frantically shakes his head, hand shaking as he grabs his wife's hand. “What have I done?!”

“I’m cold,” Eileen mutters.

His face scrunched up. “Eileen, stay with me!” he pleads.

“I am always with you…” she whispers. “Always…”

And she was gone. Sobs echoed throughout the empty building, and Y/N could feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her eyes watered with tears, then suddenly she felt a hand interlock with hers. It was JJ’s. She squeezes her hand gently, JJ rubbing soothing circles along her knuckles. She let out a soft exhale and used her free hand to wipe away any tears, trying to regain her composure. This part of the job was something she could never get used to. Something the rest of the team couldn’t get used to, no matter how long they’ve worked there.

It was safe to say that Y/N was not a night owl. The team were on their way home and she laid on the couch in the jet with a small pillow and blanket that could barely cover her. She smiled to herself as the memory of her finding Spencer snuggled with a far too small blanket the morning after their first movie night. She still cringes at the fact that she accidentally fell asleep barely into the first few movies, but smiles when she remembers what she woke up to. Y/N thought it was sweet that he stayed there with her, and finding Spencer curled up in a messy bundle of blankets made her heart grow twice its size. She took a mental note to call Spencer when they land, and she finally lets her eyes flutter shut, finally being able to rest.

tag list: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagines #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

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hajimes-erect-ahoge · 3 years

Text

Diagnosis: Love Sickness!- Chapter 1

In the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, 16 students have been imprisoned as part of a nonsensical dating game in which their objective is to find themselves in a budding romance with another student! Although reluctant to admit so, Shuichi Saihara has had his eyes on another student for quite some time now... Will Monokuma's new motive, the Despair Disease, be the driving force that pushes Saihara to finally confess his love? Or will he stay forever single in this twisted dating game?

Stay tuned to find out!

~~~~~~~~~~

Monokuma introduces the new motive, the despair disease!

ao3

The Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was a rather interesting place, though its facilities were currently being used for a particularly strange purpose. Sixteen students, eight boys and eight girls, were confined within the walls of the academy for some sort of dating game, supposedly for the entertainment of the outside world. The cherry on top of this strange situation was that their captor was a small, animatronic black and white bear who walked and talked as if he were human. Monokuma, as the bear dubbed itself, would appear every now and then to inform the students of the structure and layout of the academy or to introduce some strange motive to encourage the blossoming of romance amongst them, but otherwise left them to their own devices. Having no choice but to mingle and make friends with one another, the students explored the academy and made use of their surroundings.

Speaking of which, the students imprisoned in this academy were not necessarily normal, either. Each and every one of them had an Ultimate Talent, making them special and distinct from one another. Their talents varied greatly from one another, even including something as far-fetched and sci-fi sounding as the Ultimate Robot, but they all managed to get along with one another and cultivate rather interesting friendships.

One exception to this, however, was Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. Being naturally introverted and reclusive, he had a difficult time forming friendships with the other students, at least initially. Seeking to help the young detective out of his shell, two other students named Akamatsu and Momota attempted to befriend him, slowly introducing him to their small social circle and eventually the rest of the students. The two of them were social butterflies, flitting gracefully between the social groups that had formed, providing a nice complement to Saihara’s more reserved nature. Their positive and radiant energies bounced off of each other and onto Saihara, causing him to feel more empowered and confident than ever before.

It was a gradual process that allowed Saihara to become more sure of himself, transpiring over the course of their first few weeks at the academy. The culmination of said process was when, at Momota and Akamatsu’s behest, Saihara removed the black cap that he desperately clung to in order to avoid eye contact with others. His lifestyle had undergone a complete transformation since entering this academy, changing for the better as a result of the efforts of his new friends. Although his tendencies to doubt himself still persevered at times, Saihara was grateful for the progress he had made to better himself and make new friends.

But there was something missing.

As he spent more and more time trapped in the academy, Saihara noticed an increasing number of students crossing the boundary from friends to lovers. At first it was only Chabashira and Yumeno, followed by Iruma and Kiibo, but when both Momota and Akamatsu entered relationships Saihara couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something. Although he was happy that his two closest friends were in happy, fulfilling relationships, Saihara longed for the intimacy and closeness that came with having a partner. It had been over a year since his last relationship, leaving him finally ready for a fresh start with someone new.

In all honesty, Saihara would be lying if he said he didn’t have his eyes on anyone in particular. But despite the fact that he had grown leaps and bounds in terms of becoming more secure and sure of himself, Saihara knew that he didn’t have it in him to confess his feelings for another person. In the past, it had always been various girls and boys confessing their feelings for him, not the other way around. On the lucky occasion that Saihara had actually returned the other person’s feelings, it would lead to a new relationship for the both of them. But that had only happened once throughout his whole life, and Saihara wasn’t sure if he was ready to enter another relationship and have his heart eventually be broken again. For now, all he could do was admire from afar and pray that the embarrassment when his feelings came to light wasn’t too much to endure.

~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since the imprisonment of the students had begun, meaning that it was time for a new motive to be announced. In accordance with their schedule, Monokuma had made an announcement instructing everyone to report to the gymnasium bright and early. Having no strong reasons to disobey, the students all gathered in the gymnasium awaiting Monokuma’s appearance.

Suddenly, Monokuma sprung up on top of the stage at the head of the gymnasium, drawing everyone’s attention. Although it was practically routine by now, there was no getting used to an animatronic bear appearing out of thin air. The murmurs and idle chatter in the room came to a stop, all eyes focusing on the small bear in front of them.

“Gooood morning, everyone!” Monokuma’s familiar voice rang out, chipper as ever. “I hope you all slept well, cuz I certainly did!”

“Huh? Do robots like you even need sleep?” Shirogane curiously asked, a twinge of doubt lacing her words. “I mean… You are a robot, right?”

“Why don’t we just ask the Ultimate Robot himself?” Ouma butt in excitedly, balling his hands into small fists as his eyes sparkled brightly. “Hey, Kiiboy! Is it true that robots don’t need to sleep at night like humans do?”

“I will not tolerate your robophobic remarks, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo fumed, crossing his arms angrily. “While it is true that I do not require sleep, there is a function on my body that allows me to-”

Kiibo was cut off by Ouma audibly yawning, signaling his disinterest in their conversation.

“Boooring! I don’t care about your stupid sci-fi robo functions!” Ouma complained.

“Quit lyin’ you shitty shota!” Iruma scowled, jumping to Kiibo’s defense. “Just the other day you were buggin’ Kiibo about exactly that, so don’t even try pulling that shit!”

“Hmm, was I? I don’t remember…” Ouma lied once more, irritating Iruma even further. “Either way, an ignorant slut like you shouldn’t be-”

“Aaargh, that’s enough!” Monokuma thrashed about, waving his paws in the air angrily. “I didn’t call this meeting for you guys to bicker like little kids! You’re ruining the moment!”

A silence befell them, allowing Monokuma to continue.

“I’m introducing the new motive and that’s final!” He announced, composing himself. “Now, since you idiots were too busy arguing, I bet you didn’t even notice that you’re one student short!”

On cue, everyone began looking around in order to confirm Monokuma’s words.

“Atua says that Shuichi is the one missing!” Yonaga declared proudly, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, yeah! About that...” Momota began, “He wasn’t feeling good when I went to check on him this morning, so I figured it would be fine for him to sit this one out… He looked pretty bad.”

“Did you provide him with any medical attention, at the very least?” Tojo asked, voice laced with concern.

“Err…” Momota glanced to the side, a guilty expression adorning his face. “I might’ve forgotten about that when the announcement was made…”

“So you just left my beloved Saihara-chan to die?! How cruel, Momota-chan! And here I thought the two of you were all buddy-buddy or something!” Ouma cried, crocodile tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“T-That’s not true! We were going to check on him as soon as this was over! Right, Maki Roll?” Momota sputtered, struggling to defend himself.

“...That’s right.” Harukawa agreed, fiddling with her pigtails in response to Momota’s pet name for her.

“Upupu!” Monokuma laughed, lifting his paws to cover his smiling face. “Looks like everything is going just as planned!”

“...Just as I thought.” Amami concluded, bringing a hand to his chin as he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Saihara-kun’s illness must have something to do with Monokuma’s new motive.”

Akamatsu gasped in surprise, frowning as she processed the implications of Amami’s statement. “Is that true, Monokuma? Did you do something to Saihara-kun?”

“Upupupu! I call it…” He paused dramatically for effect, “the despair disease!”

A wave of silence washed over them, the students carefully pondering over Monokuma’s words.

“Diss-pear duh-seeze…” Gokuhara sounded out, attempting to understand the information he had been given. “Gonta not sure he understand…”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno groaned, voicing her confusion. “Am I the only one who’s lost?”

“Tell us, Monokuma…” Shinguji spoke cautiously, “What is this ‘despair disease’ you speak of?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely I might as well tell you all!” Monokuma grinned, preparing to explain himself. “The despair disease is a highly contagious illness that affects each and every student differently, depending on the strain that they contract! The symptoms can range from physical ailments to complete personality changes, so I’d be careful if I were you!”

“Personality changes…?” Harukawa repeated to herself, turning to address Momota. “Did you notice anything unusual when you checked on Saihara earlier?”

“Now that you mention it, he was acting kind of weird…” Momota admitted, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. “Alright, I’ve decided! Me and Maki Roll will watch over Shuichi until he gets better!” He declared boldly.

“What about the two of you, then?” Hoshi questioned, raising an eyebrow. “If this disease is as contagious as Monokuma just said doesn’t that put the two of you at risk?”

“Don’t worry about that! I, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, am naturally immune to all types of sickness! I could never let something as silly as being sick bring me down!” Momota boasted.

“You’re such an idiot…” Harukawa twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers, a faint smile visible on her face. “But don’t worry about us. After we make sure Saihara is feeling alright, we’ll leave so that we don’t contract the illness.”

“Good luck, you two!” Akamatsu encouraged, flashing them a bright smile.

Momota gave her a thumbs up, heading out of the gymnasium with Harukawa in tow. One by one, the rest of the students exited as well, leaving only Monokuma.

“Upupupu…” He laughed to himself, grinning knowingly. “Let’s see how they deal with this...”

~~~~~

After arriving at Saihara’s dorm, Momota knocked on the door while Harukawa waited.

“Yo, Shuichi! You holdin’ up in there?” Momota asked, speaking loud enough for practically every dorm to hear him. “Me and Maki Roll came to check up on ya!”

Saihara faintly called out to them, informing them that the door should be open. Momota and Harukawa entered, immediately noticing a sick-looking Saihara sitting up in bed.

“Damn, you still look pretty bad…” Momota observed aloud, stepping closer to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m so tired, Momota-kun…” Saihara drawled, flashing him a coy expression. “I was up all night thinking about you…” He smiled innocently, fingers grazing his lips as he watched Momota’s concerned expression morph into one of bewilderment.

“Huh?” Momota recoiled, taken aback by Saihara’s sudden advances. “Shuichi, what are you talking about?”

Before Saihara could answer, Harukawa approached, placing the back of her hand on his forehead in order to check his temperature.

“He has a crazy high fever…” Harukawa stated, moving to pull her hand away.

But before she could retract it completely, Saihara took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“Your hands are beautiful, Harukawa-san…” He gave her hand a squeeze, looking up to make eye contact with her. “Just like the rest of you.” Saihara smirked, a beguiling expression dressing his face.

Harukawa was quick to pull her hand away, wiping it on her sleeve. “And your hands are sweaty.” She stated flatly, shooting Momota a quick look. With a sigh, she continued. “So, let me guess. You have a strain of the despair disease that makes you flirt with everyone you come in contact with. Correct?”

“Despair disease…?” Saihara repeated, “You’ve got it all wrong, Harukawa-san…” Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, the heat of his fever adding to the already prominent flush on his face. “The only disease I have is love sickness.”

“Do you want to die?” She threatened, expecting to wipe the smirk right off of Saihara’s face. But he continued to smile as he averted his eyes, another witty remark hanging off the tip of his tongue.

“Uhh… Can I talk to you for a minute, Maki Roll?” Momota spoke in a hushed voice, pulling her aside while Saihara simply observed. “Shuichi is acting kind of… weird, right?”

Harukawa rolled her eyes, another sigh escaping her lips. It was just like Momota to be this dense, especially when it came to flirting. Nevertheless, she responded, speaking in a low voice.

“Yeah…” She agreed. “Definitely weird.”

“So, what should we do?” Momota glanced at Saihara, who was simply staring down at the bedsheets. “I mean, someone has to take care of him… Right?”

“I don’t think we should leave him alone in this state…” Harukawa admitted. Despite Saihara’s odd behavior, it just wouldn’t be right to leave a sick person all by themselves. “I guess… We can keep an eye on him until nighttime.”

“Hmm… Alright! I trust you!” Momota gave her a small pat on the arm before turning back to Saihara, who seemed to be in a daze. “Listen up, Shuichi! Maki Roll and I are gonna be taking care of you until you feel better, so you better snap out of it!”

“Aha… Snap out of what?” Saihara responded, laughing a bit to himself.

Momota and Harukawa shared a suspect glance, before resigning themselves to their fate.

It was going to be a long day.

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kri-babe · 3 years

Text

A Bad Experience ᅳ Word Count: 2143 Summary: TAKE THE TRASH OUT. Warning: Implied Sexual Assault. Murder.

I was a pretty average kid. I wasn’t excessively popular, but I wasn’t an outcast either. I liked my silence and my own company, but I didn’t mind the company of my friends either. I had my own little pack of misfits that I ran with but we were average kids. We hung out where we could, but it wasn’t all that often between our classes or after school. My best friend in school was… sort of unorthodox, and a lot of people would have probably questioned it, and had my mom been any better, she would’ve told me to stay the fuck away from him.

And with good reason…

Mr. Rhodes was the school janitor; dressed persistently in a dark blue jumpsuit, and jingling whenever he walked because of the keys he carried on his belt. He was a fairly recluse guy, and the other kids thought he was pretty creepy. I think that was because of the fact that he had this weird tendency to turn up in random places, or… maybe it was the scars that mangled the side of his face. Hell, now that I think back on it, it could’ve even just been the vibe he put off. The smile that was just a little too friendly… the dark eyes that were just a little… too happy.

I guess I was a bad read of people…

But for whatever unfortunate reason, I liked Mr. Rhodes… I spoke to him regularly whenever I saw him, treated the guy like he was just another friend of mine. He was friendly enough, and he didn’t treat me like I was just some dumb fuckin’ kid in his way, wasting his time.

I never told him about it, but I think he put it together anyway - the problems back at home. He’d told me one day that I could hide out in the janitor’s closet if I ever needed a place away from everyone else. I hadn’t thought anything of it. Just a friendly gesture from a decent guy everyone overlooked because he had an unsavory job, and scars on his face.

I never once stopped to wonder why he was working at that school, why he was a janitor, and why the other kids avoided him… why the teachers avoided him. I never really thought beyond the idea that they were just mean. That maybe it was pack instinct that kept the flock together, safe in their numbers where the wolf couldn’t easily get to them.

No, I had to be the black sheep - the one that sticks out like a sore thumb, all the easier to snatch.

Too bad I didn’t see his fangs until he found me in the janitor’s closet one day. It’d been a shit day, mom was off her meds, had thrown away some of my stuff because it was ‘Satanic’. I didn’t want to put up with the teachers, nor the other kids, so I hunkered down in that little, cramped closet to just ride the day out. Where the fuck else was I going to go? Home? As if. If only I’d thought of some place else. If only I’d refused to trust him too.

He asked how long I’d been there, and I told him since school started. Guess that meant no one would notice one missing kid. The minute he closed the door, I felt something. A sinking brick in my gut and it only got worse when Mr. Rhodes knelt beside me, rubbed my back and told me that it’d all be okay. He could make it better. … I must’ve been twelve.

I stayed in the closet for the rest of the day. I was too scared to come out until well after school had ended….

I told her anyway. I knew she wouldn’t hear it, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I knew she wouldn’t be on my side. But sometimes… just… sometimes. She was mom. I told her anyway. I felt the strike far before I had seen it coming.

“No son of mine will be an incubus, not in this house. God will excise this evil from you, you pustulant seductor.”

I still have scars from the whipping.

So… what now…

What do you do when your childhood fucking rapist comes into your place of work… and recognizes you…?

“Well, well,” Chimed a familiar, snake-like voice from just a few steps behind.

Alby blinked tiredly a few times, staring at the bleary image of the DVD cases in the cart and in his hands. As per the norm, the night had been slow - Blockbusters wasn’t really what it used to be, and the few customers he did get were often high as hell, and just looking for cheap movies to rent. He’d had maybe one other customer earlier that evening, before he’d set to putting back the returns.

Another blink, Alby slowly frowned as it pushed its way back to the surface - that rotten, fetid trauma he’d buried years ago. The boy straightened, blinking, and turned his head to peer over his shoulder as Rhodes stepped nearer, grinning just like the wolf he’d always been. Alby’s frown hardened as his good eye slowly cleared from the haze of the pot that clouded his head.

“If it isn’t little Alby… and you’ve grown up to be so handsome too… I’m honestly surprised to still see you around, kiddo… I was so sure your mother would be the end of you…” He reached closer, tilting Alby’s chin in his direction with a finger to better see the patch that was taped over the young man’s right eye. “Looks like she might still be,” He smirked, releasing him then, and instead, placed his hand over Alby’s back.

Broad, slender - he’d shot up like a beanstalk since they had last seen each other. Rhodes looked no different somehow, and Alby wasn’t sure how to take that. But the hand over his back summoned something from the depths of his being. A cold sweat broke out over his porcelain skin and Alby could feel a tremble push its way into his arms and fingers.

“So, how’s life been, kiddo…?” Alby frowned again, staring silently at Rhodes. Was this a joke? Was this guy just… playing fucking stupid? Like they’d always been buddy buddy? Like he fucking hadn’t raped him all those years ago? What was this? Was he trying to get cozy with him so he could do it again?

“What’s the matter, Alby~? Cat got your tongue?”

Rhodes’ hand slid lower, and whether that was to withdraw or not didn’t matter anymore when Alby suddenly exploded into motion with a left hook that connected directly with Rhodes’ jaw. He fell like a sack of bricks and Alby stood there in total silence once more - naught but the sound of his own shaky breathing to accompany him as he glared down at Rhodes’ body. He must have hit him just right… and certainly just hard enough, his knuckles protested about it.

Fuck…

What the fuck was he going to do with this fucker… call the police? But for what… a crime he’d committed twelve years ago? This was assault… and he was positive that his boss wasn’t going to be happy about his one fucking employee assaulting a customer…

The walkie-talkie on the back of Alby’s hip crackled and popped, and there it came: his boss’s chipper voice.

“Hey, Al, you there, bud~?”

He’d never seen the guy’s face, but his manager was always so weirdly happy… it was unsettling at best.

“Fuck…” Alby breathed, still shaking as he pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and brought it to his lips, “Y-yeah, what’s up?” Just… be calm. Act normal. Everything was fine. He never even came into the store, and it was late. They were just between the shelves. No one would know.

“Hey, Al, there ya are! Listen, bud!” Popped the walkie.

“Remember what I told you about the trash? Those no-good lay-about trash guys don’t come by anymore, so there’s an incinerator in the basement of the building you can use to take out the trash! It’s pretty big, too, remember? So don’t fall in!”

Alby shook harder, blinking widely.

He was so sure he could hear something else just under his boss’s peppy voice. Something unnatural, just under the static, like worms in the dirt, whispering the earth’s secrets into his ears.

‘T̴̨̥̥̮̖̮̠̰̗͖̘̺͒̂̿̅͠Ā̴̫̖̬̜̝̟̠̥̿͌̃͐ͅK̶̟̻̤̼͇̭̻̗̖̖̮̤̺̺̅̐̐̊̀̅̔̈́͑̔̄̀̕̚͝ͅE̶͔̥̺̩̖͓̗̱͉̤̮̭̲͎̺̫̋͛̋̒̊̄̕ ̶̧̬̙͉̮̦̮̭̘͙͌̈́̈Ţ̶̨̛̛̫͖̙̫̺̘̰̘̳̮̘̞̊̏̅͊͋̍͂̄̅́̌͜͠͠͝ͅH̸̨̟͕͍̝̠̫̔̏̓͘͜͝Ě̶̡̨̨͖̫͚͇͍̰̻̪̭̰̃̈́́̈́̌̇̔̒̂̑́̉̿̓̑͘ͅ ̴̭̮͍̟̩̯̍̉͂̂̒͗̀̈́̐̒͘T̷͓̱͎͔̦̫̲̹̰̠̬̤̹͂R̸̡̹͔͓̳͎̣̗͙̥͙̱̯̂͊̌̽͗̈́̎̅̇͘͝A̴̳̳̤̣͐̑̄͘ͅS̷̩̲͖͒̏́̆̋Ḩ̶͔̥͉̪͓͉͇̠̭̓͋̀͒͘͜ ̸͇͎̘̮̀̊͐̈͋̽̑̇̔̄̋̈́͜͝͠Ơ̷̡̳̰̳͈͙̙̞͔̹̦͍͋̋̑̿̿͂̾̊̀̓͑̎̕̕͘̚U̶͔̩̘͖͖̗͚̞̲͓̬̟̥̺̅̓̂͑̏́͝͠͝T̸̺̹̤̮̆̓̽̈́̀̒̉͒̄̓̀̒͒͠,̶̪̤̯̖̩̯̘̾̒͊̇̂͂͗̑̂͋͋̈́̏͐̏͜͝ͅ ̶̡̡̣͓̠̭̫̟̫͕̔͆͋̈́̈́̌̊̓̈́̍͌̈́̔̐́̾͜͝A̵̲͓̝͚͚̖͖͙͉̹͍̗̦͙͔̭̞͑͊̃̓̿̑̓̑̾̃͊L̵̨͖̣̜̬̜̮̲̦̞̥̑̓͑̄͌̎̿͛̈́̈̂͝Ḇ̷̯͎̝̮̯͖͈̰͔̦͕̫̭̬̙̉̉̅ͅY̵̡̪̹̲͚̭͈̞͚̆̓͒̍̚͘͝͝͠.̷͚̳̘̜͙̺̝̳̌̀̔̑͒͗̐̌̈̃͌͝͠͝’

Alby swallowed, and looked back down at the body that lay sprawled across the carpeted flooring, lips working to form words he couldn’t find the ability to add noise to.

“Still there, Al!?” He jolted.

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m here. I-I -- I’m on it, boss.” The walkie was hooked back onto his belt and Alby slowly exhaled.

Did he… know…? There was no fucking way this was coincidence. Trash day was usually at the end of the week… it was fucking Tuesday.

Could he do this…?

The basement door swung open, and Alby panted softly, grunting as he readjusted the man draped over his shoulder and slowly began down the steps into the blackness of the basement. There were lights, but the incinerator was often just bright enough that its orange glow was more than enough to light his way. That… beast of a machine. Steel and fire - the belly of a dragon, and the teeth to match.

When he first came to work here, there was no basement. There was no incinerator. There were large trash bins outside that the garbage men would occasionally come get, because the Blockbuster didn’t produce enough trash. Alby was the only employee. But after a time, he’d gotten word from his boss that the garbage men wouldn’t be stopping by anymore. They’d decided the place wasn’t worth the stop anymore, due to how infrequently they had to pick up from it.

The next day, there was a note about the basement. The incinerator. The shop never shut down. There were no construction workers. There was no equipment. No signs that the building had been added onto. It was just… there.

Every step thunked down the stairs as Alby disappeared down into that blackness, and squinted the moment he came around the corner to face the incinerator. It didn’t often make much noise… but it was growling now. Like a ravenous beast, it’s teeth clanking against its jaw in anticipation. Alby hesitated. He often wondered if this fucking thing was alive… the way it acted. But it was so easy for him to chalk it up to the fact that it was probably just funky machinery. He swallowed, and drew nearer, pulling the lever to open the jaws of this hellbeast which roared hungrily, releasing a burning belch of hot air into the basement. Alby squinted against the blast, and stared into those roaring flames.

The weight on his shoulder never felt heavier… and he wasn’t sure he could do this…

The guy… raped him but… this was murder, and no one would ever know…

But they never knew about his rape, either, did they…?

The walkie talkie crackled and popped, fuzzing loudly against the rumbling of the incinerator. There were no words that spilled through the static, and yet… he could hear that distant sound once again. As if there was just… too much interference, or the frequency wasn’t

quite right.

There it was again - that compulsion. This subtle… feeling. Like someone or something was just… gently pushing on his mind. On his thoughts. Compelling him, his wants. With a deep breath, and another soft grunt, Alby bounced the man from his shoulder, and into the blazing fires of the furnace, tossing in his legs to follow the body as embers shot out in every direction. He hadn’t even fully straightened when those steel jaws banged shut, and Alby threw a widened brown eye over the lever. Was it faulty…? Holy shit.

The blow to his jaw wasn’t enough to keep Rhodes down now… the screaming started shortly after, and Alby couldn’t take his eyes off the furnace as that blackening silhouette within thrashed and struggled frantically for an escape that would not be found.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes… but those minutes felt like an eon, and Alby knew Rhodes suffered… too bad it was over so soon.

He stared quietly at the furnace as the roaring dulled to a soft, content rumble, fingers shaking by his thighs as he searched in vain for signs that Rhodes yet remained within that beast’s blazing belly.

The walkie talkie popped and fuzzed.

There were no clear words again… but he could have sworn that he heard the faintest sound of a voice… just… just out of range.

'̶̡͙̗͔̒̄͒͛̆̈́͐̏̐̃̈́̎͝Ṋ̷̱̙̝̋́͐̑̀̋̐̽̽̐͂̆͐͝Ơ̵͔̒̀͋̋̌̂B̸̖̞̘̬̥̺͓̜̘̟͙̥̑̍͑́̍̈́̿̉̈́̽͑̏̀͘ͅO̸̡̬͉̞̱̪͚̭̼̬͉͊̉̆͛̍̒̊D̷̥̩̮̈̃̊̈́͂͊̔͑̈́̽̇͘̚ͅẎ̵̦̺̯̣̦̲̣̐̽̀͆̽̊̏̃ ̷̨͖̖̪̥̹̣̠͕͔̤͎͍̹̽̈̕͝L̵͔̜͇͖̮̰͙̤̰̠̂́̄̓̌̑̄̐̈̚͝Ǐ̸̗̭̬͍̬͙̗̘͔̃͝͠ͅK̸̙̼͙̳̹̫͚̩͎͍̈́ͅȄ̵͙̏̉̏͛̈̎̒̐̆̿Ş̴̧͙̤̳̤̅̿̈̉́̌͂̐̿͠͝͠͠ ̵̢͙͍̮̳̐̅͐̀͐̅͗͂̈́́̈́A̸̧͉̟̯͔̠̮͚̻̭͑̿͒̈̿̅͒͛͛̽͠ ̶̡̢̹̭͉̳̙̣̺̘̍͂́̏͝K̵̻͉̳̘͍̩̦͎̱̙̩̝͍͌͒̈́̐̃͘͜I̵̺̝̣̩͕̱̱͇͔̊̅͒D̴̨͔̘͎̝̫͕͙͚̥̦̘̙̳̀̔͑͘D̵͔̤͓̗͈͍͕̱͎̭̀Ī̴̱̲́̇͂̐͠Ē̶̡̪̅́̑̃͊̎̐́͐̂̊̓ ̵̨̱͎͚̣͖̘͓̻̬̗͖͊̊̉̇̽͑̓̋͊̾̾F̶̡̡͈̭̼͇͇͎̙̂̽͛͐͒̈́̅̉̎Ḭ̷̧̛̮̤̣͓̖͈̐̏̀̅͗́͘͝D̸̛̦͊D̸̡̢͈̞͙͔̜͖̖̮̻͖̒͆̆̒̆̿͋̌̒́̅̚͘͠Ĺ̵̻̼̿͋̚��͚̝E̸̝͎͍͂̇̽̃͋͊̐͌͝͠ͅR̶̡̞͉̞̩̱̝͚̗͙̦̐́̉̑̈́̆̀͌̀̾̅͘ͅ'̷̨̧͔̣̜̺̪̰̜̦̮̖̺͑̂̃̊̔͂̈̀͐̃͜

#writing #writers of tumblr #creative writing #fiction #this is just something #i kinda got inspired to write #and it bothered me for about three days #after i made a new sim lmao #i'm proud of it #but it's a little dark #so read with discrection

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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17, 21, and 24 for the OTP ask? 😁

Well, hello, friend! I shall answer for that is DUTY! >:D

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

I did answer this one in another ask, but I can think of a few more to share! (I got so much for these two, don't worry~)

So, another thing that reminds Fane of Solas is any kind of painting, namely frescos. Surprise, surprise! But the reasoning is mainly because Fane used to dream of frescos painted in a temple, one he always finds himself traversing in his dreams in the earlier years of his life. The style was nostalgic, impeccable, as if the hand that had held the brush was fixated on getting every line, every detail, every color, and every proportion just right. The paintings were like little anecdotes, way points trying to guide him in a direction with paint and plaster, but the story was always left unfinished, and it isn't until all the memories flood back that Fane realizes who was the artist of his dreams. *winks*

Now, I'm not usually one for 'smell' references, but oddly enough, Solas is reminded of Fane through one. Namely, chamomile. This was something I thought of one day when I was fighting with a headache and I was just watching a Twitch stream, and I was like, "Chamomile is a natural stress reliever. Fane doesn't like tea, but there are bath oils and incenses infused with chamomile, right? He would definitely be given that by someone or maybe even takes initiative to get it himself." Thus, the headcanon was established! Fane smells like chamomile, and Solas can't help but smile when he smells it from another source, knowing that his dragon is trying to help himself in some way.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

So, there's a little bit of A and little bit of B for this question. There has indelibly been a positive influence on both Fane and Solas due to each other. Basically, it all stems from pre-Inquisition, aka Elvhenan/Arlathan.

Fane, as a dragon, was inherently tasked with observing elvenkind, watching the flow of which they progressed and if their machinations benefited the world in which they lived. Each dragon had this inherent task, albeit in different ways. Dragons that lived in arid regions were tasked with controlling the sandscape, preserving the ancient temples by covering them with said sand, making inaccessible areas accessible for wildlife, so on, so forth.

Fane, and the others of his specific kin, not only watched the Elvhen, they guided them, but only if it was deemed necessary. White dragons could not want for anything beyond what the world needed, and their powers of absorbing, reflecting, and understanding emotions was what made them highly sought after by the Evanuris. When the Evanuris began enslaving elves, they began enslaving dragons, too. And this is around the time Solas and Fane met; when Fane was the last of his white kin. Fane had gone into recluse, hiding; he turned his back on those who were suffering because he couldn't bear to see them be subjected to magic bending and breaking their minds, turning their eyes grey where they were otherwise a multitude of colors. Solas found him through a curious venture as we all know the dear wolf is prone to curiosity.

Their beginnings were rough. Fane tried multiple, multiple times to kill Solas. He saw him as no different than those who had thus far enslaved his kin. He held anger, rage, resentment, and pride, which warped his nature of calm observation and cool acceptance to preemptive prejudice and scornful indifference. Fane stopped caring; about everything. Solas reached out to him, wanted to help him, and for the sake of keeping things somewhat short, they grew close after constant revisits and...silence. Solas allowed Fane to watch him, learn about him, read his eyes, and in turn, Fane began to open up, rediscover his original nature, and learn about another side from a more personal view. Solas taught Fane that nothing can change or return to what they had been unless he tried, and he did, even though it ended poorly. And even though it takes him twenty-four years and a lot of hardship, Fane finally remembers that important lesson and he's forever grateful, even as they walk onto the same stage that burned before.

Now, Fane has helped Solas do something we all know the dear wolf is a bit hesitant to do, and that's show his emotions. I stated once upon a time that my interpretation of Solas a little more...personal. Basically, I'm exploring a side of Solas that we don't really get to see, and that's an emotional one. My stories encompass a lot of emotion, a lot of grey morality, so I try to do that while keeping Solas in character with how we know him. However, with this AU of mine, Solas is more in touch with his emotions when with Fane. Why? Because Fane did what he was tasked with from birth; he guided. Through silent looks and seemingly disgruntled huffs, Fane allowed Solas to open up, to feel safe when every corner held a knife.

He let him be him. Not the Dread Wolf. Not the Rebel God. Not anything more than what he was naturally, and that was a being who needed to let their emotions go as freely as the magic so intertwined with their nature. They were friends, companions, even though they were two completely different species, and for all intents and purposes, enemies. They loved each other, but couldn't say it. After Fane died, Solas locked up again, kept his emotions sealed away, but when Fane reappeared in his life, both unknowing of who the other was, it all came back so easily, so fluidly. And what you'll see in a lot of my stories of Solas and Fane's early acquaintanceship in Inquisition is that they flow, they let the other be weak even though they don't want to be weak.

As for how they change each other for the worse...well, that ties into a lot of what I have planned during Post-Trespasser arcs. My stories are 'fix-its', but again, grey morality. There's a happy ending, but not without opposition first and a lot of hard lessons. Solas and Fane will do shit that makes people go, "Why?!", but aren't we already saying that with what Solas canon-wise is doing? Why not add an Inquisitor into the mix and live the fantasy we weren't allowed to choose?

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

Okay, so Fane's isn't what you'd think it is. You all know me, I like to go, 'You thought not! AHA! >:D'. Most people who've read my stories might think, "Oh, Fane has to forgive Solas for erecting the Veil because it's driving his kin insane." That makes sense, but it's not what Fane has had to forgive Solas for. Fane has had to forgive Solas for doubting him.

What I mean by this is that Solas tries to steer Fane away from helping him (Look! It's canon after all! XD). And mainly it's because Solas sees Fane thriving in this new life, connecting with people, seeing the world from a different perspective, and so he starts to think that Fane wouldn't want to help him. Which is complete bullshit because Fane, even when Solas tries to gently steer him away, is like, "I'm here. I'm not going to abandon you again." But typical Solas is typical Solas and is weighed down with grief and his doubts, but eventually he relents after a dragon fight. I won't say when this will occur, but...yeah. It's a bad time, and it shows Solas that Fane wasn't thriving as well as he'd thought. It takes a bit, but Fane comes to understand why Solas was trying to guide him away, and it helps when you're a stubborn dragon in love with a stubborn wolf! :D

Now for Solas, I have a little excerpt from a short story (the one I've been sharing a lot in tag games!). It kind of gives a basis of what Fane can sometimes do when he's not thinking or if he doesn't talk to Solas.

***

“F..Fane..!”, Solas growled out, a surge of heat invading his head as he felt his dragon’s dormant fury within his soul. It was thrashing, knocking, pounding against the confines of their link, wishing to be set free through him and his actions.

“This is..ugh..important, dammit!”, Fane grunted out as Solas was finally starting to push back, as well as his own minor discomfort with the magic that was slowly building around them.

“Then..ngh..speak of it!”, Solas snapped, feeling something like a pinch against his mind before that sensation ricoheted outwards, a lesser burst of magic managing to separate their bodies, but not their tethered souls. “Hiding in your mind only inflicts more harm!”, he almost yelled, his mind clouding with unusual rage. He was never ruffled this easily, but this wasn’t him, was it?

No, this was Fane, or more accurately, Fane’s mind. And it was red hot with fury.

He watched with slightly haggard breathing as Fane slid back a few feet, a grimace on his face from the smell of ozone, but shook it off easily. Now fully golden eyes glared with steamy ferocity upon him, a broad chest heaving with Veil born ire and excitement at finally having a challenge. Solas straightened himself a bit, clearing his throat as the distance between their bodies allowed him to think a bit more clearly, but he could still feel the thread that connected them intensely.

“Ma’isenatha, please--”, Solas attempted to reach the unhinged being before him, even as he could feel his own mind beginning to cloud again as Fane stalked towards him. They needed to cease this dance before one of them got hurt or insanely ill!

“Quit…”, the fuming dragon began before whipping the staff in his hand around in a near perfect arc towards him. “..talking!”, he snarled furiously, deftly hitting the other end of the staff with his wrist to cut off its intended path for a shorter route.

Solas was a bit curious by the adept usage, but shuffled that thought away quickly to block the blow that was inevitably aimed for his jaw. Now wasn’t the time to ruminate! As much as he loathed to admit it, and encourage it, there was only one way out of this foolish scenario!

“Enough!”, a cry harboring necessary command releasing from his lips, making the link between them snap like a bowstring. “Ngh..!” The heady, harsh sensation had the air leaving his lungs before he swept one end of his staff upwards without volition, missing his mark by a hair. He blinked when the sensation eased off, grimacing as he stared at the staff poised just next to Fane’s face, precisely at the point where his scar was. How ironic, but he knew what was happening now with that.

The involuntary reaction had been too planned, too memory bound. It was like when they had viciously fought as Haven burned with fire and corruption, and he had had no choice but to wound the otherwise perfect face before him - a deep scar left on his left cheek from his staff blade. His arms had been wrapped, then strung up in invisible bonds that radiated desperate heat and furious rage, guiding them to repeat the action due to a desire for something unsaid.

In simple terms, he was being controlled by emotions alone - emotions that were not his own.

“Interesting.”, Solas said, but narrowed his eyes upon the fierce man. “Emotions are your strings.”, he pointed out, more realization dawning on him as to where all these minor outbursts, sudden movements, and disorienting sensations were coming from. Fane..

...was manipulating emotions, guiding them to the destination he desired.

Fane’s eyes narrowed, emerald reappearing to deepen with rage as tufts of his hair fluttered from the air behind his swipe. “I’m intervening.”, the draconic side of his love coming out in full bloom now.

“Why?” He issued it as more a command than a true question. He was mildly miffed by this usage of abilities, but he needed context to decipher why Fane had thought this was necessary. It was unusual and worrying for him to use them like this.

“It’s necessary.”, Fane said with a flat tone, but there was fire crackling beneath its supposed embers, as well as the deep emerald gaze bearing down upon him before he twisted his staff upwards to once again aim under his chin. Solas dodged the movement by an inch, feeling the amount of force behind it with air alone.

His dragon was steadily losing his control, and it wouldn’t be long until he was truly unhinged.

“Fane!”, Solas met the glare with one that felt just as furious as he called out, but finally began to retaliate, no longer wishing to play on the defensive and draw this out longer. “Very well..”, he said lowly, gripping the staff tightly as he pressed in harder, matching Fane’s footwork step for step as their blows connected with near splintering cracks. “...if you are so..”, a harsh crack of their staves reverberating through the air. “...intent on not speaking of what troubles you, then I will make it so you have no choice but to!”

A long, muscled leg nearly knocked into one of his knees as it swept under him, its pace incredibly fast for something intended to withstand punishment. It was like a dragon’s tail as it swept aside massive boulders, and uprooted century old trees.

Fane let out a gasping laugh. “You’re still..ngh..t..talking?!”, he roared, snowy brows furrowed in growing pain as sweat began to form along a lightly flushed temple, hand trembling where it nearly snapped his staff in half.

“I am doing what you refuse to do!” A jab with his staff nearly connected with a muscled arm, but it went through the gap between itself and the toned body it was attached to. “Gh..!”, he winced as he felt a sharp yank on his mind, as well as the staff in his hands as Fane grabbed a hold of it to pull him forward harshly.

The world halted suddenly, its furious, heated pace slightly cooled as their gazes connected, all sound flushing out to where the only sound was their combined, harsh breathing. Emerald and gold swam, ebbed around each other like a phylactery did with its magical blood as the face that bore them was lax in stunned silence, sweat trickling down flush cheeks before it would disappear along a strong neck. Solas felt his face was no better, feeling how droplets of sweat rolled down the sides of his face and how his mouth was slightly agape as he fought for a shred of breath.

What was...going on? This feeling, like their desires were coalescing, taking shape before them like spirits shaped the Fade around them...it was intoxicating, comforting, and serene amid the furious battle they had been engaged in moments before. Their link was still there, but it was soft, velvet against his mind as the gentle essence wrapped around it in an embrace.

It was no longer painted...red.

“Hnn..”, Solas let out a quiet sigh, breath hitching after as the blanket around him became warmer, silken. When had it shifted? He hadn’t been aware because of rage painting the world before him in crimson..

“Too...much..”, he heard Fane whisper out between pants, but it was more to himself than to Solas. “...You shouldn’t feel that like I do.. Shit..”

Solas blinked a bit to reorient himself, the softness of his mind making it hard to think before he saw Fane’s face near inches from his, the hand that had grabbed his staff now making itself known upon the back of his neck, steadying him. When had that gotten there?

“What..”, Solas started, closing his eyes for a moment as the world spun for a second before reopening to try again. “What..was that?”

“My mind.”, Fane muttered, eyes flitting across his face worriedly. “I didn’t think..”, he trailed off with a light growl as brilliant eyes turned downcast. “I fucked up… I’m sorry...”

***

So, yeah. It doesn't take Solas long to forgive Fane, but when he first demonstrates just how dangerous his abilities can be and actively uses them to manipulate our wolf gets a little miffed. Solas wants Fane to use his voice more, and these are moments in which Fane doesn't and taps into that warped perception of himself; the one that got him killed.

#oc asks #asks #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #dragon age #sorry for how insanely long this is!#i just have so much nuanced crap for these two that I get carried away XD #and forgive if the excerpt is a bit...sloppy. it's still a wip! :3 #there's also a lot of stuff that i'm just playing with in regards to Fane and Solas but i know the basis of how they operate X3 #thank you again! <3

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willows-adventures-in-words · 3 years

Text

I’m gonna try to get the rest of the chapters I’d written for this posted before the end of the year.

Life is Never what you Expect Chapter 9 Word Count: 2823

_______________________

As Jackie was getting himself ready to leave his thoughts went back to what Anti had said. Jack had wanted Anti to come here. Jackie was so unsure. Nothing felt right. Maybe he was paranoid and Anti was just a reclusive weirdo. Cause otherwise Jack would know. Right? And Jack would never put them in harms way like this. Not purposely. It's been three full days now; there was no sign of Anti hurting any of them... Nothing. Was... would that be normal? Three days without food. Humans can last... what was it? Two weeks? Jackie sighed and rested his hands on the bathroom counter as he leaned against it. Maybe... maybe he should find some common ground between them. Looking up at the mirror, blue eyes greeting him. Jackie let out a sigh and turned away. Shutting off the light, he left the room.

Marvin exited their laundry room. It wasn't that he didn't want Jameson to wash his dirty clothes. He actually didn't mind, since the two of them had done each others laundry countless times back when they were roommates in university. Marvin just didn't want him to be busy doing everyone's laundry if it could be avoided, since he knew he would. “Hey, you ready to go now?” Chase called over to him.

“Yeah, yeah, let me grab my keys.” Marvin listened to them joke around, taking a jab at Marvin, who shook his head with a smile. Finally, he started over to the door, where his friends were waiting, and couldn't help notice Jackie's eyes. It wasn't his business, or anyone else's for that matter, but sometimes he couldn't help think that it was a shame that Jackie didn't feel comfortable with how he looked. When he was here at home he was fine, but once he would leave the house he always hid his green eye behind a blue colored contact.

“You're finally leaving?”

Marvin looked over at Jameson. “What do you mean finally?”

Jameson gave a smile as Jackie spoke up. “Yep. You sure you don't wanna come?”

“Mm. Yes I-” There was a pause that didn't go unnoticed. “You guys are busy. Getting the housework done is the least I can do.”

“Sorry. I know we usually clean house on Sundays but-” Chase barely finished the word 'but' before Jameson motioned for him to stop.

“There's no need to apologize. I understand that this is important.”

Jackie rested a hand on Chase's shoulder. “Yeah, exactly. This is more important then housework. I'm gonna make sure you get to have your kids no matter what.” Chase glanced between the three of them. Marvin and Jameson both voiced their agreement and Chase nearly started crying on the spot.

“I couldn't have asked for better friends than you guys...” Chases voice cracked slightly by the end of his statement.

“Damn right,” Jackie stated as he pulled him into a hug.

“You don't have to do any of this alone. You've always got our support,” Marvin told him. Jackie reached out to him and, barely catching his shirt, tugged him over to join in for a group hug.

That's when they heard the sound of an old-fashioned camera. Pulling away they looked to the source of the sound to see Jameson holding up his phone. He smiled. “I apologize. It was such a candid photo opportunity.”

Chase laughed then rubbed at his eyes for a second. Taking a step back towards the door, he said, “You sure you don't wanna join us?” Jameson nodded and told him he was sure. “Send me that picture, alright?”

Jameson chuckled. “Will do.” He waved them off as the group of three headed out the door before looking down to his phone to do what he said he would. Afterwords, he finished cleaning up the living room before heading upstairs to get his clothes in order. When he was done tidying up his room, Jameson carried the clothes hamper out into the hall before he paused and glanced over to Anti's room. He set it down, then walked over.

The door was cracked open. Even so, Jameson knocked and waited for an answer. “...What?” the response sounded tired.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” Jameson asked, his hand resting on the door frame.

“No.”

Jameson paused for just a moment before asking, “May I come in?” The other man gave an answer of indifference. He hesitated for just a moment, before slowly pushing open the others door. Anti was seated with his back against the armrest in the corner of the futon looking at his phone. He lifted his eyes to Jameson. “Is there anything you need washed? I will have space with mine if you don't mind if our clothes are washed together.”

Anti shifted his gaze to the hamper sitting next to the dresser. It was a cloth one that could be folded up and put away when not in use. Each of the rooms had one identical to it. Anti got up and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “I guess I don't care.” He picked up the pair of jeans, which were carelessly deposited on the floor, and dumped them in the hamper. Pulling it off of its stand he left the room with Jameson.

The curtains were open, Anti noticed as they got back downstairs. Barely any sun managed between the clouds so it didn't really bother Anti much. The two lingered in the laundry room and talked as they waited for Marvins clothes to finish in the washer. Jameson told their guest about some of the households usual routines. How Sundays was the day where most of what they did was pre-decided. If nothing else came up, they would get together for breakfast before cleaning house and, in the afternoon after dinner, they would all hang out in the living room and watch movies. “...That's why Marvin was the only one I saw cleaning?”

Amusement shone on Jameson's face. “He likes to keep his work space clean. I can guarantee you his room is not nearly as neat as the kitchen.” Jameson nearly missed the faint smile that touched Antis lips as amusement shone in his eyes. Though both were temporary and quickly hidden away.

“I bet he's happy I'm here then.”

“I'm sure. He can take a break with the work divided between the two of you.” There was a slight dip in their conversation. Anti opened his mouth to speak but stopped and instead muttered something about taking care of the dishes. Jameson, curious, watched him walk over to the sink before glancing over at the dial for the washer and concluded it wouldn't do to just wait for it to finish. So instead he stepped into the bathroom attached to the laundry room to start cleaning there.

Stupid. That's what he was. Why was he even thinking about asking for his phone number? Potential friends? It wasn't going to happen. It's pointless to make friends; especially with normal humans. He should have just stayed home. There was technically nothing Jack could have done to force him to come here. Just like there was nothing stopping him from leaving and going back home. He could just walk back at night. It wouldn't take that long. “You don't have a certain way you wash your clothes do you?”

Anti paused, his train of thoughts stopping as he looked back. Jameson was emptying the washing machine. “...No.” The man looked back at him. Anti shook his head. “It doesn't matter.” He turned back to the dishes. “Wash it however you want.” It wasn't long before he heard both the washer and dryer running. Anti worked quickly to finish the dishes.

“...Shit,” he muttered when he realized he finished in less than half the amount of time it should have taken. Grabbing half of the clean dishes he dropped them back into the soapy water. Anti sighed, frustrated with himself. He was getting complacent around Jameson. That wasn't something he could afford to do around people who didn't know. Who he didn't want to know. He leaned over the sink exhausted. All he wanted was peace and quiet. Especially right now...

“Anti?” He blinked a few times before he turned around. Jameson set the window cleaner down on the counter-top. “Are you alright?”

Anti turned away and for a moment didn't answer. Since the answer wasn't something he wanted to discuss. Finally he told him, “I'm just tired,” as he turned back to the dishes.

Jameson was quiet as Anti got back to work. Though his silence didn't last long. He stepped up next to him and lightly touched his arm to get his attention. “Maybe you should rest. I can finish these.”

“I don't want to sleep,” he told him knowing well enough what he meant.

“...May I ask why?” Antis silence was enough of an answer. He hesitated, wondering if there was something he could do without being intrusive. “Do you want to be alone?” Jameson asked him, almost cautiously.

Anti opened his mouth to respond but stopped. He stopped his work as well. After a silence not quite uncomfortable, he said quietly, “I don't know...” Without another word on the matter Jameson picked up the dish towel and proceeded to help with the rest of the dishes.

During the next few hours, Jameson stayed close by Anti as they worked through the rest of the house. Other then the music he put on, Jameson offered small talk. From the responses Anti gave him, he learned a few things. It seemed his initial impression of him was pretty accurate. Being alone a lot and not caring for crowded places. And from how he seemed earlier, Jameson suspected that something must have happened in his past. Something that still hung heavily over him. That made him want to isolate himself. But it also seemed like he was trying to get past some of that. Or just having a couple people around was helping him out of that. Either way Jameson hoped that he would decide to join them in the evening for their weekly get-together.

By the time the others came back Anti was sitting on the corner of the couch wearing headphones playing the Last of Us. Jameson was seated on the two seater, closest to where Anti was, with a book. Looking back, Jameson asked, “How did it go?” Chase eagerly told him about one of the apartments they went to. Jackie glanced over at Anti before leaving to the bathroom. Marvin took off his shoes and lingered joining in the conversation.

Anti had sent a slight glance their way but otherwise was quiet, pretending not to hear them. It was difficult for him to sit there when all he wanted was to leave the room. He'd saved his game not even a half hour ago so he wouldn't be repeating much if he quit. “I agree that the first one was nice but you need to keep in mind how much it would be,” Marvin spoke up.

“I mean, yeah, it's a little more expensive but it has more space for my kids. And you remember what the lady there said about...” Chase trailed off as Anti took off his headphones and got up. Dropping the headphones and controller onto the couch, Anti ignored the stares as he headed for the stairs.

Jackie stepped out of the hallway just in time to see Anti heading upstairs. He glanced after him for a second before looking back to the others. Opening his mouth to speak, he hesitated for a second before asking, “Did, something happen?”

Chase let out a sigh. “No. He's just avoiding me,” he muttered. Jameson looked back to Chase for a moment before turning his attention to Marvin.

“Marvin.” Marvin, relieved with the break in the awkward tension, turned to Jameson. “I've taken care of your laundry and dropped it off in your room.”

“Let me guess, it's neatly folded on my bed.”

With a hint of a smile Jameson told him, “It might be.”

“And they call me the house-wife.” Chase snorted and tried to refrain from laughing at Marvins response.

Jackie, however, didn't try as hard to hide his amusement. “That's because you do the most housework.”

Marvin turned to Jackie. “I have to if we ever want clean dishes.”

“You really don't though.”

“Yeah,” Chase said jumping into the conversation. “You only let me take care of them a few times since I've been here.”

Sending a glance between them, Marvin stated, “In case you forgot, it's my job to take care of the kitchen.”

“I thought it was your job to do the cooking?” Jackie asked.

“Yes, the cooking,” Jameson stated. “Marvin, I do understand, but try to keep in mind that you do not need to tend to everything in the kitchen. Let us help from time-to-time.”

“I just...” his voice drifted off as he swallowed and turned his attention anywhere other than them. Marvin gripped the hem of his shirt as he spoke again, though in a quieter voice than before. “I just, want to feel like I'm useful...”

Jackie stepped over and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I didn't mean...”

Marvin shook his head and looked up. “It's okay. I'm fine. I just- I'm gonna-” He just motioned aimlessly towards the kitchen before stepping out of Jackie's touch and ducked out of the room. Jackie opened his mouth to object only to turn to Jameson and Chase silently asking for help.

Jameson had already gotten to his feet by the time Jackie had looked over. He hesitated, at first unsure, before he gave Jackie a reassuring smile before following Marvin. The man knew his friend has self-esteem problems but hadn't been aware it was so bad. It wasn't something either of them went out of their way to discuss. Marvin stood aimlessly looking for something to do when Jameson approached him. “...Marvin?”

“I'm fine, really. I just-”

“I'm sorry.”

Marvin looked at him fully. Part of him wanted to laugh. Wanted to force one out and tell him that there was no reason he had to apologize. Tell him it was fine and he didn't mean how it sounded. He couldn't quiet manage the laugh. “Why are you apologizing? I was just... I didn't mean to make things weird.” His voice drifted a bit at the end as he shifted his gaze away from his friend.

“...I didn't mean to make you upset.” Marvin opened his mouth to speak but refrained himself when Jameson held up a hand to stop him. “I do understand Marvin. I know saying it is not true does not help. We did not mean ill of you. We were teasing and just wish to help so you can rest from time-to-time.”

“... I know.”

Stepping the extra couple steps over, Jameson rested a hand on his arm. Marvin looked up at him. “I think you are doing a fantastic job. And I'm not the only one who thinks so.” Marvin's lips twitched and a hint of a smile touched his lips for a second. Jameson silently offered a hug which Marvin accepted.

They were quiet for a minute before Marvin took a deep breath. He swallowed after then pulled back. “Um... I'm gonna get started on some of the prep for dinner.”

Jameson nodded then told him, “Let us know if you need some help.” Marvin offered a smile before Jameson turned and left him to his work.

Though it didn't take long before Chase entered the kitchen. Chase hesitated for a moment then asked, “Hey, uh, Marvin?” Marvin's motions faltered. “Sorry, I can ask later if your busy.”

Marvin turned to face him. “No, it's fine,” he told him, not really wanting to admit that Chase startled him. “What's up?”

“Well... could you, teach me how to cook?” Marvin blinked, confusion and surprise clearly showing. “I mean, I know how to cook. But just the easy stuff. And I can't just make my kids mac and cheese everyday.”

His expression softened and he smiled as he told Chase, “I'm sure they'd like that though.”

Chase chuckled. “Yeah, I don't doubt it.”

Marvin hesitated, wondering if he was good enough to teach someone else. “...You want to help me with dinner tonight?” Chases expression lit up and, really, that was all the answer Marvin needed.

#jacksepticeye #JSE egos #Jackieboy Man #Marvin the Magnificent #Jameson Jackson #Chase Brody #Antisepticeye #My writing #vampires #work in progress #JSE writing

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needtherapy · 3 years

Text

open always petal by petal (ch 3)

Song Lan knows his only passenger, Cao Huan, is more secrets than truths, but he's still the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent.

It shouldn't matter that Cao Huan plays the guqin like his heart is broken.

It shouldn't matter that his smiles light up the darkest corners of Fuxue's passageways.

It shouldn't matter that he makes Song Lan curious, curious in a way he hasn't felt in years.

It's just an ordinary transport, a regular fare, a mostly-honest way to make a living. All they have to do is get from Sichuan Station to Caiyi Port. The galaxy may be a dangerous place, but Song Lan is very good at his job, and this should be an easy two-week trip.

The rest doesn't matter. It doesn't.

READ ON AO3

Notes: Rated E for Explicit. Title from e.e. cummings' poem "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond". Thanks to @cirilien, @coslyons, @treemaidengeek and tucuxi (AO3) for the beta reads!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

⋆ Days 10-14 ⋆

Fuxue is healed by morning, right on time, and for once, Song Lan isn’t particularly anxious to leave. He considers asking Cao Huan if he wants to stay another night, but he knows he’ll just ask again and again, and they have to go back to their own lives. The longer they wait, the harder it will be.

Qingyang joins them just as Song Lan is loading the last of his supplies, and he notices she stops Cao Huan to talk to him. They’re too far away to hear, even too far away to lip read, but eventually, Cao Huan bows to Qingyang. That isn’t a surprise. She’s the chief, after all.

The shock is that Qingyang bows back, low and respectful. It occurs to Song Lan that perhaps there was another reason Cao Huan didn’t want to come to Rogue Sky.

“Captain? Song Lan?” Cao Huan says his name with something like affection. “Are we ready to fly?”

Song Lan nods, startled when Cao Huan takes his hand and rubs the knuckles. “Fly us away, Captain,” he says with that sideways, quirking smile, and Song Lan forgets about the earlier twinge of jealousy.

The days flow through him like a dream, and Song Lan fights to hold onto reality. He’s not sure he’s succeeding.

Song Lan reminds himself that he has duties—even when there aren’t other passengers—to run diagnostics, flush coolant, service the deflector array, scan the sector for danger and distress. But Cao Huan seems to enjoy helping, and it never takes him long to catch on to a task. Plus, Song Lan likes the scent of his hair when he leans over to watch him work.

He reminds himself that he is a ship’s captain, they’ve already run into pirates once, and they’re traveling through Jin space, always more dangerous than it should be. But Cao Huan talks him into filling the bathtub. It’s hard to regret when he sees the man sitting in the water, his long hair slicked back, a wicked grin on his face. It’s even harder to resist the lure of warmth and Cao Huan settling against him, closing his eyes and sighing.

He reminds himself that the last time he couldn’t take his eyes off of someone, the last time he walked through his days in a haze, the last time he felt so reckless, it didn’t end well. But a quiet voice reminds him of all the happiness he had first, and asks him when he became so afraid of losing that he wasn't even willing to try.

Nothing terrible happens.

For five days, they take care of Fuxue, knit, meditate, drink tea, stare out of the windows into the darkness, and have more sex than Song Lan thought was actually humanly possible. If Cao Huan has been alone for three years, he’s making up for it now, like stockpiling for a cold winter.

And once Song Lan has that thought, he knows it’s true. Because he’s going to leave, he tells himself.

Because it doesn’t mean anything.

Because this is only temporary.

Because it’s only a way to pass the time.

If he says it enough, Song Lan hopes eventually he’ll believe it. Eventually it’ll be true.

The best moments—the hardest moments—are the times Cao Huan curls next to him and tells him who he is or who he was. He is careful with his words, and Song Lan is careful not to pry, but each detail seems like a precious gift.

I was sixteen the first time I fell in love, and I loved him until he died. I may have avenged him, but he is gone anyway.

It is terrible to admit, but I miss the trees of home the most, the way they rustle and whisper. I always liked to imagine they were speaking with my mother’s voice.

My family believes it is a reward to return home, but it feels like the spectre of a waiting tomb.

I thought I knew who I was and the path I was on. I was wrong, and I don’t know how to find my feet again.

His words break Song Lan’s heart daily, which, he suspects, is good practice for later.

Sometimes he tells Cao Huan about Xingchen: his unrelenting kindness, his penchant for collecting rocks on planets they visited, his friendly smile that made everyone fall a little in love with him. He takes down the sword and tells Cao Huan how Xingchen looked holding it, fierce one moment, breaking into helpless giggles the next. Sometimes the stories make Cao Huan laugh, and occasionally, even though Song Lan is never sure why, they bring tears to Cao Huan’s eyes.

And even though he’s never told anyone, part of him wants to say the unspeakable things too. Like how Xingchen looked when he realized they’d been betrayed by a man they considered a friend. Or the last time Song Lan saw him, eyes bleeding and an apology on his lips. Or how furious Song Lan was—still is, if he’s honest—to be rendered mute and unable to forgive Xingchen before they were shot by Xiandu’s assassin and left to die.

But it feels like a betrayal to talk about Xingchen’s one mistake, bringing aboard the man that cost them everything, and anyway, Song Lan doesn’t want to burden Cao Huan with this memory too, not when he is still grappling with terrible memories of his own.

They are two days from Caiyi Port when the ship stops them.

[Captain, Gusu Lan would like a word.]

Song Lan and Cao Huan are drinking tea when Fuxue alerts them, and Cao Huan drops his cup, splashing hot tea on his dark pants. He curses colorfully—Song Lan grins; he’s full of surprises as always—and shoots Song Lan an apologetic look.

“I will change and clean up tea,” he says and hurries away.

Song Lan heads to the bridge. He could answer the summons from the kitchen, but he wants to see which Gusu Lan ship it is.

To his surprise, it’s not one of the Gusu Goldlighter vessels he knows, nor one of the ordinary Cloud Recesses transport ships. It’s Shuoyue, the Lan flagship.

It must be Lan Qiren, Song Lan thinks, but Lan Qiren never leaves Gusu, not since he took over leadership of Lan Nanotech three years ago. Song Lan hadn’t bothered paying much attention to Gusu back then, or, honestly, since. The only thing on the small planet is Cloud Recesses, home of the Lan engineering school and nano industry. The Lans have their own transport fleet, and Song Lan can’t afford their tech, so he rarely goes to that part of the sector. All he knows is that the former leader of the Gusu Lan faction had gone on hiatus and Lan Qiren is, if anything, more reclusive.

Song Lan snaps on the comm and answers the hail.

[This is Captain Song Lan of the unaffiliated vessel Fuxue. How can I help Gusu Lan?]

He hears Cao Huan behind him, hovering in the doorway. He doesn’t take a seat in the co-pilot’s chair, which is puzzling. He’s never hesitated before.

[Captain Song, you are in Gusu Lan space without authorization. What is your business here?]

Song Lan is surprised. Gusu Lan is a bit of a contradiction, aggressively protective of their planet, but usually blasé about their corner of the galaxy, and he frowns. What are they really asking?

[I’m running transport to Caiyi,] he answers, a common enough occurrence.

Cao Huan steps forward, catching Song Lan’s attention, “Don’t get too close,” he signs with a warning frown.

He looks worried, and Song Lan wonders if he’s run afoul of Gusu Lan in the past. They’re notoriously particular about planetary laws, and since Cao Huan does seem to be some kind of engineer, it would make sense that he’d studied at Cloud Recesses.

Song Lan had no intention of getting within firing range of the flagship. The Lans might be known pacifists, but even pacifists can be pushed too far.

“I won’t,” he signs back. “I know what I’m doing.”

[Identify your cargo and passengers,] the flagship demands, and Song Lan sends them the manifest.

[Just carrying five tons of pepper from Sichuan,] he answers, the only thing in his cargo hold. It’s a fraction of Fuxue’s maximum capacity, but even without Cao Huan’s transport, Sichuan pepper is worth its weight in gold and would have been worth the trip.

The XO sounds amused when she responds. [Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Song. And thank you for your service, commander. Fly safe. Caiyi will be glad to see you.]

The transmission ends, and Song Lan looks at Cao Huan, whose face is blank.

“You did not register my transport?” he asks, and Song Lan shakes his head.

“You said you wanted to remain anonymous, and…” Song Lan flushes, embarrassed to admit the full reason. “You looked like you needed the peace.”

Cao Huan stares at him for another moment before he strides over, only three steps across the cramped bridge, and tips Song Lan’s head back to kiss him, hard and biting, a different kind of intensity than usual. Song Lan matches him, opening his mouth, giving Cao Huan whatever it is he needs to take.

“Here,” Cao Huan demands, hungry and breathless. “Now.”

And Song Lan gives him that too, bending him over the console and plunging into him, wrapping a hand in his hair when Cao Huan begs him for more, biting his shoulder when he hisses harder, holding him on his lap afterward and rubbing his back when he can’t stop the tears.

“Is it so awful?” Song Lan signs, the closest he’s come to asking what Cao Huan is running from or headed toward.

Cao Huan doesn’t answer for so long, Song Lan thinks he’s not going to, but finally he feels the smallest shake of his head.

“No,” he says, and then immediately, softer, “yes.”

Song Lan doesn’t ask why. He’s already overstepped.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, smoothing a hand through Cao Huan’s hair. It doesn’t come out quite right—his partial tongue can’t form every sound, but Cao Huan doesn’t seem to care. He just tucks himself deeper into Song Lan’s embrace.

Song Lan realizes that whatever he’d thought he’d feel, however much distance he’d thought he could keep between them, he’d been wrong, so wrong, so unbelievably wrong. But acknowledging his feelings doesn’t change anything. Cao Huan is still going to Caiyi. Song Lan will still fly away to another station, another planet. The only difference is the size of the empty space Cao Huan will leave behind.

They stay like that, huddled together, until the flagship is far enough away to be a memory.

⋆ Day 16 ⋆

After the encounter with Shuoyue, Cao Huan seems to withdraw. He still smiles, but they don’t reach his eyes. He still laughs, but the sound is a vacant echo. They still have sex, but it feels like goodbye. It is goodbye.

Song Lan wakes up alone the last morning. He dresses slowly, no more eager to reach Caiyi than Cao Huan anymore. He doesn’t interrupt Cao Huan when he finds him on the bridge, just watches his hands talk to Fuxue.

I’m sorry.

I’ll miss you.

Yes, I’ll miss him too.

I have no choice.

Song Lan only has a moment to wonder how Fuxue is talking to him before Cao Huan turns around, eyes red with unshed tears.

“Would you take me somewhere else if I asked?”

The words break over Song Lan like the surf on the sea, and he can’t immediately answer.

Cao Huan steps toward him, touching his face, eyes searching his expression, and tries to ask again. “Would you…”

The words trail off, and Song Lan wraps him in a crushing kiss. He knows, he knows what Cao Huan is asking. Not for just a ride. Song Lan asks himself if he is willing to walk away from his life, to hide this man he loves from everything he fears until he can face the world again.

Yes.

Undeniably yes.

It’s always been his weakness, he knows, this desire to hold and protect. But he also thinks it’s always been worth it. Eight years with Xingchen was worth it. Whatever time he has with Cao Huan is worth it.

Cao Huan unexpectedly sags in Song Lan’s arms. “It is too late,” he says against his throat, the words quivering like an arrow through both of them. “But thank you. I will not forget.”

[Captain, we’re being hailed,] Fuxue informs them.

“I can ignore it,” Song Lan signs in a rush, taking a risk. “We can run.”

Cao Huan sits in the co-pilot’s chair and shakes his head. “He will be able to follow.”

Song Lan takes another risk, a greater one. “If you ask your brother, he will let you go.“

He knows the ship, recognized the call sign on the monitors. Bichen. The Joint Senate Chairman’s ship, flown by the men who saved his life five years ago. He should have expected this, honestly. After Shuoyue, he should have realized Lan Wangji would come for his brother.

Lan Huan, known as Xichen, titled Zewu-jun, looks at Song Lan, face tightening into a blank mask, as fathomless as jade. He doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t ask how long Song Lan has known. “He might. I can not ask him to. I have to face this eventually.”

Song Lan exhales, defeated. Numb ice spreads through his fingers as he snaps on the neural comm and replies.

[This is Captain Song Lan. The channel is open.]

[Xiongzhang.]

The one word closes Ca...Lan Huan’s eyes. Tears spill from the corners, and Song Lan aches to wipe them away.

He doesn’t answer, but there is a faint blue glow from under his skin, around his hairline. The implant, Song Lan realizes. It must connect them. That’s why he knew Lan Wangji would be able to follow.

Lan Huan shoots him a quick look and switches from the silent discussion he seems to be having with his brother to a verbal one.

[Wangji, of course I am ready to go back to Cloud Recesses with you. Please reward Captain Song when we meet you on Caiyi. He...he has saved my life.]

They land in one of the station’s small shuttle bays—alone, for once. Evidently Lan Wangji wanted to greet his brother in private.

Before they disembark, Lan Huan clutches Song Lan’s coat sleeve. “I should have told you from the beginning. I am so sorry.”

Song Lan caresses his cheek and kisses him gently. “You owe me no apologies.”

He doesn’t say, I would have fallen in love with you either way.

The lights of the shuttle bay are too bright, and Song Lan has to blink to get used to them. By the time he can focus again, two men are striding toward him, one energetic and cheerful, the other calm and graceful, almost like a mirage, almost like deja vu.

“Song Lan! Man, are we glad to see you! You know you’re two days late? The Lans have been scouring the whole damn galaxy looking for you!” Wei Wuxian calls out as he approaches on light, bouncing feet. “Shugong is going to be so mad when realizes you sneaked by him.”

Song Lan shrugs unapologetically. Ca...Lan Huan is still behind him, still reluctant.

“I did tell shufu that you would be safe with Captain Song,” Lan Wangji adds, looking at his brother, but not approaching him. “But...he was concerned. We all were. There might still be people who do not wish for you to take your place at the head of Lan Nanotech again.”

Even though Lan Wangji is clearly not talking to Song Lan, he answers anyway, buying Lan Huan a few more seconds.

[We had trouble with pirates. Rogue Sky patched us up. I saw your hydroponics, Wei Wuxian,] he says with a pasted-on smile.

“What the fuck? You stopped to visit MianMian? And she didn’t let us know?” Wei Wuxian acts affronted, although Song Lan assumes he’s joking.

The Lan brothers seem to have slipped into another silent conversation.

“Zewu-jun asked her not to,” Lan Wangji says softly, and Wei Wuxian hmphs.

“No loyalty in the galaxy. You save a girl’s life, and she forgets to tell you your brother-in-law is alive.”

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji interrupts Wei Wuxian’s ranting. “I have missed you.”

It takes a second, but finally, Lan Huan sighs, quietly, but enough that Song Lan hears the capitulation in it.

Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, chairman of the Joint Senate, hugs his brother like he thought he’d never see him again. It’s strange, Song Lan thinks, looking at how similar they are, that he could know one brother and take so long to recognize the other. Or maybe it’s that he didn’t want to know until he absolutely couldn’t avoid it any more. After all, what kind of future could there be for an unaffiliated pilot and the leader of the Gusu Lan faction?

None.

This is it, Song Lan thinks. He will go back to his family, to his life, as you always knew he would.

[I have cargo to unload, and as you said, I’m two days behind. If you don’t mind…] he says, already starting to walk away, needing to turn his back so they can’t see his face.

“Song Lan, you should at least let me upgrade your tech before you go. I have an in with Lan Nanotech,” Wei Wuxian calls after him.

Song Lan waves without turning around. [Maybe I’ll let you poke my brain next time.]

He makes it all the way to the cargo hold before the tears fall.

Strangely, he wishes he could talk to Xingchen, but he knows what Xingchen would say. Xingchen who met Song Lan the day he left his home on the mountain, followed him onto Fuxue, and never left. Xingchen would tell him to jump first and think later.

Station aides help him unload the pepper, and it takes less time than he expects to check all of Fuxue’s systems and resupply. He wants to leave before his feet grow roots and he can’t.

Lan Huan is waiting for him on the bridge. Song Lan’s heart tries to leap wildly from his chest until he registers the emptiness on Lan Huan’s face, and he almost gives in to the inevitable.

No, he decides. No. For once, he’s going to be Xingchen, headstrong and impulsive.

“Come with me,” he signs, and lets Lan Huan see him, all of him, all of what he wants. He knows the answer, but he has to at least try.

Lan Huan closes his eyes, and Song Lan wonders if that makes it easier to say no, but they snap back open, and he clenches his jaw stubbornly, facing this head on. Song Lan is oddly proud of him, even as his hopes shatter.

“I want to. In another life, I would. But I have a duty to Gusu Lan and you belong to the sky. Neither of us has any choices.”

“You’re wrong,” Song Lan signs with a frown. “We make the future. We make our own futures. If you ask me to stay, I will.”

“Lan-er,” Lan Huan whispers, but Song Lan can’t stop.

“You’ve lost enough to know...I’ve lost enough to know...when you have a chance for happiness, take it.”

Lan Huan shakes his head. “I can not ask you to share my… Song Lan, please don’t ask me to take your freedom, too.”

He looks shattered already, and Song Lan gives up. He doesn’t want to be one of the things that hurts Lan Huan.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he signs, brushes trembling, needy fingers over Lan Huan’s forehead, tracing the curl of his ear before he finishes. “However long I have to.”

And then he lets Lan Huan go, turning his back, listening to the echo of his retreating footsteps dissipate into silence.

⋆ Days 17-197 ⋆

Life goes on.

And on.

He goes back to Rogue Sky first. This time, he’s the one who needs to be repaired. Qingyang takes one look at his face and frowns.

“Oh,” she says, and he almost laughs at all the things contained within a single word.

Oh, you loved him.

Oh, you love him still.

Oh, it didn’t work out.

She doesn’t ask any questions—she’s loved and lost too—just hands him the other half of a bottle of whiskey. They sit in the gardens, and he tells her all about it anyway.

Surprisingly, he feels better in the morning, even if his head has never felt worse. There’s someone who knows. Someone who understands. Someone to share the sadness with. Friendship has been waiting for him here the whole time, all he had to do was ask.

If nothing else, it was worth it for that.

Qingyang tells him some of what she knows of Lan Huan, who he was before the war and a little bit of who he was after. Song Lan reads the official reports of Xiandu’s death and understands the story between the lines. His heart breaks all over again for the agony of being both betrayer and betrayed. He wants to go back to Cloud Recesses so much, it’s sometimes a physical pain in his side.

Song Lan adds the Silk Run to his circuit, Yunmeng to Lanling, and it’s something different to do for a while. The fashion industry is demanding in an entirely new way, and he experiences the joys of designer meltdowns when the nanosilk they demand isn’t readily available, or the dye isn’t quite the right shade of violet, never mind that Song Lan is only the transporter, not the manufacturer. Also, he couldn’t care less.

It’s a surprise, one day, to get a transport request from Cloud Recesses to ferry the Lan ambassador to Emei, a Goldlighter commune. It’s not that he’s avoided Gusu Lan space, but as before, he hasn’t had a legitimate reason to go there either.

[Gusu Lan has a fleet,] he points out.

He can almost see the comm operator shrug. [I don’t question my orders, Captain Song. Transport is needed, and you were recommended. You don’t have to accept the commission.]

Song Lan does consider turning it down, but...life goes on, right?

He’s never actually been to Cloud Recesses and he is, frankly, in awe. It’s a fortress carved into a mountain, and he thinks Xingchen would have loved the white stone buildings, the snow at the top of the peak, and the waterfall that crashes through the center of the city. It’s one of the most beautiful places he’s ever seen.

The aerospace center is inexplicably nestled in a sprawling expanse of evergreen forest, and Song Lan understands why Lan Huan missed the towering trees.

“We couldn’t have competed with this,” he signs to Fuxue before he disembarks.

It’s even more beautiful outside. The sun is just the right touch of warmth on his cheeks, chirping birds dance in swooping patterns, and the air smells like sweet flowers and pine. It’s like a fairy tale that sinks painfully into the pit of his stomach. No, they can’t compete with this.

“Captain Song?”

Song Lan stops breathing.

He turns.

It’s not a delusion. Lan Huan is behind him. He’s wearing blue pants, a fitted white shirt, and a leather jacket. His still-long hair is pulled back into a ponytail and he’s holding a traveling bag. He looks radiant and more beautiful than Song Lan remembered, although he might be biased.

The corner of his mouth flickers at Song Lan’s inspection, like a smile trying to break through ice. “Captain, I have recently resigned from my employment, and I would...I would like to apply for a position on your crew.”

He takes a hesitant step toward Song Lan, who feels as light as the breeze blowing through the trees, afraid to move, afraid he’ll blow away and miss this perfect, glorious moment. It takes too long for his hands to react, to shape what he wants to say.

“Yes, I accept. You’re hired,” he answers, slashing the words as quickly as possible, before Lan Huan can change his mind.

Lan Huan’s smile cracks through fully this time, spreading slowly across his face, lighting his eyes. He takes a few more steps, all the steps he needs to bring him in front of Song Lan, and Song Lan finally moves, finally reaches out, finally pulls Lan Huan to him, kissing the smile he can still feel on his lips, kissing him until he can’t tell the difference between his breath and Lan Huan’s.

Lan Huan laughs, joyous and effervescent, snuggling against Song Lan’s chest. “Do you not need to hear my qualifications? I believe I would be an asset to your crew, Captain.”

Song Lan shakes his head. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything but the feel of Lan Huan in his arms, and answering would require letting go of him, but Lan Huan persists as though he has prepared a speech and is determined to deliver it. As though Song Lan would need convincing.

“I was a dreadnaught gunner in the war, although that was more than ten years ago. I speak...hmm...eleven or twelve languages. I’m good with tech,” Lan Huan adds, tapping his temple. “I’ve been told I make excellent tea.”

Song Lan can’t stop his fingers from caressing Lan Huan’s beloved face instead of forming words.

“And if nothing else,” Lan Huan says, leaning into Song Lan’s hands, “I wish to fly with you. I wish to see the galaxy with you.” Lan Huan brushes Song Lan’s cheek, smoothing away a tear Song Lan didn’t realize had fallen. “I wish to spend my life with you.”

Song Lan touches his forehead to Lan Huan’s, breathing in his scent, like the jasmine flowers on Rogue Sky, like the promise of spring, like a future that suddenly seems filled with vibrant colors again.

“It’s the only thing I need,” he signs. “You’re the only thing I need.”

Lan Huan takes his hand, threading his fingers through Song Lan’s as easily as if they’ve always been there and pulls him up the cargo bay ramp. Song Lan follows, laughing when Fuxue smugly greets the new XO.

“Captain Song, fly us away,” Lan Huan says with a brilliant smile, a peaceful smile Song Lan hasn’t seen before, and Song Lan kisses him again, because he can, because Lan Huan is here, because life goes on.

Life goes on, and so does love.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #song lan #lanlan #space au #Kristina writes tiny stories #and stories with happy endings #I just really want them to have happy things

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dukeofriven · 5 years

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Good In The World

I meant what I said with that extended LOTR quote being what the Epilogues are about - about there being good in the world, and it being worth fighting for. Given that I’ve been up to my neck reading Hussie commentary lately I feel like I’ve gotten a pretty strong grasp on what makes him tick - and who boy does this guy love stories about friendship, teamwork, and love, loves them so much he sometimes sounds like Téa Gardner about to lay down a friendship speech on Yu-Gi-Oh. So - while noting that the extent to which the epilogues are and are not Hussie’s work are even more muddled that usual in regards Homestuck - the take-away is this: everything went wrong, in both Meat and Candy, because everyone forgot that - that friendship, teamwork, and love is the only reason any of them survived. The Sburb survivors came to Earth-C as literal gods, beings of inordinate celebrity and power, and then didn’t work as hard as they should have to still be friends and family. We point to John as some kind of recluse but it quickly becomes clear that everyone stopped working at staying together. Karkat and Dave are as much shut-ins as John, stewing together in their own incapacity. Katkat’s self-loathing, so often a hilarious joke in Homestuck is - free of the immediate pressures of Sburb - shown to be intensely debilitating. It undermines him repeatedly in Meat, and requires incipit genocide in Candy to be set aside, costing him everything that mattered on a personal level. Dave made the mistake of many in his position before him, leaning too much on the first epiphany about trauma and not taking the care to continue down the path to further healing and reconciliation with the past. It leaves him desperately reaching for intimacies he too scared of to actually experience. Coupled with an abused kid’s terror of perpetuating harm he lies to Karkat and Jade both time and time again to try and save their feelings. Jade, so utterly fucked up by years of isolation and loneliness, and so endearingly, crushingly full of love makes all the wrong decisions in trying to build a triad (that is - the triad could have worked, but she went about it all wrong) and makes two separate instantiations of Dave and Karkat miserable. Rose and Kanaya have no malice in their actions, but they do what married people always do: pull away from everyone else, and focus on themselves and their new lives. Harmless, normally - or, at least, not seriously harmful - but those lives took them underground and away from everyone else, The two most insightful and level-headed members of the party simply weren’t around when everyone needed them most. Unaware how bad things were getting they missed so many of the warning sides that would have clued them in earlier that everyone was going off the rails - and being as isolated as she was in Meat this left Rose vulnerable to the manipulation most likely to succeed: just like with Doc Scratch she was preyed upon by someone who could flatter her sense of grievance, knowledge, and uniqueness. Terezi wouldn’t have stood by and let things go to shit - but she was doomed the moment she tied her heart to ego personified, and so was absent too. As for the Alphas, well - their problems were never resolved in the first place, their 'conflict arcs’ interrupted by the arrival of the betas. Only Roxy, element of void, utterly self-contained, a refugee from a dead reality, walked onto Earth-C able to withstand the horror that awaited them: celebrity. Skaia is benevolent, but it is not wise: Sburb seems to have a cherub’s worldview, full of bright colours and heightened stories, but not much maturity. When the victors of Sburb escaped to Earth-C the last thing they needed was celebrity, praise, and positions of note. The issues are all laid out in the prologue: John retired before he ever started working, every one of them richer than any mortal could conceive of. These kids didn’t need parades, they needed to go school. Jane didn’t need honorary degrees from every business school on the planet, Jake didn’t need a TV show centred entirely around his ass: what everyone needed was to be aggressively ordinary. Mundane and unregarded. They needed to put everyone in a group home with four on-staff counselors and take a chunk of years doing nothing but heal. Because everyone was damaged. Other than Calliope - a special case - everybody walked out of Sburb having witnessed at least one apocalypse. Put aside any of the individual traumas and deaths and abuses and sins and just focus on that alone: the death of entire worlds and the burden of saving seven sentient species. Rather than the ultimate Reward being a sit-down with kindly professionals who could help a bunch of kids cope with that, these literal children entered a new world and built new lives on a foundation of dust. The beta kids never finished seventh grade. Jane Crocker never finished high school. Jade Harley, Jake English, Roxy Lalonde, and Dirk Strider never went to school at all. Not one of those four had ever been around more than four humans in their lives until the day they won the game. They couldn’t have. Jade and Jake grew up alone on islands. Roxy and Dirk grew up in the apocalypse. Dirk grew up in a literal box. As Cascade hit Dave and John were the only living humans Jade had ever met who wasn’t her grandpa: and she spent three years alone on a ship with only the Nannasprites and consorts for company. (And Jaspers to chase.) For those four especially, think about they went through within 24-hours: BAM here’s a group of people including your alt-relatives and literal aliens BAM here’s a crazy fucking battle against technicolour chess people, killer dogs, and fish queens BAM here’s a pristine new-ish world better BAM produce thousands of species to populate a new world /TABLE SCRATCH/ Welcome to Earth-C in the year 5000 Celebrity Gods. Here’s your debit cards full of riches. Seriously - this all happens in about a day. And yet people are shocked that things didn’t work out? They were sixteen years old. Four of them had no formal education of any kind, nor had ever been around enough to people to form a softball team. And that’s not even starting on the trolls, who had multiple culture-shocks and traumas of their own the sort through. And yet people are shocked that things didn’t work out? There is, absolutely, a way all of this could have been addressed and become a happy ending. If you don’t like the Epilogues because you’re just sick and fucking tired of tragedy stories - boy do I feel you. Man, don’t get me started on shit like Westword we will be here all week. If you just wanted there to be a fucking happy ending because god-damnit people deserve to be happy - I feel that too. Had that been what we got I can’t say that I’d have been displeased. But if you’re angry because what happened in the Epilogues seems “unreasonable” all I can do is wave my arms at all the shit everybody went through and ask you why going from that to retired celebrity godhood was good for anyone. What happened on Earth-C was nobody’s fault - not even Dirk’s. Of course he lost it. Of course he took his godhood to its logical conclusions - what possible grounding in real human beings had he ever seriously had, and what in his life was there to make him see people as people? Dude grew up alone in a box with SBAHJ and rapping robots for company - the only voice in his head his own, magnified in the echo chamber of ego and his own blindness to his inadequacies. Why wouldn’t Jane cling to status quo of her dead world? Really, what did Sburb ever bring her but heartbreak, an excessively baroque Bad Relationship Simulator that took away her home and her position as a corporate heiress for a six month romp through a bunch of dead planets and inter-friend squabbling (We don’t talk about how fucking boring the alpha session was: nothing but undead and emptiness.) She reaches a new world, gets told how smart she is, gets a bunch of degrees - but as Dave himself notes, when you’re rich as can be and have everyone on the planet lining up to do business with you, it’s pretty easy to think you’re actually skilled at running things, especially if YOU STOPPED YOUR EDUCATION AT SIXTEEN AND GOT TOLD THAT YOUR SIXTEEN YEAR OLD SELF WAS THE APEX OF YOUR BEING. Take a moment to remember yourself at sixteen. Try to put sixteen year old you in charge of something meaningfully important - like, mmh, let’s say a regional bank. Uh - oh. Oh dear. Oh it’s on fire, is it? And the fire is spreading? Yeah, that’ll happen. [One glaring issue I’ll note in these epilogues is that nobody knows what the fuck to do about Dad Crocker, so they do... nothing, until Candy reminds you he exists in order to kill him to motivate Jane to do something she probably could have been easily prompted to do anyways by another means. I guess Dad Crocker just... happily let Jane not finish school or exert any kind of parental control at all after that point? On her or anybody else? You want to talk about OOC: what the fuck happened with Dad Crocker, of whom I expected better? And where did Tavrosprite and the Nannasprites go?] My point in all this is that Homestuck is a story about how important love, teamwork, and friendship is, and after the Earth-C victory everybody got lost. Everybody reacted to being Celebrity Gods in their own way, and it created little cracks that widened over time, and when everyone should have been coming closer together - group therapy sessions, even - they got further and farther apart. These emotionally-stunted mentally-teenaged kids with buckets of trauma, the power of gods, and the celebrity to match broke. One by one. All in their own unique ways. The Epilogues are in some sense a musing on the absurdity of adulthood - how its mantel is placed upon you regardless of whether you are ready or not, for reasons as arbitrary as ‘turning a certain age’ or ‘winning a video game.’ In some cases it takes our heroes DECADES of life before adulthood - before real maturity - begins to make something of an appearance, and even then it’s a crapshoot. Love, friendship, and teamwork are what matter in Homestuck: in the epilogues it takes years of monumentally boneheaded decisions for our heroes to remember this, and some of them never do.

Is there still a happy ending at the end of Homestuck? One that lies ahead? I think so. Hussies loves his characters dearly - and yes, he does. Of course he does. He didn’t spend ten years of his life telling the story of one dimensional Brechtian Archetypes to make some otiose point about the nature of narrative: if he had none of you would be feeling as you are now. The difference between you and Andrew Hussie is that you see his characters like family: you leap to their defence whenever they are hurt, and when they are cut you bleed: “How?” you ask, “Could anyone be so cruel to do this thing?” But Hussie sees his characters as characters, in a story of which he is author, and in which pain and hurt and tragedy can be the vehicles through which good stories can be told: that the light is made all the brighter because of the quantity and quality of darkness that was banished. Candy and Meat are the story of a boy who can only destroy love because he thinks he understands it, and lashes-out when things don’t go as planned. Dirk is just as much the villain in Candy as in Meat, as Calliope makes very clear: the Candyverse is in some sense defined, or at least made more distinct, by his absence. He is a tragic figure on the macro scale - if only he and all the walking wounded of Sburb had been given help when they needed it - but his death in Candy is not a tragedy of ‘what ifs,’ it’s an act of petulance and cruelty by a kid who’ll take his ball and go home if he’s not allowed to play the winning game. His death destabilizes the Candyverse far more than John’s choice to stay, its just that its corrosive effects take longer to be obvious - and the gears he’d already set in motion didn’t cease to turn, though they may have slowed. Dirk destroys love, his effect on both timelines is to push people apart because division suits him, and to push his own view of what ‘love’ is on people who experience it far more expansively than he could ever imagine. He’s a sad little boy who grew up in alone in a box and entered a world that told him he was a literal god with the powers to match - by the end of Meat it’s clear that love, friendship, and teamwork mean nothing to him, only the perfect order of his own fevered imagination. What will bring him down in the end is the reclamation of that feeling at the end of Act 7 - the joy of victory, of having worked together, of the love of family both found and familial, and of the realization that they were none of them better apart. And then some therapists. Some actual therapists. For a good long time. (Also I hope that they find Doc Scratch and beat his sorry ass from here to eternity because that smug fuck has his puppety fingertips all over this thing, and if Dirk really is merging with his ultimate self that includes (as @geekycalligrapher noted) aspects that wound up in Lord English, including a not insignificant portion of one Doctor Vanilla Milkshake, Esq.) (Edit: I did, in fact, do a few edits when I noticed the opening sentences were missing things like ‘the subject.’)

#homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #beta kids #alpha kids #doc scratch #dirk strider #andrew hussie #homestuck analysis

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thepurplebutterflythings · 4 years

Text

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 9) - Jason Todd

Gif: Unknown on Tenor

Word Count: 3.7K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: While looking for Y/N, Harley feels responsible for The Joker kidnapping her beloved niece. As Joker and Y/N are face to face, The Joker wonders why he didn’t know about Y/N beforehand, especially considering he and Bruce are ‘connected’.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse.

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36 @loxbbg

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 8 | Masterlist |

________________________________________________________________

“Well, well, well.”

Y/N stirred with discomfort at the voice, low and gravely and gave the same effect of nails being dragged down a chalkboard with teeth on edge and bones wanting to escape the flesh prison as the noise drilled through them. It sounded as though they always had something in their throat they were trying to cough up, but could never rid themselves of. When she opened her eyes, Y/N looked around her and realised that she was tied up and being hung from the ceiling above her by chains. She was still dazed and so wasn’t fully aware, but when she looked below, she snapped out of it, for she was being hung carelessly above a vat of green, bubbling chemicals that glowed in the darkened room. The voice from before laughed manically, and Y/N looked around to see where the sound came from. As she looked, she gathered more about her surroundings, realising she was in Ace Chemicals. Footsteps echoed as the owner walked on the gantry above the chemicals, and Y/N saw her capture. The Joker.

Despite her Aunt Harley once being in a relationship (if you could even call it that) with the mad man, Y/N had never met him. He wasn’t even supposed to know she existed as Harley was frightened the man would harm her.

“You!” Y/N seethed.

“Ah! So you’ve heard of me,” Joker crouched down. There was still a distance between them, perhaps three or four metres. “That’s… interesting, for you see it wasn’t until earlier that I heard of you, Miss Wayne! You’re daddy and I… we’re connected so you would have thought I should know about you, but alas I did not.”

“You’re supposed to be in Arkham,” Y/N said, “how’d you get out? Why isn’t any news you’re out?”

“Smart little Bat Pup, aren’t you, Y/N,” Joker wagged his finger as he pulled a pocket watch out of his purple coat pocket and looked at it, “They should be finding out right about… now!” Just as the Joker said ‘Now,’ the siren from Arkham that signified a break out rang loudly through the air. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll catch me.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she shifted in the chains, trying to loosen herself.

“Because,” Joker just shrugged, “To get at Bruce, I need to get to the one thing he loves and cares about more than anything – family.”

________________________________________________________________

The group, upon realizing that Joker had kidnapped Y/N, all suited up and went to search Gotham to find where he was holding her, reluctantly revealing to Harley and Ivy who it was beneath the mask of Batman. Neither were totally surprised, to be honest, and there were bigger things to worry about than Bruce Wayne being Batman. After Harley and Ivy got their protective gear on, they stopped at Wayne Manor were Jason and Bruce suited up, and then they went to Selina’s who pulled her Catwoman suit on. Alfred monitored their search for Y/N from the Batcave while Ivy and Selina went one way, Harley and Bruce went another and Jason went separately.

As Harley and Bruce finished searching yet another warehouse in Joker’s name, Harley fell against the wall and slowly ended up on the ground, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Bruce turned around and saw the woman curled in upon herself and frowned, walking up to her.

“Harleen?” Bruce said gently, “What’s wrong?”

“I kinda feel like all ‘a this is my fault,” she muttered as she ran her fingers over her knee.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked, sitting next to her to comfort her. Harley sniffed a little and turned her head to look at Bruce. She was holding back tears and her bottom lip, painted a brilliant shade of red that reflected the lights back from its gloss, quivered like a leaf.

“I had a chance to kill him,” Harley explained, “I coulda killed Joker, but I didn’t, and now he’s kidnapped a girl that I love and care for like me own.”

“What?”

“I left Joker when Y/N was ten,” She began, “Not many people know this, only Y/N, Selina and Ivy, but Joker… he used ta hurt me, hurt me bad, physically and mentally,” Harley confessed, “I know, I know, that’s what I get for dating a villain like Joker,” she sighed.

“God no,” Bruce said, “no, no, no, you never deserve anything that he did to you, ever, regardless of him being a villain, regardless of what you’ve done. You should never have been abused by him.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Harley smiled tightly, “The night I decided I was gonna leave, he hurt me worse than he ever had before and I ran to Selina’s. She patched me up, and Y/N came out her bedroom, all in her jammies and everything – they were Batman one – and she saw me bleeding on the sofa and asked what happened. Well, at this point, Y/N/N just found out her mama was a thief, and her aunties were a criminal lunatic and an eco-terrorist, so there wasn’t much we could hide from her. She pretty much put two and two together , and that’s when she started wanting to be a vigilante, to take people like Joker and Penguin down. I decided then I had ta leave” Harley sighed and pushed her hair back. “Selina and I went back to Jokers, Selina as Catwoman, obviously, and we got my things, and Joker tried and stopped me, said he could be without me, he threw Selina off the stairs and tried ta grab me, so I grabbed my mallet and I started hitting him again and again and again. Selina stopped me cause Joker had called his henchmen and we didn’t have a chance to finish the job cause we didn’t have a gun, so we had to go. I shoulda stayed, I shoulda finished the fucking job, but then Selina said how upset Y/N would be if I did go through with it, saying 'Babes will be heartbroken'. She said it like that so Joker wouldn't know. And she was right, just thinking about Y/N finding out about what I was bout to do – it killed me. Y/N/N… she knows we were villains, that we’ve done bad things, that we have killed before, but this was different, cause me killing him would mean Joker’s men would kill me. That would break her heart, so I didn’t, and we left, went back to Selina’s. But I shoulda done it, I shoulda killed the bastard, gone down in fucking flames with him, cause if I did then he wouldn’t have taken Y/N.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Harley’s shoulders, “you aren’t to blame here. The only one responsible for Joker’s actions is Joker. And Y/N had a much better and happier life with Selina, Ivy and you raising her.”

“Really?” Harley looked at Bruce and wiped her eyes.

“She’s incredible, and that’s partly because of you.”

“Thank you, Brucie,” Harley said kissing Bruce’s cheek, “you’re a doll, now, let’s go kick my ex’s ass!”

________________________________________________________________

Y/N watched from her spot above the chemical tank as Joker paced up and down the gantry. He seemed befuddled, gnawing on his thumb and occasionally huffing and pointing at Y/N before carrying on pacing.

“Explain to me, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker finally said, “why your father kept you from me, me, me of all people,” he gestured to himself and threw his arms in the air, seething and spitting as he worked himself up.

“I’m not the person to talk to about this, Joker,” Y/N huffed and turned her head away.

“Well, who else is there to ask?”

“My parents come to mind.”

“Do you know what it feels like?” Joker asked, “the chemicals?”

“No, and don’t really want to – let’s go back to bitching about my dad, can we?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Joker tutted, “let’s go and talk about the chemicals, cause if dear old daddy can’t rescue you, then you’ll be plopped into a nice green bath of acid, how’s that sound?”

“Like dinner with The Mad Hatter sounds a lot more pleasant.”

“Oh, he’s a nightmare to spend ten minutes with really, Ms Y/N Wayne.”

“Please stop calling me that,” she sighed.

“It is your name though, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker said, “Anyway, back to the chemicals. It crawls under your skin and makes it feel as though every vein is on fire, that your skin is pulling itself from your bone and even when cleaned, you feel as though you are still coated in the substance, it’s… horrendous, never-ending torture. How does that sound, Ms Y/N Wayne?”

“Like high school, really.”

“And what kinda high school did your mama send you to?”

________________________________________________________________

Jason adjusted his Robin mask as he landed on the car roof. This was the last place on his list, Ace Chemicals. Bruce wasn’t sure if Joker would ever return there after the previous two times he was there and how bad those turned out, but Joker was a creature of habit, so it made sense to check. If Y/N wasn’t there, he had no idea where else she could be. Slowly, Jason crept up the ladder outside the building to the top, peering through the window. There she was, Y/N, tied up in chains and dangling over the vat of chemicals like a fish on a hook while Joker paced up and down and ranted as he did. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jason called Bruce.

“Jason? You found her?”

“Yeah, Ace Chemicals, come quick,” Jason said.

“On my way, I’ll contact Selina. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not planning on doing anything that would put Y/N in danger, Bruce,” Jason said before hanging up. He climbed back down and walked around the perimeter of the building, finding a door and opening it quietly. There was no one down there. It appears that Joker got so caught up in his plan to kidnap Y/N that he didn’t contact any of his men to watch the surroundings. Jason quickly walked away from the door and back to the car, opening it and checking, seeing the keys were still in there. He took the bag he had on his shoulder off and put it in the car, on the passenger side, then he walked into the building and slowly walked up the stairs, listening as he did.

“And here is the thing that bothers me the most, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker ranted on and on, “that I didn’t sense you,” he said, “after all your father and I have gone through, I should have sensed you – the daughter of Bruce Wayne, of Batman – but I didn’t, why?”

“Cause you’re not a fucking psychic,” Y/N groaned, “cause you’re a delusional lunatic.”

Jason bit back a chuckle. Only Y/N would be tied up over chemicals, her life in danger, kidnapped by The Joker, and still remain level headed and calm if a little irritated and bored. Jason tried to step forward, but something creaked beneath him.

“Wait,” Joker lifted a finger, “we aren’t alone here. Come out then, our unknown audience.” Jason gulped and walked out from his hiding place. His eyes moved from Joker to Y/N. Y/N was biting back her smile of relief of seeing Jason as Robin. Thank god someone was there to rescue her. “And Bruce didn’t even come himself to rescue his beloved offspring?” Joker tutted as he wagged his finger in disappointment. “But his pet bird instead? What does that say about the man?”

“We’ve all been out searching for her,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“We?” Joker frowned, “Not just The Bat?”

“No,” Jason shook his head, “me, her father, her mother, and her aunts.”

“Mother? Aunts?”

“Oh, please tell me you aren’t that stupid,” Y/N said, moving her eyes to Joker. “You know it takes two people to make a child?”

“Of course I do,” Joker snapped, “her mother?”

“Oh my god,” Jason said, “you idiot. You don’t know who her mother is, do you?”

“Who is her mother?” The Joker asked, “and aunts? She has aunts?”

“Wow,” Y/N started laughing from her trapped place, “this is brilliant, oh my god, you have no idea what’s going to happen next. Fucking hell. Talk about karma being a bitch.”

“Someone explain to me what is going on!”

“Not only is Batman her father,” Jason said, almost laughing, while Y/N was howling with glee as she realised Joker had just trapped himself in his own trap. How brilliant. “Her mother is Catwoman, and her aunts are Catwoman’s friends – The Gotham City Sirens.”

Y/N and Jason didn’t let their faces reveal that behind the Joker the window had opened, and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had both snuck and were quietly behind the Joker, waiting for the right moment.

“What?” The smile on Joker’s face dropped for a second, “The Sirens?”

“Which means, dumbass, that your ex-girlfriend, and her new beau, both helped in raise Y/N,” Jason said, “meaning not only Batman is on the way, but Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn are also coming here.”

“Seriously, mate,” Y/N laughed, “if there was an Olympics for bad luck, you’ve got Gold, not only that, but you fucking smashed the world record.”

“Uh oh,” Joker said.

“Uh oh is right there, puddin’,” Harley said from behind Joker, baseball bat in hand. She swung it hard and hit Joker in the side of the head. Joker yelped loudly and stumbled back. Bruce and Selina, still in costume, appeared from where Jason walked out of. Ivy then punched Joker in the gut while Bruce went for his face. Selina kicked the Joker in the chest. All the adults started beating the Joker as Brue turned to Jason and yelled.

“Robin, get Y/N and get out of here.”

“On it,” Jason yelled back with a nod as he climbed onto the railing and carefully, quickly, moved past the fight and to the other side where the chain holding Y/N was linked up. Jason grabbed it and looked at Y/N, “Ready?”

“Fuck yes,” she nodded as Jason unhooked the chain and started pulling, lifting Y/N higher and higher. As she started moving, she shifted to loosen herself, and once her hands were free from the chain, she grabbed it and shifted her, so her body was then free, still keeping a firm grip. When Jason pulled Y/N high enough, she started swinging, throwing herself forward and flying into Jason’s arms. They crashed onto the floor. Y/N pulled back and looked into Jason’s eyes.

“Didn’t know felines could fly, Kitty Cat,” Jason chuckled.

“Learnt from the best, Tweety Bird.”

They got to their feet, and Jason grabbed her hand, throwing a look at the group before running. He dragged her down the stairs and out of the building. They both ran so fast that they were nearly tripping over their feet, looking over their shoulders constantly as they did. When they had finally reached the car, they stopped, but Y/N pulled away from Jason for a moment, gasping for air and looking behind her as she did.

“What is it?” Jason asked as he opened the door.

“We can’t just leave,” Y/N said, “we can’t leave them, we have to go back, we have to help. Did you bring my suit?”

“Bruce told me to get you out of here,” Jason said, “I’m doing what he told me to.”

“Jason, I know you,” Y/N folded her arms, “where’s my Lynx suit?”

“No, we’re going back to Wayne Manor, and they’ll meet us back there.”

“Jason, where is my suit?”

“No.”

Y/N sighed and walked forward, arms still folded. She leant against the car, next to Jason, and lifted her eyebrows.

“Where is my suit, Jason?”

Jason sighed and groaned, rolling his head back before ducking into the car and grabbing the bag he put on the passenger seat, pulling it out and handing it into Y/N.

“You’re explaining this to your father.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes as she climbed into the backseat and started changing, “now, no looking.”

“Now all I wanna do is look,” Jason huffed.

“Tell you what,” Y/N teased, “you can watch me get undressed after all, this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

________________________________________________________________

It was as though the adults were all taking turns in beating the Joker, but he was fighting back, not going down easy. If Batman wasn’t there, then the Sirens would have easily killed him by then, but Bruce was adamant to return the lunatic to Arkham.

“My daughter is not a pawn for your fucking games,” Selina hissed as she scratched his cheek, nearly reaching his eye but just missing, “come after her again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“I shoulda killed ya way back when, ya cunt,” Harley kicked him in the back, causing him to fall to the floor.

“You’re lucky I let you breath clean air,” Ivy yelled as she slapped him.

“My child,” Bruce picked Joker up by the collar of his jacket and leaned into his face, “has nothing to do with me and you. Leave her be.”

“Or what? MMM? Throw me into the acid? We both know you won’t. We’re connected, you and I, you know it too.”

“You delusional fuck,” Selina pulled Joker from Bruce and kneed him in the stomach.

“What did I ever see in ya?” Harley threw her arms up, “seriously? How’d I ever think you were a good match for me?”

Joker took this moment and grabbed Selina and dangled her over the edge near the acid where the broken railing was.

“Come any closer, and the cat gets it.”

“Like hell she does,” said a voice. Y/N ran in as Lynx with Robin close behind her. She launched herself at Joker, who pulled Selina from the edge and fell backwards. Y/N punched him in the face. Joker got to his feet and started trying to fight Y/N. Y/N was quick, dodging his slower movements. Jason quickly came to Y/N’s side, and they started to fight against the Joker in sync, when Y/N kicked him towards Jason, Jason would punch him in the face back towards Y/N, falling to the ground, and Y/N would lift her knee, clocking him in the chin, pushing him towards Jason, who would shove him to knock him off balance. The adults all watched them in awe as Jason and Y/N moved in sync with each other, beating the Joker relentlessly. They didn’t even need to intervene, Jason and Y/N had it all under control. Eventually, Y/N grabbed the chains previously used to hold her over the acid and wrap them around Joker’s wrists, letting him balance on the edge over the acid, holding him carelessly by the chain.

“Y/N!” Bruce said out of instinct.

“No one goes after my family,” Y/N growled, “no one.”

“Well, talk about a punch line,” Joker whistled with a laugh, throwing his head back. He recognised the Lynx costume. They still got newspapers in Arkham. “That Bat’s Pup is a Cat after all!”

Y/N looked The Joker dead in the eye. She looked at him coldly as he laughed on a loop. Jason stood behind Y/N, ready to support Y/N in whatever she did, and the adults just watched.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you into the acid and let it finish the job.”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Joker said, “what makes you think it’ll work the second?”

“Cause half the job is already done.”

“Ooo, low blow, Pup-Cat.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Bruce said, “You’re better than this.”

“Am I really, though?” She asked, “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it yourself, of letting the bastard die. The world will be a far better place without him.” The Joker pulled a hurt facial expression before laughing again.

“I mean,” Jason coughed, “she’s not wrong. The world would be better without him.”

“Think of how many people he’s killed. This is his retribution.”

“He ain’t got any humanity in him,” Harley said quietly, “it’s something I shoulda done a long time ago, but,” Harley sighed, “Y/N, I don’t want ya to become a killer. Ya Daddy’s right, you’re better than this, than me.”

“And me,” said Selina.

“And I,” Ivy nodded.

“Don’t become a killer like us,” Harley said, “cause it’s a line you can never go back from.”

“Trust me, if I could,” Selina sighed, “I would never have pushed that guy from the window,” she whispered, “even though I had a good reason and was protecting someone else,” her eyes flickered to Bruce, who lowered his eyes as the image of Young Selina shoving Alfred’s army buddy out the window came into his mind.

“Y/N,” Jason put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “let’s take him to Arkham.”

Y/N looked Joker in the eye. Everything he did to Harley, nearly killing Selina, dangling herself over the chemicals, the torture he inflicted on her father over the years (it wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about The Joker Versus Batman), and he was going to live. It wasn’t fair, but they were all right, Y/N didn’t want to be a killer, didn’t want to cross that line.

“Fine,” she sighed, but instead of being gentle, Y/N yanked the chain quickly, pulling Joker forward and kneed him in the head with such force it knocked him unconscious.

As The Joker laid unconscious on the floor, Y/N took her mask off and looked at her family.

“You did the right thing,” her mother told her softly.

“I hope so,” Y/N sighed.

“Hey,” Bruce said, brushing the hair from Y/N’s eyes, “I’m proud of you,” he told her with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Dad.”

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metawitches · 4 years

Text

After the Harry Potter costume party of getting to know Martha/Eva’s world in S3EP1, in episode 2 it’s finally time to visit Adam’s post-apocalypse world, which is a form of the world without Winden that Hannah and Ulrich have dreamed of for decades. Ironically, Hannah and Ulrich both flaked out on the apocalypse and have retired separately in the Winden of previous decades. Katharina followed Ulrich.

Peter and Elizabeth serve as our point of view characters for the aftermath of the shockwave as they search for Charlotte and Franziska. Charlotte has jumped forward 33 years and is now in the barren future with Adult Elizabeth. The version of Young Alt Martha who transported Jonas to her world, then left him behind, is with Stranger, Bartosz, Franziska and Magnus in 1888.

We spend much of this episode in 1987, where things have changed in the last 3 months.

Note: I’m going to continue calling Adam/Jonas’ world the Prime world and Eva/Martha’s world the Alt world, because that’s the easiest way for me to keep track of them in my head. I’ll label the characters the same way. It gets too cumbersome to say Adam’s world Jonas and too confusing to use a code when the character movements get complicated, though eventually I will have to differentiate the Young Alt Marthas with 1 & 2.

Recap

The episode begins with the first sex dream of the season. The Young Alt Martha who’s in 1888 dreams about having sex with Young Jonas in her bedroom, in her world. Soon Jonas disappears and her hands are coated in blood and grime, while holding the St Christopher medal that they pass between them as the symbol of their connection. She tries to stop Jonas’ bleeding the way Jonas tried to stop Prime Martha’s; she tries to wash the blood from her hands the way Prime Claudia did after Egon died; and she stands at the mouth of the cave in front of police tape the way… Well, that’s a universal experience on Dark at this point.

Then Martha startles awake in 1888. She’s in the guest bedroom at the Tannhaus clock factory B&B, or the boarding house that will become Erna’s in 32 years- where the travelers sleep is never made completely clear. Stranger sits and stares at her the way Adam will watch Jonas sleep someday, only Stranger manages to be creepier about it, blowing all of my S2 arguments that he could never grow up to be such a mean old man.

The personality change that goes along with a cycle change anyway and another failure to save his Martha have taken their toll on his fragile sanity. He was always a stalker, but the look in his eye now is no longer calm or benign. It’s malevolent, even though he doesn’t know this woman. It’s enough that she’s the wrong Martha.

He’s holding the letter from “Martha” that Young Noah gave him in Hannah’s kitchen in S2E8, which told him to save Bartosz, Magnus and Franziska with the device. He followed those instructions and left the kitchen, leaving Prime Martha to her fate. He’s probably figured out that this is likely a version of the woman who wrote that letter.

Stranger looks like he has a moment of hope that she’ll recognize him when she wakes up. When she doesn’t, he coldly tells her to get dressed, then leaves the room. He’s left her a pile of period appropriate clothes on a chair.

Despite what I said earlier about the world without Winden, Winden is always Winden, and it always rains there, every month except June, so it’s pouring right now.

Stranger hasn’t warned the others, so Magnus and Bartosz have the fun of thinking Martha survived, then learning it’s not her. Franziska apparently didn’t care about Martha all that much.

Alt Martha: “He’s right. I’m not Martha. Not your Martha. I promised I would make everything right again, so none of this would happen. So that you all don’t die in my world and I don’t die in yours. So that Ulrich… Dad… Mikkel… so you all come back. So all this can really end at last.”

Did she just imply that the other 4 people in that room die in her world? Which would mean Prime Young Jonas does, because her world doesn’t have its own Jonas. Hmmm.

A loud alarm goes off in the Prime world version of Jonas’ bedroom. Another joke/warning that carries between scenes. The alarm is in the form of Mikkel’s clock/radio playing the song “You Spin Me Right Round”, which played in the bunker when Erik Obendorf was held there back in S1. It’s also a little foreshadowing for what we’ll hear on the radio in Claudia’s upcoming scene.

I will never stop admiring this show’s ability to layer and multitask.

It’s September 22nd, 1987. Most of the episode takes place on September 22nd in one year or another. Something big must happen then or be close to happening, but I don’t think we know what yet.

[I’m still writing Snowpiercer recaps while writing Dark, so my head is in 2 very different apocalyptic, symbolic dystopias right now. Give me another week or so, then Snowpiercer will be done for the season and I can focus on this more closely. But also, ugh, 3 seasons of constantly rewritten details, help. As always, I reserve the right to edit my work for a while after publication so I can add what I forgot or figured out a little too late. Also, check out Snowpiercer, it’s a good show!]

Katharina wakes up in Mikkel’s bed. She was in the passage when the apocalypse hit at the end of S2. It’s 3 months later and she’s become Stranger Katharina, sleeping in her son’s bed in his abandoned house.

Did the adult version of Mikkel with the black goo/cesium 137 appear to her in the passage, the way he appeared to Stranger Jonas at the end of S1? And if so, did that affect her sanity even more than all of these other events would have? She saw Mikkel in the guilt/love montage, so we know he’s her hallucination/ghost visitation of choice.

Katharina gets dressed and goes downstairs. Sadly, she doesn’t check the milk like Jonas and Martha always do. She does listen to a phone message for Ines saying that the phone bill is 3 months overdue, which means that Mikkel and Ines must have left the house not long after Old Ulrich tried to rescue/kidnap him in June.

Katherina has stacks of “Missing” flyers on the table with Mikkel’s photo on them. She’s searching for Mikkel here as her own child, despite the fact that legally he’s Ines child now. The flyer says Mikkel has been missing for 3 months. Katharina leaves through the French doors, where she’s broken a hole in one of the windows.

Jana and Tronte are holding the funeral and burial for Mads’ empty coffin today. Hermann Albers (Katharina’s absent father) comforts Jana that at least having the coffin and grave will give them some closure, even with an empty grave. And she and Tronte have each other. Jana looks at Tronte across the room and raises her glass to him sardonically.

Jana: “At least we have each other. Now we can get our closure together, looking at a coffin that’s empty. Tell everyone where you were when Mads vanished. F–king your girlfriend. When my son disappeared, he was screwing Claudia Tiedemann. If only you’d devoted as much energy to finding your own son as you’re wasting on finding your mistress. Then maybe Mads wouldn’t have gone.”

In the previous cycles, Jana lied to the police and gave Tronte an alibi other than Claudia. Ulrich never knew his father was with Claudia until he went through the police records in 2019 and realized his mother had lied to the police, so I doubt this conversation became common knowledge.

The conversation and the fact that the gossip didn’t spread are both shocking in a small town like Winden. Either this is the first time this conversation has happened or Tronte’s long standing affair with Claudia is such common knowledge that no one cares anymore.

Still, this is Jana’s finest moment as a character and a huge change from previous cycles- she started out in S1 as a depressed recluse, then was at least seen at a party, having fun, in Cycle 2. Now she’s able to stand up for herself and fight for what’s rightfully hers. This is the way it’s always been, but also due to the small changes Claudia and Jonas make each cycle, if we are to believe their interpretation of the eternal recurrence and its loopholes.

Tronte’s devotion to Claudia never really changes, because why would Claudia change one of her greatest assets?

I thought what Jana said was quite clear, but Tronte says that he doesn’t understand what she’s saying, which will become one of the catchphrases of the season.

Every season of Dark is about secrets, lies and confusion. S1 focused more on the confusion between what was real and what wasn’t. S2 was about keeping secrets while clearing up some of the confusion. In S3, secrets will be revealed and questions will be answered, but at the same time, the characters lie, lie, lie. To each other, to themselves, to the audience. Question everything that everyone says.

When someone does finally tell the truth, the person on the receiving end frequently says, “What are you saying?” They hear the truth so infrequently that they can’t process it. Or it doesn’t fit their worldview, so it bounces off their ears. Or, as with Tronte in this scene, it’s an inconvenient truth, so they’d prefer it remained unspoken. They’d like anyone within hearing range to believe it’s the truthteller who’s lying or delusional.

Jana’s not backing down this time. She dumps her purse on the floor. There are several newspaper articles with headlines about Claudia disappearing within a week of her father’s death, questioning if the two are connected. Jana implies that Claudia could have had something to do with Mads’ disappearance as well. Tronte walks out of the house without another word.

Finally, we really are going to post shockwave Winden, September 22, 2020. Of course it’s pouring rain. A figure in a mud gray raincoat removes a makeshift door from the front of the police station (most of the glass in town was broken by the shockwave). It’s Adult Claudia. She has the place encased in plastic and boards, locking it up pretty tight, which is a good thing, because she’s leaving her dying daughter in there alone most of the time.

I doubt Regina could get out easily if she needed to, but Regina is in such bad shape that she can’t even sit up, so it’s not really an issue. Claudia has her on a makeshift bed, with a heatlamp pointed at her and a radio playing, like she’s a pet lizard. Or a science project.

The radio is playing a report about what’s known of the cause of the June 27 global natural disasters.

Radio Announcer: “The world’s scientists are still looking for an explanation for the events of June 27, 2020. The epicenter/origin of the global catastrophe is still thought to be the small town of Winden. A French research team believes it is possible that our world stood still for a fraction of a nanosecond on June 27. Tidal forces may have diverged as a result. This would explain the global tidal waves, weather phenomena, and disturbances of electrical systems, which in turn could explain the countless number of airplane crashes and the simultaneous loss of power supply to nuclear power plants worldwide. There is currently no sign of the situation stabilizing…”

Claudia turns off the radio. As a physicist, she helped create this world and she already understands what’s going on. She has work to do to achieve her next goal, but the apocalypse was no accident, at least to her older self, who was quite clear that everything had to happen the way it always has. And we’ve known since S1E10 that this apocalypse has happened before. This is where it gets a little tricky to figure out who told which version what and when. This is, at the very least, the 3rd or 4th cycle with an apocalypse, since both Young and Stanger Jonas have seen it before.

But good on the French researchers for finally figuring something out! I bet they get to see the God particle before Elizabeth executes them this cycle, too!

Claudia pulls out a tattered box of Tamoxifen, Regina’s breast cancer medication, and goes to her daughter. Regina is lying very still and breathing shallowly, as if she’s in pain. She’s bathed in red/orange light from the heat lamp. Claudia asks how she is. Regina says, “Mama?” Claudia leaves the medicine pack next to Regina and turns to walk away. When Regina realizes she’s leaving, Claudia says she’ll be back at sunset.

Well that was cold. Regina looks like she’s barely alive and Claudia is leaving her alone in the cold, dark police station where she also left Aleksander, Regina’s beloved husband, to die in the shockwave. Do they even know if Bartosz is alive or dead, since Claudia couldn’t be bothered to save her grandson?

Adult Claudia is just the worst. She can’t find anyone to help with Regina, like a clinic or field hospital? What was the point of rescuing her from the quick death of the apocalypse for this long, slow torture? Regina is living through many people’s worst nightmare about how they’ll die. Claudia has made her a homeless person, slowly dying alone, in pain and in desperate poverty. The only comfort she has is the heat lamp, which is a fire hazard. The medication is prolonging her torture at this point.

Claudia is keeping Regina alive for her own comfort, because she can’t bear the idea of losing her daughter, but she still wants nothing to do with the mundane realities of a relationship with another human being. It’s hard to understand why she’s bothering, when she treated Egon and Tronte the same way.

She’s always, since she was a child, cared more about science and math, yet still had a need to keep a person or two on the string. But there must be other people helping her with the God particle at this point.

Young Elizabeth and Peter Doppler are staying in Benni’s trailer on the edge of town. It’s metal, so maybe its roof survived better than regular houses and the rest is easier to board up than their house. When they leave the trailer, Peter turns on a geiger counter to see if the rain is too radioactive to go out in. The levels are safe enough, so they walk to the military encampment near the power plant that was still in place when Jonas traveled there in S1/2.

The guard tells them that the area will be closed off in 5 days. They’re evacuating the zone and sealing off the restricted portions (which includes the power plant).

Peter, becoming agitated: “What are you saying?”

Guard: “We’re walling it in.”

He lets Peter and Elizabeth through, but asks why Peter would do this to his daughter. Young Noah lurks behind a truck and watches his future wife.

Stalking future, former and alternative loved ones is such a habit on this show.

The wall they’re talking about building is the one which surrounded the power plant in the future in S2. Jonas, Silja and Elizabeth had a spot where they could sneak under it to get to the God Particle in the power plant.

Back in 1888, Alt Martha and Stranger Jonas have explained to Magnus, Franziska and Bartosz that she’s from a parallel world which ends in an apocalypse, just like the Prime world. Magnus can’t accept that there could be another world with a different history.

Stranger asks Martha how she found him. She says that Jonas told her where Stranger was when Jonas traveled from the Prime world to the Alt world. Franziska brilliantly points out that Martha said there isn’t a Jonas native to the Alt world. Stranger is at least smart enough to figure out that a version of himself could have given Alt Martha the information, but even he gets stuck on the fact that he doesn’t remember traveling to her world or meeting her before.

He accuses her of lying, then asks if she wrote the letter Young Noah gave him, what she used to travel between worlds and if Adam sent her. He manhandles her while he’s trying to get answers out of her.

You’d think backwards and sideways time travel wasn’t possible in this universe. She’s standing right in front of them, having just come from another world. That means that a future Jonas or a Jonas from a past cycle could have traveled to her world. We saw the Unknown trio take the instructions for the world hopping sphere from Adam’s lair, so Adam had that capability before 1987, even though we didn’t see him use it. Or did we? He might have used a sphere to leave 2020 before the shockwave hit after he killed Prime Martha in S2Ep8. It would explain how he traveled as quickly and quietly as he did.

The group is interrupted by an older man who’s noticed that they’re late in starting their experiments today. He’s blind, but as soon as he enters the room he senses Martha’s presence. Stranger walks out of the workshop without speaking. The older man, Gustav Tannhaus, touches Martha’s face and figures out that she’s the reason Stranger is in an even worse mood than usual. Gustav tells her she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. Even though he has the reputation for being not quite right in the head, what he really has is the gift of foresight.

In 1987, Katharina stands in the high school hallway and hands out “Missing” flyers between classes. None of the kids recognize Mikkel. Young Ulrich stops to talk to Adult Katharina and mentions that a “lunatic” might have gotten Mikkel. Young Katharina shows up and is impatient, so she and Ulrich leave for class, ignoring Adult Katharina’s questions. Young Hannah hangs back and tells Adult Katharina about the old man who tried to kidnap Michael last summer.

Adult Katharina thanks Hannah for telling her how to find Ulrich by shoving her against a wall and warning her to stay away from Mikkel and Ulrich, Hannah’s future husband and her lifelong friend.

Hannah looks at Katharina like she’s deranged. At this point, I think she is. Hannah just went out of her way to help a stranger, again, and has no idea who “Mikkel” even is.

Tronte is dealing with Jana outing his affair with Claudia by questioning Claudia’s assistant, Jasmin, about Claudia’s disappearance. Since the whole town knows about them and his wife has stopped pretending, he doesn’t have to skulk in the shadows anymore.

Jasmin tells him that Claudia, who had always been meticulous about her appearance, really let herself go in her final week at the plant. She wore the same thing twice! And her hair was a mess. She forgot about appointments. Jasmin thought it had something to do with the old woman and dog who came to visit her (Old Claudia and Gretchen), since Claudia was different after that.

Jasmin is right- Old Claudia brought Claudia’s childhood dog, Gretchen, back to her after her pet had disappeared in the caves 33 years years earlier, as proof that time travel is real. That was the final proof that Adult Claudia needed, in combination with what Bernd showed her: the barrels of cesium 137 stored in the caves and the odd data from the power plant accident in the summer of 1986, which pointed to the existence of the God particle.

In the 2020 post shockwave bunker, Adult Claudia begins to assemble her family tree on the wall. The strings that connect the photos form one of the Gordian knots that she’s slowly deciphering.

Peter and Elizabeth have reached their destination, the official Winden corpse ID tent for the dead lost in the blast. There are rows and rows of photos showing the faces of the dead on the wall. This is what the checkpoint guard thought that Peter should spare Elizabeth. The faces of almost everyone she’s ever known are on this wall.

But Elizabeth is strong and avoiding the truth doesn’t change it. She’s always preferred to have information rather than be left out. This is the stuff of nightmares, whether you sees the photos or see the town itself.

We’re shown photos for Officer Justina Jankowski and Aleksander Tiedemann, who were in the police station. Benni was probably at home. Inspector Clausen and Torben Wöller were in the power plant with Charlotte, in the room with the barrels where the rift formed. No idea where Jürgen Obendorf was, possibly also working somewhere on the power plant grounds. Their heads are all easily recognizable and in relatively good shape, for having been through an apocalypse.

Peter and Eli look through the rows, then check with each other. Neither has found Franziska or Charlotte. A soldier tells Peter that all of the bodies that have been found are represented on the wall. When he relays the news to Eli, she suggests that maybe they time traveled. He hugs her.

We know they won’t find Charlotte and Franziska among the dead because Eli’s right, but they have no idea where their family members were when the shockwave hit.

Katharina rushes to the police station and demands information about the man in the psych ward who tried to kidnap Mikkel. Police Chief Martin Döhring says he’s told her before, he’s not going to give her any information relating to Michael Kahnwald, no matter how much she wants it. She has no proof of who she is or that Michael is her son.

But then Döhring does give in and tell Katharina that Child Protective Services has known where Michael and Ines were all along. They decided to go into hiding for a while for Michael’s safety and to give him a break. The “lunatic” is back in the psych ward, where he’s been for the last 34 years. That number rings a bell with Katharina, so she asks Döhring the kidnapper’s name, but he’s done with her and tells her not to come back again.

As Tronte is driving by the only bus stop in town, he notices Regina sitting there with Gretchen the Dog in her arms. He stops and asks if the dog belongs to Regina. Regina says that the dog belonged to Claudia.

Now that he’s established that Regina might have some information about Claudia for him, he offers her a ride.

Once she’s in the car, he mentions that the dog looks just like the original Gretchen (because Gretchen is a time traveling dog). Regina figures that’s why Claudia kept her. She asks Tronte if he thinks Claudia is guilty of the crimes she’s rumored to have committed, like murdering Regina’s grandfather and her close friend Mads Nielsen, Tronte’s son. Tronte doesn’t know.

I guess they know Claudia well. Since she did commit 2nd or 3rd degree murder on Egon, they are right to wonder what she’s capable of rather than blindly supporting her.

Tronte asks Regina if Claudia said anything about an old lady in the week before she vanished. Regina tells him no. Then he asks if she said anything about him. Both of them get emotional. Regina tells him Claudia didn’t mention him and asks to get out of the car. She’ll walk the rest of the way home. Belatedly, Tronte remembers to offer to help her if she needs anything, then drives away.

This is the man that everyone assumes is Regina’s father and he hasn’t even asked her how she’s been surviving for the last 3 months without a parent to to support her. Even if he’s not her father, he’s her mother’s oldest friend and lover. You’d think he’d care about her a little, for Claudia’s sake. It’s clear that he only cares about Claudia.

Regina is just so alone in the world. She didn’t need to be used by Tronte to further his obsession with her mother.

In 2020, Claudia begins work on the God particle. She makes the first of the tapes documenting her process. Jonas will listen to them when he arrives in the future in S2.

Peter and Eli visit the Kahnwald house, as everyone eventually must. It’s tattered, but still standing (which we knew, since Jonas sleeps there years later). Peter leaves Eli in the kitchen while he looks upstairs. Hannah’s photos are still there- blown on the floor and ragged, but otherwise still recognizable. Eli looks at one while she waits.

Young Noah startles Eli, but moves slowly so as not to scare her further. His hair is black instead of blonde, the way Magnus’ is in the Alt world. In both speech and partial sign, he tells her he’s looking for food and asks if she is, too. She pulls out a notepad and writes down “mom and sister”, then asks where he’s staying. He writes “cave” on the notepad, so she won’t forget. Now the page says “mom and sister cave”.

Peter comes back downstairs and accuses Noah of following them. He says that he told Noah to stay away from them.

Noah: “You want to protect her, I know. So do I. And I will. After you get killed.”

Noah speaks his answer, but doesn’t sign it. Then he leaves. He did speak the words in full view of Eli, so depending on her ability to read lips, she may have understood what he said.

That evening, it’s still pouring rain. Bartosz visits Alt Martha in her room and apologizes about Jonas. Just, you know, his general surly Jonasness. (It’s all Jonas’ fault.)

When they left 2020 at the end of S2Ep8, Stranger wasn’t aiming for 1888, but they traveled at the exact moment of the shockwave and this is where they ended up (this is where Time sent them). The device is out of cesium 137 and they can’t get anymore in this time period, so theyre stuck here until Jonas can create a new God particle.

Bartosz doesn’t seem to consider that someone else could come from the future and rescue them. Or Martha could help them. But they’d have to have a destination in mind if they left, so maybe that’s the issue.

Martha asks about the workshop, Gustav and what they’re doing. Bartosz doesn’t answer her questions. Instead he tells her he needs to show her something.

Down in the workshop, Gustav asks Stranger if Martha is a traveler, like they are.

Gustav: “When I found you, now that was a sign. A God-sent miracle. Whatever this woman means to you, don’t forget what we’re going to create. Paradise. Every calamity can be reversed. The world’s suffering can be destroyed before it even exists. A perfect world. Sic Mundus Creatus Est.”

Jonas listens to what he says. He still hates the sound of Sic Mundus, but he’s drawn to rest of Gustav’s prophecy, now that it’s not coming from Adam. He wouldn’t be Jonas if his mind weren’t spinning in self-hating circles.

He’s reached his Faust moment of temptation and he hates himself for being drawn to the same ideas and promises that he thinks corrupted Adam. Gustav is his White Devil, promising him a world without Winden, where suffering has ended, if only Jonas will put in the hard work and self sacrifice necessary to bring it about.

Gustav referred to the travelers as a miracle from God in all sincerity, but Jonas knows what that future brings. The temptation is to give in and believe it will turn out differently this time. Yet, what choice does Jonas have, other than to keep walking the same path? Bartosz and Alt Martha won’t let him settle down in the 19th century and forget about who he really is. Neither will his own conscience. And another White Devil, Old Claudia, always shows up eventually to stir the pot. Or she sends an emissary.

Katharina goes to the mental institution to look for Ulrich. She discovers that the nurse at the desk is her mother, Helene Albers. Helene is wearing the St Christopher medal that we’ve usually seen with Jonas and Martha. When Katharina asks for Ulrich and explains that he’s her husband, Helene judges Katharina for being with a patient who’s also a much older man and refuses to let her see him. Katharina uses her knowledge of the medal to talk her way in. She says that her mother also had a medal just like that. St Christopher renounced the devil and carried Jesus, the creator of the world. She begs Helene to let her see Ulrich.

Katharina describes the medal to show she’s a pious Christian, a good woman by her mother’s standards. But calling Jesus the creator of the world in that moment is an inside joke based on Ulrich’s favorite song, Pleasure to Kill by Kreator. “My only aim is to take many lives. The more the better I feel.” If I remember right, Helene never liked Ulrich. Katharina passed the favor down to Martha by pulling her away from Stranger Jonas.

Helene says that Ulrich was just released from solitary. He’s sitting at a table, playing chess by himself. Katharina sits with him. As soon as she gets his attention, she promises to break him out.

Jasmin is the last one at the power plant. She turns out the lights as she prepares to leave. The Unknown Trio turn them back on, then surround her threateningly. After confirming her identity, Adult Unknown tells her, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

He shushes Jasmin, who is about 8 months pregnant, then strangles her with his garrotte.

At least he made sure to kill the correct pregnant secretary.

Jana fiddles with an ouroboros bracelet as she sits in her living room in deep thought. Tronte comes home and sits next to her. She tells him that at some point he’s going to have to choose between his family with her or Claudia. He says that he saw Regina today. She looks like a grown up. Jana remarks that Claudia has never said who Regina’s father is and she’s always wondered if it’s Tronte. Tronte doesn’t respond directly to that opening. He agrees that he has to decide between the two families and takes Jana’s hand.

It’s not hard for Tronte to choose Jana right now when Claudia has disappeared without a trace or a word. He cares even less about Regina than Claudia does, that was made clear, though we’ve never seen much evidence that he cares about Ulrich either. He imprinted on Claudia when he was young and everyone else will always come second, no matter what. We know he runs right back to her when she shows up again.

In 2020, Regina is alone and trying to sleep in the damp police station while it storms outside. Old Tronte comes in and squeezes her hand, saying, “I’m so sorry, but it has to happen. She said it’s the only way to save you.” He smothers Regina with her pillow.

Well, at least Regina’s suffering is finally over? I don’t think she ever did anything worse than say a few snappish words to the people who had done terrible things to her. And people were so awful to her. I hate the way both she and Aleksander died alone, after they were so devoted to their little family in life.

Prime Old Tronte wasn’t saved from the shockwave by any means that we saw, so how is he alive now? And did Claudia or Eva send him to kill Regina? Regina was definitely right to be nervous around him when she was young.

Back in the trailer, Peter heats up cans of soup while Eli thinks about Noah. She asks Peter what Noah said to him, but Peter refuses to tell her. She pulls out the triquetra diary, which he’s somehow held onto since season 1, and demands that he tell her more about what’s going on. They shove each other back and forth in the trailer, but not hard enough for either to get hurt.

Peter must know from the book where Franziska and Charlotte are, but he won’t tell Elizabeth, out of a misguided attempt to preserve her childhood.

Leaving her in the dark is worse than telling her a little of what he knows and turning it into a story she can handle. This is why fairy tales exist.

On September 22, 2053, Charlotte sits in the cave and looks at Elizabeth’s photo of Noah, Eli and herself as a baby. Eli returns from outside and sits next to Charlotte. Charlotte gets up to leave, maybe to take over standing watch outside the cave. Eli tells her it will be okay and they press their foreheads together.

In 1987, Young Katharina does her homework and listens to music at the kitchen table. Helene smacks her on the back of the head, hard, and in a vicious voice, tells her to clear the table.

We’ve seen Magnus smack people the same way, especially Mikkel, many times, though not as hard. This is another version of an eternal recurrence. The behaviors and personalities that recur in families down through the generations, in addition to physical similarities, become like seeing the same people and the same dynamics repeated over and over, with no exit possible other than blowing up the cycle by walking out and not reproducing.

Or going through extensive self examination and being self aware at all times, in order to avoid falling back into old patterns, as Stranger recommended. But the Faustian White Devil of similar personality types will always be there, bringing with them the temptation to revert to old patterns of behavior. Nietzsche was specifically thinking of never ending relationships with his difficult mother and sister when he worked with the ideas of the eternal recurrence and amor fati, love of fate. Dark shows these recurring behavior and thought patterns through the generations in each family cluster in Winden, even before we know that characters are related.

It’s montage time. This episode, the song is Broken Sleep, by Agnes Obel.

Adult Stranger Katharina takes her leave of Old Ulrich in the psych ward. They both have the same air of desperation about them, despite how far apart they are in age now. Ulrich’s advanced age didn’t make Katharina hesitate even for a second, after she tried so hard to keep Stranger and Martha apart.

In 2020, Prime Adult Claudia finds Regina dead in bed and is devastated. She wasn’t the one who ordered Tronte to kill her daughter.

In 1987, Young Aleksander comforts Young Regina, who misses her mother.

Adult Jana sleeps with her head on Tronte’s lap. Mads is still missing. So is Claudia. They are lost in their separate grief.

In 2020, Young Elizabeth looks at the page in her notepad that says “mom and sister cave”. Whether it was on purpose or not, Young Noah told Eli where her mom is. She’s just 33 years in the future.

Young Noah works to clear rubble out of the passage. If he can clear it out enough so that it works, Charlotte and Young Elizabeth could make contact. In his life, it’s probably not that long since he finished building the passage the first time. No wonder he seems slightly resentful.

Stranger Jonas enters Martha’s room, probably hoping to creepily watch her sleep again. She’s the wrong Martha and she’s not there, but he’s still drawn by the unbreakable tether between them.

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Martha is on a field trip with Bartosz to the caves. He takes her to the Sic Mundus Temple of Doom, which has has fallen into disuse. The room that will become Adam’s study is set up as a classroom, with a triquetra knot in the place of his favorite painting. While Stranger is looking for her, she’s looking at what he’ll become.

Bartosz: “It’s like a secret society. Old Tannhaus is the only one of them left. His father was convinced he could supercede the rules of space and time. He dedicated his entire life to doing just that. And so did his son.”

Martha: “They tried to build a time machine back then?”

Bartosz: “Jonas is trying to rebuild things the way he saw them. He’s been here already. Not now. In the future. He asked you something earlier. If Adam had sent you. He said that Adam killed Martha. Who is this Adam?”

Martha: “He didn’t tell you that? He is Adam. Jonas.”

We swoop to the Alt world, where Old Eva is telling Young Jonas her truths.

Old Eva: “We don’t know our end, but our end knows us. Salvation or damnation. We can indulge in the illusion of free will if we want, but we cannot escape our ultimate destiny. The choices we make in each world may be different, but nevertheless, they converge on the same moment. Things may not happen in the same way, or at the same time. But they always happen. You believed a world without you would be a better one, but they’re all going to die. Mikkel. Mikkel will die. Everyone will die. The apocalypse occurs in my world, just as it does in yours. In mine, it will happen in 3 days time.”

But no pressure.

As they’ve been speaking, she brings him over to a family tree that’s made from stone inlays in her floor. Let me take this opportunity to tell you that even when something is literally written in stone, it isn’t always true.

Commentary

Old Eva confirms that the 2 worlds are roughly parallel, though not exact mirror images. Her world operates under the same fatalism that the Prime world is subject to, so it probably doesn’t matter whether there’s 3 years or 3 hours until the apocalypse, it can’t be stopped. Let’s get Jonas home before it hits though, ‘kay?

I know we’re working on letting go of attachments this season, but I’m pretty sure Jonas is an essential part of the symbolic balance of light and dark in this universe, so we need him, or the rainbow ponies will take over and it will be all sparkles, all the time.

Sun fairy Metamaiden asks what would be wrong with that? (She has actual rainbow hair.) I am a creature of the night okay? (How do you think I knew Jonas didn’t want to be left alone in the light?) I’m just advocating for balance here.

I’m convinced the Kahnwald house is the black hole machine that gives birth to other black holes. There’s a device hidden there that Jonas put under his bed and then forgot, 200 cycles ago, when they were all new at this. Everyone is drawn there and will eventually sleep in that bed. In fact, it’s probably the bed that’s the ORIGIN everyone is looking for. The time travel plot was hatched there, in the distant early twentieth century past, and won’t be destroyed as long as the house and the bed are standing. 😉

The school and the factory have similar silhouettes. Could the factory have been reworked into the school?

Foresight like Gustav’s is believed to be seen through the metaphysical 3rd eye, located in between the eyebrows in the lower forehead. I talked about Sic Mundus as a mystery school back in S2Ep1 & S2Ep8. Though Bartosz doesn’t characterize it that way, Gustav’s foresight firmly locates it in that arena, rather than as simply an academic and scientific endeavor.

Katharina and Ulrich have both gone about their investigations in an uncompromising way that didn’t gain them any trust from the authorities, despite the fact that they are both local authorities themselves. But it’s not like there’s a rule book to follow for losing your child to someone else in another time period or solving child murders and kidnappings by time travelers across 3 times periods.

The soldier at the checkpoint, played by Maximilian Dirr, seems familiar to me. I think he might still have been one of the guards in the 2052 episodes, but IMDB isn’t crediting him. If I notice him when I get to that point next time I rewatch, I’ll note it here. Or someone else can let me know in the comments. Maybe he was a cop or worked in the power plant.

Family Trees- Skip If You Don’t Want to Know What’s on Them Yet!

My screencap of Old Eva’s full family tree might come out too blurry to read, so I’ll add the family tree on the Netflix website for this episode, though they are a little different. If you visit the website yourself, make sure to stop on the home page first and select which episode you’re willing to be spoiled up to.

Katharina’s father is listed as Hermann Albers (Thomas Arnold), the farmer whose sheep died in S1Ep3, Past and Present. In hindsight, the death of the flock of 33 sheep and the Bible verse Albers quoted to Egon were warnings to Egon that he’d be dead soon. Albers told Egon he was a member of Noah’s church. (Mark 13:33, “Be on your guard. Be alert. For you do not know when that time will be.”)

In the same episode, Mikkel spends his first day in 1986, Claudia starts work as the director of the power plant and HG Tannhaus finishes work on the time device. It must be that once those things had happened, Egon’s future was solidified. Helene Alber’s religious medal also pegs her as a member of Noah’s church.

Old Gustav Tannhaus is HG Tannhaus‘ grandfather, with Leopold Tannhaus in between the two as Gustav’s son/HG’s father. Gustav was born in 1813 and HG was born in 1913, 100 years apart. Gustav’s father is Heinrich Tannhaus. Sic Mundus’ history stretches back as least as far as Gustav’s birth in 1813 and forward at least as far as 2053, the farthest we’ve seen anyone travel forward, a period of 250 years.

The big shocker on these trees is the pairing of Bartosz and Silja (Girl from the Future) and then them being the parents of Noah and Agnes. Agnes is Tronte’s mother and Tronte is Jonas’ great grandfather, which makes Bartosz his great great great grandfather. Silja is the child of Egon and Hannah. Agnes and the Unknown give birth to Tronte in both worlds.

So now Bartosz knows that EVEN MORE STUFF is all Jonas’ fault. That should make for some fun times ahead. Maybe Bartosz isn’t so much blaming Jonas for everything as exasperated with him, the way you get with a favorite child who just can’t stay out of trouble, no matter how hard you try to keep him safe. Bartosz wants to keep his favorite progeny alive and well and Jonas keeps screwing everything up. Bartosz also prods Jonas along his dark and uncomfortable path.

Was There Originally A Jonas in the Alt World?

It is odd that Stranger doesn’t remember going to Alt Martha’s world when he was Young Jonas. I get the distinct impression that there used to be a Jonas in Martha’s world, but he wanted to be erased. So they kept Mikkel from going back to 1986, just like Jonas wanted in the Prime world, and as Eva indicated to Prime Young Jonas. To make up for Jonas’ absence in the Alt world, they have to bring him over from the Prime world for a brief time to interact with Martha to trigger certain events.

That’s an arguable interpretation, it’s true. It’s never said straight out, but Eva has said to Jonas twice now that he wanted a world without himself, with the hope that it would be a better place, but it’s not. In this episode, she specifically said that even Mikkel dies, and as a child instead of as an adult, so there was no point to making a world without Jonas.

But she didn’t say that there had been cycles where Jonas existed as a native in the Alt world. However, the way she practically blames him suggests that the Alt world exists in its current form because some version of Jonas, either from his world or hers, talked her into trying out the “world without Jonas” concept he’s been so keen on for 2 seasons. So either he used to exist there as a native or the Prime version has been visiting there for a while and talking Eva into experimenting.

There is a 3rd option, that Jonas willed Martha’s world into existence as a place where she could live and he wouldn’t be there to kill her. It’s an attractive option. But she still goes and gets Jonas and brings him to her world in every cycle, so either Martha didn’t agree to Jonas’ plan, that’s not the correct option or Jonas just can’t be written out of Martha’s code because he’s too essential to the way her story goes. Jonas’ own story seems to require Martha at various points.

I’ll explore this more fully as the season goes on- don’t want to give away spoilers now.

But I do think Martha was always the chosen one in the Alt world, whether or not Jonas was ever native to it. That’s one reason why it didn’t make much of a difference for Jonas to disappear there.

Did Season 1 Show A 3rd World?

The way that Martha’s world reflects her personality and Jonas’ world reflects his, argues for the main actor within the world being the one who imagines/dreams/Wills the world into being, with the world following the characteristics of that person’s mind. And that makes me wonder if we’ve actually seen a different world each season. I haven’t thought it through enough to figure out whose world it would have been in season 1, but season 2 was Jonas’/Adam’s world.

Since we know we’ve seen Jonas and Martha’s worlds, I wonder if there’s something about being young that makes it easier to create the new world or connection between worlds? I think if S1 isn’t also Jonas’ world, Teen Charlotte is the best option for whose world it is. Charlotte is both the only person we know of who’s time traveled as an infant and who is connected to Tannhaus (the narrator of S1). He set the tone for the scientific understanding and the worldview of the season.

We see quite a bit of Charlotte as a teenage and an adult investigator that season and of Tannhaus in two time periods, 3 if you count his TV show. Charlotte’s daughter Elizabeth also plays a part, with Noah seeking her out and Yasin disappearing. The two of them revolve around each other exactly the same way Mikkel and Jonas do.

Or else it could be Mikkel’s world, but I feel like Mikkel has too little control. Same with Helge. It could be Claudia’s world, since she’s all about control.

Sic Mundus Creatus Est: Faust meets the Devil and a Prophet Meets a Saint

From a scientific point of view, Jonas ends up taking over Sic Mundus because he figures out the importance of their work to improving on the scientific work he’s already done with Claudia. For that reason, the scene where Bartosz introduces Alt Martha to the Sic Mundus classroom and tells us their true history for the first time is important. It shows that Sic Mundus wasn’t just a crazy cult that Adam made up to keep his followers in line or a symptom of his madness.

Instead, the organization has has a rich history of scholarship and alchemy created by multiple generations of researchers who devoted their lives to the work. Jonas/Adam learned from this history to create his own version of Sic Mundus, which added elements to the overall time travel scheme that were missing from the approach based purely on scientific theory. HG Tannhaus eventually stored some of the sources Sic Mundus studied in his clock shop along with the Sic Mundus group photo, suggesting that elements were incorporated into the version of time travel that worked. Tannhaus’ ideas were largely based on Einstein, but even Einstein couldn’t solve everything.

This is the prophecy Sic Mundus lives by in the future versions of the organization that we’ve seen, including Adult Elizabeth and Teen Silja in the 2050s: Forsake family ties in favor of the Paradise Sic Mundus will create, with Jonas as the savior. In Paradise, all of the suffering will have been worth it, because the suffering will be reversed, as if it never existed, and more.

Stranger Jonas fought for decades to avoid becoming Adam, to avoid becoming the leader who believed in and led others to believe in this prophecy, yet now he’s falling into the trap that he knows will lead him there, based on promises he swore he’d never listen to.

What changed? Why is this temptation ensnaring him now, when it never has before?

His frame of mind has changed. Emotionally and mentally, he’s been pushed beyond anywhere even he’s been before. His last chance to save original Martha, the one he spent 33 years pinning his hopes on, has failed. He’s stuck in the 19th century, helpless. Or maybe hiding. He really hasn’t been honest about his full history with the teens.

This episode is notable for how exhausted so many of the characters look. Everyone is tired of the fight right now, and Stranger is not only tired, he’s more hopeless than he’s been since he had to send Mikkel back to 1986 and Michael to his death.

He doesn’t have the strength to push down what his heart wants anymore. He wants to believe what Gustav said: that Paradise is possible and that free will isn’t. That it’s preordained he’ll succeed, so he will. That he’s always given in to the lure of Sic Mundus, so he might as well do so again.

Stranger needs some kind of relief and religious conversion can be an incredibly soothing drug.

Jonas has met his White Devil, and the devil told him he’s the savior who can bring about Paradise. Up until this point, Jonas has always believed that change was possible through his own sheer determination or Claudia’s science and plans or Adam’s authority and knowledge of the future. Here in 1888, as far as he can tell, that all lies in ruins at his feet. He’s failed; he’s been betrayed; the very universe is working against him.

Maybe it’s time to make a deal with the devil and study the occult/alchemy seriously. Maybe science isn’t enough and the missing ingredient can be found there.

Jonas has fought a mighty struggle for more than 30 years, which probably should qualify him for sainthood. Most saints have these sorts of relapses into doubt and despair, then find their strength again, even Jesus. Especially saints who mostly go it alone and live in their own heads, like Stranger.

In this sense, he’s not really a classic Faustian character. Claudia and Ulrich, the 2 White Devils from S2Ep7, the episode of the same title, are much more like the classic Faust, the character who can’t resist following their Will and Desires and so is easy prey for the Devil.

Ulrich is the classic Faustian sensualist with a heart of gold, who we root for but who just can’t stop himself from following his big heart into the next barrel of trouble he’s attracted to, whether it’s a new woman or thinking he can save the children. He’s a boy who will never grow up and we love him for the innocence at the center of his mistakes, even though eventually he becomes too toxic to live with, since he never stops to consider the consequences of his actions. The devil promises him he can be a hero or be a king, but he’s always eventually the architect of his own demise because he can’t control his tendency toward excess.

Claudia’s Deadly Sin of choice is ambition, in the form of scientific advancement at any cost. Literally any cost, whether it’s her child or her soul. Or anyone else’s soul. Since Goethe’s Faust was a sheltered academic who left his books behind to gain experience of the world and was then burned by falling in love and getting an unmarried woman, Gretchen, pregnant, Claudia is probably meant to be a combination of the Devil, Gretchen and Faust.

One of the important implications of Goethe’s Faust is the concept of earning salvation vs escaping damnation. Though characters ostensibly are meant to use their lives accruing points that will send them in one direction or the other, in the end, God acts as a referee with veto power. He can use His Grace to do whatever He wants with the characters. If He decides He likes their style, or their deathbed conversion, no matter how they’ve behaved previously, He can pick them up and bring them into Heaven. Or He can send them in the other direction. Christianity has a lot of loopholes and God is fickle.

Personally, I’m going to stick with karma/eternal justice.

Ulrich is the King David model of Faust, God’s chosen one who’ll always be forgiven eventually. Jonas is more in the tradition of Job, where God makes a bet to see how far He can push someone before they crack. Claudia is a version of Eve, who won’t stop until she’s eaten all of the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and ruined Paradise for everyone. God sets her up for both great success and great pain, for His own reasons.

Martha is a saint, the opposite of a Faust. We were told this from the moment we met her in S1Ep1, when she was on a hunger strike to save starving children. Same with Noah. Everything he’s done has been for his family and he’s suffered terribly because of it. Martha is a compassionate saint and Noah is a martyred saint. Those are two ways to transcend to a higher plane of existence, which is why saints can perform miracles. Mikkel also martyred himself for his family and the greater good.

A lifelong sinner who repents and redirects that energy toward God also becomes a saint. This is the reason God loves to make bets with the Devil. It builds up karmic energy, which eventually creates a surge in one direction or the other. This will be true of any unbalanced life, whether it leans too far toward good or evil, saint or sinner. In Dark, Time is God, so the build up of karmic energy and the surge of it seeking eternal justice at death will affect Time.

Martha and Jonas are tied together to balance each other as light and dark, care for the individual (he saves those closest to him) vs care for the greater good (she saves the planet) and hope (she finds comfort in myth, stories that prove she’s never alone) vs nihilism (he’s always a stranger, always alone). Claudia is a third element, the neutral, unstoppable centerpoint of the will, which assumes it’s balance, but is merely unfeeling.

S1 can be read as Part 1 of Goethe’s Faust and S2&3 can be read as Part 2, but I’m not going to do a close examination. Part 2 is also a blatant rip off of Dante’s Divine Comedy and I’d rather just discuss that source, even though it’s not German. I have no trouble with the many other versions of Faust, and there are many, from the original 1580s religious commentaries, which are fascinating, to Pinocchio, which most everyone knows in some form, but was originally written as a novel in 1883. Goethe’s version of Faust is based on so much misogyny that my brain forms a protective wall and won’t let me take it in too deeply.

If you want to look more closely at the ties between Goethe’s Faust and Dark, here are a few links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goethe%27s_Faust

https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Faust-Parts-1-and-2/plot-summary/

themes: https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Faust-Parts-1-and-2/themes/

symbols: https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Faust-Parts-1-and-2/symbols/

https://lettersfromthedustbowl.com/faustusE.html

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” -Shakespeare and Adult Unknown

This is a quote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest which is relayed secondhand to a deposed king. While the surface meaning of the quote is obvious, the nuances of what it means coming from Unknown’s mouth as he kills a very pregnant secretary depend on which character you take to be the true author of the words.

The original speaker was a prince who was leaping from a ship that was burning because it had been set on fire to gain revenge on the king, his father, who was on board. Prince Ferdinand had nothing to do with his father’s crimes. Unknown is sympathizing with the fact that Jasmin herself is largely outside of the Winden social circle that’s involved with time travel conspiracies. She’s collateral damage. (As far as we know.)

But in the play, the audience hears the line spoken by Ariel, a magical being, who relays it to the former king, Prospero, the brother of the current king, Alonso. Many years ago, Alonso betrayed Prospero and drove him from his kingdom. Ariel reluctantly works for Prospero, who is also a magician, in return for his freedom from an evil sorceress, Sycorax. Prospero ordered Ariel to set fire to the ship in order to wreck it and bring its occupants to Prospero’s new island so that the former king can carry out an elaborate revenge plot.

Coming from Ariel, the line applies to just about everyone.

In the play, Ariel is the symbol of justice personified, much as I have compared Unknown to Schopenhauer’s Eternal Justice or karma. Unknown’s use of Ariel’s line suggests that he is aware that he is playing the role of both Eternal Justice and Prince Ferdinand, rather than blindly following orders or randomly perpetrating acts of violence.

Prince Ferdinand becomes the love interest for Prospero’s daughter, Miranda, who speaks the famous phrase, “brave new world”. From the close up on Eva’s family tree we know that Unknown is Tronte’s father in both worlds, making him part of the Nielsen line and the only one who spans the two worlds. Prince Ferdinand and Miranda’s pairing helps bring the two warring kings back together, which means that Ferdinand also acts as a bridge between kingdoms.

Ariel has worked for two powerful masters and also has his own power. Both masters have been dubious, but Ariel has chosen to stay with Prospero. I believe Unknown has ties to both Claudia and Martha. When this scene occurs, he’s just watched the Prime world go through an apocalypse which helped either created martha’s world, created a link to it or solidified the link to it. An apocalypse is about to occur in the Alt world.

Ariel has watched Sycorax perform evil acts, and now is watching Prospero risk lives for his own purposes. This is another layer to Unknown’s use of the quote. Is he expressing despair that he has to watch these apocalypses occur, but can’t stop them? Is he, like Jonas, trapped in this never ending loop of of death and loss that has to be repeated every cycle and he can’t get out of it?

There are several potential reasons why someone might want Jasmin dead. For one thing, there’s the bootstrap paradoxes. Those have been created over time by erasing the causative events and memories, so that only results remain. Both Jasmin and Bernd were instrumental in providing Claudia with the information she needed to figure out the complete theory behind the God particle, which she and Jonas then used to turn the God particle into a time machine.

In the scene where Jasmin dies, she walks in on the Unknown examining the binder which held Claudia’s early research into the God particle. This is the binder which was originally handed to Claudia by Bernd when he gave her the data related to the accident at the power plant in 1986.

Claudia first discovered financial discrepancies in the power plant’s books thanks to obscure records which Jasmin obtained for her. Jasmin looked over the records as well and noted the issues. Bernd told Claudia that the plant was cooking the books to hide the accident, then Claudia demanded to see the records of the accident.

Unknown takes the binder with him and kills the two people who know about the data trail. Is he trying to erase the memory of the origin of the God particle in future cycles? Is he stopping someone else from investigating in the future?

Or maybe there was some reason why Jasmin’s baby couldn’t be born? She’s always at the power plant- maybe she knew too much in other ways, as well?

The deaths of Jasmin, her baby, and Bernd, along with the destruction of the abandoned Sic Mundus lair, all in 1987, must be part of some larger plan.

I was struck by how exhausted and ragged the Unknown look in this scene. This is hard on the Child and Old versions, especially, as it should be.

The Day the Earth Stood Still- The Science

youtube

According to those tenacious French researchers, the Earth stopped spinning for a nanosecond during the shockwave, which is 1 billionth of a second, then started spinning again.

The video above is the best explanation I could find for what would happen if the Earth stopped spinning, but it describes what would happen if the world just stops cold and never restarts. It’s more catastrophic than what would happen, though the basic process is the same and I think we’d all still be very dead eventually in reality.

The video goes on to discuss some fascinating concepts of time, such how atomic clocks measure time and the fact that all sorts of things affect the speed at which the Earth rotates, so it’s not an accurate way to measure time. Did you know the Earth is turning more slowly as time goes on? We’ve lost more than 20 seconds since the 70s. Time is relative.

The show listed just about all of the apocalypses- tidal waves, earthquakes, hurricanes and other intense storms, electromagnetic pulse, all of the planes crashing at once, all of the nuclear power plants melting down at once. They didn’t list war, plague and famine, but those sometimes take a few months to develop in the aftermath of the other disasters. If they showed us the world outside of Winden in 2025, it would be filled with disease, hunger and people fighting over the few resources that are left.

My best guess is that the tiny lack of movement when the Earth stopped for a nanosecond, combined with intense inertia causing everything possible to move a teeny tiny bit, would create small, hairline cracks in everything that was attached to the Earth’s surface. As the Earth restarted, then continued to move, those cracks would grow, and things would crumble and fall even worse than they normally would in the resulting tidal waves, earthquakes and storms.

This video goes on to discuss some fascinating concepts of time, such as atomic clocks and the fact that all sorts of things affect the speed at which the Earth rotates, so it’s not an accurate way to measure time. Did you know the Earth is turning more slowly all the time? We’ve lost more than 20 seconds since the 70s. Time is relative.

Also we are such a nerd family that we had loud disagreements about the theoretical physics of this. Don’t ask.

This is the result of my husband the mathematician’s calculations on the issue. Despite the way he wrote it, I am the practical catastrophist in the family who believes the apocalypse is always nigh and should be prepared for. He is the theorist who never believes there will be damage in the real world. Metamaiden is the balanced middle.

Since the speed of Earth’s rotation varies based on latitude, I chose the latitude of the city of Weimar in central Germany, which is at about 51 degrees north. Earth’s rotational speed at that latitude is 655 miles per hour, or 1,054 kilometers per hour, or 293 meters per second (calculated at https://www.vcalc.com/wiki/MichaelBartmess/Rotational+Speed+at+Latitude).

That means the Earth’s surface would move 293 nanometers (billionths of a meter) in the nanosecond that the Earth stopped. That’s about a thousand times the diameter of a water molecule (0.27 nanometers), and about 29 times the diameter of PG5, the largest synthetic molecule ever made (10 nanometers). Depending on how closely packed together two substances are, that 293 nanometers of travel could provide plenty of room for the molecules of one substance (say, water) to smack into the molecules of the other substance (say, rock) in that billionth of a second, potentially triggering havoc.

As more comparison, the width of a human hair is 75,000 nanometers. 293 nanometers, the distance inertia would shift everything on Earth when it stopped, whether it was attached or not, is so small it’s hard to imagine, but it’s enough to throw off cycles, set off chain reactions and fracture inflexible masses when done with the weight and velocity of the Earth behind it.

The Day the Earth Stood Still- The Film

They are definitely referencing the film.

In this short documentary, Decoding Klaatu Barada Nikto, the filmmakers and others discuss how The Day the Earth Stood Still purposely relates to the Cold War, fear of nuclear proliferation and and the pro United Nations sentiments of the filmmakers. Dark has spent 3 seasons showing us how a group of people who were interested in traveling to other times and to other timelines/worlds will stop at nothing, not even global mass destruction and death involving all of the apocalypses at once, to achieve their scientific goals. And nuclear science is at the heart of what they do.

The Day the Earth Stood Still believes scientists, with the help of the UN, can save the world. Dark seems to be saying we can’t trust the scientists anymore. Unless the message is that the scientists will take us to the golden glitter Harry Potter world, which I’m totally okay with. But that world is threatened, too, so it’s not the ultimate answer. The science and technology that came out of the Enlightenment and have continued through the Industrial Revolution to the present day, which are seen as both progress which will unquestioningly aid humanity and as beneficial knowledge which must be pursued, have led to many of the ills our culture and planet now face.

Unless we somehow put the brakes on- stop the world- the apocalypses we currently live in will only get worse. As I write this, it’s currently 102ºF (39ºC) outside my window, there is smoke in the air from the forest fires that are burning all over the Southwestern US, including one about 20 miles from my home, and my state diagnosed a record number of COVID-19 cases yesterday. That’s 3 apocalypses. Famine from joblessness isn’t far behind. How many riots and shootings does it take to make a civil war?

We need to start getting the message and acting on it without worrying about the details.

Which brings me to the importance of the code phrases. Klaatu Barada Nikto is a code phrase which the alien, Klaatu, his human friend, Helen, say to his robot guardian after he’s killed, to stop the guardian from destroying Earth in retaliation. It tells the robot that the damage done to the alien is repairable by their standards, so the situation can still be salvaged. But no direct translation for the phrase was ever written into the script or otherwise. It’s been left to the viewer to interpret the exact meaning, though the gist of it is clear. Fans have obsessed over its exact meaning for decades and even the cast and crew all have slightly different interpretations.

The important thing about the phrase Klaatu Barada Nikto is that it triggered the correct state of mind and action in Klaatu’s robot, Gort. The meaning helps trigger Gort’s action, and it’s extremely important that Gort understand the message correctly, so it’s worth analyzing, but on the level of meaning, not exact wording. Having an exact direct translation might help us, but isn’t essential for Gort or Helen, who brings him the message in the film.

In the same way, the characters in Dark are triggering each other with certain words and phrases. Sometimes the meaning matters, but I don’t think it always does. Sometimes just the sound of the words acts as a reminder to their inner selves of where they are in the cycle and what the next step is. Many of them are following difficult paths and want out, while at the same time their memories are being erased to form the bootstrap paradoxes. They need nudges along the way to keep them following the same footsteps they’ve created in previous cycles.

Are the bootstrap paradoxes a reference to the way history tends to be forgotten in the real world, so that we are condemned to repeat it endlessly, never correcting our mistakes, repeating the same platitudes and religious doctrines to justify our actions?

Images courtesy of Netflix.

Dark S3E2: The Survivors-It's time to visit Adam's post-apocalypse world, the world without Winden that Hannah & Ulrich spoke of for decades. Like Stranger, those 2 skipped the apocalypse & traveled to previous decades. #DarkNetflix After the Harry Potter costume party of getting to know Martha/Eva's world in S3EP1, in episode 2 it's finally time to visit Adam's post-apocalypse world, which is a form of the world without Winden that Hannah and Ulrich have dreamed of for decades.

#Andreas Pietschmann #Dark #dystopia #Lisa Vicari #Louis Hofmann #metacrone #Paul Lux #post apocalypse #recaps #review #science fiction #The Survivors

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shadowynnn · 5 years

Text

star-crossed | part one |

star wars

pairing: ben solo/kylo ren x reader x general armitage hux

soulmate au

a/n: Due to names having significance in the soulmate aspect of this fanfic, the reader will have a name designated to better coincide with the soulmarks I have planned for each person. :)

~~~

“When you turned me down and said you had big plans for your birthday, Sol, I expected something a little more...I don’t know...big?”

Upon hearing your partner’s familiar voice, you rolled out from beneath the X-Wing you had been tinkering with and peered up at his hovering figure.

“I decided to fix up your precious X-Wing out of the goodness of my heart and this is the thanks I get, Dameron?” With a roll of your eyes, you attempted to keep the smile his words brought at bay as you sat up and unwrapped the bandanna tied around your thigh to wipe away the sweat threatening to pour into your eyes from hours of work. “You’re welcome, by the way,” you added, a smile finally breaking its way through as you quirked an eyebrow at the man, silently savoring the way his mouth twitched at your previous use of his last name.

“I just can’t believe you’d rather spend your special day with my starfighter instead of me.” Poe shook his head, faking a pout as he outstretched his hand towards you. “I mean, I really thought we were getting somewhere after our last mission together-you got a little smudge there, by the way”

You wiped at the grease spot Poe had mentioned before taking his extended hand and letting him pull you to your feet. Your face scrunched up as your partner’s words brought up memories of the Kowakian ape-lizard. It had seemed to take weeks before you had finally managed to erase its scent from your mind and his reminder brought the pungent scent rushing back.

“Don’t go acting all bruised on me now, Poe.” You gave your partner a pointed look, throwing the memories of that mission far behind as you plopped yourself down on a nearby tool bench and took a long swig out of your canteen. “You know I don’t like celebrating my birthday.”

You meant the words in a casual manner but felt your demeanor fall as thoughts you had tried to push away by tinkering on Poe’s starfighter came tumbling back. Images of that terrible night rushed through your mind in swift flashes of fire, smoke, and blood. Nearly five years had passed but you could still hear the screams of the dying and feel the heat of the flames as they ravaged the temple. But worst of all, you could still clearly picture the boy whose name was slowly etching itself across your chest as he had begged for you to join him. And while you never dared mention the thought out loud, you couldn’t help but think it was all because of you.

As if sensing where your thoughts had tumbled, you felt a hand lightly brush across your bare thigh. Following his line of sight, you watched as Poe’s fingers gently trailed across the sweeping black letters that had appeared over your past birthdays.

With a soft sigh, you brushed Poe’s hand away in order to wrap your bandanna back around your leg and hide the other source of resentment for your birthday.

“It might not be him, you know. There aren’t enough letters to be-”

“But it is.” You shook your head interrupting Poe before he could finish his thoughts, a sharp bitterness in your tone. You were quick to soften though when you noticed the downward tilt of his lips. You hadn’t meant to direct your resentment towards him. He was just trying to help, after all. You were just frustrated at the cards fate had played you and the yearly reminder it brought. You were supposed to be counted lucky that you had two soulmates, but you didn’t see how anyone would think you were blessed. Ouf of the billions of souls in the universe, you had been given two people you could never be with. “I don’t know if it’s a soulmark thing or the bloody Force that tells me so, but it’s him. I’m certain of it.”

“Well, my offer still stands if you ever...you know...get a little lonely.” Poe’s eyebrows waggled as he gave you a knowing smirk. He may have not known about the other name etching itself on your body, only General Organa-er Leia as she had repeatedly told you to call her-knew about that one, but he was one of a very few select people who knew about the one you kept hidden with your trusted bandana and often jokingly offered - at least you were pretty certain it was a joke because lately, you had been more unsure - for the two of you to get together until he found his own soulmate, whoever the poor soul might be.

“Oh, keep dreaming, Dameron.” You tried to throw Poe a cutting glare as you promptly kicked him in the side, but you could only keep your smile at bay for a few seconds before it snuck its way through. He might have driven you crazy at times, but he always knew the right thing to do or say when you started slipping back into one of your darker, reclusive moods. No matter how alone you felt at times, Poe was always there to remind you he was there for you.

“Is there a reason you're here, or did you just feel like pestering me again?” You then asked after kicking him once more for the snide comment he muttered about your smile. “Unlike you apparently, I have work to get done, you know?”

“Your ‘work’ will have to wait,” Poe answered. “General Organa’s assigned us another mission and while she wished it could have waited until after your birthday - which reminds me that she says happy birthday, by the way - we can’t afford to push it back. We need to leave as soon as you’re ready to.”

“What’s the job?” You ask, your curiosity piqued at the way Poe seemed to straighten back up as he remembered why he came to find you in the first place. It had been a few weeks since you had last been able to leave the Resistance base and you were just itching to get away. It would also serve as a very welcomed distraction.

“A piece of the map’s been located.”

“Are you serious?” Your whole body froze and your earlier excitement suddenly faltered at his words. So much for that distraction. “This isn’t a joke, right? Because if it is, I swear Poe-”

Poe shook his head interrupting you before you got yourself too worked up. “The General received a message from an old acquaintance on Jakku. We’ve got to go pick it up before the First Order also catches wind of its location and beats us to it.”

“So, it’s finally happening.” You muttered softly more to yourself than in response to Poe as the weight of what this mission meant began to sink in. “I mean, I always thought we’d be able to, but still...” You shook your head in disbelief. “To think that we might be able to find him after everything that happened.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Poe asked when your words trailed off and laid a hand tentatively on your shoulder. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The general would understand, especially with your history...”

“No, no, I’m good,” you replied as you jumped down from the table, suddenly restless and eager to move as a million thoughts started flowing through your brain. “Can’t have you going off on your own, anyways. God knows how much trouble you’d get in without me.” You attempted to throw Poe a smile but the way his brows softened made you realize that he could see right through it. “Trust me, Poe, I’ll be fine.” You cupped one of Poe’s cheeks briefly with your hand as you spoke, in an attempt to reassure him as much as yourself.

You gave him another smile, this one just a bit less pitiful than the first one, before patting his cheek gently and running off to your room to get dressed and ready for the mission before he could argue any further on the matter and before you could talk yourself out of it.

~~~

The surface of Jakku was quiet as you and Poe quietly made your way to your destination. The only sounds to be heard were the distant rumblings of the village’s animals and a stray windchime tinkling in the wind.

Despite the peaceful setting, you couldn’t help but feel on edge as you strayed close behind Poe, your hand hovering over the blaster attached to your belt as your eyes scanned the scene around you. It couldn’t be this easy. After years of searching for Skywalker and the map to lead you to him, it couldn’t be as simple as flying into the village and walking out with the map as this.

But there wasn’t another ship in the night sky and all was at peace on the surface below. You couldn’t make out another soul outside beside you and Poe and even the animals were calm in the pens.

Upon finding the house of the man you were here to meet, Poe knocked quietly, his dark eyes studying the desert around you as you waited. A few seconds later, a hand pushed aside the curtain and motioned you in. You followed the commands quickly, eager to get out of plain sight and slipped inside the lighted hut while BB-8, Poe’s loyal droid, stayed outside to keep watch.

“Lor San Tekka?” Poe asked as the braided curtains came to a close behind you and the two of you got your first good look at him.

While he was along in age, his face was also wizened in a way which showed he had seen and been through much in his long lifetime. His hair, a bright white, was a stark contrast to his tanned skin, but it was his eyes which caught your attention the most. You could see a sadness in them, a deep mourning for some loss and a startling reflection of your own.

San Tekka nodded his head, moving to sit in one of the empty chairs while motioning for you and Poe to do the same. Once you were all seated, he reached inside his robe and brought out a small, leather sack.

“This will begin to make things right,” He spoke softly, placing the sack in Poe’s hand and closing it. “I’ve traveled too far, and seen too much, to ignore the despair in the galaxy. Without the Jedi, there can be no balance in the Force.”

His eyes turned to you as he spoke about the lost order, somber eyes staring deep into your own with an understanding that startled you.

He knew.

Somehow he knew, but you didn’t understand how.

“I can’t.” You shook your head furiously, panic rising in your voice as your hands clenched and unclenched in your lap. “I’m sorry, I just can’t, not after what happened.”

A sad smile filled his features as he reached to take your hands in his and calm their restless movements.

“Try as you might, young Rhodair, you cannot forgo your destiny. The Force will always be a part of who you are and who you will become.”

You opened your mouth to argue his statement. The Force may always be a part of you, but you would be damned if you ever continued your Jedi training. The order may have been good, but it had only brought you trouble and grief. You would never be a Jedi now, not after everything that had happened.

But before you could explain any of this, BB-8 interrupted, frantically beeping about an unknown fleet of ships entering the atmosphere as he rolled into the hut.

“We’ve got company.”

You exchanged a nervous look with Poe, your old thoughts fading away as the growing predicament took priority. Although none of you dared to speak, you all knew whose ships were on their way. It was only a matter of time before the First Order had caught wind of the same tip you had and made their way here. You were just lucky you had managed to be a few minutes earlier.

Your hands slip out of San Tekka’s grip as you swiftly follow Poe out of the hut, a new fear rising up deep within you. You were no stranger to fights with the First Order, but you had never experienced one when you were so disadvantaged. It didn’t matter that you had the best pilot in the Resistance fleet with you, the two of you could never stand alone against an entire fleet of First Order soldiers.

Several of the other villagers were beginning to become aware of the coming ships when you made your way back into the open air. Growing shouts of surprise and warning were heard throughout the village around you. The previously quiet animals grew restless and filled the air with anxious squawking and braying.

Poe took out his quadnoculars and began scanning the horizon to your east, his dark brows furrowing at what he saw. You couldn’t see what was coming in the dim light, but knew it couldn’t have been good based on his reaction.

“You have to hide.” Poe turned to San Tekka, his face twisted in concern as he handed the quadnoculars to you.

You felt your heart speed up as you saw the number of ships coming your way. There were at least a dozen that you could see at the moment and you didn’t doubt each ship itself held a dozen or two of stormtroopers with them. There would be at least a hundred stormtroopers in the village in a matter of seconds and all you had were yourself, Poe, BB-8, and a few scraggly villages. It was going to be a massacre unless you could think of something fast.

“And you have to go!” San Tekka responded leaving your stomach twisting as you spun around to face him startled at his words. You couldn’t leave them at a time like this. It would be impossible for this small village to be able to hold its own against the trained soldiers of the First Order and would no doubt be slaughtered when they found what they were searching for was no longer here. “Go! You must return the balance!” San Tekka added, pushing you and Poe in the direction of your ships when neither of you made a move to do what he had said. “I’ve done all that I can do. Our hope rests in you now!”

You didn’t want to leave the man but saw little choice. While the thought tore you up inside, you couldn’t sacrifice your help for the map. If you stayed and the First Order got their hands on it, then what hope was left for the Resistance and those who still believed in it? As awful as the thought settled in your stomach, the village had to be sacrificed for the good of the universe.

Exchanging a knowing look with Poe, the two of you took off in the direction of your ships.

The quiet village quickly erupted into the chaos of a battlefield around you as the stormtrooper transports landed. Sounds of blasters filled the air as the little village tried their best to fend off the elite soldiers of the First Order, but dying screams were quick to follow as the shots hit their mark.

You did your best to ignore them as you tore after Poe towards your fighters. In the back of your mind, you knew the First Order would be here even if you weren’t but you couldn’t help but feel guilty about their presence nonetheless. This village was innocent, it’s only crime housing a piece of Luke Skywalker’s map and they were paying with their lives.

Shaking your thoughts away, you scrambled inside your fighter. You needed to stay focused on the mission, on the importance of the map Poe had in his jacket. That was all that mattered at this moment. It held the only hope the universe had at this point.

Your fingers flitted over the buttons and screens in front of you, hurridly trying to bring the ship around you to life. But just as you felt the familiar rumble of the engines starting beneath you, you were jarred forward as it was hit. Glancing behind you, you found a few wandering stormtroopers.

“Shit!” You mumbled as your fighter was hit once more causing the engines to sputter a few more times before coming to a stop.

Casting another glance at the approaching enemy, you saw them fall when Poe quickly took care of them, but his own fighter was starting to catch fire. You grumbled a few more curses as you clambered back out of your ship to assess the state of your X-Wings. You had just fixed his ship and now it was probably going to be scrapped or lost completely.

Your cursing only grew as you took in the state of your own. It would take hours for you to at least be able to get it back in working order, precious time you didn’t have at the moment. As your frustration grew, you gave your shot X-Wing a swift kick. You didn’t think this day could get any worse.

“You take this. It’s safer with you than it is with me.” You spun around thinking Poe was talking to you, but his attention was towards BB-8 as he offered the small robot the map. “It’s safer with you than it is with either of us.”

BB-8 was quick to disagree but upon Poe’s determination it still begrudgingly took the map and locked it away.

“Go on, BB-8, we’ll be fine.” You encouraged the bot when it looked to you despite Poe’s urges for it to leave.

You didn’t like the idea of parting ways with BB-8, or the map for that matter, but knew it was your best bet at this point. With both of your ships completely shot at the moment, you would have to stay hidden to not only stay alive but escape capture as well. But upon glancing back at the battlefield, you felt your luck already beginning to run out. Your ships weren’t hidden and it wouldn’t be hard for the First Order to realize Resistance members were still on Jakku with the map. With that knowledge, you knew they would sweep the planet and kill anyone in their way until they found you. What BB-8 now held was that important to them and to you. Just as the villagers’ sacrifice was important, so would be your own.

“Don’t worry buddy, we’ll find you when this blows over.” You gave the small robot a reassuring pat on the head, hoping it was unable to see the worried state you were in. Glancing between the two of you once more, BB-8 let out a series of nervous beeps before taking off into the desert.

With the fighting starting to quiet down, you swiftly made your way to a nearby patch of grass to hide and watch the scene unfolding before you. The remaining villagers had started to surrender upon realizing their ultimate defeat and were being rounded up by gunpoint towards the center of the village. You found San Tekka among the survivors and shuddered at the slaughter that would undoubtedly take place among the First Order realizing they were moments too late.

The stormtroopers seemed to be waiting for something as they finished up rounding the villagers, though you were unsure as to what it might have been. It didn’t take long for your curiosity to be sated when another ship landed amongst the others, but you shuddered upon looking at it. This one was different. With the imposing vertical wingspan, you knew it belonged to someone of importance.

Deep down you knew who was aboard that ship before you saw them walk out, knew that it was only a matter of time before you were forced to face him again, but the reaction upon seeing his dark figure striding out was still inevitable.

Your entire body froze, a soft gasp escaping your throat as your eyes locked onto him. Visions of that night flashed before you once more, aided by the heavy smell of smoke and fire around you.

Everything you had tried so hard to bury away came rushing back with a sudden ferocity you nearly cried out, only barely able to stop yourself with a quick hand to your mouth. You could hear his voice as he had begged you to join him, feel his hands as they had caressed your face, and then see his face through your tears as you had broken both of your hearts with just a few words.

“Sol?” You could barely hear Poe’s soft cry over the roaring in your head. “Sol? What’s wrong?”

Poe’s gentle hand against your cheek startled you causing you to nearly cry out again, but caught yourself just in time as you recognized the man beside you as only your partner.

“...I’m fine,” you managed to mumble out, breath heavy as you struggled to relax. “Just give me a minute.”

“You’re crying.”

It was a simple statement and you saw his face soften dramatically despite the situation around you. You reached up, shocked to see Poe was right as you felt the wetness on your cheeks. You had been crying.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled out again, desperately wiping at the tears and hating the weakened state it put you in.

It didn’t matter that he was here, that you had to face him again after so many years. All that mattered was BB-8 getting the map to safety and you not getting caught. You couldn’t freak out now, couldn’t lose control of your emotions now when yours and Poe’s lives depended on it. You needed to straighten yourself up, but one quick glance in his direction and you were back in the past again.

Poe opened his mouth to debate the matter. He may have not known what was going through your head and upsetting you so much, but he did know it must have been significant because you always had such a tight lock on your emotions.

He never got to voice his concern. Upon seeing your startled reaction to the scene unfolding before you, he quickly pushed aside his concern and turned just in time to see the dark figure from before cut down Lor San Tekka. And before he or yourself could stop him, his hand was at his blaster as he tried to kill the dark figure who had just slaughtered San Tekka.

A hand immediately stifled your mouth as you watched Poe’s idiotic move in horror, able to do nothing about it without exposing yourself and making the situation worse. Poe’s blaster shot only made it halfway to its target before it and Poe were frozen.

Poe struggled against the invisible bonds of the force, clearly shocked at the display of power. You tried not to be too angry at him, he was ignorant to the power of the force, but you still couldn’t believe he thought he could take down the dark figure with a surprise shot.

Your thoughts began to scramble at Poe’s capture, the only coherent thought was about how much of an idiot he was. You knew you needed to do something, anything to start formulating a plan on rescuing Poe without your capture as well, but your eyes kept falling onto the dark figure before you and all ability to focus and think fell apart. You were completely helpless.

It wasn’t until you saw them dragging Poe away that the weight of the situation began to kick your brain into overdrive. If you didn’t do something now, you would lose Poe. But what? What could you manage to do against a troop of First Order soldiers and the man from your past?

But before you could worry too much, you noticed the stormtrooper approaching him from the side and then the sharp point in the direction of where your ships were at. Someone else had found them and now they knew Poe wasn’t the only Resistance fighter on the planet.

You slinked further into the shadows when both men suddenly turned in your direction. And then Poe, noticing this exchange and the men heading in your direction, started struggling against his captors causing you to curse the man once again.

The troops picked up their pace when your location was verified by Poe’s actions and you swiftly took your blaster in your hands. You weren’t going down without a fight, you weren’t going to be forced to face him again without a fight.

But despite your determination, you only got off a few rounds before the blaster was knocked from your hands and you were forced to your knees. You struggled against your captors, cursing and kicking as you were dragged out of your hiding spot and into his view.

You told yourself not to look, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing your face, of knowing it was you, but you couldn’t do it. You could feel his eyes on you, almost hear the soft intake of his breath at the shock of your presence after all these years.

You looked up at him from the distance and felt the sharp tug at your chest from the mark which laid there. His eyes caught yours quickly and despite the mask which kept his face from you, you could still see and feel the reaction your sudden presence pulled.

Once again, you felt the sharp tug at your chest, a cruel reminder of just who this man before you was before you felt the biting sting of the butt of a gun against the back of your head and everything went black.

~~~

part two | part three

#star wars #kylo ren #ben solo #armitage hux #kylo ren x reader #armitage hux x reader #soulmate #au #reader #the force awakens #romance

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cuthian · 4 years

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Starting Over Chapter Eight

Alright, this is it!

The next one... the next one is the one everyone's been waiting for, babies. Working on that now, and hopefully will have that done ASAP.

Thanks for sticking with me, lovelies.

Love, Annaelle (& Juulna, who is indispensable and without whom I could never do this).

Chapter Eight

AMERICAN SUPPORT FOR GAY RIGHTS MAY LEAVE AFRICANS VULNERABLE!

By Norimitsu Onishi

LAGOS, Nigeria — Suspicious neighbors and landlords pry into their private lives. Blackmailers hunt for victims on the social media sites they use to meet others of the same sex. Police officers routinely stop them to search for incriminating images and chats on their cellphones.

Since an anti-gay law went into effect last year, many gay Nigerians say they have been subjected to new levels of harassment, even violence. They blame the law, the authorities, and broad social intolerance for their troubles. But they also blame an unwavering supporter whose commitment to their cause has been unquestioned and conspicuous across Africa: the United States government.

“The U.S. support is making matters worse,” said Mike, 24, a university student studying biology in Minna, a town in central Nigeria, who asked that his full name not be used for his safety. “There’s more resistance now. It’s triggered people’s defense mechanisms.”

[…]Four years ago, the American government embarked on an ambitious campaign to expand civil rights for gay people overseas by marshalling its diplomats, directing its foreign aid, and deploying President Obama to speak before hostile audiences[...]Since 2012, the American government has put more than 700 million dollars into supporting gay rights groups and causes globally. More than half of that money has focused on sub-Saharan Africa — just one indication of this continent’s importance to the new policy.

America’s money and public diplomacy have opened conversations and opportunities in societies where the subject was taboo just a few years ago. But they have also made gay men and lesbians more visible — and more vulnerable.[…]other African nations weighing in on the situation for LGBT+ communities in Nigeria. King T’Chaka of Wakanda, a traditionally more reclusive nation, has expressed his intention to set up an outreach center for the at-risk population of Nigeria.

“Love has been considered simply love for centuries in Wakanda,” King T’Chaka said in a press conference, where he announced that his son, Prince T’Challa, would oversee the initial preparations for the center. “If we can help others achieve such calm and such peace in their lives, it is our duty to ensure it will be so. While we appreciate the support of the American government, the time has come for African nations to support each other”—Continued on Page 49

—Norimitsu Onishi, ‘American support for gay rights may leave Africans vulnerable’, The New York Times, 2 December 2015

——————————

Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A.

December 3rd, 2015 – 8:04 AM

Pepper

Pepper barely blinked when Steve opened the door with his hair askew, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt that had clearly seen better days, with thick bags under his eyes.

“You look like shit,” she told him bluntly, because while she liked him well enough, she was a little grumpy about the fact he’d insisted she come down to his floor so early in the morning. She’d spent far too long throwing up this morning to pretend to be civil, and she was certain Steve would understand.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, opening the door wide so she could come in. “I know.”

She pushed past him and walked into the apartment, stopping only for a moment to raise an eyebrow at the state of it. She’d never known Steve to be exceptionally tidy, but he was certainly not a messy person either—it was, therefore, a big surprise to see the otherwise neat room looking quite chaotic.

There were pillows and blankets strewn across the couches and floor, along with what looked like enough empty snack wrappers to feed a small army—or one supersoldier, she supposed.

“Had some fun?” she asked bemusedly, turning to look at said supersoldier with a raised eyebrow.

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Becca came home last night,” he began, pushing past Pepper to pick up some of the blankets. “She was… well, upset, to say the least.”

Pepper frowned and turned towards the bedrooms, where she assumed Becca was. “What happened?” she demanded, glancing towards Steve concernedly. “Is Thor with her?” Thor and Becca weren’t meant to return to Earth for a few weeks yet, and to hear that Becca had returned, apparently horribly upset, was more than just a little concerning.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I mean, I think he came with her to bring her back and to make sure she was alright, but she told me she didn’t want him to stay, so he left.”

Pepper spun around. “Why would she—”

Steve raised a hand and shook his head before she could complete the question. “Look, I’ve already told you more than I intended to. Becca—Becca should tell you the rest herself. I—” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m qualified to help her in this.”

Pepper pouted, but conceded the point. If it was indeed something personal, then Becca did deserve the chance to tell her herself.

“Is she in her room?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Steve nodded wordlessly, and Pepper sighed before moving towards the bedrooms. Becca’s room was shrouded in darkness still, but she could make out Becca’s still form on the bed, hardly more than a lump of blankets.

“Is she asleep?” she whispered to Steve, who had followed her into the hallway and was leaning back against the wall behind her, looking for all the world like he was about to fall asleep where he stood.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe? She was earlier, but she basically cried herself to sleep, so I don’t—I don’t know if she’s still asleep.”

He rubbed a hand through his hair, and Pepper was abruptly struck by how extremely tired he looked.

“Go to bed, Steve,” she told him sternly. “I’ll talk to her. We’ll be fine.”

The fact that he didn’t argue with her, only nodded tiredly before sulking off down the hallway to his own room, only reassured her that he was actually exhausted. She turned towards Becca’s room again, biting her lower lip as she tried to figure out what would’ve had the other woman so upset she’d spent the entire night crying in Steve’s arms rather than her boyfriend’s.

She would’ve assumed it a break-up, if not for the fact that she knew Becca and Thor’s relationship was about as rock solid as any relationship could be. Not only that, but if their relationship had been rockier than they’d shared with anyone else, Pepper was reasonably sure Thor would never have put so much effort into organizing the trip to Asgard.

No, the problem likely lay solely at Thor’s father’s feet.

From what she’d heard, the man had opposed the relationship for almost as long as Becca and Thor had been together, and he didn’t shy away from playing dirty to get what he wanted. She just… she couldn’t imagine what Odin could’ve said or done to make Becca decide to come home rather than stay with Thor—what he could’ve said or done to make Becca insist that Thor leave her alone.

She uncrossed her arms from over her chest and walked into Becca’s room, crawling onto the large bed with the younger woman and wriggling lightly until her head rested on the pillow next to Becca’s.

She remained quiet for a bit longer, listening to Becca’s breathing for a few minutes before she said, “I know you’re awake, Gummy Bear,” she said quietly, smiling a little when Becca huffed in annoyance before she rolled over to face Pepper.

“Hi,” Becca croaked. “Steve call you?”

Pepper nodded. “He’s worried. What’s going on, sweetheart?” She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Becca’s ear, fingers lingering on the younger woman’s cheek before she dropped her hand to the bed. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Becca’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, and her lower lip trembled. “I don’t—I don’t know how to say it.”

“Are you and Thor—” Pepper suggested carefully, but Becca interrupted her before she even finished speaking.

“No!”

Becca blinked, and Pepper thought they were both a little startled by the harsh denial.

“We’re fine,” she continued shakily. “It’s just…” She shook her head again and rolled onto her back, pushing her hand into her messy hair. Pepper kept her eyes on Becca as the other woman tried to collect her thoughts, trying to discern anything that would give her more of a clue as to what could have happened to freak her out this bad.

Becca heaved a sigh and rolled her head to face Pepper again. “I’m pregnant.”

Pepper blinked. “Oh.”

She looked away for a second, abruptly recalling Thor’s casual certainty that the pregnancy he sensed wasn’t Becca’s—clearly, he’d been mistaken there. “How did Thor take it?” she asked carefully, because she wouldn’t ever disrespect Becca by asking if the baby was Thor’s at all.

Becca scoffed quietly. “I think he’s ecstatic. Not that he’s told me that—he’s…” she exhaled roughly, voice thick with tears. “He’s trying so hard not to pressure me, but I—” she broke off and shook her head. “I can’t make this kind of decision on my own.”

She turned towards Pepper again, tears running down her cheeks, and choked, “I don’t want to do this on my own.”

“Oh, Gummy Bear,” Pepper breathed, opening her arms readily to catch Becca when she pitched forward, bursting into tears again. She rubbed her hand across Becca’s back as she sobbed, and immediately understood why Steve had looked so entirely exhausted.

She felt instantly horrible for thinking it, and held Becca a little tighter.

“Maybe you should tell him that,” she suggested softly, running her fingers through Becca’s hair like she’d been doing since Becca was an insecure teenager with a desperate need for a female role model in her life. “He might be a god, but he can’t read your mind, Becs. Maybe he’s scared too.”

“He wants kids,” Becca whispered, not lifting her head from Pepper’s shoulder. “I know he wants them, he’s told me that he does—it just… I didn’t think I… that we would ever…” She sniffed. “After Iraq, I put it out of my mind. No use in wanting what I couldn’t have. And then with Thor, I—it didn’t matter anyway, because we couldn’t. And now I…” she shrugged helplessly. “Now I don’t know what I want.”

Pepper swallowed thickly.

She hadn’t known the full extent of the consequences to Becca’s capture and torture, but she’d known some were long-lasting. She wondered if Tony and Rhodey had known—she supposed Rhodey must’ve known, given he had been with Becca for most of her recovery overseas, and Tony had barely left her side once she’d been returned to the States—and then decided it didn’t matter if they’d known.

All that mattered was that Becca was clearly having trouble processing the pregnancy.

“How about,” Pepper suggested slowly, thoughtfully, “you and I take a few days away. I know this spa that’s perfectly safe for pregnant people—designed for us, really. We can get massages, relax, and you can take the time to think things through, without having the pressure of everyone being there to ask you about it all the time. You can talk to me, or your grandmother, or your therapist, but you don’t have to.”

Becca was quiet for a beat.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “And then I need to talk to Thor. It’s not just my life.”

Pepper sighed. “No, it isn’t.”

“I just,” Becca croaked. “I love him. I don’t want this to break us.”

Pepper tightened her arms around Becca but didn’t say anything. Offering her a meaningless platitude wouldn’t help—she couldn’t promise that this wouldn’t break Becca and Thor. Things like these were deal breakers in relationships for a lot of people, and Pepper couldn’t say if it would be one for Thor and Becca too.

She didn’t think Becca knew if it was one either.

“You’ll figure it out, Gummy Bear,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in this. We got you.”

——————————

BREAKING: “IRON MAN AND CAPTAIN AMERICA ARRESTED BY NYPD OFFICERS FOR DESTRUCTION OF CITY PROPERTY AND RESISTING ARREST.”

4December 2015 — Cities are, of course, as we all know, hard places. Filled with concrete, asphalt, wood and steel surfaces, urban centers manifest their edge physically as well as metaphorically. Much of what makes cities seem unfriendly is not happenstance; they are intentionally engineered to keep us moving. The trick to urban design that creates discomfort, known as “hostile architecture”, is that its tools are hidden in plain sight.

[…]more aggressive forms of such “hostile architecture” have been popping up in recent years, to greater protest of city residents. […]problems with architectures of control is that they don’t discriminate. An uncomfortable bench is as uncomfortable for a homeless person as it is for a tired passerby or for someone looking for a place to read. Moreover […] doesn’t address the underlying problem of homelessness.

They simply shift it from one area to another, or worst still, reduce its visibility.

There have been many widespread campaigns insisting on the removal of such blatant “hostile architecture”, such as spikes and uncomfortable seating areas, if there are any at all. Many celebrities have put their names behind such campaigns, but none have been so blatant about their support as Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, and Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America.

[…]both men were captured on camera as they destroyed several of such spikes and broke off an uncomfortably placed seat divide, constantly insincerely apologizing to the police officers who arrived at the scene shortly after, refusing to move until they had finished thoroughly destroying every spike and every trace of such “hostile architecture”.

[…]NYPD put out a statement saying that they indeed arrested two men in relation to the incident and charged them with property damage, but would release no names with the statement.

[…]James Rhodes was seen exiting the 1st Precinct mere hours after the arrest was made, pinching the bridge of his nose, while Rogers and Stark high-fived behind him. There has been no official commentary from the Avengers Press Team, nor Stark Industries representatives.

—John Michael Kilbane, ‘Iron Man and Captain America Arrested for Destruction of Public Property’, Topic Online Magazine, 4 December 2015

——————————

Tony Stark’s lab, Stark Industries R&D Floor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A.

December 4th, 2015 – 7:31 PM

Steve

“Uh,” Steve said, swinging his legs idly as he scrolled on his phone, frowning at the small screen in confusion. “Tony. Why is someone called Farhan Zaidi emailing me about meeting with him and a guy called Andrew Friedman at my earliest convenience?”

He was perched on one of the workbenches in Tony’s lab, where they had wisely retreated before Pepper got her hands on them—she was decidedly unhappy about the PR nightmare they’d created when they’d accidentally broken some exceptionally hostile benches and seating areas—listening to Tony’s chatter about something involving his Harley that he should probably be more concerned about.

Last time he’d given Tony free reign to tinker on his bike, he’d ended up with something that could’ve easily doubled as a rocket.

Tony looked up, hair wild and spiked in several gravity-defying directions, a smear of oil or grease on his cheek and grinned. “Because you’re the new owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers, Rogers. Gotta meet with your general manager and your president of baseball operations to talk shop. Financial projections, your yearly contribution to its funds, stuff like that.”

“What?”

Something a lot like panic burned hot in his chest, and he looked up at Tony abruptly. “Tony,” he choked. “I don’t know anything about running a baseball team! Or financial projections! I didn’t even finish high school, and I was terrible at math. I made Bucky do my homework.”

Tony looked up, likely disturbed by the abject panic in his voice, and his expression immediately softened into something more sympathetic. “Hey,” he said, getting to his feet as he wiped his hands on the nearest rag—which Steve suspected was an old band t-shirt. “Don’t worry about shit like that; I was kidding. We got other people to do that kind of stuff, alright? They probably want to meet their new celebrity owner, that’s all.”

Steve swallowed thickly and nodded shakily.

“Think of the children, Steven,” Tony said seriously, although he was barely hiding his smirk, and Steve snorted a laugh despite himself.

There weren’t a lot of things that set him off like this anymore, and most of them were triggers he hadn’t even known he had himself, so he was grateful to all of the other Avengers—and mostly Tony, who had surprised him by patiently showing him coping methods to get through the sudden panic—for not judging him when one came up so suddenly.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “Alright.”

Tony grinned when Steve relaxed, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder with the wrench he was still holding. “Also, I’m totally calling bullshit on you being bad at math—I’ve seen you calculate angles in a split second! You wield that physics defying shield of yours using the power of math, don’t deny it!”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “It’s not math,” he denied. “I mean—I just… I look, and then I know where to throw it and how to hit the wall to make it rebound.”

Tony snorted derisively. “It’s math, Rogers, don’t pretend.”

Steve chuckled and put his phone down, leaning back on his hands. “Sure, Tony.”

Tony just shook his head and retreated to the Harley, and the both of them fell silent for a few minutes before Tony piped up again. “So. You made your boyfriend do your homework. Tell me more, Steven. How did you convince him to do that? Were you able to make a compelling argument?” He waggled his eyebrows and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous expression he made.

“I didn’t have to convince him,” Steve chuckled. “He was a fucking nerd, he loved doing our homework. You realize we’re talking about the same guy that took me on a date to a science fair for fun.” He rolled his eyes at Tony and shook his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Stark.”

“No can do, mon capitaine,” Tony crowed. “It is my favorite summer home.”

“I’ll be sure to inform Pepper of that,” Steve deadpanned, reaching for the sketchbook and charcoal pencils Tony still denied he bought specifically for Steve, settling in to sketch Tony as he bent over Steve’s Harley again, trying to lose himself in the familiar scratch of the pencil on paper, relishing in the way it helped the buzzing in his head quiet down a little.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Tony tinkering and Steve sketching, but when he looked up again, Tony had moved on to digging a screwdriver into one of his Iron Man gauntlets, frowning at the flickering blue light of the repulsor node as though it had personally betrayed him.

He had several completed sketches of Tony in various poses, and his hand stilled when he realized he’d somehow slipped into a sketch of Howard, bent over a workbench that held several rifles with Bucky by his side, an excited grin on his lips. Steve smiled when he recalled that day—he had been tied up in meetings for most of their stay on base, and Bucky had decided to bug Howard about upgrades to his rifle. Steve had found them six hours later, arguing heatedly about the best guns and the necessary upgrades to Bucky’s slightly alarming and continually growing weapons arsenal.

It’d been a good day.

“That my old man?”

Tony’s voice startled Steve from his reverie, and he looked up to find the man standing right in front of him, looking at the sketch with an entirely unreadable expression.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Talking guns with Bucky. Constantly trying to make upgrades.”

Tony snorted humorlessly, tossing the rag he’d been wiping his hands on aside carelessly. “Yeah. Figuring out how to make deadly weapons more efficient. Sounds like him alright.”

Steve winced.

He knew that Tony’s relationship with his father had been strained and that Howard had not been the best of fathers to his genius son, but it was difficult, still, to reconcile the memory of the joyous, enthusiastic man he’d known—annoying and arrogant as he may have been, at times—with the cold and callous father Tony described.

“Sorry,” Tony said gruffly, and Steve looked up, surprised.

Tony rolled his eyes at him and sighed. “I’m not entirely without self-awareness, Cap. The man I knew and the man you knew were clearly different people. The war… I think the war must’ve broken him. Must’ve hardened something in him—made him obsessive, angry…” Tony shrugged helplessly. “And he hated me because I wasn’t you.”

Steve looked away and shifted uncomfortably. He’d known that Howard was fond of him and Bucky, had liked hanging around with them, talking like he was part of the Howlies, like he was one of them, even though he was never a part of the fighting, even though he only supplied the weapons and stayed far from the blood-soaked, grueling reality of war.

“I don’t think he really knew me,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t think he saw me, really.”

Tony sighed. “That makes two of us.”

They were both silent for a moment before Tony heaved another, heavier, sigh and plopped down on one of his favored wheelie chairs, rubbing his hands through his hair, making it stick up even worse than it had been already. “Was he gay?” Tony blurted abruptly, and he looked about as surprised by his own question as Steve was.

Nonetheless, once it was out there, Tony seemed determined to continue.

“Do you think?” he added, shifting restlessly on his rolling chair. “I mean, I’m sure you might not know at all, but do you think he might’ve been—do you think that’s why he was so… so obsessed with you?”

Steve blinked, entirely caught off guard by the questions—by the implication—and shook his head.

“I thought,” he hesitated, “I thought he was in love with Peggy. I was surprised to hear he married someone else, when I woke up. That he had loved someone else enough to marry her.” Steve shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know, Tony. I don’t think he was gay, though.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know if there was a lot of love between my parents. To be honest, I always kind of figured they got married because she was pregnant with me.”

Steve bit his lip. “I’m sorry that he turned out the way he did,” he offered.

Tony shrugged. “I’m glad you weren’t like he described you,” he finally said, refusing to meet Steve’s eye. “I kind of don’t hate your ass, Rogers.”

“Awe,” Steve crooned at Tony, because he could tell Tony was uncomfortable talking about this, and Steve was nothing if not a bit of an asshole. “I love your ass too, Tony.” He tossed the sketchbook aside and leapt off the table, reaching out towards Tony as if to hug him, relishing in the way Tony shrieked when he realized what Steve was doing, slapping at his hands ineffectively.

“No!” Tony shouted, stumbling off his chair as if it was on fire, skidding around a table to get away from Steve. “Stay there, Rogers! You’ve not unlocked this level of friendship yet.”

Steve smirked before he pouted at Tony playfully. “Awe, Tony. Lemme love on ya a bit, yeah?”

“Nope,” Tony yelled as he fled the lab with Steve on his heels, making obnoxious kissing noises.

——————————

Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A.

December 9th, 2015 – 3:01 PM

Becca

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she exhaled, resting her back against its flat surface for a moment to gather her bearings. The spa Pepper had taken her to for the week had, despite her own expectations, helped to settle her increasingly frantic thoughts, and having Pepper to talk to had helped her sort through her thoughts and feelings about the… about the baby and what it meant for her future—with or without Thor.

She’d even talked it through with Steve a little.

She exhaled shakily and dropped her bag to the floor before crossing the room to collapse on her bed.

“Hey, Heimdall,” she said slowly, feeling a little stupid for essentially talking to thin air, but she figured it was the most surefire way to make sure Thor would get the message. He’d told her, once, that if she needed him when he was on Asgard, she just had to call for Heimdall and he would send for him.

She hoped that was still true.

“Could you—could you tell Thor I want to see him? Please?”

Predictably, there was no answer.

Becca heaved another sigh and kicked off her sneakers before wiggling up the bed until her head was comfortably situated on a pillow. She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, hands folded together on her stomach, trying to prepare for what she needed to say to Thor when he got there.

She’d… not practiced, per se, more like... gone over what she needed to say with Pepper and Steve, but the prospect of actually having to have a serious discussion with Thor about their future for the first time in their entire relationship was scary. It wasn’t that they’d never had serious discussions, or that they avoided talking about the future entirely, just that…

Just that it was complicated.

It wasn’t just about what they wanted—their relationship had bigger ramifications than just for them. Thor was the crown prince of Asgard, and while Asgard wasn’t a human nation, she imagined their ideas about succession and heirs worked just about the same as they did on Earth.

If they kept the baby… They’d have to find out what that would mean for Asgard, for Thor, for the line of succession, and they’d have to find out how they wanted their relationship to progress from this point forward. She would have to decide if she could live with… with knowing that if she stayed with Thor, she’d be giving him a commitment for the rest of her life, knowing he couldn’t promise her the same kind of commitment.

She hadn’t… she hadn’t really let herself think about it.

She wanted Thor to be happy, of course, and if they did stay together, if Thor outlived her… she wouldn’t want him to have to mourn her forever, but…

It just felt unequal.

It felt unfair to both of them that, even if he’d want to, Thor wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of his life with her. She didn’t want it to feel like as much of a big deal as it did, because it wasn’t like this was new, or that she hadn’t known about this from the start, but here she was.

Her hand drifted down without any conscious thought, and she swallowed thickly when her fingers pressed against the slightly more sensitive skin on her lower belly. “I hope you know,” she said aloud, although she felt a little silly for talking to what was essentially a clump of cells at this point, “that whatever happens, your dad is going to adore you. And I… I will too, I think, for as long as I’m here. I just hope you won’t think too badly of me when I mess up.”

“I imagine if our child is anything like you, it could never think poorly of you, Krúttið mitt.”

She sat up abruptly and stared at Thor, who stood in the doorway, hair windblown and messy, dressed in the loose black trousers that he wore to sleep, and a long, red overcoat. He offered her a small, uncertain smile, but made no move to come closer without her say-so.

She swallowed thickly. “Hi,” she offered lamely.

Thor smiled indulgently—though nervously—and replied, “Hi, Becca.”

“I missed you,” Becca blurted, cheeks heating a little as the words fell from her lips—that was not what she’d been meaning to say. She wasn’t sure what she had been trying to say, but it wasn’t that.

True as it might be.

Thor, however, took it in stride and moved into the room, closing the door behind him.

He didn’t move to sit on the bed—their bed—and made to sit in the armchair instead, but Becca suddenly couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore. “No,” she told him abruptly. “No, please, if… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—can you please sit with me?”

Thor remained still for a moment, halfway between the bed and the armchair, eyes searching hers for… something, before he nodded. “Of course, Krúttið mitt.”

Becca watched, feeling far more nervous about being so close to Thor than she ever had before, as he approached the bed and crawled over to sit beside her. She exhaled shakily and leaned in, pressing their shoulders together—a simple touch that dispelled more of the tension between them than she’d expected it would.

“Have you—” Thor began carefully, “—have you been able to give our… our child some thought?”

She caught the way his hand twitched, and the way his eyes strayed towards her still-flat belly, and swallowed thickly. It took her a moment to decide to move, to decide that she needed to be able to look him straight in the eye while she said what she needed to say—

She sat up again and turned towards Thor, crossing her legs beneath her.

Thor mirrored her position without complaint and reached out to take her hands in his.

Becca swallowed and looked down at their hands for a moment before she said, “I need you to tell me what you want. I know you’ve been keeping your thoughts on… on us, on the baby, on what you really want to yourself because you didn’t want to pressure me with it, and I really appreciate that, but I need to know what you want now.” She swallowed against the tears that burned in her eyes and squeezed Thor’s fingers before she continued, “I can’t make this decision on my own, and I don’t want to either. Whatever we decide to do will have consequences for more than just us, and I think… I think we need to discuss them, at least.”

Thor nodded seriously. “I’ve not said anything to… to avoid putting more pressure on you.”

Becca smiled tightly and squeezed his hands again. “And I appreciate that. I needed the time to process this, and I have, but… I don’t think we can make a decision about this, about the future without talking about the consequences.”

“That is fair,” Thor nodded. “And I… I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t properly considered the consequences yet, but you are right in saying that we should.” He smiled at her and added, “I sense that you have questions—that there are things you need to know.” He squeezed his fingers around hers and swept his thumb across her knuckles. “Ask me what you want to know, elskan min.”

Becca nodded and looked down, thinking. “Would you name our baby your heir? Could you even do that if we’re not married? Do we need to get married—do you even want that? Was that what that dance meant, at the feast? And I mean… How would that even work, with our lifespans? And for that matter…Will the baby have your lifespan or mine?”

Thor blinked, and Becca felt momentarily bad for the barrage of questions she’d unleashed on him, before he chuckled and shook his head. “Never one to do things by halves, are you, Krúttið mitt?”

She smiled sheepishly, and Thor chuckled again before his forehead creased into a frown. “I would name our child my heir,” he said decisively. “There are no definitive laws that state that I cannot, or that I must be married to the mother of said child, although…” He hesitated and looked up at her, “I would not be opposed. I did not think I would ever consider marriage after Loki, but… The intention was what I signified to the people when I danced inn matki munr with you, and I would greatly enjoy making the suggestion a reality—ifyou wanted that too.”

Becca stared at him.

“Oh,” she choked.

She… she wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. She’d been very careful not to think of their relationship as anything more than temporary because she knew how he felt about marriage after losing Loki, and because it seemed like such an impossibility for an Aesir god to want to marry a simple human.

She huffed.

This was like finding out about the baby all over again.

Maybe she should revisit her coping mechanism of not thinking about things she couldn’t have anyway—it’d blown up in her face twice now.

“Are you sure? she asked quietly. “You could marry an Aesir—someone like Sif. She’s beautiful, and I’m sure she loves you, even if you don’t think so. And I don’t think your father would try so hard to separate you as he does with us. He probably wouldn’t have you sleep in different wings of the palace, and he’d definitely acknowledge her as more than your ‘guest’.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“He’d probably rejoice. He was going to betroth you to her before Loki came along. It’d be so much easier...” she trailed off and looked away from him, her stomach tying itself in uncomfortable knots at the thought of Thor being with Sif instead.

She nearly jumped when Thor’s fingers suddenly touched her cheek lightly, tilting her chin up so she’d look at him. “Perhaps it would be easier,” Thor said frankly, softly. “But it would not be real, Rebecca. Not real like what you and I have managed to build together. I’ve told you before, Krúttið mitt, and I’ll say it again as often as you like: I’m yours. However long you want me for, I’m yours.”

She swallowed thickly, blinking back tears as she looked at him. “What if that’s for the rest of my life?” she whispered, pulling his hand—the hand that was still curled around hers—to her belly, resting it just above where their baby was growing.

Thor rubbed his thumb over her cheek tenderly and smiled. “Then we will work hard to ensure we have the happiest life imaginable. Together.”

A tear ran down her cheek, and she smiled weakly. “…and if I want you for the rest of your life?”

Thor’s smile never wavered, even as he leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to her lips. “Then I will find a way to give you that,” he whispered against her lips, resting their foreheads together.

Becca sobbed again, dryly and tiredly, and slung her arms around Thor, hugging him close and allowing him to manhandle her until they were stretched out on the bed together, pressed together from head to toe.

“Thor?” she said quietly, leaning back a little so she could look at him without going cross-eyed. Thor moved back a little too, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Becca loved him. “I think I want to keep the baby,” she told him quietly.

Thor smiled, leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Me too,” he said when he leaned back. “Me too.”

——————————

Residence of Samuel Wilson, Washington D.C., U.S.A.

December 12th, 2015 – 9:34 AM

Steve

“So are we ever going to talk about it?”

Steve looked up from where he was drowning his pancakes in syrup and blinked at Sam, who was seated across from him at the kitchen island, both of them still dressed in their running gear. They’d gone running early that morning, despite Steve’s late arrival back in D.C. for the weekend the previous night, and Steve had thoroughly enjoyed running literal laps around Sam to annoy the other man.

He’d missed their easy comradery and Sam’s good-natured teasing, and it felt good to be away from New York for a bit. He loved it still—it was his city, after all, the city he’d died to save—and he enjoyed living in the Tower well enough, because he liked being so close to all of the others, but it got suffocating sometimes too.

Sam’s offer for him to stay the weekend had come at the perfect time—now that Becca and Thor had decided on their future, it was like they’d reverted back to the early stages of their relationship, where they were utterly unable to keep their hands off of each other.

Steve was a little tired of walking in on them everywhere.

Things had been a lot less tense at Sam’s place.

Up until now, of course.

“Talk about what?” he asked, innocently blinking at Sam, because he did have some idea of what it was that Sam meant, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to address it already. Their… their thing was mostly unspoken and Steve had let it be that way because he really did like Sam a lot, and he found him very attractive, but… but he still couldn’t really imagine actually actively being with him.

With anyone.

Sam gave him a flat look, and Steve relented, putting down the syrup and leaning his forearms on the kitchen island. “Sam,” he sighed, looking up at the other man from beneath his lashes. “Do we have to do this now?”

“We have to at some point,” Sam said reasonably. “I’d rather not keep avoiding it until we start resenting each other.” He shrugged. “We gotta talk about what we want this,” he gestured between them, “to be.”

Steve sighed. It wasn’t like they were constantly teetering on the edge of being friends and being more, but there had been plenty of moments where they’d passed firmly into the gray area between friendship and… more. Steve knew they needed to acknowledge those moments, that they couldn’t ignore them indefinitely, but… God, it was just easier to let things happen.

It’d worked well enough for Thor and Becca—who said it couldn’t for him and Sam?

He caught Sam’s eye and sighed again.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “yeah, okay. Look, it’s…” He rubbed his hands across his face and groaned. “I’ve spent the last few days watching my best friend agonize about whether her future would include the man she loved, or if they were just doomed for failure, if it’d be easier on them both if they gave up now—and she picked him. They chose each other, and God, I want that.” He looked up at Sam with watery eyes and smiled weakly. “I want that, Sam. I miss that. And I want more than anything to love someone like that again, but I don’t…” he shook his head. “I don’t think I can, and I don’t think I will any time soon either.”

He was a little surprised by his own expressiveness, but he had been thinking about it for a while, despite his reluctance to actually talk about it out loud.

Sam reached out and patted his hand comfortingly. “Look,” he said slowly, “I never expected you to be able to shrug off the loss of a fifteen-year relationship as intense as yours just like that, man.” He shrugged. “Lord knows it took me forever, and Riley and I had only been together a few years. Maybe our timing’s just… off.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Maybe.”

They were both silent for a bit before Steve continued, “So… I know we said just friends before, but… I really can’t handle more than a friend right now, so can we—can we just go to being friends for real this time? Is—is that okay?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Sam smiled, looking a little relieved, and a little sad. “That’s okay.” He grinned cheekily and added, “That does mean you should probably sleep on the couch tonight though.” Steve snorted a laugh and tossed a strawberry at Sam, who just ducked it and threw one of his own back.

They didn’t usually share the bed, but they’d both been exhausted by the time Steve made it to D.C., and Sam hadn’t made up the couch for him yet.

Steve hadn’t minded the intimacy of it.

He’d been sharing beds with people for as long as he could remember; with his ma and Bucky, and later with the Howlies too, on colder nights during the war—it wasn’t something exclusive to his relationship with Bucky, and it didn’t trigger him so much as other things did.

Steve knew that Sam wouldn’t mind sharing the bed even now, whether they were friends or more, but he could see how it would be awkward tonight. As relaxed and easy and uncomplicated as it had been yesterday, he imagined that being semi-rejected by one’s semi-love interest was something Sam probably needed to wrap his head around.

He could probably do with the privacy.

Still.

Steve was a little shit at heart, and so he couldn’t just roll over and take it. “I’ll wrestle ya for the bed,” he told Sam cheekily, dodging another strawberry neatly.

Sam pointed his fork at Steve menacingly. “I will beat your skinny white ass.”

Steve gaped at him. “I’m a supersoldier,” he exclaimed. “I can literally punch through a wall. I punched a tank once.” He winced at the memory—not because he had actually managed to hurt himself, but because Bucky had been furious with him and had spent over an hour yelling at him after shooting every Nazi in his way in the face.

Sam chuckled. “Irrelevant. I know your weak spot.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, because he was fairly certain no one alive knew about the ticklish spot just above the back of his left knee, but it seemed like an awful big risk to take nonetheless.

“You win this round,” he told Sam reluctantly, and pointed his fork at the other man in a way that might’ve been menacing if there hadn’t been a piece of syrup-soaked pancake speared on its tines. “But watch your back, Wilson.”

Sam just chuckled.

—————————

Undisclosed Hydra Base, New York City, New York, United States of America

December 12

, 2015 – 3:32 PM Alexander Pierce

He watched detachedly as the technicians went through the procedure of thawing the Soldier, catching the man as he fell out of the tube and dragging the limp man across the room and securing him into the chair. Thick metal bands were secured around his wrists and ankles, and Pierce raised an eyebrow when the men went a step further and secured a similar kind of metal harness around the Soldier’s torso.

“A necessary precaution,” one of the doctors told him when he saw his expression. “It’s usually disoriented and violent when brought out of cryo—more so, according to records, when it’s due for new calibration.”

“Very well,” Pierce nodded. “How long will it take to get it operational again?”

The doctor shrugged. “Anywhere between ten and fourteen sessions.” He gestured to the notes he held and added, “According to Zola’s notes from the last time the Asset had to be recalibrated entirely, it took them seventeen months to rebreak him and then recondition him.”

Pierce ground his teeth. “Very well,” he hissed. “Get on with it then.” He turned on his heel, stalking out of the room, the door falling shut behind him just as the doctor began, “Желани—"

To Be Continued in “Dancing in the Rain”.

—————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the sequel HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #starting over #Stucky #Stucky fanfiction #Steve rogers #thor #Rebecca barnes #avengers family #my writing #Lisa writes

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eskalations · 4 years

Text

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 2

A/N: I was not going to post this chapter so quickly after the last, but life happened and I needed a distraction. Earlier, my sweet dog of 17 years, passed on and this has been just about the hardest day of my life. His passing was peaceful, but it didn't make things any easier. I was in the middle of writing this chapter when I received the news, so this piece will always have a special place in my heart. I'm still not sure if I'm back in the swing of things with my writing, but I'm planning on going back and editing when I'm feeling more like myself.

So, today we have the meeting of Ray and Raina. While I wanted to do a chapter where there was more interaction between the two, this chapter seemed necessary for backstory purposes. I also realized I never specified the age changes for our lovely characters. Since Roy was born in 1885 and Riza was born in 1889 (canonically), I just decided to swap their ages. That's pretty much the only big change there is.

Please let me know how you enjoyed this chapter! I love getting feedback!

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to Skippy (May 18th 2003 - May 29th 2020)

Augenblick, East Area - Summer of 1903

The town of Augenblick was less spectacular than she could have ever imagined.

'Blink and you'll just about miss it' The man had said as she exited the train earlier that day. He must have seen the look of surprise on her face at such a small station existing in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. There was no town in which the station was on the edge of, no bustling streets with families doing their Sunday shopping, no cars puttering down the road to their destination – all she could see were fields stretching out endlessly in every direction.

The man who had gotten off the train with her was long gone by the time she pulled out the booklet the Madame had given her. Honestly, she should have realized what this small blip of a town was going to look like by the map in front of her – there seemed to be nothing but green bleeding across the wrinkled pages.

At fourteen, she wouldn't call herself incredibly resourceful – but at least she could read directions. The Madame had circled her destination with a fat, red marker – making it stand out amongst all the greenery it was surrounded by.

The girl started walking and hoped that she was traveling in the right direction.

The dusty road crunched beneath her shoes and she had to cringe as small particles of dirt made their way between her toes. Maybe wearing the new shoes she had bought for this occasion hadn't been the best idea...but it was too late to change them now. She had wanted to impress Master Hawkeye by dressing as professionally as a young girl could, but now she was beginning to see why the Madame had kept insisting that she needed to wear something a little more comfortable.

'I want him to see me as a lady,' She had shared with her foster mother while buttoning up her crisp new blazer. All her clothes had been starched earlier that morning before she was set to be at the station and even her usually black unruly mane was combed and slicked to perfection. 'I want him to see me as an apprentice worth taking.'

The Madame had simply smiled at her young charge's determination, smoke pouring from her lips as she spoke.

'My dear – with the amount I'm paying him for your lessons – he would take you on even if you were a newborn baby,' The words did little to abate her nerves.

She didn't want the man to pour his efforts into her because he had to – she wanted him to teach her because he saw potential.

The amount of information she had on Master Hawkeye was scarce. She knew that he was an excellent freelance alchemist, who's early research had been compiled into a single publication that had made waves in the alchemy community.

However, that was it. After his first work was published, he retired to the country and was now known as a bit of a recluse. From the Madame's information, it seemed the military had propositioned him multiple times to become a State Alchemist, but to no avail. Raina found it hard to believe that he wouldn't jump on the opportunity since with that grand title also came grand funds for research.

The only other piece of information she had received from her source was that the man had a son who also lived with him. The age of said son was unknown to her still.

'Now you must be careful, dear,' Her older "sister" Margaret had warned her that morning, patting her head gently in an endearing fashion. 'You will be the only woman in the house – so, you must make sure they are treating you right. If they try anything funny, you have to promise to call us immediately.'

Madame Christmas had scoffed at the idea.

'Once they get her riled up once, they'll know better than to mess with her,' Madame Christmas insisted without worry, taking a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'We've taught her well. She knows how to defend herself.'

Her foster mother wasn't wrong; she could defend herself. However, it had been a long time since she had lived with a male counterpart. She couldn't remember her father (her parents had died when she had been just three years of age) and the Madame rarely housed young men in the bar.

The thought of living alone with two men had caused her quite a bit of anxiety, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. Even as she trudged down the road, sun beating down mercilessly upon the top of her scalp – her gait was confident as she embarked on this new chapter of her life.

She had been walking for about half an hour before she came upon a small town. A groan unknowingly slipped from between her lips at the sight of it.

Augenblick was small – so small you could hardly justify its place on the map. From what she could see, it was comprised of one long row of buildings lining two sides of a dirt road that spanned just about 100 meters. From the looks of the way the lots were set up, it seemed that they were all commercial.

A few people milled about, swinging bags full of produce as they went about their morning routine. There were stands set up in front of the buildings where farmers were selling their goods to residents and chatting merrily with their neighbors. This version of the Sunday Market was very different from the bustling one back in Central that Raina was familiar with.

Gripping her suitcase tightly in her sweaty palm, the girl continued to trudge forward. She had passed a school house and a general store before finally getting stopped by a curious shopper.

"Can I help you, dearie?" An elderly woman asked, taking notice of the map clutched in her hands. After giving the girl a once over, she continued with her line of questioning. "You don't look to be from around here – are you looking for something?"

Raina was caught between wanting to find the Hawkeye residence on her own – to prove her status as an independent young lady – and wanting to get some help since the map's lines were starting to bleed together in the heat of the midday sun.

"Yes," The girl said, accepting that this was a small concession to make in her journey to becoming a worthy young apprentice. She could always be independent tomorrow. "I am looking for the Hawkeye residence."

The woman looked at her strangely for a moment. Raina's confident stance did not waver though – she knew it probably looked strange for a young girl to seek out an older man, but she wasn't here to worry about appearances. After a brief pause, the woman answered her cautiously.

"It's just down main," The elder spoke slowly, still unsure of what the young girl's motive was. "If you keep walking that direction, you will come to a fork in the road. Take a right if you're looking for the Hawkeye residence, take a left if you want to traverse the desert."

Raina laughed nervously at her dark humor. At this point, she wasn't sure which path the woman considered to be more dangerous.

"Thank you!" Before she could take her leave though, the woman's hand reached out to grab her wrist. This stopped the young girl dead in her tracks as she was met with a serious set of dark eyes, concern evident in the way the woman drew her near to speak quietly in her ear.

"What do you want with that old man, child?" Her voice was low, suspicion blending with worry. Raina glanced nervously at the shoppers who passed them, but none even batted an eye at the strange scene in front of them. The woman tightened her grip again, forcing the girl's gaze back to her own. "If you need any help, all you have to do is tell us."

Shaking her wrist from the woman's grasp, Raina brought her hand protectively to her chest – map and all.

"I am an apprentice, ma'am," The girl insisted, tone bordering on rude. These country folks may be fine with lecturing young ladies and manhandling them in the streets, but she certainly was not. "I am here to learn alchemy from Master Hawkeye and that is all."

She could tell the older woman was affronted by such a brash response, not used to a girl speaking to her elders in such a way – however, she recovered quickly. The surprised look on her face morphed into one of sympathy.

"I didn't mean to offend you, child," The lady insisted, picking up the bag of vegetables she had dropped to her side at the beginning of their conversation. "I just know that the elder Hawkeye is not one to be trusted. Ever since the death of his wife, his behavior has been strange. We've rarely seen him for the past few years – the only one that ever comes into town is his son."

The people mulling around the market were now eyeing them – pausing at the stands nearby to watch the encounter while still attempting to appear casual. They would pick up an apple, turn it in their hands to check if it had any soft spots, and then glance quickly over at them. She could tell by her faces that, at the mention of Berthold Hawkeye, she had set the subject for Sunday gossip amongst the small populace.

"Just because someone does not wish to mingle with others does not mean they are any less trustworthy than you or I," Raina insisted, defending her new teacher from the accusations of the lady in front of her. Already this town was a little too judgmental for her taste. "I could care less how social he is as long as he is a dutiful teacher."

"Child," The woman pleaded, a hint of desperation in her tone as Raina made to walk away, suitcase swinging in her hand. Luckily, she did not grab her this time – however the fear that infused her tone, had the young girl turning to regard her once more.

"I know it seems like I am simply an old gossip who has nothing better to do," Raina fought the urge to raise her brows at the expression since that was precisely what she had pegged the woman as. "But you must listen to me – there is something wrong with that man."

The genuine concern in the woman's voice caused a shiver to run up her spine. Raina would have argued it was just a chill – however, in the middle of summer, that was unlikely. Seeing that she now had the young girl's attention, the woman continued.

"His son was so gaunt during the first few years after his mother's death, that it looked like a breeze would knock him over," The woman revealed, her voice so low that even someone walking past them would have to strain to hear her words. "He finished school early and after that – well he just disappeared. We didn't see him for months then suddenly one day he walked up to Mrs. Roth's stand to buy potatoes. By that time, he had filled out a bit – but there was a haunted look in his eyes."

Raina's curiosity was piqued, though she couldn't help but have some doubts in regards to the woman's claims.

"Madame," The young girl began carefully, lowering her tone to match the volume of the elder. The townspeople were still watching them – however, their interest seemed to have lessened once their conversation had become harder to hear. "I don't think it's fair to assume that something bad happened to him during that time. He and his father could have taken a vacation."

"No one left that house." The woman insisted, causing another chill to run through the girl. The older woman spoke with such conviction – like she knew that whatever it was she suspected was true.

"Maybe they were just enjoying some time alone together after the son finished school?" Raina tried to reason with the woman, desperately grasping for straws in an attempt to abate her fears. "Why does his disappearance have to mean something bad happened?"

The serious look in the woman's eyes was one that Raina would remember for a long time after.

"Because he was covered in bruises when he returned."

It was this conversation that had Raina shaking slightly on the doorstep of the Hawkeye residence. After the old woman had finally let her continue on her way, she was left with more fear and anxiety than before. She was more fearful now than she had been when she had originally been told she was being shipped out for alchemy instruction.

The house was nothing spectacular. It looked like it could have been grand once upon a time, but the broken shutters and overgrown garden implied that once hard times had hit, all efforts of upkeep had been abandoned. Even so, the view from the porch was one that's beauty couldn't be denied – the rolling green fields that surrounded the home for miles looked as though they were straight out of a painting.

Raina took a deep breath. She could do this. No amount of town gossip was going to keep her from doing what she had come here to do. She had been waiting her whole life for this and that old biddy was not going to ruin her chances of becoming a great alchemist.

As far back as she could remember, she had been studying alchemy. Madame Christmas liked to joke that the young girl had practically forced her to read alchemical essays to her at bedtime before she was able to read them on her own. One of her favorite alchemical works had always been the book of research Berthold Hawkeye had published a few years before her birth. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined she would have the honor of studying under him.

It was this realization that had her fist raising resolutely to the door. She was not timid. She was not shy. She was not scared. No one could deter her from the goals she had already set out to achieve. She would knock on this door and accept whatever fate lay on the other side.

But before her hand could even come in contact with wood, the door was swinging wide open in front of her.

Raina stood frozen. Well, she certainly hadn't been expecting that. Her fist fell swiftly to her side.

Standing before her was a young man only three or four years her senior. He was tall – certainly taller than she was – with a sturdy build that marked years of hard labor. His skin was golden, much like his hair, and there seemed to be a fine sheen of sweat covering him as if he had just come in from the fields. She watched as a droplet traversed down the weather worn features of his face before dropping off his sharp chin.

She had begun to sweat herself at his sudden appearance. She tried to tell herself that it was from the heat - but later she would question if that had really been it at all.

Despite his humble background, the man's spine straightened automatically at the sight of the young girl on his doorstep. Assuming the role of a gentleman – though looking nothing like one in ripped pants and a sweaty white shirt – he bowed his head in greeting to her.

"I must apologize," His voice was deep, much deeper than the voices of the boys she had gone to school with. "I did not realize you had arrived, Miss Mustang."

Being addressed so formally, she realized what set him apart from the boys at her school. He was not a boy; he was a man. His voice was too deep to be that of a boy's and his features were too hard to still be touched by the innocence of childhood. In the face of his own maturity, she puffed out her chest a bit before primly joining her hands in front of her.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye," She answered, clearing her throat to adopt a much deeper tone that would better match his own. "Please, just call me Raina. Miss Hawkeye sounds much too formal when we are going to be housemates."

The young man appeared unimpressed by her words, causing another bout of sweat to break out beneath her starched white shirt. Any hopes that she had conceived of the two of them being friends, seemed to be thrown farther and farther out the window as their staring contest continued. His amber eyes beat into her own, resembling those of a hawk's.

'Fitting,' she thought wryly to herself, as his gaze dropped to the suitcase she had laid to rest at her feet. Her hand itched to pick it up and turn right back around, leaving this house and his unnerving stare in the dust – but he surprised her.

Picking up her suitcase himself – the young man stood to the side of the doorway and gestured for her to make her way inside. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the grim lines of his face softened as she hesitantly stepped forward into the humid air of the home.

The inside of the house was much like the outside – dark and rundown. She could see a living area with a small stone fireplace off to the side, the furniture worn from many years of use. There was a door at the back of the room that she assumed led to a dining area and kitchen. The stairs were nestled in the corner of the area, leading to where she assumed the bedrooms and bathroom would be.

It was certainly different from what she was used to – but she guessed it could be considered cozy.

Careful to school her features, she turned back towards the younger Hawkeye. She didn't want him to think of her as a spoiled city girl. Despite their rough start, she still held on to the hope that they could be friends. She must not have covered her reaction quickly enough though, because when she met his gaze, there was a knowing look in his eye.

"I know it's not much, Miss Mustang," He emphasized his use of her formal name, pointedly ignoring the fact that she had asked him to call her Raina earlier. His words were polite, but she could hear a harsh undertone in them. "But I assure you that you will find everything you'll need to further pursue your alchemical studies within these walls."

Embarrassed at the censure evident in his tone, the young girl gave a quick nod of understanding.

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied with her quiet response, he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. She grabbed her suitcase in her sweaty palm before following his orders.

"My father is having one of his bad days, so you will have to wait until tomorrow to make his acquaintance," Raina could feel herself deflating in disappointment, her footfalls heavy on the old wooden stairs. She had really hoped she'd be meeting her master upon arrival. "However, I am sure you are tired from your journey and will want this afternoon to rest."

"Oh, I'm not tired," Raina insisted, despite the aching in her feet. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Without batting an eye, the young man turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"I'm going hunting," His words implied that he figured this answer would somehow affect her sensibilities.

Being raised in a bar though, Raina had never been the squeamish type.

"Can I come?" She asked innocently, following behind him as he led her down a hall at the top of the stairs. The strong set of his shoulders stiffened in surprise at her request, stopping him mid-step.

"I don't know," He answered slowly, clearly caught off guard by her words. The surprise on his face was short lived though as his features quickly settled back into the stoic expression he seemed to be so fond of. "Are you going to scare off our dinner?"

"Our dinner?"

The young Hawkeye had to grin as he continued to lead her forward. Like a dutiful guest, she followed closely behind – waiting for an answer.

"Surely you don't think I am going down to the market to get our food for tonight?" He finally asked, his hand turning the knob of a door leading to what she assumed to be her bedroom. A few doors down, she could just make out movement underneath the door that resided at the end of the long stretch of hallway.

"Of course not," She answered evenly as she stepped into the room, setting her suitcase by her feet. There was a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It wasn't much, but it would do. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young man studying her face. If he was looking for a negative reaction this time around, she wasn't going to give it to him.

"So," She started, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to meet his gaze once more. "When do we leave?"

His answering smirk made her heart soar – though she would never admit it.

"Half an hour."

Her heart continued to beat sporadically even after he had closed the door behind him, leaving her to unpack and dress for their outing. However, the heavy beating of her heart wasn't from the small smile he had given her or the moment of softness she glimpsed in his eyes before taking his leave.

No, her heart was beating because she had seen the bruises on the back of his arms through the material of his shirt.

Falling back upon the mattress, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Just what kind of secrets were hiding within these walls and just what did it all mean for her?

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #genderbend au #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #royai fic #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma fic #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #genderbend #my fanfiction

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