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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

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You said in another post you don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis (aka Death Eaters 1.0) were all that plausible. Why is that?

Oof, this is a larger ask than I think you intend that gets into a lot of controversial things. Though, I suppose that’s what this blog has become.

Remember when I just talked about my weird fanfiction? Remember those days? I remember those days.

I guess to start out we need to go at a high level and acknowledge a few things.

For all we know about Tom Riddle’s life we know very little that came from himself. Most of what we know came to us via The Halfblood Prince, in Dumbledore’s lessons to Harry.

Think what you will about Dumbledore, benign or evil, but we can all acknowledge that the man had a clear goal and agenda in Halfblood Prince. Dumbledore was facing his imminent death, suddenly he no longer was looking at years but a few months to accomplish everything he needed to. He knows Harry is a horcrux, knows he himself no longer has time to hunt down Tom’s horcruxes himself, and instead must leave all his work to Severus and, partly, to Harry Potter.

Specifically, he has to groom Harry for suicide.

By the time Severus relays the truth to Harry (never mind that this very nearly didn’t happen in canon and what would Dumbledore do then) Harry must be prepared to sacrifice his own life to stop Voldemort. That, or Severus will have to murder the shit out of him, and that was probably plan B but Dumbledore would prefer it if Harry went along willingly so that the whole thing’s a little less shady. Dumbledore’s not murdering children if the children murder themselves!

This means, in part, convincing Harry that Voldemort is such a monstrous evil that his presence on this earth cannot be tolerated. Voldemort cannot be allowed to survive, even if Harry’s death does not guarantee Voldemort’s destruction, Harry must do it because Voldemort is that bad. There must be no hope, no recourse, and the only action Harry can take is martyrdom.

And so, that is essentially what Dumbledore does.

He gives Harry a series of lessons, hand selecting memories of Tom Riddle’s past (often shockingly innocuous), and then narrates them to tell Harry exactly why Tom Riddle is so evil today. The flimsy excuse of Harry wheedling information out of Slughorn is nice, but not necessary, as Dumbledore has no reason to believe this memory contains information he himself doesn’t already know (indeed, that Tom actually did make six horcruxes as he told Slughorn is a very strange coincidence as we rarely end up doing what we thought or being where we thought we would when we were sixteen).

Per Dumbledore, Tom Riddle was born evil by his very conception, is doomed to be a lowly miserable creature, and that murdering him is effectively putting him out of his misery.

Right, how does this relate to this post?

Well, neverminding what JKR says outside of canon, we learn about the Knights of Walpurgis/Tom’s schoolboy syncophants from Dumbledore. Per Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, while a highly respected and charming student was Evil McEvil who had junior cultists galore. So, you see Harry, the man must die (ergo you must kill yourself).

However, this is frankly ridiculous and not in any way believable.

First, the Hogwarts era when Tom’s in school.

Personally, I believe Tom was regarded 100% as muggleborn. Tom went into Hogwarts with the last name Riddle coming from the muggle world. When he gets sorted into Slytherin he can point to know family members at all (and even if he could would, at best, be considered a low class halfblood). Tom doesn’t know the significance of parseltongue and likely tells no one (I’ll get into this in a few paragraphs). Tom may insist that he could be a halfblood, he knows nothing of his father, but given his origins he himself probably believes he’s muggleborn until he stumbles across the hereditary nature of parseltongue.

Regardless, Tom is impoverished, comes from lower class muggle London, has the last name Riddle, no relatives to vouch for him, and you want me to think that the purebloods sign up to be his cult members?

Even though Tom is terrifyingly talented and brilliant, he will be fighting for respect every inch of the way. At best, I see the Slytherin’s tolerating his presence. Riddle’s tolerable, for a muggleborn, it’s a shame that he has such dirty blood but they’ll admit he’s a talented sort.

However, as soon as he’s out of Hogwarts they’ll drop him like it’s hot.

This is evidenced by a few things. Upon graduation, Tom Riddle struggles to secure employment. He tries for the Defense position but is unvested and a recent graduate, and so is rejected (and when he later tries again Dumbledore laughs in his place and says, “Bitch please, I will never hire you, I just accepted your application so I could spend this interview laughing in your face!”) He does not enter the ministry, which would likely have been far more beneficial to getting him a leg up in society.

No, Tom instead secures employment as a clerk and purchaser at Borgin and Burke’s the wizarding world’s shadiest pawn shop equivalent where he spends his time miserably wooing older women so they’ll sell him their fine goods. Dumbledore tries to convince us this was Tom’s plan, that he somehow knew about the locket beforehand, but this is bullshit. How the hell would Tom know that the heirloom undoubtedly locked away under safe and key had been sold to Borgin and Burkes? And even if he did, why would Tom take up this miserable position doing nothing he wanted to do?

Whatever minions Tom is supposed to have, whatever friends, they dropped him completely, pretended they never knew him, and did nothing to secure Tom’s future.

Now, back to the parseltongue bit since I made a promise. I believe Tom told no one. Had Tom told the Slytherins he was the Heir of Slytherin, this would have spread like wild fire not only across the house but the school. All the staff would remember Tom as Tom Slytherin, Tom would likely have changed his name, and frankly Tom probably would have been able to get into the ministry with a name like that. Tom Riddle’s life would have looked very different.

More, had the Chamber of Secrets episode happened in a world where Tom proves his heritage, he would have immediately been caught. Someone in Slytherin, even if only a few dormmates knew, would have narked on him. Someone would have been jealous, scared, etc. and would have turned him easily over to the authorities. A secret like that simply cannot be kept, it would spread, and there would be no needing to frame Hagrid and none of Tom getting off.

More, I always got the feeling very few knew that Voldemort had once been Tom Riddle. First, it would make recruiting very difficult. Voldemort is the mysterious, beautiful, heir of Slytherin who has come back from abroad to save their country. Tom Riddle is a dirt poor mudblood who comes from decades of incest and squalor.

Given the wizarding world at large does not know who Tom Riddle is (proved by The Chamber of Secrets) I would suspect the vast majority of Death Eaters and Order members didn’t either. Dumbledore was the one who pieced it together thanks, in part, to a ten-year-old Tom Riddle confessing his parseltongue abilities.

If Tom Riddle had told most people he was a parseltongue, far more would have made the connection, it would be common knowledge. Which means, of course, Tom Riddle has no ability to prove his heritage and is thus muggleborn swine.

More, I think Tom wouldn’t want Tom Riddle to be associated with Voldemort. When he becomes Voldemort, he will transcend his lackluster origins and become far more than an ordinary, mortal, man. He will leave the name Riddle behind and no one will remember that boy. He will eclipse his past.

Not to mention, that if Tom gave them the excuse of his heritage, it means giving himself the easy way out in Hogwarts. They won’t be forced to acknowledge him, acknowledge that he’s better than them despite his roots, but instead given the easy excuse of “oh, it’s because he’s the heir of Slytherin, duh”. And I think Tom would loathe the idea of that.

Tom wanting to eradicate the memory of Tom Riddle is especially why I think Voldemort came out of nowhere in the 70′s.

Tom doesn’t want to be recognized as Tom, he wants to be mysterious and originless, to give the purebloods everything they want to believe in. If it’s people he went to school with, they’ll recognize him, he’ll be just an ordinary mortal to them. If it’s their young, stupid, children well then he has a real chance.

Voldemort is a figure of myth, something that appears to come out of legend itself, the savior of his country.

He cannot have origin let alone Tom Riddle’s.

Not to mention the idea that multiple people waited on Tom Riddle for generations, even for decades where we know he went abroad and travelled the world, is utterly ridiculous. Why would they ever do this? What do they even gain from this? And why would it take so long to take over this ridiculously incompetent country THAT ALL OF TOM’S RECRUITS ARE PRACTICALLY SET TO CONTROL (the beauty of the Death Eaters is that they form a good chunk of the Wizengamot, and in using them, Tom Riddle effectively destroys the country from the inside out, which I believe was his true goal the entire time).

If Tom Riddle is so terrible, so horrifyingly competent, then it can’t have taken him fifty years of constant work to topple the country.

So, yeah, there were no Death Eaters 1.0.

#ask #anon #tom riddle #voldemort #the death eaters #the knights of walpurgis

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nuclearnerves · 3 years

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INCOMING VAMPIRE AU THOUGHTS

Don't mind me I'm finally getting the ideas I had on this shit out so I can actually go forward with developing it as an AU. It's my usual mixup of fps protags, Gordon Guy and John, but I'm starting with Gordon as the Vampire and Guy as the Vampire Hunter.

absolute beast of a wall of text under the cut

What If Being A Vampire Literally Sucks All The Time Forever like chronic pain sucks. like THAT level of sucks. Like Here's what I was thinking of. Being a vampire isn't just "being alive forever but you need to drink human blood" It's like Oh man I have some lore you look at vampires and their main thing is that they're blood suckers right so lets start with a corpse dead body. cadaver. no longer with us. just some rotting meat. The brain needs oxygen as fuel. The blood supplies the oxygen through blood. The blood is pumped through the heart. The blood is made by your bone marrow. You die. Your heart stops beating Blood stops pumping Brain no longer has oxygen to think marrow stops making blood thats standard! Now, becoming undead, as a vampire, is a little more complicated. The long and short of it is: your body is FIGHTING ACTIVELY to be alive against all odds and wins every time (immortality), but it hurts the whole way

I have the gist of it. It's like. Your heart stops. By all means, you should be dead. but the magic kicks in, and you're still thinking. Your brain is still sending signals to your muscles to move. But using what oxygen to move? whats burning in you? You don't know but you know it's just enough to get to your next meal. So you ferociously eat something, and then find you can't swallow. You can't make saliva. You barely have the energy to chew, and once you DO get something in your stomach, it immediately comes back up. Why can't you feel your pulse? What's going on? You're out of options so you figure you might as well just lie down and die. You're too tired to keep going anyway. So you do, you lie down, and you close your eyes, and you quietly hope that death is as peaceful as sleep. You realize you've actually been moving around without breathing, which makes sense because you can barely flex your diaphragm for more than a shaky wheeze. How are you thinking with such little oxygen? But as you fade from consciousness, you can feel something in you, and it's so upset, it's crying, it's filled with grief, and you instantly can tell it's your skeleton. It's your bones. You're distraught down to your marrow. You're dying. You're dying! Your heart stopped and you have no more blood! You need blood! You need blood to move! To breathe! To think! You try to breath deep again for the voices in your bones, trying to comfort them, to sooth them with the repetitive motion in your lungs, trying to fill yourself with anything but grief, but they keep wailing. We make the blood, our creation, our child, what we put all of our work into is gone! gone! gone! We need it back! Anything! All of it! Find it! Bring it back to us! We're hungry! WE'RE HUNGRY!

and once you find yourself too exhausted to listen, to think, how badly you wish just to die already to cease hearing this wailing, you find your body moving without you. And it's hungry and it's searching and it's crawling on all fours and it misses its beautiful red life that made it feel so full before and it needs it back, and the next thing you know you're desperately grabbing anything with blood in it and shoving it in your mouth in a desperate attempt to sooth this cry for life, you don't want to die, you don't want to die, you worked so hard to keep up this body and craft it and LIVE with it and you're not going to go, and even when you try, even when you try to lay down and die, your body refuses, it takes the reigns, and it keeps up the work itself with or without your help. And it's not until your stomach is full and your teeth are stained and you feel a pulsating burning in your bones that you snap back awake, completely conscious, just fine. You're lucid, you don't feel any more pain. Everything around you is dead and drained and messy and your heart still isn't beating. but you can breathe now and holy shit you guess you literally need to kill to survive and the less you eat and the more you starve yourself the worse it gets when your body finally decides to take recourse.

my idea was like. "the vampires curse is actually stored in the bones, thats why the teeth get so sharp and also theres a connection between blood and bones with the creation via bone marrow" its literally like i was sitting there thinking "no no no, whats it like to be a vampire. what neurosis would you develop. How would you panic? What are common mistakes beginner vampires make" which, by the way, gordon is a beginner vampire

so now you gotta factor, what blood lasts for how long? how long can you go between meals? not only that, but what creatures satisfy the urge? How long can you go avoiding human blood? Does it work like drugs where you develop a resistance to the high, or is it like food where it will keep you moving until you eat again? How the fuck are you gonna get your hands on blood? Can you just eat raw meat? Does that count? and thats where im at lol

OKAY now. now thoughts on beginning scenes of vampire au

So my idea was this Doomguy is a vampire hunter independent and one of his buds says that some freak scared and almost attacked his daughter when she got too close to his old abandoned laboratory up the hill and hes like “he might be… you know… a problem. if you needed a lead” and guys like yeah i fuckin hate the undead ill kill this dude so he busts into old lab space and sees so many dead animals its actually mostly Bones and pelt that hes seeing piles of feathers etc so hes like yeah this is all telltale signs of vampire uhhh hes introduced to gordon SOMEHOW im not totally sure of the details but the working idea i have is guy falls into a trap gordon devised that restrains him suspended in wire or something and gordon like. limps/stumbles into the room and this dude looks haggard he’s breathing heavy, his cheeks are hollow, he’s bug-eyed and shaking while looking at this massive wall of meat in his trap and he bares a bunch of hideous teeth and grits them and looks like hes really struggling with somethin... Like if these dudes don't know each other then Gordon might give in and try to drain Guy, and Guy would absolutely do anything in his power to turn this new vampire into ash, im thinking the inclusion if g-man as a coven leader can fix both issues.

i like the idea of guy falling into gordons trap and gordon thinking about what to do with him before gman shows up and whisks gordon away for a “meeting” while complimenting him on his good work catching the most feared vampire hunter in the country and gman just leaving guy suspended in wires that he has to fight his way out of. Instant situation defuser.

Guy ends up needing to take care of other monsters before going back to Gordon, and he DOES plan to go back to gordon, because no vampire is a good one, especially not one associated with the fucking head of a coven, but next time he sees Gordon, Gordon helps him out of a scrape by attacking and draining a combine who was going to take Guy out or something and escaping before Guy can catch him, or otherwise seeing Gordon do something good with his insane undead powers and like, the third time he meets up with him is when they can actually talk, and Gordons fuckin SO haggard, he’s not even fighting back and he’s even going as far as to say “just make sure theres nothing of me left when you’re done, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt”

Side Note: Guy has a bunch of scarring on his body from dealing with vampires, cops, ghosts, werewolves, anything violent that kills people. I'm playing with the inkling of an idea that he has Divine Blood in him, so that any time something undead bites him or tries to drink his blood, it burns. We'll see.

Side Note 2: now i really like the idea of the combine actually being an organized faction of vampire hunters that are WICKED crooked and exploit people for all their worth in exchange for their “safety” when they kill a vampire They’re essentially loansharks and Guy fucking hates them and hates the name theyve given to vampire hunting

Side Note 3: You've probably noticed that I haven't said anything about John yet! He's in this too. His species is a surprise but I need to get to him later I have an idea for where he came from (Cortana too)

I still need a good reason for Guy to not instantly kill this vampire, if not it's just gonna be "Gordon Freeman escapes the countrys best vampire hunter like a seventh time" every time they meet and they end up being rivals. And it gives Guy enough time to look past the whole "undead monster" thing and start looking at the "Oh this dude figured out how to fight his ridiculous craving for blood in a way more humane than most and is actually staying out of peoples way and keeping to himself. Guess he's not that big of a threat but I still need to keep an eye on him in case he loses it. Turns out he's got a family (Probably Alyx, Eli, Issac and Barney) who's been lookin for him and cares about him as well, don't wanna hurt them". I like the idea of them ending up needing to team up to take out undead together.

And that's what I got so far!!!

#freeguy #gordon freeman #doomguy #vampire au #freeguy117

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trans-cuchulainn · 3 years

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What are the major details that confused you about the Hound blurb? The major one that stood put to me was the "way of the farmer opposed to the sword" thing which felt very...un-Cú Chulainn. Also, if you don't mind expanding further, which details didn't you question/be confused by?

and also for anon:

okay so it is like. 2am so there are not going to be any sources here but i can't sleep so here goes!! i will go through this blurb line by line and give youse my thoughts

In 50 BCE,

reasonable. this is roughly the right time period for when the ulster cycle is set. maybe marginally earlier than i'd place cú chulainn, but i'm talking a few years, nothing to get worked up about.

Morrigan, the goddess of war,

fine. normally i'm wary of pantheonising impulses with regard to irish characters (almost none of them can be identified as a god of anything in particular, it doesn't work like that) but tbh the morrigan is like, the most plausible exception to that, so whatever. normally her name has the definite article attached to it because it's kind of a species term as well but whatevs.

has become restless as a long-lasting peace settles over Ireland.

dubious. closest i can think of to peace being reference in any texts is togail bruidne da derga talking about conaire mor's reign being like, prosperous and peaceful and whatever, and even there you've got díberg (plundering/reaving) which is what eventually fucks him over and starts the otherworldly hell spiral situation. that's roughly the right period here but conaire's doom proves you don't have to do much to nudge peace into war, and connacht and ulster are at each other's throats for years before cú chulainn comes on the scene anyway

Deciding the time of peace must end, she chooses Setanta, the nephew of the king of the north, to become her ward.

hmm. i mean. like, this isn't the WEIRDEST choice they could have made. it's still completely made-up, don't get me wrong -- cú chulainn has a lot of different foster parents in different texts and they don't agree with each other but none of them ever mentions the morrígan. but like, they do have a connection of some sort, as evidenced by their conversations. and there's that one moment in the r1 boyhood deeds where little cú chulainn is out on the battlefield and hears her (not sure which name is used here) calling out to him and it like. motivates him to do some deeds or whatever, and i guess you could extrapolate that into some kind of teaching capacity.

so like. could be weirder. if you're gonna pick anyone, you could do worse. still seems weird to me! but not on its own a major issue, i could get past this and consider it a Fun But Unorthodox Creative Decision

(the fact that she tries to seduce him in the táin probably wouldn't get in the way of this considering sleeping with his teachers/foster-mothers is far from unheard of where cú chulainn is concerned)

After a young Setanta slays the demon-hound of Cullan, he becomes known as Cú Cullan—The Hound of Cullan.

weird spelling choices, they could have at least bothered to use the genitive properly. also the hound isn't a demon, it's a ferocious watchdog -- making it sound all Otherworldly and Hellish like this kinda confuses the issue of why he would need to take its place. he needs to take its place because the cattle and people still need protecting because it is a watchdog!! but whatevs, again, it's a brief summary so they can't exactly give us all the details and this is not actively objectionable

As Cú Cullan grows older, it is apparent that an extraordinary power lies within him … and a great darkness.

ugh boring. this makes it sound like he's going to be ~tortured~ and angsty about it. give me an unapologetic murder teen please. is the ríastrad dark? sure i guess, if you're going to be boring about it. it's more like, grotesque neon in my head

When he chooses the quiet life of a farmer over the sword,

this would fucking never happen on like five different levels. obviously like anyone who has ever read anything about cú chulainn can see that this is not in his nature. he is never going to choose a quiet life. this is the kid who tricked his way into taking arms before everyone thought he was ready. also juxtaposed with the "darkness" comment makes it sound like he would Angst his way into this quiet life which. again. have you seen this kid. he is an unapologetic murder teen

the only thing i can think of that might make him temporarily want to walk away is connla's death which... depends where you position that in the timeline really, he does seem a bit fucked up by it and maybe he'd want a holiday although i can see that lasting precisely 5 minutes before someone pissed him off enough for him to murder them. but if he's being raised by the morrígan i can't see him going to train with scáthach so then he'd never meet aífe and therefore connla would never be born so that wouldn't happen. so like. whatever.

but also like. he would not become a farmer. he just wouldn't! it doesn't work! the ireland of the stories is super hierarchical, right? and this blurb has already fucking told us that he's the king's nephew (canon) so we can tell that being a farmer is Not His Place. when we see upper class figures becoming menial labourers in texts, like in cath maige tuired, it's because Things Are Fucked, Shit's Gone Wrong. people don't just decide to change their entire social class on a whim lmfao

if cú chulainn really wanted to turn his back on being a warrior he could probably make recourse to certain other Suitable Professions ... his grandad's a druid so he might have a route into that, though his dad's not so that might fuck things up a bit bc it's one of those things that's usually inherited. he does give "wisdom" in at least one text though and we also know he can write (he carves riddles in ogham in the táin) and he composes verses on various occasions so idk, maybe something in a poetic direction, though again, usually requires two generations of inheritance to be a real poet and not just a lower-class bard. warrior's kinda the main thing he's got open to him tbh. but farming? i'm not a legal expert but as far as i'm aware based on what i have read, that would fuck shit up

more likely an upset cú chulainn would just go off in search of an adventure somewhere conveniently far away until he'd calmed down (alba, or the tyrrhenian sea, or -- if we're going to get early modern about it -- somewhere like india, which frequently gets thrown into the texts with absolutely no cultural context and it's always hilarious)

Morrigan, angry at the betrayal,

of the entire social order, yes,

instigates an invasion of his homeland

i mean. if they intend this to be the táin then.... táin bó regamna does kinda make the morrígan responsible for it? not in the sense of triggering the pillow talk argument that it's in the book of leinster -- it's her getting up to her usual cow-nicking behaviours for shits and giggles. [note to readers: it is probably for more than shits and giggles but did i mention it's 2am]

but all in all, not particularly out of character that she would be at least some way responsible for this so i can vibe with this. echtra nerai also supports the TBR explanation with her fucking around with otherworldly cows and pissing people off so, yeah, whatever. the morrígan engineered this. sure.

and Cú Cullan must challenge fate itself

this is probably a controversial stance but fate feels like a difficult concept to apply to medieval irish texts. like are people sometimes Doomed? yes. there are prophecies, there are gessi, there's all manner of otherworldly fuckery that can trip you up. is that the same thing as fate? no idea. considering cú chulainn comes out alive from the táin though and his doom prophecies don't catch up to him for like, at least another decade, maybe 16 years depending on who you listen to, hard to see how that would apply here

to keep the goddess at bay.

again like she IS causing fuckery in the táin but also it's like... one time. really not the main character. but she or maybe just some crows, hard to say, do get implicated in the death tale so maybe they're doing what people often do and conflating the two? even though there's like 10-16 years in between them?

anyway as you can see i don’t think it’s wholly terrible / i’m not completely thinkshaming it. like, having cú chulainn raised by the morrígan is unorthodox but it could be a fun and creative direction so i don't object to it. making cú chulainn get sad about murder and choose to be a farmer is just fucking laughable tho, and makes me doubt their characterisations in general. so that's offputting and would probably make me think twice about buying it, if that had ever been on the cards.*

and of course sure, their cú chulainn can be a Sad Boy Who Likes Sheep, but that means he's not the cú chulainn of medieval irish lit / irish myth, because that cú chulainn is a feral murder teen who keeps killing his friends and also is way too high social status to ever be a farmer, and whose only relationship to livestock is as the watchdog who kills anyone trying to harm them (which is an important role on a farm! but like. not the same thing as Being A Farmer. mostly because it involves more murder and is essentially just an extension of his role as a warrior. or rather the other way around. he promises to protect mag muirthemne as a watchdog and this like. gets extended into him becoming its sole defender)

this has been my analysis of this blurb i hope you enjoyed it

it's now 2.30am i should try and sleep now that i've exorcised a few thoughts from my head

*as i mentioned in the tags of my other post, i don't tend to read graphic novels due to disability stuff. they're much harder for me to understand and follow than prose, to the point where some are incomprehensible, so i don't really enjoy them. there are a few i've read, but they tend to be short ones, and i'm usually not reading them in order, just admiring the art separately from the text. so it's unlikely i would read a graphic novel of this size anyway.

#cu chulainn #hound #hound graphic novel #answered #oddnub-eye #anonymous #irish mythology #medieval irish #tain bo cuailnge

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amwritingmeta · 4 years

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S15: Dean and Cas

Pardon my lateness. Life is mental at the moment! I haven’t watched 15x17 yet but hope to do so today or tomorrow. Gods preserve me, for then there will be only three more episodes left. *is this real life??*

Okay, leaving that, let’s talk about Dean and Cas, shall we? Yes, we shall!

Dean and Cas’ relationship, or rather, how they relate themselves to each other, has been in focus this season, because it’s been pivotal to both of their arcs in canonically straightforward ways. Ways so straightforward that we haven’t really seen the likes of them since S11, and with the very heavy-duty callbacks to S11 these last two episodes, it all seems quite fitting.

I mean, Jack is a bomb like Dean was a bomb and Dean got to ask Amara why she would bring Mary back, and she got to clarify she meant it as a gift, a thank you at the end of S11, because Dean didn’t blow himself to kingdom come and her along with him, because instead he realised how he could broker peace and allow for light and dark to find balance.

Which is what Dean needs to find right now.

He needs to balance out the light and dark, the masculine and the feminine, the conscious and unconscious, the ego and the shadow. He needs to balance himself out in order to let go of his fury. Why does he need that? Why would the narrative continuously hit on him needing to let go of his anger? Because that’s the reason why he was put on this journey to begin with, this slow and steady coming-of-age-coming-into-his-own progression of finding forgiveness and feeling worthy and having faith that he deserves good things.

How do we know this?

Well, arguably this season through what happens to Dean whenever he gives his fury free range, whenever he allows it to hollow out his faith, his trust, making him one-track minded, suspicious and controlling: he loses something.

He loses Cas.

This season has been all about highlighting what happens when Dean is unable to be even the slightest bit self-aware, when he veers off the path of self-acceptance. This season, Dean has had Cas disappear out of his life twice: first when Cas walked out of the bunker and second in Purgatory, when Cas went with the Leviathan. (to get them away from Dean)

The first time Dean almost lost Cas was really all about highlighting Cas’ independence (thank fuck for that), letting us see how far they’ve come in their relationship, because Dean didn’t dig himself a grave this time, perhaps having faith, in spite of it all, that Cas would come back to him, and Cas went off on his own, feeling like there was nothing left for him at the bunker when there was no forgiveness to be had from Dean.

Except, Cas thought better of it. He realised it wasn’t just on Dean to push for change—it was on him as well. And, knowing Dean, Cas had the epiphany that he would have to lead the way.

Dean, of course, not being able to forgive and forget all that easily, needed a final push, which is why the second time he almost lost Cas was all about Dean. He had to confront his anger. He had to, because naming it and admitting it as the root cause of so many of his actions (and reactions) is a cornerstone for him to begin letting that anger go.

Almost losing Cas brought him to a moment of clarity, brought him to take a knee and admit to being wrong and offering the forgiveness he’d been holding back, because being angry is easier, especially when, it could be argued, you were beginning to feel that trust in good things lasting.

Yeah, speaking of good things lasting, it brings us to this question: Why is Dean so angry?

He doesn’t know why (or so he claims) and he probably does need to have his eyes opened for him, the way Amara tried to open them, the way his conversation with her was a highlighter for the point he’s being pushed to finally reach in his progression: forgiving the past, embracing the present, trusting in the future and in the fact that he deserves to live a long and happy rest of his life.

The fact that she’s completely dressed in pink - hello positive femininity representative who kicks ass and who once almost killed God and then was balanced out so that she instead healed him with her light and they twisted into dark and light smoke and went off together - is just delicious icing on the cake.

Yeah, and that’s the issue, Dean, alright, buddy?

Dean is angry because his mother died and her death meant that he lost his father too, it meant that he didn’t get to have a childhood, it meant that he stopped believing that he could have good things that would last, because of a confused sense of identity and a crippled sense of self-worth—why did bad things happen to him if he didn’t deserve it somehow?— and pushed him to mold himself into what would make him feel strong and brave: the image that his father projected.

The soldier.

The weapon and the shield.

And now it seems Protect Sammy has morphed into Sacrifice Jack, all because Dean’s fury at Chuck’s manipulation isn’t containable, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let Chuck live. Even if it means Jack dies in the process. As Dean said to Sam in 15x16: at least it’s not them this time.

All the while we just sit here and witness Dean morphing into the revenge thirsty spitting image of his father one last time, for one final, big ole push towards the line he’ll have to cross if he’s to finally understand once and for all where it’s actually drawn.

At Cas’ feet.

Remember back in S12, before Cas died, there was that subtle (erm) motif of pointy things going through people’s hearts from behind? Yeah. It happened twice, if I remember correctly, before the pointy end of an angel blade went through Cas’ heart and he died an angel death in the season finale.

Yeah. That.

So.

So now, in S15, we have Cas caught in a motif again, only this time Dean is right there with him, because it involves both of them.

We’ve had anger and loss, and then honesty and forgiveness.

We’re back to anger, we’re back to Dean seeing red, blinded by it, and the only thing—we’ve been shown—that can unblind him is…?

That’s right: losing Cas.

So he will lose Cas again. We’ve been on the precepice of this as fact for a good long while now, haven’t we, my merry macarons? We have indeed! The question becomes how will Dean lose Cas again? Is Cas actually going to die? Again??

I still sincerely doubt it.

I think Cas will find another way, and that other way will equal a sacrifice on his part. His life? I mean, it could be, but what about the Empty? What about allowing himself to be happy? It could add up somehow, I guess I just can’t see it. So I think the sacrifice will somehow involve Heaven, because we know Michael will be back, and I hope it will involve Hell and all of the forces God has brought into being working against him—together.

S p e c.

Now, I’m a sadist. No, not like that -> I’m a sadist when it comes to characters. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sadist. (Misha Collins is one, as we all know) (I joke!) (down Bessie!) What I’m getting at is that I want Cas having no other recourse but to do whatever it is he’ll have to do to save Jack to, quite literally, break Dean.

We know they’re all teary eyed in 15x18 (feels like it’s Billie whom Dean is glaring at) and we’ve seen Dean crying against a wall and omfg I want it to be explicit and over Cas. Yeah?

We ain’t getting them driving off in the Impala together (which is fine btw because the final episode should focus on the brothers more than anything else) (I mean, a hint that they will be driving around in that Impala post season finale while Sam goes to be with Eileen would be fab, but we can only hope and wish, yeah?) (horses held), so let’s get Dean broken over thinking he’ll never see Cas again.

Let it be done with a big fat black marker in enormous circles around his emotional state. Let him TELL Cas to stay this time, like he should’ve done when Cas walked out the door in 15x03, only for Cas to be unable to comply, because this is all to teach Dean a lesson that this is where his anger gets him, and what he needs to do to save Cas is let that anger go, stop thinking Jack is expendable, and find a better way.

I mean, this is speculation, guys. This is hoping and wishing all over this narrative. But glory effing be if it’s anywhere in the ballpark.

It would be mind-blowing if there was a God intervention of some sort, a talking down off the ledge, as it were, as per end of S11, but I’m not going to hold my breath for *rainbows*…

I’ll hold it for balance, though. :)

Cas has waited for Dean for a long time. Dean being dismissive of Cas in 15x15 can, once again— because whenever he acts like a dick it comes back to bite him on the ass (there’s a visual for you)— be looked at as part of the tapestry that makes Cas feel there’s nothing more for him but being a father to Jack.

Dean did nothing but instill this feeling in Cas after Cas came back from the black hole that is the Empty in S13, Dean being all “You were brought back because we needed you”—Dean saying zero things about how he was basically ripping apart at the seams from the grief of losing Cas just hours before Cas made that phone call.

And of course not. Why would Dean admit that? Even to himself, once Cas was back.

He wouldn’t!

Ignoring how he really feels about stuff and taking Cas for granted is kinda what he does, so back to normal it all went. So normal and so leveled out that something had to happen, right? Because, in Dean’s mind, good things don’t last.

And then Mary happened.

Oh, my heart!

And Dean went off and cried, by himself, because he still couldn’t show emotion that openly, even to the people closest to him. But he went down on his knees and he cried in Cas’ ear during that prayer, and that really was something.

That said, Mary’s death was Dean proven right once again, and this person, who is the source of faith and hope and that budding belief that maybe, this time, everything was going to actually get better and stay that way, became the target of Dean’s anger over the injustice of it all. Because Cas was the root of it. He’s always been the root of Dean’s slow-to-grow hope that could bloom into belief and trust, if he just dared let it, that he deserves to be happy.

I wrote in an ask reply that I doubt we’ll get human!Cas, but then I remembered that Cas is still status quo-ing it. It’s why he almost left the bunker without telling anyone again, that choice of skedaddling without checking in getting interrupted by Dean, and Cas being brought into a situation where he had to divulge the information, not only that he was leaving and might not make it back (Dean’s face though!), but that Jack is going through a trial that will ultimately destroy him, which was a nice shift in this dynamic of theirs.

Now, look it, the writers may end Cas’ journey on him status quo-ing it... but for the Empty.

And I would shrug at the Empty and think, well, maybe that won’t come into play... but for the fact that the deal was brought up just a few episodes back.

So. Happiness.

Somehow something will need to push Cas toward a moment of happiness. And letting himself be happy is such a climactic moment for his entire journey—and look at how it perfectly mirrors what Dean is being pushed toward—that I find it difficult to see how that moment would bring an eternity in the Empty.

But I’ve written a lot of words on why I just can’t make sense of why they would choose to kill him or have his moment of happiness be tied to a narrative punishment so I’m not getting into all that again, but because both Dean and Cas are being pushed toward happiness, I’m curious to see which route the writers have chosen to take with it.

It would be thrilling and satisfying in equal measure if we finally get Dean crying over Cas, and only Cas. No filter of Bobby or Mary to take away focus and allow for an argument that he’s not actually grieving Cas.

It would be thrilling and satisfying for it to be very baseline Just Cas. As it has been just Cas this entire season. Cas at the center of Dean’s anger. Cas at the center of Dean’s push toward healing. Cas having had enough, drawing a line—the one that is still there, at his feet—and doing what he’s always done best: calling Dean out on his bullshit behaviour. Cas making Dean put words to his anger, express forgiveness and say that he’s sorry and all within the same moment to boot.

What all this will amount to, we’ll have to wait and see.

In a few weeks. Or next week. Or maybe there will be strong indicators where the pendulum is actually swinging in 15x17!

Holy. Hell.

But I can’t see it ending somewhere tragic. If it does, it does. And it will be what it will be. And I’ll mourn a little, and accept it and move on. But I do believe it will end somewhere hopeful. Somewhere that leaves things quite tied up, but also open to interpretation, so that we can pick and choose who ends up where and how these men decide to continue on their journeys, now that this enormous leg of their progression is done, and they’ve learned to put the past to rest.

And if S11 is anything to go by, then the echoes of that ending would be a powerful way to tie everything up, as S11 was meant to be the end of the road, until Andrew Dabb picked up the reins with an idea of how to continue the show for a few more seasons. Or so I’ve heard.

11x23 also gave us the most gloriously frustrating exchange ever written for two characters in a car. Omg. Dean we-ing the absolute hell out of his speech when it was him, he was the one, the entire time Cas was possessed by Lucifer, who insisted they make sure Cas came back unscathed. “You’re the best friend we ever had” my ass, Dean!

I wanted to talk about Dean and Sam as well, but there’s too little time at the moment for me to write more. And it’s painful, but I have to concede or hit a wall and hitting walls fucken hurts.

I will mention that Sam telling Dean off at the end of 15x16 still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Finally, Sam. Finally.

As ever, sprinklings of salt all over this meta and speculation, my dearlings, but omfg it’s beautiful.

Right then. I’m off to watch 15x17! Wish me luck! *gah!*

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dreamingofscully · 4 years

Text

Grey Canyon 7/?

Rating: Current Chapter: PG, Series: up to Mature Categories: Western AU / MSR / WIP WC: 1450 / Total WC: 7.3k

Updated on Mondays and Fridays.

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu for the beta ❤️ Tagging: @impulsive-astrophile @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @gillywitch @today-in-fic (let me know if you want to be tagged when I post!)

all chapters in order: ao3 / tumblr

CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6

CHAPTER 7: “New York”

Grey Canyon, Colorado 1885

Lunches in the dining room or kitchen, and dinners in her room had become customary. He brought her more journals, which she read into the night, staying up far too late and waking bleary-eyed and happy. It had been nearly a year since she’d been able to keep up on any new medical developments. Even though she knew she’d never get the chance to pursue a career in the field, reading about others’ work gave her a taste of her old life, reminding her of why she’d wanted to be a physician in the first place.

As happy as the articles made her, the darkness within her deepened by the same degree. That Mulder had known she’d want them made her pause and feel guilty. His friendship had been a comfort, something she didn’t know she needed. But how could friendship stay strong when it was one-sided? She tested him, poked fun at his stories, but walled herself off from anything deeper. Sooner, rather than later, she felt it would not be enough.

Would losing his friendship, an unbearable thought, be worse than sharing a part of herself that she’d buried so deeply, she felt belonged to a completely different person? Could she be the woman that she once was? The possibility of her former self re-emerging thrilled and terrified her.

It was dinner. He sat across from her, telling another story, trying to convince her of something mad. For once, she was only half-listening, lost in her thoughts of where this connection between them was going. She’d never been able to pretend very well, though, and Mulder noticed.

“You’re not listening, Dana,” he said. He wasn’t upset, even though she felt he had a right to be. “Story’s a bit too far-fetched, even for me I admit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mulder, I was just distracted.”

“Anything you care to share?” He smiled at her, his eyes soft and gentle. He never pushed, never tried to force anything out of her. Sometimes she wished he would.

The same old conversation, she thought. ‘No, I’m fine’, is your next line, Dana.

She found herself, instead, telling a story of her own.

“My father, he… was a captain in the navy, during the war,” she started, not quite believing she was telling him this. If she went far back enough, things weren’t so bad. “He’d distinguished himself, made a name for himself, despite being an immigrant.”

She looked out the window, at her own warped reflection in the frosted glass. The lamp painted her face in grotesque shadows. Her hands found the edge of her napkin, fraying the edges.

Swallowing, she continued. “He was able to use his influence to help his children get into good schools. I excelled. We were very close. I think… he was proud of me,” she paused, blinking back the threat of tears. “He died, about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Mulder said, his hand reaching across to cover hers, stilling their restless movements.

“I’d been accepted into medical school, a rare thing for a woman,” she looked back at him. “New York—it is the very best and the very worst, at the same time.”

Mulder nodded, squeezed her hand, his focus giving her courage. She trusted him, not knowing why she should. Her father told her she’d had good instincts about people, recognizing almost immediately who had integrity, and who did not. Looking at Mulder now, she knew him, almost as much as she knew herself.

“My brothers. They didn’t do so well in school. They… got involved with different sorts of people. It was a vicious circle—they could not please their father by being smart or hard-working, so they tried to win him over by bringing home money obtained from more dishonest means. My father was aware of how these… groups preyed on those who were less fortunate. Their relationship only got worse. When he died…”

Dana withdrew her hand, clenched them underneath the table. It hurt to say the words, to allow the reality of what had happened to enter the air of this room, to add to the weight on Mulder’s already heavy shoulders by sharing her burden with him.

“Because I was an unmarried woman, they took control. I had no other recourse. They would not allow me to go to school. Instead, they said I was to marry.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Mulder leaned forward.

“The person—” she stopped. “I do not like to speak harshly, to judge, but the man they wanted to give me to was just the sort of person you would expect, given their type of dealings. I suspect I was meant to be payment. Their younger sister in exchange for more power, more money.” She spat the words out like venom. The anger she’d felt when she’d first realized what her brothers intended came back with equal strength.

“I thought I could reason with them. Perhaps I could be a doctor for their ‘organization’. I would have done anything, except they would not listen. They use violence and intimidation to do what they want, I could do nothing. There was no one else after Papa...”

Dana breathed heavily and covered herself with her shawl, overcome with a sudden chill, though the room was not cold. There, she’d done it, for good or ill. She’d run from her family, abandoned her life while he had chased ghosts for ten years in hopes to bring his own back together.

“So you find yourself here, in hiding? Playing school marm and nursemaid to a bunch of —”

“Mulder.”

“I’m sorry, I just...”

When she looked up at him again, his face, normally filled with amusement and softness and passion, was now like a stormcloud, staring off into the darkness of her room. It reminded her of his outburst in her room late at night, what seemed like so long ago.

“Your mother?” he said.

“She… could do nothing. She felt my choice to be a doctor was a mistake, that I should accept my duty to the family, and be a wife. That I should accept it without complaint,” she said. Guilt rose up inside her, thinking about her mother: they would not hurt her, would they? “I don't have a family any more, Mulder.”

He rose from his chair and paced. She could feel his anger coming off of him in waves, while she shivered in place, unmoving.

“There must be something—”

“I have learned to live with my fate, Mulder.”

“I don’t accept that,” he said, waving his hands around her modest room. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“Please, sit.”

He looked at her, saw her.

“You’re cold.” He brought over a quilt from her bed and laid it across her shoulders, rubbing his warm hands along her arms before crouching beside her. She let out a shaky breath, imagined she could see the water vapor apparating between them.

“I can see your mind working. Trying to think of something to do. Please, Mulder. It is too risky.”

“Are these people really that dangerous?”

She nodded, silently pleading with him.

He looked at her, reluctant but steady, then cupped her face. “I do not agree. But I promise.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Warmth spread through her chest at his touch. She was so tired, but the weight of her secrets had been somewhat lightened, and his promise lifted her spirits. She chanced a smile when she opened her eyes.

“If all of this hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have met. Perhaps this was all meant to be, fate… destiny,” she pressed her lips into his palm, and brought his hand down to her lap. “I will not pretend though. It was terrible, and difficult, and I have not shared everything.”

But I will, was her unspoken promise.

Mulder caressed her hands with his own, remaining close. The warm lamplight enhanced his features: his stubbled jaw, full lips, strong nose. She couldn’t help it, her hand rose to his mouth, caressed his bottom lip with her thumb. He froze, searched her eyes, his anger disappearing under her touch, replaced with something else. Something she recognized, that he’d awakened within her these past weeks as well.

<i>Yes</i>, she thought, willing herself to speak the words aloud, for her thoughts to reach into his mind.

Suddenly, he blinked, and shook his head. She dropped her hand back to her lap as he stood up, taking his things and moving to leave.

He turned before opening the door. “Thank you, Dana,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “For telling me.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes with a shy smile. “Good night.”

#grey canyon #my fic #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #x-files #msr #mulder and scully #au #wip #historical au #western au #xfiles au #western

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 4 years

Note

Yay prompt party!! (: Post S5, Lena goes to visit Sam (more like Sam persuades her to visit them after one phone call detailing all the horrible things that have happened, and by persuade I mean threaten) in Metropolis, and at Sam's front door is immediately engulfed in the biggest, warmest hug EVER. Sam convinces her to leave NC, even if just for a while, to heal herself. She stays with them, they've missed each other, and even Ruby can see those fond gazes!! Reigncorp endgame!! Ruby ships it!!

It starts with a smile, and then the warmest hug Lena can ever remember receiving-- Kara's included. The multitude of bodies helps: Ruby somehow slots perfectly into an embrace of three, her arms just as bracing as her mother's.

Lena doesn't know if Sam heard something in her voice that last phone call they'd shared. It had been a routine check in that had somehow ended in an invite to visit. Perhaps it had been the readiness with which Lena accepted that gave Sam cause to worry, and resulted in the length of their welcoming hug.

"I've missed you," Ruby mutters into Lena's ribs.

Or maybe she simply had people who missed her when she was gone.

---

The evening ends with a dark television screen with Ruby asleep in her lap on one side, and Sam's fingers tangled with hers on the other. Lena lingers in a comfortable place between sleeping and waking, feeling floaty yet aware of the gentle fingers combing through her hair.

"What happened?" Sam asks, so softly Lena almost misses it.

The flash of hurt that follows zaps Lena out of her weightless euphoria and slams her back into a body filled with anguish.

"Shit." Of course Sam notices the change. Lena's not as good at pretending as she used to be. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine. Well-- it's not." It feels good to confess it, even if it's not to the one she wants to say it to. Her world is only just tumbling back on its axis, but Lena feels relief to give voice to the truth of what she hid from Kara.

Maybe it would have hurt Kara more if she'd withheld her forgiveness rather than--

No. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. Not anymore.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Lena closes her eyes. "No. I can't."

Not about this. Not when her own failures-- failures of morality and her very identity-- stab deeper than any of Kara's secrets, any of her rebuffs. She couldn't stand for Sam to know the truth of her.

Silence envelops them in the dark, as warm and soft as a blanket. Shame gnaws at Lena; she doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to have warmth and love when she had been so willing to--

"Stop it."

Blinking, Lena turns towards Sam. "Stop what?"

Sam gazes back at her. "You know what."

Lena doesn't know if Sam is entirely certain what's going through her brain, or if she's just reacting to the tension that's creeped back into her shoulders and spine. Either way, the scold is effective enough and no less true for not knowing. Lena knows.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you stay?"

"Sam..."

"I'm not talking forever," Sam says, hunching to set her chin on Lena's shoulder. "Just a few weeks to R&R. You know you can stay with us as long as you like."

Lena hesitates.

"If you think I can't handle your workload for a few weeks then I have some big news for you about what happened the year you went off to play media mogul, missy."

What little resolve Lena has cracks. Her back relaxes, and she lets her head rest against her friend's.

"Okay. I'll stay."

---

Lena's vacation comes with pancakes and a squeal from Ruby. School's out for summer vacation, so while Sam picks up the slack at LuthorCorp (even the very name grates on Lena's nerves, like part of herself erodes away with every logo and ad she sees), Lena loses herself in the city with Ruby. Musicals and museums and festivals mark their days, even a hike that leaves Lena embarrassingly winded and yet more invigorated than even the strictest of yoga classes.

She only turns her cell off when Kara starts texting her: first one here, another there, but soon ratcheting up to notes that read like a diary.

It goes from tentative check-ins, to news, to notes that feel like Kara's emotions are bubbling up and out through her fingers.

It should feel weird texting you like this so soon, reads one. But this is the most normal I've felt in a long time.

Kara might feel normal, but Lena feels foreign. So she turns her phone off entirely and refocuses on Ruby, and on Sam when her friend returns home from a long day at work. She helps Ruby with a thousand piece puzzle, and piece that clicks into place grounds her to reality in a way nothing has since the anti-matter wave hit, as though each one pulls a molecule back into place.

Sam gathers more of those molecules together, and molds them into a shape resembling a Lena that Lena recognizes, an echo of who she used to be... when the world was a known entity of empirical fact and the only questions she had turned her gaze outward.

With Sam, she feels not quite whole, but close to it.

With Sam, she can forget she ever stumbled at all.

---

It all ends with an evening spent in the backyard, grilling burgers and hot dogs to pair with pedestrian potato chips and something called ambrosia salad that is neither salad nor ambrosia. The watermelon agrees better with Lena: she munches it as Ruby chows down on the ambrosia, happily taking Lena's portion off her hands.

They eat in relative quiet, none of them really feeling the need to break it. The sun is warm but not too hot on Lena's skin, and it lulls her back to that in between place of nearly dozing.

"You should stay forever."

Lena pries her eyes open, and finds Ruby gazing at her solemnly.

"Rubes..."

"You can't pretend you're not happy here!" Ruby exclaims, voice lifting. "And mom wants you to stay too! Right, mom?"

Expecting Sam to be the voice of reason, Lena is surprised to see her friend give an equivocating shrug.

"I certainly wouldn't object," Sam admits. Her voice is low, and her gaze glimmers with deeper meaning.

It reminds Lena of those early days when they first met, before the company pulled them from each other's orbits.

Lena sighs. "I have responsibilities in National City."

"But you can do those here!"

"No, I can't. There's--"

Finally, Lena feels the burden of knowing Kara's secret. Not just in the risk it carries, but the responsibility it brings. Now that she knows, she can never walk away. Walking away from Supergirl means walking away from hope, from help, from compassion... all the things Lena needs to rebuild in herself.

"I've been trusted with a very special project in National City. I'll be starting as soon as I get back tomorrow."

Ruby senses her battle lost with gracious defeat. Her shoulders slump, but she doesn't issue the blame or angry recourse Lena expects.

"But I could certainly make more time to come visit."

Brightening, Ruby grins. "Yeah?"

Lena smiles. "Yeah."

---

The night ends with Sam's tangling with hers before Lena can go back inside.

"Did you mean it?"

"About visiting? 'Course."

"Ruby has an honors class camping trip next month," Sam informs her. Her fingers gently close on Lena's. "It's been a while since we had time for... just the two of us."

Lena knows Sam doesn't mean girls' night. She means skin on skin and quiet moments like the one they shared Lena's first night here. She means... love.

Slowly, firmly, Lena pulls Sam closer.

She leans in and tilts her head just so to place a simple kiss on Sam's lips.

"Thank you. For everything."

#quarantine prompt party 2.0 #reigncorp #lena visits metropolis #post s5

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hisan-miren · 3 years

Text

Redacted File

The First Date Pt 3

The two ate their meal in relative silence- although Mina did see fit to steal one of his sweet potatoes and quickly snatched it up before he could do anything. He stared at her for a few seconds, completely flabbergasted (which was a hilarious look on him) before he snatched up her umeboshi (since she’d eaten all of her tempura.) It quickly devolved into the two trying to steal even more of each other’s food and general tomfoolery and laughter after that. They made sure to pick up anything they dropped or spilled in the chaos, knowing full well that Raios’ mother would thoroughly chew them out if they didn’t. When the food (and cleanup) was finished, Raios loaded their tableware back on the tray to be taken away later, and the two moved to sit out on the walkway facing the garden.

“So, what comes after this?” Raios asked, half-grumbling.

“Well, I think it generally goes that you propose, I accept, and then we get married and live happily ever after,” Mina replied.

“I didn’t mean our relationship, you idiot!” Raios snapped, his face turning bright red. “I meant this date! I’m not exactly a fountain of knowledge when it comes to this!”

“Well-…” Mina flopped over on her side, laying across Raios’ lap and causing him to panic very briefly, “we could always go to your roo-”

“Rejected,” Raios spat, a cold and angry demeanor taking back over. “What is with you and my room anyways? If you try to recommend it one more time, I’m seriously going to smack you.”

“Got it. Won’t do it again,” she replied, a bit shocked by how genuinely angry he seemed to be at the mere idea of it. Shocked, but not perturbed. She’d try again next time.

“Pick something else.” He still seemed pretty pissed, but his tone had lost a bit of its edge.

“… Isn’t this fine?”

“Huh?”

“Being like this,” she replied, motioning to their position. “Or did you want to the one using my lap?” she teased.

“Hu- wh- No! That’s not what I meant at all!” Raios spluttered, cheeks turning dark again. “And this isn’t what I meant! Aren’t people supposed to do things?!”

“This is doing something though,” Mina replied calmly. “And I am plenty satisfied to just stay like this and chat for a few hours.”

“My legs will fall asleep,” Raios complained.

“Then we can switch! In an hour you can use my lap.”

“Somehow I get the sense that this isn’t exactly what usually happens on a first date.”

“Well yeah,” Mina replied. “Usually, the boyfriend isn’t grounded. We made the most of what we could, and it was fine. I mean, we’re not breaking any records, but I don’t want to set our relationship to the pace of others’.” Mina made herself comfortable again on his lap and stared up at him, starting yet another staring contest. She was content to keep going too until Raios eventually sighed and leaned over. She was so confused about what was going on that she didn’t realize what had happened until the sensation left her lips. She just stared up at him wide-eyed and quietly covered her mouth. There was a silence and then she raised a finger. “One more time.”

“Huh?”

“Do it again. I wasn’t ready.”

“No,” he replied, seeming pretty adamant this time.

“Oh come on!” She covered her face as she felt her cheeks start to actually physically burn. She kicked her feet against the wood floor and started to roll around in Raios’ lap, trying to remember not to let herself fall. “Just one more! Come on, please?!”

“I know you, it definitely won’t be ‘just one more’,” Raios replied flatly.

“You’re so mean!” Mina whined.

“Yup, I’m mean, horrible, awful- feel free to call me all the names you want, you’re not getting another one.” Mina gave one last futile, dying groan of disappointment and laid flat on Raios’ lap again.

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“You underestimated me.”

“Clearly.” Raios watched, slightly amused, as her face began to turn red again and she quickly tried to re-cover her face. “Ughhhhh… Let’s just end it here for today. I don’t think I can function after that.”

“You sure?”

“Not at all, but I think I’m going to be completely useless the rest of the day. Also my self-control just went in the garbage.”

“Huh?! Your self-control?!” Raios asked.

“I’m gonna die. I’m legitimately going to die.”

“You’re not gonna die from a kiss,” Raios ground out.

“I am so gonna die.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a drama queen.”

“And I didn’t realize you were such a tease!”

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from,” he replied, grinning smugly. She looked up at him only to cover her face again.

“Okay, now I’m gonna die.”

“I’m not playing this game.”

“GREAT! Because I’m already losing!” Raios just sighed and leaned back while his girlfriend silently freaked out in his lap. “Ugh… It should be illegal to be that hot…” Mina grumbled to herself.

“I’d be a lot more legal if you took off your rose-tinted glasses.”

“No thanks, I’m happy where they are.”

“You are just-…” Raios gave a sigh that was somewhere between ‘annoyed’ and ‘exasperated’.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘incorrigible’,” Mina replied cheekily.

“That’s definitely the word I was looking for.”

“Ready to switch yet?”

“We’re not switching,” Raios replied flatly. “You’ll just use it to kiss me.”

“You saw through it…” Mina grumbled, clicking her tongue and crossing her arms in irritation. “Then at least give me your hand. That’s the least you can do.” She huffed and pouted until Raios eventually felt he had no other recourse but to give into her demands. He sighed and picked one of his hands off the wooden floor and offered it to her. Mina’s demeanor immediately turned from sullen and dour to gleeful and bright. Her two smaller hands immediately latched on, and her cheek quickly found its way into her palm.

“What in reverse world is so fun about this?” Raios grumbled. Mina’s thought process was completely beyond him most of the time, but he found this sort of behavior especially weird. It wasn’t like this was the first time. She’d done stuff like this to flirt with him even before they started going out, but he didn’t really understand this need for closeness she seemed to have. He understood wanting to hold hands and be close, but hers seemed to border on outright cuddling. He didn’t mind, but he didn’t quite get it either. They sat in silence like that for a while; she spent time feeling out the callouses on his fingers and tracing the wrinkled creases of his palm like she was trying to memorize every inch of it. A while passed like that without speaking, and eventually Mina sat up and chose to latch herself to Raios’ arm instead. “I’ve been meaning to ask for a bit, but you’re the type that likes cuddling, aren’t you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, can we cuddle?” she asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Raios replied flatly. “What if one of my family walked by? We’re in the garden. At least pretend to have a bit of shame.”

“But if we weren’t somewhere with other people around?” she asked, eyes glinting with mischief.

“…I’d think about it…” he replied quietly.

“Alright!” Mina cheered, pumping her fist.

“I didn’t say ‘yes’!” Raios snapped, a bit flustered.

“It’s just as good,” Mina replied.

They sat there and chatted for a while longer, continuing their game of pushing and pulling every now and then until the sun was halfway to the horizon. Raios looked up and judged that it was probably around 5:00pm. Mina probably had to get home soon.

“Come on, get up,” Raios said, shrugging the arm that she was still very much latched onto.

“Don’t wanna,” Mina pouted.

“Get up,” Raios ground out. “I gotta take you home.”

“I thought you were grounded,” Mina replied skeptically.

“You honestly think the old hag would allow me to not walk you home?”

“… Fair point.” Mina reluctantly released him and stood up to stretch. “We can work out the details of our next date on the way. I wonder where we should go~”

“Ever the opportunist,” Raios sighed, slowly getting up and working the pins and needles out. The couple made their way over to the entryway, making sure to stop by the kitchen where Raios’ mother would be. He popped his head in and got his mother’s attention. She put down the dish she was using to taste the soup, a little surprised that her son had come to find her.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m taking Mina home,” Raios said.

“You know you can’t leave the house, correct?”

“You would really have me not accompany her to ensure she gets home safely?” Raios growled. Mina was a force of nature. No one messed with her if they were trying to have a good and decent day. But it was the principle of the matter. Mrs. Minori’s placid face slowly morphed into a sly smile, and she turned back to the soup in front of her.

“If you’re not back in 30 minutes, I’m sending your sister after you.”

“I’ll come right back,” he replied quickly. That was the last thing he wanted. His sister would interrogate him the entire way back and drive him insane. Dinner was already going to be bad enough, he didn’t need it to happen without the distraction of food (and he was sure their parents would conveniently ignore her jabs in an attempt to satiate their own curiosity.)

“D’you get permission?” Mina asked.

“Yup, but I gotta be kinda quick otherwise aneki will be sent for me. Being alone with her would be the most obnoxious thing in the world.”

“I’m not envious.”

“Must be nice being an only child.” Mina just shrugged and started slipping her geta on. Raios quickly followed, suit and the two left to go to her place.

“So, where should we go next time?” Mina asked.

“A date on the mainland is a bit hard since it’d take most of the day to get there,” Raios mused, “but we might be able to get on a ferry to one of the nearby islands that has more to do.” He looked over to find Mina pouting which completely bewildered him. “What? Why are you making that face?”

“Those’re fine ‘n all, but I want something quieter,” she grumbled.

“So what, you just wanna hang out on the beach on the quiet side of the island or something?” Her eyes lit up, and Raios once again came to the conclusion that there was no understanding his girlfriend. He sighed in resignation. “I guess that’s what we’ll be doing then.” Mina clapped her hands and giggled in glee before once again latching onto his arm. Raios didn’t even bother trying to get her off this time. If someone saw them, then they saw them.

It didn’t take long to arrive at Mina’s house, even with the awkward way she was hanging off him, and Raios stopped at the door.

“Alright, let go. It’s time for you to go home.” Mina grumbled under her breath and stubbornly clung to his sleeve. “Come on, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“It’s too long…”

“It’s the day after tomorrow!” Raios snapped.

“I wish we could just skip to being married already,” Mina pouted, moving to grip the collar of his yukata.

“That’s gonna be a bit,” Raios replied, feeling a bit sheepish. “We’re not even old enough.” Mina pouted, feeling disheartened when faced with the truth. “Quit that. You’re being ridiculous. At least consider for a moment the idea that you may be happier with someone else.”

“Not happening,” Mina growled at him. “It’s definitely gotta be you.” Then, Mina violently tugged on him pulling him downwards and caught him completely off guard. The one Raios had given her had been soft and fleeting. One of his many ways of gently telling her he loved her and appreciated her. The kiss Mina gave Raios was longer and firmer, and she didn’t even give him a chance to try and lead it. When she finally let go of him, he covered his mouth with his arm and stumbled back, a violent blush covering his entire face and creeping down his neck. Mina was almost sure she saw steam coming out of his ears too.

“YOU-!!” Mina just flashed him a smug smile and stuck her tongue out at him.

“See you Monday~” Mina said, waving to him as she went inside, feeling like she’d set off a whole warehouse’s worth of fireworks.

#Redacted File

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banshee1013 · 4 years

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Suptober Day 10 - Sweet Rides

OMG I GOT ONE DONE ON TIME (well, sorta, HAHA).

I finally managed to keep myself to a pencil drawing only, still took me 4 hours but I’m pretty pleased with it.

Then I stayed up until 1:30am finishing the fic - which was supposed to be a FICLET - 2k later! Oops.

Anyway, here’s Day Ten! Now to figure out what to do for tomorr... uh, later today, haha.

====================================

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER FIVE - SWEET RIDES

Words: 2026

Dean’s fingers drum a one-handed beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with John Bonham coming over the speakers. His other hand, resting on the bench seat next to him, is loosely entwined with Cas’.

After their rainy weekend interlude at Rufus’ cabin, Cas has been extra hands-on; never out of contact with Dean in one way or another for very long - and Dean has zero complaints with this development.

Giving a quick squeeze, he disengages his hand from Cas’ and flips the turn signal, sliding over to the lane for I-5 North.

Cas up to this point has been focused on the passing scenery with half-lidded eyes and soft smile, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. Dean had squeezed his hand a few times during the eight hour drive from the cabin, checking to see if he’d dropped off, but every time Cas had turned to him, returning the squeeze; the look in his eyes full of love and warmth, and Dean will do anything to keep Cas looking at him like that.

This time, Cas turns to him, but his eyes are now full of curiosity.

“I-5 North? I thought you wished to go south after we reached the west coast?”

“Thought we’d make a pit stop first.” Dean smirked to himself, recalling the conversation with Sam yesterday when he’d called to check in and found out they were headed to Seattle.

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

“Seattle, huh? Helluva drive just to get some Starbucks!” Sam snorted, his voice echoing slightly with the speakerphone on so he can sign the conversation to Eileen.

“Haha, Sammy. No way am I getting Starbucks in Seattle - that’s like going to Italy and getting McDonalds.” Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom, the Cas-shaped blanket-covered lump in the bed still unmoving, and silently cursed himself for not setting his phone on silent.

He desperately wanted to be back in there with him.

“So, everything alright? I gotta go, things to do.” More like someONE to do…

Sam did not sound convinced but didn’t push the issue. “Nah, all good here. Eileen and I are back at the bunker and just wanted to make sure you didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.” Sam chuckles at his own joke, then continues, “Hey, I know where you should go… y’know, when you get to Seattle.”

Dean sighs - now that he knows nothing is wrong, he’s tempted feign a bad connection and hang up - but he’s genuinely curious to find out what Sam is going to suggest. “Yeah? Do tell.”

“You should get some Dick’s.”

“Hahaha very funny, “ Dean growls, and moves to hang up when Sam yells, “Wait, WAIT!”

“WHAT?” Dean grimaces at the volume of his voice and glances over at his shoulder again. Cas stirs and rolls over but doesn’t wake. “What?” he says again, quieter.

“I mean, you should go eat a Dick’s.” Sam giggles, and Dean hears Eileen's soft laugh in the background.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Dean pulls the phone back from his ear once again and starts to hang up when he hears Eileen’s voice - “Dean, wait!”

With a mighty sigh, he puts the phone back to his ear and hears a smack in the background; an open palm against muscle and cloth, followed by Eileen’s voice: “Stop BEING a dick and tell him.”

“Okay, okay. You guys are no fun.” Sam speaks into the phone again. “It’s a fast food place out there. ‘Best burgers in America’ according to Esquire Magazine.”

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

Cas’ brow pinches in confusion and it’s still the most adorable thing ever. “Pit stop? Why are we stopping for pits?” His eyes narrow. “Are they peach pits? Do you need to distill cyanide from them?”

Dean can’t help himself - he outright guffaws. “No, no cyanide, why would I… I mean, we’re making a detour, stopping somewhere here in Seattle before heading south.”

“Ah, very well then.” Cas tilts his head. “Is it for coffee? I hear Starbucks is headquartered here, I suppose acquiring some from the original source might be interesting.”

“NO Starbucks… seriously, why does everyone…,” Dean pauses, then carefully schools his face into a serious expression, “We’re going for Dick’s.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“BURGERS!” Dean manages to gasp out as he gets the laughter under control. “It’s a burger place Sam told me about. ‘The most life-changing burger joint in America’ or so Esquire Magazine would have you believe.” Turning to Cas, he arches an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~~~ *** ~~~

“What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No, it wasn’t from the burgers - Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if they can.

As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.

The parking lot was full - of Impalas.

Black 1967 Impalas to be exact. DOZENS of them, all in a row.

Some had their trunks open, the inside of the lids decorated with devil traps and wards. Others had green coolers nearby, identical to the one in his backseat.

The squeal of tires had drawn the attention of the people gathered around, and one in particular waves and makes his way over to them.

“Oh shit, no no no…” Dean mutters, then quickly plasters on a wan smile as the guy approaches his window and leans on the sill.

“Hey there, I”m Davis, President of the Seattle chapter of the Supernatural Haunted Impalas club.” Dean glanced down at the man’s outstretched hand, briefly considers peeling rubber out of the parking lot and reluctantly decides against it - the last thing they need is a APB out on them for decapitating a guy in full view of witnesses - and takes the guy’s hand.

“hi, uh… De.. Daniel. I”m Daniel… uh, Dan, and this is… “ Releasing the guy’s… Davis’... hand, he turns to Cas, eyes wide and imploring.

Thankfully, Cas gets it. “Calvin,” Cas says, taking Davis’ hand and giving it a solemn shake - up and down, twice, and a quick release - “You can call me Cal.”

Davis blinks, then gives them a broad smile. “Nice to meet you boys. We’re all just parked over there, find a spot and come say hi!” He leans back, his smile widening. “Nice cosplay, by the way - Dean, I presume, and you must be Endverse Cas, am I right?” He throws fingerguns and a wink before turning to head back to the group.

“We should leave… yeah, we should definitely get the HELL OUTTA HERE…” Dean looks over his shoulder, trying to figure out the quickest way to bail on the situation; but just then, a loud rumble erupts from Cas’ stomach.

“Dean…” Cas sighs. “I’m very hungry, and you promised me a life-changing burger.” He gestures at the group, many of whom are now actively watching them. “And they’ve already noticed us. We might as well go and order the burgers, and then make an excuse to leave.” He drops puppy-dog eyes to rival Sam’s, and Dean knows he has no recourse but to go through with the charade - at least long enough to get a burger.

“FINE. We’ll order the burgers, make nice with locals while they’re cookin’, and then get the hell outta Dodge.”

Dean pulls into a spot at the end of the long line of Baby Wanna-Be’s. No sooner had they climbed out and closed the doors, a bubbly brunette bounces over to them.

“Hey guys, you look great! And wow, your Baby is GORGEOUS! What’s her name?” She claps a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t assume gender. What’s your Baby’s name?”

Dean’s lips part but nothing comes out, at a loss for words - then, “Baby.”

The bouncy brunette blinks, then nods, the smile returning. “Uh, great! Awesome!” She extends her hand. “I’m Brittany, and this is my girl, Gertrude,” indicating the Impala parked next to them.

Dean has to admit - Gertrude is in great shape. “Hi, Brittany, I”m De… Dan.” He passes an admiring gaze over the car. “She’s beautiful.”

Brittany blushes fiercely. “Thank you so much! She’s my pride and joy.”

Dean can’t help but grin - he gets it. “I know how you feel.” He starts toward the car, his interest piqued now.

Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean… uh, DAN,” he stammers. “We should order our food first.”

“Oh, right! Of course.” He turns back to Brittany. “Give us a moment? We’re starving.”

Brittany nods like her head is on a swivel. “OH of course! We’re not going anyway, go feed your boyfriend!” She turns back to Gertrude and strikes up a conversation with another couple.

They make their way to the order counter with no further distractions and order their food, both choosing the “Dick’s Deluxe” with fries and milkshakes, then wander over to the group of Impala owners.

By the time their food is ready, Dean is genuinely surprised at how much fun he’s actually having - the Impala owners are friendly and really know their cars, the pride of ownership evident - and Dean can’t help but respect that. However, they of course are also just as fanatical about Chuck’s books, which Dean struggles to hide his discomfort with.

As they head back to the counter to pick up their food, Dean turns to Cas. “I dunno about all this, Cas - they’re really into Chuck’s books and they have no idea what a tool he was.” His head drops with a sigh. “Should we tell them?”

“No, Dean.” Cas looks back over his shoulder at the group, their laughter and happy voices carrying across the parking lot. “They’re happy; the books have brought them together, given them friendship - a family, even.” He shakes his head. ‘Chuck used those words to manipulate you, but they have no power over you - over US - anymore. This way, they serve a good purpose.”

Dean blinks - he hadn’t thought of it that way. Of course Cas is right.

“Yeah... and look at all the sweet rides that came from them!”

~~~ *** ~~~

They gather their food order and head back to say their goodbyes, but the group appear to be packing up anyway - trunks being closed and coolers returned to their backseats.

Davis approaches them. “Hey guys… we’re about to head out, but we’re only going over to Golden Gardens Park to watch the sunset and hang out around the fire pits. You’re welcome to join.” He nudges Dean with his elbow. “The group’s really taken a shine to you,” he says with a bright grin, “and your Baby, of course.”

Dean turns to Cas, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Whadda ya say, sweetheart? Our first sunset…” he shakes the bag of food in his other hand, “and dinner on the West Coast?”

“I would love to, Dean.” Cas’ eyes are bright, his smile soft and warm and Dean really wants to kiss him right now, but… company.

“Adorable,” Davis says, hands clasped in delight. “I love how you two stay so in character.”

~~~ *** ~~~

The last rays of the sun slip behind the Olympic Mountains, but Dean is watching Cas watch the sunset.

He’ll never get tired of the look of wonder on Cas’ face when he experiences new things.

Or for that matter, the sounds he makes, either. Listening to him moan through that admittedly fantastic burger was downright pornographic.

He places a hand on Cas’ fire-warmed cheek and turns him away from the dimming horizon.

Damn the company. He’s gonna kiss his boyfriend.

He tastes the salt from the fries, the sharp vinegar of the pickles, the rich savory flavor of the burger, the lingering sweetness of the milkshake.

He tastes the unique flavor of Cas and relishes it.

Cas threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck and tilts his head just so and oh, it’s so, so good.

He hears a few giggles and more than a couple “awws” and pays them no mind.

He’s way too busy thinking about a completely different type of sweet ride.

#suptober20 #Day10 #art #fic #destiel #saileen

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Sten/f!Mahariel: Asala-ataar

Chapter 5 of Sten x Yara Mahariel’s ocean adventures is up on AO3!

In which Yara has a nightmare, and Sten introduces the concept of asala-ataar, or ‘soul sickness’.

~5300 words; read on AO3 instead.

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

Lethallan.

Yara patted Tamlen’s twisted and rotting face. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “You’ll be all right. You can be a Warden.”

No. Too late for me. Too far gone.

She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t give up. Just drink this, and you can be a Warden like me.” She gave him a cup of blood – her own blood, freshly collected from the pulsing wound in her side that Tamlen had inflicted.

She held her blood to his lips, but it poured back down over her own hands and into the burning battlements of Ostagar, and Tamlen was gone.

“Tamlen!” she shouted. “Lethallin, come back!” He couldn’t be far. She would just run along the battlements and climb over the mountain of corpses to find him, and then he could be a Warden too.

He didn’t need to die. He could be a Grey Warden too.

Boulders and bodies smashed into the crumbling battlements as she ran toward the mirror. She wiped the mirror to clear its hazy surface, but instead of her reflection, she saw his face: skin mottled and stretched over a mouthful of rotting teeth, hairless and ghastly. The only recognizable features were his distinctive green eyes.

“Tamlen,” she gasped. She slammed her bloody palms against the mirror. “Tamlen, get out of there! I can save you!”

You already did. I’m dead already.

“No,” she snapped. “No, you’re – Alistair, quick, we have to get him out!”

“Alistair is gone,” Alistair said.

She looked at him. He had Jory’s face, but that didn’t matter. “Come on, Alistair, we need to get him out,” she said urgently. “He can be a Warden like us!”

“Alistair is dead,” Jory-faced-Alistair said. “He’s dead where you left him.”

“Stop making jokes, will you?” she yelled. “This is serious!” She slammed her fists on the golem’s huge stone chest, but it was no use: Tamlen was stuck inside the golem’s body, fused inside of it with no escape, and she couldn’t get him out.

But she had to get him out. She couldn’t just leave him to die. She turned to Morrigan. “Please,” she said. “Please, help me get him out.”

“Of course, my friend,” she said, and she shoved a dagger deep into her own gut.

“No!” Yara cried. “Morrigan, stop!”

The dagger plunged into Morrigan’s belly again, and Tamlen spoke to her from inside the mirror-golem-mirror. I always loved you.

Yara sobbed. He was so close. The corpse-filled swamp was filling up with Morrigan’s blood, and it was lighting on fire everywhere that it touched, and Tamlen was so close, just on the other side of the mirror. “Please,” she begged. “I just wanted to save you.”

I always loved you, lethallan.

“Tamlen, please,” she cried. “Come back! Tamlen!”

“Kadan.”

She flinched and yelped. A hand was grasping her shoulder, and it was pitch-dark.

“Tamlen!” she blurted. “Where–” She sat up and flailed in the dark, and her fingers found an arm, the arm that was grasping her shoulder: warm skin over hard muscle–

Sten. It was Sten. She was with Sten, and they were in their cabin on the Rivaini ship.

She forced out a breath and pressed her trembling hands to her face. A moment later, the flickering golden light of the oil lamp leaked through her closed eyelids.

“You had a nightmare,” Sten said.

She gulped in a shaky breath and looked up at him. He was standing over her, and his face was drawn in a deep frown.

“Yes,” she rasped. “But it’s – I’m all right now.” Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her hands were still shaking, but if she lay down and breathed quietly, the shaking would stop.

Sten was gazing silently at her, and she couldn’t bear the weight of his gaze. She briskly wiped her sweaty forehead. “I… you can go back to sleep, Sten. I’m fine, really.”

“This is not fine,” he said.

She met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“These nightmares,” he said. “You had them at times during our travels. I was not aware that they were this severe.”

She blinked at him quizzically. “The…? Oh. No, those were archdemon nightmares,” she explained. “That was different. Alistair had those too. This was just a normal nightmare.”

“It is not normal to scream in your sleep,” he said flatly.

She gaped at him in horror. She’d been screaming in her sleep?

She scraped her fingers through her hair. “Fenedhis. Sten, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It won’t…” She faltered. She was about to tell him that it wouldn’t happen again, but how could she promise such a thing when she couldn’t control what she dreamt about?

“What were you dreaming of?” he asked.

Tamlen, she thought. I left him to die. She swallowed hard. “Why do you want to know?”

“Such nightmares can be a sign of illness,” Sten said. “We call it asala-ataar: ‘soul sickness’, in your tongue. It is a common affliction in Seheron.”

She looked at him with fresh worry. “Soul sickness? Is that like being possessed?”

“No. It happens when a constant stream of death and destruction makes a soldier question his purpose in the Qun,” he explained. “Such questioning causes the soldier to struggle with himself, and with this struggle comes suffering. This is asala-ataar.”

She nodded slowly. She could see how that made sense, in a qunari sort of way. “And… and nightmares are a sign of that?”

“For some,” Sten said. “Other soldiers with asala-ataar cannot sleep.”

She nibbled worriedly at the inside of her cheek. Was it possible that she had this asala-ataar?

“What are some other signs?” she asked.

Sten sat down on his bedroll. “They startle easily. They can be quick to anger or to cry. There can be repetitive behaviours, such as scratching or nail-biting. In the worst cases, they lash out and harm their brothers or other innocents.”

Scratching? she thought in dismay. She folded her arms to hide her raw left wrist. “How… if someone has asala-ataar, how do they get better?”

“The first recourse is for your brothers to help you,” Sten replied. “We have a way to divert suffering from the mind into the body, and then to expel it.”

Yara raised her eyebrows. “Really? What way is that?”

“We strike the afflicted soldier repeatedly,” he said. “Usually with a pole or a sturdy stick so as not to harm our own hands.”

Yara eyed him suspiciously. Was he joking? He didn’t look like he was joking. His mouth didn’t have that subtle little twist that meant he was having her on.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “You… your solution is to hit the sick person with a stick?”

“Or a pole, yes,” he said.

She stared at him. “How in Mythal’s name does that help?”

He gave her a patient look. “It is as I said: their suffering is diverted from the mind to the body. It helps clear the mind so the soldier can recall their purpose.”

Yara gaped at him. Of all the strange qunari things that Sten had told her, this had to be the absolute strangest.

She struggled to come up with something to say. “I… don’t think it would help me to be hit with a stick right now,” she finally said.

He shrugged. “It does not help every soldier with asala-ataar, either. If it does not work, the soldier goes to the tamassrans for help. Many of them do not return to the antaam.” He scratched his chin. “I believe the tamassrans find new roles for them if the sickness progresses to that point.”

Yara nodded thoughtfully. Then she gave him a curious look. “How do you know so much about this? Did you have asala-ataar?”

“No,” he said. “But many of my brothers did. I struck many of them with sticks. You would be surprised how effective it can be.”

Yara blurted out a little laugh. “That really does surprise me.”

He gave her a faint smile. She smiled back at him, and they sat quietly for a time as she considered his words. Maybe she did have asala-ataar. She was feeling pretty uncertain about her purpose, after all, and she had more than one of the signs that Sten had mentioned: she had nightmares, and she’d been scratching at her skin in her sleep.

Then something occurred to her. One of the signs that Sten had mentioned was lashing out and harming innocent people.

That was something that Sten had done. It was what had landed him in that cage in Lothering.

She licked her lips nervously. “Sten… are you sure you’ve never had this illness?”

He raised his eyebrows, so she pressed on. “In… in Lothering. You said you lashed out at that family after your beresaad got killed by darkspawn and you woke up in the barn. Could that have… didn’t that make you question your purpose at all? Did…” She trailed off as she realized how well the description of asala-ataar fit with Sten’s behaviour. Sten had suffered the unexpected loss of his entire squad, then he’d violently killed that family in Lothering. She knew he’d had nightmares; she’d witnessed one of them when they were trapped in the Fade while trying to free the Tower Circle from demons. And from the sounds of it, he’d made himself suffer by letting himself be caged – a sign that he was questioning his purpose, by his own logic.

She studied his face, and a pang of sympathy pulled at her heart; his expression was stonier than usual. “You did, didn't you?” she said softly. “You had soul sickness. That’s really why you attacked that family.”

He grunted. “How could I have soul sickness when I had lost my soul? My sword was gone. I was as good as dead already.”

“But weren’t you suffering in that cage?” she said. She had asked him this yesterday, and he hadn’t really answered.

His frowned deepened. “I was not questioning my purpose. I was attempting to lessen my failure. I had failed the Arishok, and I had failed the Qun. If I had not submitted to that cage, I would have suffered the greatest failing of all: I would have become a Tal-Vashoth. That cage was my only recourse to honour my duty to the Qun.”

She studied him with a painful feeling in her chest. Despite his constant deflection, Yara was certain that Sten must have been suffering during twenty days of captivity with little to no water or food. He’d certainly looked miserable when she’d met him.

“If you were back home and feeling that way, would you have gone to the tamassrans?” she asked.

“It would not have happened if I were home,” he said sharply. Then he pursed his lips. “But… yes. In a hypothetical situation, if I had… behaved that way in Seheron, I would have been sent to the tamassrans for help.” He shot her a wry look. “In case you did not notice, however, there are no tamassrans in Ferelden.”

Yara widened her eyes. “Are you sure about that? I thought I might have spotted one in Orzammar.”

Sten huffed. “Amusing.”

Yara smiled at him, and they fell quiet once more. Then he sighed. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I did have asala-ataar.” He looked her in the eye. “But you fixed that. I will fulfill my mission to the Arishok in less than two weeks, and this is only possible because of you.”

Her belly fluttered with nerves. He was giving her one of those special piercing looks, and her pulse was kicking up again for reasons other than her nightmare.

She looked away and let out a nervous little laugh. “Don’t give me all the credit. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t strong in your own right.”

“Your humility is admirable, but I mean what I said,” he said. “I would have died a failure if not for your… strange but effective leadership. You recovered my purpose. If I could do the same for you, I would.”

She met his eye. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I appreciate that.”

He nodded, and another calm silence fell between them. Then Sten rested his back against the bed.

“What do your people do when they suffer ailments of the soul?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I… I don’t know, really. I didn’t know anyone with anything like asala-ataar before my clan – before I left my clan. But when I had nightmares as a child, I talked about it with Ashalle.”

Sten nodded slowly. A minute later, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Do you wish to speak of your nightmares to me?”

She blinked. “Really? You’re willing to do something that bas do?”

“You have done things that my people do,” he said. “You found my asala. Consider this a return of the favour.” Then he shrugged. “Or I could try striking you with a stick.”

She smiled at his deadpan tone. “You’re saying if I don’t tell you about my dream, you’ll beat me up with a stick?”

“Those appear to be your choices at this time,” he replied.

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around her knees. “All right, since you insist. It was…” She ran a hand over her braid. The details were already fuzzy now that she was awake, but the feeling – and the most prominent person – were clear.

She took a deep breath. “Sten, do you remember that time that our camp was attacked by darkspawn? And one of them, um, spoke to me?”

He turned to look at her more fully. “Yes. The clanmate you called Tamlen.”

She nodded. “The dream was about him. I was… trying to save him. He was… I wanted Alistair to help me make him a Warden, but I… I couldn’t. And he kept – he kept saying, um…”

I’ve always loved you, lethallan. That was what dream-Tamlen had said. It was what the real blighted Tamlen had said before he attacked her at their camp. His voice was so hoarse and corrupted, twisting the words and making them ugly despite their intent, and…

And then he was dead, cut down by Zevran’s throwing knives and Sten’s greatsword, leaving his agonized words of love and apology to dissipate in the air.

Her chest felt tight. She dragged in a breath and rubbed her face, then ran her hands over her hair. “Look, we don’t need to talk about this. We should go back to sleep.”

Sten shifted on the bedroll so he was facing her once more. “You said that talking is how your people clear their minds.”

“It’s… yes, it’s one way,” she said grudgingly.

“But you did not talk about this during our convoluted pursuit of the archdemon over the past year.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t need to. There was no time. Other things were more important.” Furthermore, shunting the pain aside to deal with it later had been working just fine until tonight.

He nodded slowly. “You were focused on your mission. This is understandable. But there is no mission now. It is the middle of the night. There is nothing more important for you to focus on.”

She offered him a weak smile. “You could focus on getting a good night’s sleep. I might beat you tomorrow in our training if you’re not careful.”

He gave her a chiding look. “Speak, kadan. This is the time. I would help you with your soul sickness, as you helped me.”

She sighed and rubbed her face again, then gave him a frank look. “Did you know that I never saw battle before I became a Warden?”

His eyebrows rose at this, and Yara shrugged ruefully. “I’d never killed anyone before… before all of this. I hunted animals, and I’d wounded a few shems here and there when they tried to attack my clan, but I’d never killed anyone. But the ruin where Tamlen and I…” She paused and took another bracing breath. “I never told you how I became a Warden, did I?”

He shook his head. “You speak little of yourself.”

She gave him a tiny smile. “I could say the same about you.”

“Hm,” he murmured. “Perhaps it is part of my… charm.”

Yara looked at him in surprise, then laughed at the wry quirk of his eyebrows. “That was almost a flirt!” she said. “Maybe you are learning something from The Rose of Orlais after all.”

Sten huffed. “Tell me how you became a Grey Warden, kadan.”

She smiled at him, then sighed. “All right. I… Tamlen and I were monitoring the forest. Keeping an eye on the perimeter of our camp to make sure no humans were going to sneak up on us. But Tamlen found this… this old ruin. He wanted to explore it. I told him it was a bad idea, but he…” She paused and ran her fingers through her hair. “The only time I ever got into any mischief was when I was with him. Which was… not uncommon, if I’m honest,” she added with a tiny smile.

Sten nodded an acknowledgement. He was studying her with his usual brand of steady patience, and Yara took another calming breath before going on. “Anyway. We… we went into the ruin, and… I should have known better than to go any deeper, because there were monsters inside. Walking corpses…” A rash of goosebumps spilled down the back of her neck at the memory, and she restlessly shifted her shoulders. “It’s nothing now, compared to the darkspawn — ogres and shrieks and all that. But at the time, it was the most horrible thing I’d ever seen.”

“You were unprepared for your first brush with death,” he said.

“Of course I wasn’t prepared,” she retorted. “I was not prepared at all. I mean, who… no one could – who could be prepared to find dead bodies brought back to life in some old ruin in the woods?”

Sten grunted. “You make a good point.”

She exhaled heavily. “So we killed the dead bodies. And we kept going deeper into the ruin because… Creators, I don’t know why. I wish — anyway.” She ran a trembling hand over her hair. “And then we found the mirror.”

Sten’s eyebrows rose. “A mirror?”

She nodded. “Yes, a huge ornate mirror. It was… it whispered.” She swallowed hard. “This cold, horrible voice, but I… I wanted to know what it said, and so did Tamlen. But I was… Sten, I was so scared. I told Tamlen we should go back to tell Marethari – our clan leader. But he insisted on touching the mirror.” She dragged in another breath. “He touched it, and something… I don’t know what happened. But when I woke up, I was back with my clan and sick with the Blight, and Tamlen was gone.”

“The Blight took him,” Sten said.

“I know that now,” Yara said, more sharply than she intended. “But at the time, we had no idea what had happened. I went looking for him with Fenarel and Merrill, but we didn’t find him. And when we came back to camp, Duncan was there, and he made me join the Wardens.” She frowned. “Actually, no. It wasn’t him who made me join. It was Marethari. She…” Yara pressed her lips together hard. The agitation in her chest was thrumming more strongly as she spoke about this, and it was starting to feel like a heated pulse behind her eyes and in her ears.

She scratched her wrist. “Marethari told Duncan to conscript me. She forced me to go with Duncan, and then they left the Brecilian Forest even though they didn’t know what had become of Tamlen.”

Sten nodded. “You were given a new purpose,” he said. “You were sick, and the Wardens helped you. That was good for you.”

Yara stared at him. Had he not been listening at all? “I didn’t want to leave my clan,” she said harshly. “I didn’t want to leave without knowing what happened to Tamlen. I had no choice about it. And I know you think choice doesn’t matter, all right?” she snapped. “I know that. I just… I wasn’t raised that way, Sten. I loved my clan, and I loved Tamlen. He was my brother, just like your brothers in your beresaad. He disappeared, and the clan didn’t bother to look for him. And I had to leave them and follow Duncan to Ostagar that same day.” She hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t even get time to say goodbye to everyone. I just… left. They… they made me leave.”

She had been so miserable during the entire trek to Ostagar. She’d hidden it from Duncan as best she could, but every morning when she’d woken up, her left wrist was more raw and painful than the day before. She’d eventually started wearing long-sleeved shirts to sleep to prevent her sleeping nails from breaking the skin.

Sten suddenly grasped her left wrist. Startled by his touch, she jolted and looked at him.

His face was serious, and his grip on her wrist was firm. When he released her, she looked at her wrist.

It was marked with angry red score lines. Fenedhis, she thought impatiently. She folded her arms defensively across her chest.

Then Sten spoke again. “Are you angry that you are a Grey Warden?”

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s not that. I’m… it is what it is. I’m a Warden now, and that’s just the way it is. And I get why they made me join. If I hadn’t become a Warden, I’d be dead. I’m just…” She tugged restlessly at her braid. “I’m angry about how it happened. It was so sudden, and they just… my clan just cast me off. They cast Tamlen off, too.” She shot Sten a resentful look. “I lost everything that day. Can’t you see that? I lost everything but my life, and I didn’t know how long that was even going to last.”

“You were questioning your purpose,” Sten said.

“Of course I was,” she snapped. “I had a purpose! I was a hunter for my clan! Then that was gone, along with Tamlen and my clan and my whole life.”

“But you gained a new purpose,” he said. “And you accepted it. You fulfilled your mission.”

“Yes, I did. I finished my mission, all right?” she snapped. “I did my duty and I killed the archdemon, so I should be happy. Is that what you want me to say?”

Sten raised his eyebrows knowingly. “‘Happy’ does not mean the same thing to you and I.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yara said bitterly. “Because you don’t love anyone.”

Her cruel words hung heavily between them. Her heartbeat was loud and angry in her ears, but as the silence stretched between them, her anger faded into a horrible wracking guilt.

She sighed and rubbed her face. “Sten, I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you loved your friends in your beresaad. That was… I shouldn’t have said that.”

He nodded an acknowledgement, but his frown was thoughtful rather than angry. To her mild surprise, he changed the subject. “The battle at Ostagar. The one where you and Alistair were the sole survivors,” he said. “That happened the same day you arrived at Ostagar? The same day you became a Warden?”

She nodded cautiously. “That same night, yes.”

“And the next day, you set out to stop the civil war and the Blight,” he said.

She nodded and exhaled heavily. “Everything happened pretty quickly, yes.”

Sten tilted his head and didn’t reply, and Yara watched him nervously. “What are you thinking?” she finally asked.

He continued to study her with a curious frown. “You barely spoke of this before.”

She shrugged and dropped her eyes to her lap. “There was no reason to.”

“It is unusual for you bas to not speak of your pasts,” he said. “The others spoke of their pasts. Alistair would not stop talking about the senior Warden who died at Ostagar.”

“That’s fine,” Yara said. “They can talk about themselves. I don’t mind. I like knowing their stories. But I don’t like to… I just…” She shrugged irritably and waved at herself. “Nobody wants to know about this. Everyone has something horrible going on. It’s bad enough to carry their own problems without carrying mine too.”

“But you carried their problems,” Sten said. “I observed your behaviour during our travels. You and the other bas. You carried their problems. And you carried mine.”

She frowned. “Yes, but that’s… it was my job to help them — to help you with your problems.” She gave him a slightly sarcastic look. “I was the alleged leader, remember?”

“There is nothing ‘alleged’ about it,” Sten said. “You led us, and you did it well. And you carried our problems without complaint. This is what a good leader does.”

She scowled and tucked a stray strand of hair over her ear. “So what’s the problem, then? If I was doing my job well? Isn’t that what qunari think is the most important thing?”

“It is important,” Sten said. “I am simply remarking that it is a heavy weight for a small woman to carry.”

Yara scoffed. “You and this ‘small woman’ stuff. I get it, all right? You think I’m small and weak and that I shouldn’t fight–”

“Parshaara,” Sten interrupted firmly. “I do not think you are weak. You have more strength than men who are twice your size.” He leaned toward her. “But you have asala-ataar, and I do not want to see it break you.”

Yara stared at him, stunned into silence by the look on his face. His expression was so serious and so earnest, and the look in his violet eyes was more sympathetic than she’d expected.

She swallowed hard. Tears were suddenly throbbing in her throat and pounding at the backs of her eyes. She forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Maybe we should try that beating-with-a-stick thing after all,” she quipped.

Sten didn’t smile. He continued to pin her with that steady and penetrating stare that made her feel more exposed and raw than the scratched-up skin on her left wrist. He was just sitting there on the floor gazing silently at her: a big strong wall of muscle with his soft amethyst eyes…

Yara opened her mouth, and a sob came out. A second later, tears were pouring down her face.

Fenedhis, She hastily wiped her face with the bedsheet, then sobbed again. “S-sorry,” she choked out. “You don’t – I’m sorry. This is– I’m not usually…” She sobbed again, then gave up and buried her face in her arms.

“Kadan,” Sten said quietly.

She hiccuped and wiped her runny nose on her arm. “Mm?” she mumbled.

There was a pause before he spoke again. “Sten of the beresaad do not cry,” he said.

She let out a wet little laugh. “Thanks. That’s helpful.”

“I want to help,” Sten replied. “Tell me what your people would do when one is crying.”

She shrugged listlessly and wiped her face. “Hold each other’s hands, I guess,” she muttered. “Or hug.”

“Hug?” he said.

She drew another hiccup-y breath. “It’s when two people put their arms around each–”

“I know what a hug is,” Sten said dryly. “I am not an idiot.”

She grimaced. “Sorry.”

Sten shifted slightly on the bedroll. “Hugging is how the tamassrans comfort imekari.”

Yara huffed. “Well, some adults like it too,” she mumbled.

Sten was quiet for a moment. Then he stood up. “I will hug you if this will help.”

Yara gaped at him, then let out an incredulous little laugh. “You’ll hug me? You’ll…” She hiccupped, and more tears rolled down her face. “You’ll actually h-hug…?” She broke off again; she was crying too hard to talk.

She hid her face in her knees and clutched her hair, humiliated that Sten was seeing her like this. A moment later, the mattress shifted as his weight settled beside her.

“Come, kadan,” he said, and he squeezed her shoulder.

She sobbed again, then pushed the blankets off of her legs and shuffled toward him on the bed. He draped his arm around her, and the next thing she knew, she was curled up in Sten’s lap and bawling against his bare chest.

His thickly muscled arms encircled her in a somewhat awkward embrace, and Yara sobbed even harder and pressed her face against his chest. He was so warm and sturdy and big, and he smelled like the sweetness of sleep and a faint hint of sweat, and she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this safe.

She clutched his arm and sobbed unabashedly. By the time her tears had died down to the odd weak hiccup, she felt both emptier and more relaxed than she had in months.

She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. She was completely exhausted. Her head was aching and her eyes felt grossly swollen, and she couldn’t imagine that she looked at all attractive. Then she berated herself for even worrying about being attractive to Sten, given the situation.

“Is your mind clear?” Sten asked quietly.

She sniffed hard and nodded. “Yes,” she murmured. “I feel much better now.”

Sten didn’t reply, and Yara simply breathed and savoured the warm wall of his chest and the solid comfort of his arms around her. Some time later – she wasn’t sure how long exactly – he spoke again. “Should I release you?”

She took a deep breath. She should probably say yes. She could tell from his slightly stiff posture that hugging wasn’t natural to him, and she really was feeling much better than she had all night. She actually felt better now than she had when this entire journey had begun, despite her puffy eyes and the residual ache in her chest.

In fact, she felt better now than she had in a very, very long time.

“Can you hug me for a little longer?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” he said. His arms tightened slightly, and Yara’s heart fluttered.

She heaved a heavy, tremulous sigh, then pressed her cheek more snugly against his chest. “Thank you, Sten,” she whispered.

“You are welcome, kadan,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. A few minutes later, lulled by exhaustion and the safety of Sten’s embrace, Yara fell asleep.

#sten #sten dragon age #sten/mahariel #sten x mahariel #sten/warden #sten x warden #stenwarden #fall into the tide #pikapeppa writes

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

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Artificially Inclined - Pt 3

Title: Artificially Inclined (A.I.) Word Count: 6K Rating: M Genre: Android AU, Assassin AU, Scifi, Romance (smut), Drama, Thriller Warnings: Violence, Disability Discrimination, Drug Use, Sexual Reference Pairings: Maknae Line x Reader (Primarily Jungkook x Reader) Pairings (in this chapter): Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Summary: You took Jungkook on as a project, something to help you pass the time in your exile. How could you have known that he would become such a big part of your life? That he would see you as his entire reason for existence, and the only method for his survival. When an outsider, V, is forced into your life, after learning of the secret that keeps you hidden away, relationships shift and tension grows high. After all, how can you expect Jungkook to share your attention when he’s held it for so long?

A/N: Just a forewarning there is going to be a major tone shift two thirds of the way through this chapter. It’s a POV switch, which is written in true first person (as opposed to the modified version I sometimes write in). I considered splitting it off into another chapter but in order for you to get the full view of what’s happening I decided to keep it all together. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 - Execution Flaw

Present 9:40 am December 4th, 2054

POV (Y/N)

“I would like you to ask me Noona. If it happens again, I want to help you.”

You find yourself repeating, ‘he doesn’t know what he’s asking,’ over and over in your mind until you find a way to resolve his request. ...Jungkook what do you feel towards me? When you see me what is your first reaction?...

“I want to assist you.”

...Would you ever deny me a request?...

“Of course not Noona.”

...Then I’m sorry but I can’t ask you to help me. I know you say that you want to, but you do not yet possess the components that equate to consent in this matter... The explanation you give is formal but it’s the best you have.

“And what are those components?” Jungkook’s eagerness weighs on you, it’s as if he expects to receive a simple answer that will clarify everything.

...There are a few but I suppose the basics would consist of love, desire, and the ability to refute...

“The update that Hyung gave you, will that not solve these issues?”

...I’m not sure Jungkook, I need to look at the coding first. I don’t want to walk into this blindly...

“May I look at it?”

...I think it’s best if I hold onto it for now...

“It would be more efficient for me to examine the software.”

...Jungkook, it would make me happy if you dropped the subject... You cringe internally as you write those words but you find yourself unsure of how else to get him to change the conversation. You don’t want to even risk him even seeing the coding in case he begins the update unintentionally after viewing the programming. He has a habit of latching on to so much information and then integrating it into his system. If he feels like something will improve his capabilities he will seek to upload it.

Jungkook goes silent, but watches your expression closely as you head towards the dining room for breakfast. Your plate is set at your seat stuffed to the edge with your favourites, while the rest of the table remains bare. Jungkook takes the seat next to you as your mind continues to dwell on his proposal.

“You’re not happy.”

You look back to Jungkook, confused by his statement.

...What do you mean?...

“You said that if I dropped the subject you would be happy.”

...Sorry, I was just thinking about tonight... Such a bold face lie, you scold yourself while taking a bite of an apple. Not wanting to meet his eyes you look to the toast rack next for a slice of whole wheat but today you find it empty.

“Would you like to discuss the schedule for the day?”

...Yes please anything to distract me...

“Your brother should arrive home in just over an hour. Followed by your meeting with him regarding your dissertation. Your parents will get in just before the party which will start at 8pm and then fly out again at 11pm. It appears they have also just sent you and Seokjin a joint email wishing you a Happy Birthday.”

Jungkook abruptly stops the rundown while his head tilts in the direction of the kitchen. This behaviour is nothing new, with his improved hearing he can often listen in on things that might be impossible for you to pick up.

He stands up from his seat and moves in the direction he was staring off into. “I’ll return shortly Noona.”

When he opens the door to the kitchen you can briefly hear the ruckus inside, before the door slams shut behind him again.

Jungkook returns a minutes later with an appliance in tow.

...Jungkook why do you have a toaster?...

He looks down at the small device he’s cradling in hands. “I can fix it Noona.”

After giving you the vague answer, he sits back down and looks ominously at the door, until your head chef bursts forth to address you.

“Keep that mechanical pet of yours out of my kitchen!”

...Jungkook is allowed to go wherever he wishes. If he enters your kitchen there is obviously a reason for him to be there...

“He stole the toaster!”

...Jungkook why did you take it?...

“She was yelling at it and hitting it, I wanted her to stop. I can repair it.”

...If Jungkook wishes to fix the toaster I see no problem here...

“Fine he can keep the damn thing, I’ll just get a new one that actually works.”

As the cook returns to the kitchen you shake your head. You wish that occurrences like this were rare but unfortunately Jungkook has a habit of rubbing some people the wrong way. It’s not his fault, he’s just trying to help them. Why can’t they see that?

“She was going to throw it out Noona.” There is such distress in his voice that your frustration crumbles. You know that he worries that he will be treated the same one day. He only wants to show people the value of technology... even if it is a simple toaster.

...I know Jungkook...

“Why do humans dispose of things so quickly?”

...Because they don’t understand. They feel that it’s not worth their time fix something that’s broken...

“Why are you different Noona?”

...Because to them I am broken too... You identify far more with the appliance in Jungkook’s hands than the women who was trying to dispose of it.

“You are not broken Noona. You are living within the parameters of how you were made. You cannot give fault to the device, only the creator.”

...Thank you Jungkook...

...

After breakfast you begin prepping for your discussion with Seokjin, while also taking a glancing through his correspondence from the past year.

Dec. 7th, 2053

...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I left you there. I just couldn’t stay, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the house where we were lied to our whole lives for even a moment longer. I was selfish, I hadn’t considered what you might be feeling. Please let me know that you’re okay. I won’t be coming home for a while but I just need you to know that you are still my sister, my very brilliant sister.

- Seokjin...

...

Dec. 31st, 2053

...Sorry I haven’t been able to visit. I’ll see if I can get some time off for the Lunar Holiday. I’m glad to hear that you are doing well. I have some fantastic news to share. The first of the new defence model units are coming off the production line. I am taking a couple semesters off from grad school to be involved with their development but they should be ready to go within a year! They never would have made it this far without out your insight, I just thought you, my brilliant sister, should know the incredible work you’ve done.

-Seokjin...

...

Feb. 8th, 2054

...Happy Lunar New Year! And again I must send my apologies. They’ve been keeping me busy here. One day I’ll bring you to the international factory to show you what you helped create. I know that I haven’t been home to discuss your work, trust me when I say that I miss those times too, but you can always send anything you wish to discuss to my dropbox. You may have to explain it to me though because there is no way I could ever live up to your brilliance.

-Seokjin...

...

June 23rd, 2054 (Message has been decrypted by JK0901)

...I’m sure you’ve guessed by now the reasons for the lack of communication, especially with it being all over the news. But I figured you would want me to confirm. There has been some push back with our new units from two extremist groups. The first is a religious organization called S(e)oul First, I would almost enjoy their cleaver name were it not for their antics. They claim that we are playing god, and taking innocent lives with our soulless creations, so their recourse has been to attack out our factories. We have managed to secure our production lines in classified locations but contact in and out must be limited and heavily encrypted, for fear of discovery.

The second group, known as Asimov's Law, has been trying to push that we bind all androids to rules set in popular fiction. I mean really, can you believe that? They have been relatively quiet recently, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they make their strike too. So please, I am begging you, stay by JK0901, and stay safe. I’ll contact you when I can.

-Seokjin...

...

Nov. 25th, 2054 (Message has been decrypted by JK0901)

...Thank you for all of your messages and updates. I can finally make a short trip back home for our birthday next week, although I suppose there will be some business mixed in too. I guess that party that our parents are throwing will also be the official public announcement of the military line, there will be several government officials in attendance. So much for our celebration right?

But with this trip I’ll finally be able to discuss your progress with you in person. I must say I was surprised to see the direction you are taking your work. My flight gets in just after 10am so I’ll probably make it home around 11 shall we take some time then to discuss your findings then?

-Seokjin...

...

The second that Seokjin steps in the door he wraps you in a tight hug. You can hardly contain your excitement so see your brother again after so long.

“I guess you missed me too?” He laughs as he pulls you away slowly. “After what I did I don’t deserve such kindness.”

You shake your head to convey that all is forgotten.

“Come on I know you’re anxious to show me what you’ve been up to.”

With your annual report due to the research team in a matter of days you are looking for some initial feedback. The subject matter is so unusual that the lens through which it is presented becomes essential to its reception.

As Seokjin looks over your final paper you watch his expression closely. His brow furrows several times as if in confusion.

...What’s wrong?...

“It’s good I’m just a little perplexed as to how it will benefit the direction in which the company is currently going. You’re discussing possible advancements to affective computing but we already have a good baseline for emotional recognition. It’s expensive research to conduct and I worry that we would see little return if we continued to invest in that area.”

...It could be improved. I spend most of my time with Jungkook and he still struggles to determine some emotional expressions. But this isn’t just about androids seeing and understanding emotions but possibly even feeling them...

“What benefit would that give to the military defense units?”

...You said it yourself that people are having difficulty accepting them. This might help bridge the gap...

“We are not going to cater to extremists, they will never be happy.”

...Then at least for household droids. If I can work with Jungkook to the point where he is able to develop his own emotions. We could apply that to assistant units and such, it could make their productivity increase if they can apply emotional intelligence...

“I was worried about this....” It’s with a sigh that Seokjin continues, “We are not trying to make them human (Y/N).”

You feel a sense of embarrassment as he simplifies your work so bluntly. You can only assume he wants you to see the error of your ways, but why? Why is it so wrong to want this for them? Jungkook makes you feel more human than anyone else, yet you can’t give him the same experience.

...No but I would like them to understand. They should understand what they are fighting, and what they are protecting...

...

“I’m sorry Noona.”

...For what?...

“I’m sorry that Master wasn’t impressed by our work.”

...He just doesn’t find value in it yet. I’m sure once we are successful he will...

Jungkook is currently helping you with your dress for tonight. You didn’t realize when you ordered it that the back consisted of intricate laces that the wearer would need assistance with. But of course Jungkook was more than willing to aid you. You watch him in his progress through the mirror in front of you. He himself had already changed into the same black suit that all of the security units would be wearing.

As his fingers threaded the ribbon through the notches in the fabric they would occasionally brush the skin of your back. After each loop he tugs on the lace cinching it together. This causes you to lose balance several times during the process but he stops to brace you when it does.

...Did you manage to fix the toaster while I was with Seokjin?...

He beams back at you through the mirror, “Yes I did.”

...What was wrong with it?...

“User error. She did not maintain the appliance, she is not like you.” He yanks on the strings of the gown one last time pulling you into him. Jungkook’s face now right beside yours, you watch through the looking glass as he looks at you intently, whispering into your ear, “You take such good care of me Noona.” His fingers trail along the boning of the dress, pressing down and smoothing out the fabric on your skin as they move along. “How does that fit?”

Reluctantly taking your eyes off him, you test the bodice with a tug. ...I think it could be a little tighter...

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

...You won’t, I won’t be wearing it for long. I am just worried about it falling...

“Formal attire seems so unnecessarily complex.”

...Yes, yes it is. It’s amazing what we’ll do to look pretty...

“You are already pretty Noona.” You inhale sharply as he tightens the gown further. “Based on the standards of society you are considered attractive.”

Your hand hovers over the tablet as you ponder if you should press him further. ...What about your standards?...

“I don’t have standards of beauty, but I suppose it could be considered my drive to observe you. If that’s the case I consider you very beautiful.” His hand comes to find your wrist. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt, your heart is racing again.”

You nod to him, flush with embarrassment.

...

The party is contained to a separate building on the property used for entertaining guests. On one side there is a large elaborate ballroom and on the other there is a corridor filled with smaller rooms, including your refuge in the form of a piano parlor. An evening such as this often becomes a test on how short you can make your appearance without it seeming odd or rude.

Without your tablet in hand you feel empty and anxious. Clinging to Jungkook's arm as if he is a crutch. You have done this so many times before but each spectacle makes you nervous wondering if this will be the time someone figures out your secret before you can leave. As you enter you nod to the several people who recognize you. You find yourself fortunate for your brother, all of the guests have their sights set on him for discussion not just because of his position, but due to his affable nature. Jungkook quickly ushers you to the corner occupied by Namjoon.

One of the temporary wait staff hired for the evening approaches to offer you a glass of champagne. Jungkook turns them away for you to avoid any issue. Namjoon eyes the waiter as he leaves, waiting until the staff is fully out of sight before addressing you.

“You look stunning.”

You cock your head and glower at him. Namjoon says this every year.

“What? I’m still not allowed to say that?.”

“Not to my sister.” Seokjin steps up to your side.

“Seokjin.”

“Namjoon.”

You look between the two men letting out a huff at their cold acknowledgment of each other. Namjoon and Seokjin have never quite seen eye to eye. Namjoon hates him for labeling your work as his, while Seokjin loathes him for not paying the respect his title demands.

Seokjin leans into you while taking a sip of champagne. “They've really outdone themselves this time haven’t they. Our parents thought it would be smart to invite all of my old school mates to make it seem like an actual party, not a publicity event. Pathetic isn’t it? I haven’t seen half of these people for more than 10 years.”

You nod noting that the room looks more full than usual. You scan the ballroom taking a pause for a moment as you see a familiar face in the crowd. It couldn’t be, is it really him?

Seokjin takes note of your distraction following your gaze. “Is that V? That’s a surprise. Do you remember him too? I heard there was an accident, and lost a good portion of his memory. I’m shocked to see him here, rumors are that he likes to keep to himself now.”

You lock eyes with the guest from your past, for a brief moment you consider that maybe, just maybe he remembers you too. But he turns his head away quickly and without acknowledgment, dashing any hope for you to reunite.

“I have to give the announcement soon. You should be good to leave after that.” Seokjin turns to Jungkook, “JK0901, I’ll leave her to you. I can at least trust that you won’t run off with some frivolous tart while on guard duty.” He smirks at Namjoon after issuing the order, with the obvious attention of giving offense.

“Someone sounds jealous. I could give you a few pointers on how to attract people, but that would require you to be a decent human being.” You elbow Namjoon in the ribs for his comment, but he continues to sneer at Seokjin. “Go ahead, run along now, go take credit for work that isn’t yours.”

As Seokjin leaves you glare at Namjoon, but he only scoffs at your expression. “You know it’s considered rude to give your tutor such a look... you’re lucky I find it amusing.”

...

A herd of people begin to congregate closer to the stage for Seokjin’s speech. You find a couple of them looking to your direction, they seem curious of you but intimidated by Jungkook's presence.

“My sister and I would like to thank you for coming this evening to celebrate our birthday. We also must pass along the apology that my parents are unable to join us at the moment as their travel plans were delayed, they hope to arrive as soon as possible. But that leaves me with the pleasure of sharing official news of the progress we have been making. As of today, we have just shipped out 500 new military units equipped with state of the art programming that will keep us safe for years to come. Human soldiers will become a thing of the past, and soon conscription will no longer be necessary.” There was an uproar of applause. “This has been the goal of our company for a long time but of course we couldn’t done it without your support, so please enjoy yourselves tonight!

As sound of the ovation comes to an end you have your cue to leave. For some reason after a speech the environment always becomes palpable with excitement and people will often try to embrace you with conversation. Hiding yourself behind Jungkook, he edges you to the hallway with several androids guarding the entrance to make your exit.

You are only too happy to be lead back to the parlor by Jungkook. He guides you to your favourite spot in the room, the piano bench. Your tablet already there and waiting for you.

“May I give you your present now Noona?”

You look over to him with a curious interest. ...Jungkook you aren’t required to give me anything for my birthday...

“Neither is Hyung, but you accepted his gift. Will you receive mine too?”

You nod expecting him to pull something out from a pocket but instead he places his hands on the keys in front of you. The ivory presses beneath his fingers in the form of a familiar melody. It’s an accompaniment, the perfect fit to the first piece he had ever heard you play.

...You learned how to play?...

He nods, “Your music is essential you, I want to be part of it too.”

...But this song, you remember it? I haven’t played it in so long...

Jungkook looks to you as he continues, not even missing a beat. “I can recall everything you do Noona, but the memory of this song keeps repeating for me. At first I thought it was an error, but I believe this is what humans experience when a memory is important to them, is it not?”

You nod to confirm, a tear escaping you as you are overwhelmed with emotion. Jungkook’s fingers pause on the keys to address your tears ...No, keep playing, these are happy tears I promise...

“Will you play it with me? Can I hear your voice with mine?”

The small piano bench encourages you to press your side against his as you take up position. Your fingers quake slightly as they join his on the instrument, matching Jungkook's slow soft tempo allowing your fingers to roll over the instrument's keys.

His hand nudges yours as your notes draw closer together. His sound is a little more forceful than your own, especially for such a piece. This time you place your hand on his, guiding him to caress the keys, showing him how feather light touches can convey just as much. Wondering if he can see how it changes the emotional impact of the song.

Jungkook looks to you again with another question as the piece comes to a close, “Noona that man Master was referring to earlier, V, did you know him?”

You finish off the last few notes before responding. ...I did. A long time ago, before I met you...

You were upset that V did not recognize you when you met eyes, but Jungkook more than makes up for that now. He will never leave you, he will never forget you. So why is it so hard to wipe the boy with the boxy grin from your mind?

You find Seokjin standing in the doorway with a coy grin on his face. “Mom and Dad just arrived if you want to see them?”

You shake your head and lowered your eyes, “Yeah I felt the same, luckily they’ll only be here for an hour or two and then they are heading out with the Prime Minister.” He nods at Jungkook, “So now you’re training it how to play the piano too?”

Seokjin paces closer to see your answer ...He is acting off his own impulses. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, they are more than just assistants or soldiers...

“For our company to thrive they can’t be, we need soldiers who are going to take orders not question their leaders. This is for the greater good. You heard what I said, with these units we can save lives, we can end conscription.”

Seokjin’s phone suddenly starts to blare out, he looks at the display with apprehension “Why would they risk a call from there? This line isn’t secure.” He mutters quietly before answering the phone.

“Hello, yes why are you... what... what the hell do you mean it never arrived? How can 500 units just go missing?... Do you know what that shipment was worth?” Seokjin’s anger is overflowing, it’s terrifying to see him in such a rage. “Have them send the jet to Seoul I’ll leave right away.”

He gives out a sigh as he hangs up. “Sorry sis, I’ll have to cut this trip short. I’ll send word soon once I make sure that we can have a secure conversation. It looks like our friends have decided to act out again.” There’s a swift kiss to your check before he exits out the back.

While Seokjin takes his leave, Jungkook stares at the other door that leads to the long hallway and ballroom.

...What’s wrong?...

“One of the guests has passed out, possibly do to an allergic reaction. The units on site have sent out an emergency signal to respond.”

...You should go, they might need your help...

“You’ll be okay Noona?”

You nod and wave him off out the door.

In his absence you returning to your piano calling up a different piece from your past, one you learned and played before Jungkook's time. The song you played for V so many years ago. The song he loved to listen to as he sat by your side... the one that prompted him to give you your first kiss at the age of 13. Seokjin might think V a distant memory, but for you he still holds strong.

You had keep your friendship secret from Seokjin, from your family. For fear of what they would do if they found out he knew of your disability.

V would always tell the guards he was coming to visit Seokjin as a child when really he was coming to see you. It had broken you deeply when he and his family moved away in your yearly teen years. You had heard about the accident too. The one that took his family and many of his memories. You wonder how much he could remember. If he can recall you or your time together, does he know of your friendship that grew despite your defect?

The door pushes back open, you keep playing knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t want you to stop on his account. But It’s not Jungkook who comes to stand by your side...

“Sorry to interrupt.”

It’s Kim Vincent... V.

Maybe it was the song you just played, maybe it was the fact that you were reliving the memory, you couldn’t help but toss aside priority for once, leaping up from your piano and pulling him into a hug.

...

Asimov’s Law safe house, Seoul 12:00 pm December 4th, 2054

POV Taehyung

“Fuck!” I curse out as our captive’s vomit spills all over my shoes.

Yoongi enters the room chuckling once he sees the reason for my swear. Calling out to the one who should have been in my predicament. “Hoseok get your ass out here! It’s your job to keep him alive until tonight.”

I look back to the man tied to the chair, Kim Vincent. He’s high as a kite with bile now dripping from his chin. I still can’t shake the eeriness I feel when I look upon him. I know that the whole plan relies on our likeness, but having someone who resembles me so closely is unnerving.

“Did you get everything you needed? I just got the confirmation to proceed for tonight.”

“I think so, we should try and keep him at a better level though, he’s too far gone. I might require any last minute information he can remember but he’s useless like this.” I push the man’s head back proving my point when I release it to lull forward again.

“When we found him he wasn’t much better. You either get this or serious withdrawal symptoms. No one wants an irritable drug addict.”

“Ugh gross.” Hope finally enters the room to look after his charge. “Leave the shoes Tae I’ll find you some other ones. Is Jimin back yet?”

“From his pre-op ritual? No he was out all night, someone must have kept him busy.” I respond with cynicism. The lock on the door begins to rattle and in stumbles Jimin. “Speak of the devil, cutting it a little close aren’t you? Were you out enjoying your walk of shame?”

“I have plenty of time, and he was worth every step. I was sad to see he already left the hotel when I woke up though, I could have gone for another round.” Jimin gives a smug look as he examines the state of the room he’s just entered. “You should join me next time rather than stress here all night. I can find you someone to help relax.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Jimin strolls off to his room with a hum.

“Yoongi where you able to find any more information on our employer?”

“Nothing. Although I expect they are involved with the S(e)oul First movement. They must be part of something big for the amount they’re paying us.”

“Even if they are as close to the family as they boast?’

“That could have been their motive to get so close, we can’t be sure. Their wish to remain anonymous is not surprising, they’re giving us our chance and letting us choose between the two targets so we shouldn’t complain.”

“I’ll take out both if I can. They may just want to send a message, but I want to win this war.”

“Don’t risk it if you don’t have the window though, the male heir is the priority. She will inherit a large fortune, but he is in line to receive the company. This is going to be more dangerous than you anticipate. With so many units around, your time is going to be limited and our communication almost non-existent. Their security is impossible to hack, you’ll be blind, other than what the informant has given us.”

“Just be ready with the switch once I send the green light.”

...

As I hand over my invitation to the staff they compare my face to the image they have on file, directing me thought the metal detector and into the ballroom once they confirm my identity.

It’s hard to believe the number of people of importance that they’ve stuffed into one room. It’s like they are asking for us to make a move. For god sake even the Prime Minister is here. I tug the collar around my neck pulling it forward, countering the weight of the carbon fiber blade tucked into the back of my vest.

The family’s son is making his rounds as I enter. Not wanting to engage him just yet I move to the opposite end of the room confirming guards and exit points. The memory loss from Vincent’s past accident is a decent alibi but if I can avoid all possible conversation I will.

I soon spot Jimin in a wait staff uniform and have to cover a snicker. He always hates these support roles, preferring to be the one to make the strike, but that assignment falls on me today.

After a long wait I watch as the heiress steps into the hall. I had expected her to be just as exuberant as her brother but there seems to be something different about her. Instead of greeting guests she simply confines herself to a corner with her date... no wait, that must be her guard. I almost didn’t recognize him for the android that he is, had it not been for the suit that he’s dawning I might have continued to think him human.

Now that I know him to be a unit I can see the additional signs, how he stands perfectly still, how his eyes dart about the room. But when he looks to the heiress, that is when he appears almost human again. I’ve never seen that expression before in an android, it’s almost as if his whole existence relies on her. He watches every move she makes, and clings so desperately to her side. This could be a problem, what if he doesn’t leave with the others...

I step over to Jimin and grab a glass of champagne from him. “Restroom, two minutes.” I can’t be seen talking with him out on the floor unless I want to draw suspicion to him after my task is done.

I check under the stalls to find it all clear. This is the only spot I can be sure I won't be recorded or overheard.

“That unit...”

“I know, bold of her to bring her sex toy into public don’t you think?”

“Jimin, if he’s not on the security programming he won’t leave her.”

“He’ll leave, he has to be linked to the system in some format.” Jimin pauses in consideration before continuing the assessment of our situation, “That other man though, do you think he’ll follow them?”

“The tutor? No I’ve been told he usually stays until the end of these parties, despite the fact that the heirs always take leave early.”

“She seems like a piece of work, doesn’t she?” Jimin chuckles darkly, “Maybe we should change targets. The son at least thanked me when I offered him a drink, she didn’t even bother to say a word, just turned her head away like I was nothing.”

“I would look away too if a flirtatious brat offered me a drink.”

“Fuck you, she would be so lucky.” Jimin bites back before letting out a long sigh, “This is exhausting waiting on these people, we should have just poisoned them, we’d be done by now.”

“Too risky, and too many variables.”

Jimin moves back to the door. “Fine we’ll stick to your plan Once both of the heirs leave I’ll send out the package, watch for the recipient and then give you a three minute warning.”

...

The son’s speech was cringe worthy, but not as bad as the crowd's reaction. I watch as they are enthralled by him and this perfect family. The end to conscription, that’s their goal? I highly doubt that.

I observe the daughter leave surprisingly early since she was the last to arrive. Exiting down a hall with two guards posted at each side preventing guests from entering the private area.

A half hour later the son takes his leave too. With the arrival of his parents he is relieved from his social duties, exiting down the same hall that his sister had gone.

With his departure, Jimin works quickly to deliver his distraction. When the the bait is taken he gives his signal by offering me another drink.

I station myself close to the hall’s entrance as the minutes pass. A women at the far end of the room begins to cough and gasp as if she’s choking. Just as planned, just as programmed the units leave their post. Prioritizing the health and safety of the guest, but there's still one more I am waiting on. The heiress’s personal unit that left with her, in the seconds that pass my anxiety increases. When the android finally steps out into the ballroom I steal off behind it down the now vacant hall.

I can hear music different from the tone of the ballroom I had just left. A dreary piano melody playing from my intended destination. Clair de Lune, well if that’s the last song he wishes to listen to I can’t deny it to be a good choice, it seems that we at least agree on something.

My hand pauses on the panel as I put an ear to the door. I find it odd that there are no words exchanged between the siblings only the notes of the tune. I push open the door slowly as to not draw attention immediately. The daughter is the one playing the piano, but where is the son, where is my ideal target?

She keeps focused on the music as I draw closer. I stop once she looks up at me a grin spreads throughout her face, but nothing can prepare me for the hug that follows.

V is Seokjin’s friend so why is she having such a reaction to me? None of this makes any sense.

I quickly pull her off of me, “Sorry I was looking for your brother Jin. Is he still here?” I’m careful to use his nickname that he went by in school to maintain the act. It was one of the few things that I had managed to drag from Vincent about him.

She looks absolutely broken after hearing my words. Her mouth hangs open ever so slightly her lips trembling as she shakes her head.

“Can you tell me where he went?”

She remains silent much to my dismay, a sadness continues to fill her expression. I begin to curse her out in my mind, if she tells me I will leave, if she tells me I don’t have to fucking kill her instead...

She takes a step back knocking over the piano bench in the process.

My time is running short, that drug that Jimin had someone serve the women will soon wane.

With no other option she will have to do. “May I wait here with you until he returns?” I try my best to remain cordial as I taking a step towards her, I reach behind to find my concealed blade. Why isn’t she answering me? I notice her eyes dart over to a tablet resting on the piano stand. I thought it would display music but it looks to be half of a conversation.

...What’s wrong?...

...You should go, they might need your help...

My hand stops before I draw the dagger out into view. Why would she type out orders? Why isn’t she saying anything? Is it... is it because she can’t? This is not what I expected, she is not what her family presents her to be. She is not perfect... she is not without flaw...

...

A/N: Whew! Lots to digest in that part, if you have any questions, about the world building, or characters, feel free to send me an ask!

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts reader insert #bts scifi #yandere jungkook #bts assassin au #bts maknae line x reader #bts android au #android jungkook #bts au #bts artificially inclined

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tjkiahgb · 5 years

Text

Episode Recap: 3.15, “Unloading Zone”

Two recaps in two days? The things I do for meaningless internet points.

Bex, Bowie, and Andi sit around the apartment looking at their phones when Bowie suddenly declares it movie night. Everyone’s like, kinda excited about movie night, but not enough to move or do anything about it.

That’s the way we like to movie night.

Bowie says it’s a family night, where they all stare at the same screen. They debate what to see and where to see it but basically realize everything is bad.

Backed into a corner, they realize their only recourse is to take to their phones and the internet to try and find something to watch.

Andi shoots that idea down with a sarcastic “Sounds riveting.”

I take it she’s never seen footage of a swarm of monarch butterflies tearing a cow to shreds in a matter of seconds. I’m talking down to the bone!

They all go back to their phones with the sort of silent resignation that they aren’t going to watch a movie that night and also that they, and frankly all of us, will never stop staring at our phone screens from now until the moment we die. We are prisoners to technology. It is a cage we constructed by mistake and trapped ourselves in permanently by reforming our society around it. It is a karmic form of punishment for our hubris and it will one day be our destruction.

Anyway, please follow me on tumblr dot com, and don’t forget to give my posts likes and reblogs as my self-esteem is built almost entirely upon this.

Speaking of self-esteem: Cyrus.

He and Buffy watch TJ and Kira from afar at the park, where Kira attempts to blind TJ.

Buffy’s trying to figure out if they’re together now, but Cyrus doesn’t know, as they haven’t been hanging out lately. Kira’s been around him almost non-stop and Cyrus is not interested in being around her.

Kira jumps on TJ’s back, providing another stunning metaphor.

My God, she’s got him in a chokehold. She’s attacking him in public! Won’t someone do something?! Basketball boys in the background! Help!

Buffy reassures Cyrus that this won’t last. Kira’s not a nice person, she says, and TJ will figure that out eventually.

At Cloud 10, Andi checks to see if Bex and Celia have made up. Bex doesn’t know, so she checks with Celia to see if they made up.

No.

Bex tells Andi to stop using all the non-sample makeup. Andi’s like, ok, I’ll just take the ones I used. Bex wants to charge her.

Andi, look around! Once again, there are no costumers in the store, just employees and family members. The business cannot afford to bleed money like this!

Andi implores Bex to go talk to Celia, partly because she wants the two to mend their relationship and partly because she probably wants to sneak some more makeup out.

Bex tries to talk to Celia but Celia is cold as ice. Andi makes a joke about it.

That, surprisingly, doesn’t help the situation, so Andi sees herself out.

Bex tells Celia that she knows she’s furious with her for cancelling the wedding, but she would like this whole thing to be over. Celia says it is over. Bex asks her to say something nice to her to prove it.

I dunno, something like, “You are my only daughter and I love you no matter what. I’ve had at least a day to think about it and realized that barn weddings surrounded by alpacas aren’t the most important thing in the world, your happiness is. I would never want to force you into a marriage you weren’t ready for. You have to do what feels right to you. It’s your life, not mine.” I mean, you know, whatever. That’s just a rough draft. I’m open to notes.

But Celia instead sighs and says she’s got nothing.

At the park, TJ sneaks away from Kira long enough to talk to Cyrus alone.

TJ feels like Cyrus has been avoiding him but Cyrus says he hasn’t, TJ’s just been so preoccupied with Kira. TJ’s like, I’ve just been spending some time with her, but Cyrus says it’s the bulk of time. He thinks the two are hitting it off and he’s happy for them.

Don’t put that on me! TJ’s like, we just talk about basketball, the least romantic of the sports! Cyrus asks about the piggyback ride, but TJ says that was because Kira bet him he couldn’t do it and he was like screw you, I have a strong back. I can lift things!

TJ proposes Cyrus hang out with the two of them, but Cyrus isn’t so sure, and to reinforce that point, Kira tracks down TJ using the GPS chip she hid in his pocket and gets real cold, real fast with Cyrus.

TJ’s like, Cyrus should hang out with us, right?

Wouldn’t that be fun if all three of us hung out?

Kira says yes through gritted teeth and TJ’s like, boom! Great! Cool! We can all hang out.

But Cyrus gets the message and decides to scoot.

Do’s to thing.

TJ is sad to see Cyrus go, which Kira notices. She tries to cheer him up by reminding him that she’s still around.

To which TJ is like...

...oh. Yes. Yes, you are.

Later, at The Spoon, Andi comes bursting in and tells her friends to take a look at this!

And they’re like, that’s a phone! And Andi’s like, oh.

The point is not the phone, it’s what was once on the phone: words. And those words tell the story of a clothing store called Mint Chip which burns all the clothes they don’t sell.

The gang enter into a long discussion about capitalism and branding which I don’t understand because I got a C- in my Econ 101 class.

Then Buffy says Mint Chip burned $35 million worth of clothes last year and everyone gets outraged.

Can I just play devil’s advocate here? Maybe they were burning it for warmth?

Buffy says there’s a way to settle this, and they all head to the Rage Cage to smash junk.

No, wait, I mean, they head to a junk cage to... rage smash? Shoot, I feel like I almost had something there.

Point is, the kids get in the dumpster. Buffy tries to but her foot betrays her. Wonder if this has to do with trying to run a marathon on nothing more than moxie.

She plays it off like not a big deal. She says she’s fine but I’m not so sure a-boot that.

Cyrus, now in the dumpster, finally asks if they’re allowed to be doing this.

Ignoring the trespassing charge? The crime is called garbage theft. It’s real. I know that because I got an A- in my Criminology 101 course. Feels like someone should’ve done a quick Google search to make sure they weren’t doing something illegal.

But I guess the time for Googling was before everyone got into the dumpster, because everyone just laughs off Cyrus’s suggestion that maybe they could get in trouble for this.

They find bags and bags of new clothes and wonder what to do with them. They all stare at Andi.

Because this was your thing! You made us care! You’re the reason we’re in the dumpster!

Andi says they all need to figure this out. It’s a group project. Then everyone gets real quiet and stares at one another and a few seconds later, Andi comes up with an entire plan by herself. Go team!

They return that night and steal all the clothes out of the dumpster and ride away with their treasures.

I like how they each got their own special vehicle for the job. Jonah’s got his skateboard. Andi has her quirky wagon. Buffy has a practical cart. Cyrus has an awkward wheelbarrow. Perfect.

Well, okay guys, you’ve committed a crime. A couple, actually. Trespassing and garbage theft, but I think you can still get away with this if you play it cool. I assume the next part of the plan is something low-key. Go around town making anonymous donations to thrift stores and shelters probably. Gets the clothes to people who need it, gives them a new home. Mission accomplished, right?

Oh, no? Not that? Put up a huge, extravagant public display in the middle of the sidewalk on the main street of town instead? Big ol’ gaudy signs saying where you took the clothes from? Large, colorful signs that scream “FREE TO TAKE”? Great idea! Nothing gathers more attention or raises more suspicion than big signs with the word FREE on it.

By the way, where is Mint Chip? Is it nearby? Within walking distance? Within seeing distance?

This is like newlywed bank robbers robbing a bank and their getaway vehicle is their wedding car with all the cans dangling off of it and big writing on the back window that says “JUST MARRIED! DAN AND TIFFANY JOHNSON”

This is like a guy throwing a brick through a department store window but wrapping his photo résumé around the brick. And when you unwrap the résumé it has his name and phone number and email address, and underneath “Special Skills” it says “Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, Doing Crimes”

This is like a kidnapper mailing the finger of the person he kidnapped to the police and putting his home address on the package in the return space.

I assume this is all to prove a point to Mint Chip but the way it’s executed, it just feels like they want to get arrested for doing crime.

This lady comes by and rubs her two brain cells together.

Very good question, lady! Why are these children giving away clothes free to whoever walks by? Why do all these pieces of clothing still have their tags on them, as if they were stolen? Why--

IS THAT A WINTER COAT?! NO MORE QUESTIONS!

Andi assures her she can have the coat and that’s good enough for her.

Andi meets back up with Cyrus and Buffy and they all delight in how nice it is to give people stuff that isn’t yours.

We get a fun montage here of the gang committing crime with smiles on their faces.

Jonah gives answers to three telepaths, who wordlessly asked him questions about the clothing.

Look at these criminals.

Laughing at what they’ve done. Thinking they’ve gotten away with it. Makes me sick.

Bex, meanwhile, arrives home to find Bowie and a package. It’s addressed to both of them and Bex realizes it’s a wedding present. Bowie jumps back like Bex just said the box was full of spiders.

They’re going to have to get one of those bomb disposal robots to come take care of this.

They decide to open it. They’ll return it but have to know who sent it first.

Bowie sees it’s from Celia. She sent it with a beautiful note. They open the box and pull out--

JESUS CHRIST!

An exact recreation of the proposal?! Down to the clothing, hair, and camera angle? How in the world?! I mean, really? Even if they described the scenario to her, HOW?! She even placed the pillows on the couch exactly as they were on the night!

The level of detail on this is haunting.

She even put in the Cat!

This was a really cute idea that’s just unsettling in its execution. This is a supernatural occurrence. This is the kind of thing someone stumbles upon in the attic of spooky house and realizes it contains the trapped the souls of these people inside of it. If you hold your ear to it, you can hear them faintly shouting “Help! Get us out of here!”

Bex and Bowie are far more taken by this display than I am though. Bex gets emotional. She goes to get the Thank You note stationary Celia gave her. Bowie gives her some space to write a message.

Back at the pop-up crime scene, Cyrus approaches Buffy with a shirt. He wants to give it to TJ.

He texts TJ a picture of it. Cyrus hopes TJ will like him it. Buffy asks why not just give it to him, but Cyrus says he’s not sure how much he’d want him it. Buffy’s like, he wouldn’t want a free shirt? Cyrus is like, I don’t know if he’s gay he’d like me giving him a free shirt.

Buffy figures it out. She’s like, you know how you can find out if he’s into you he wants a free shirt? Go for it Give him the shirt. Maybe it’ll mean something to him, or maybe it won’t, but either way it’s a nice thing to do. Cyrus agrees.

TJ texts back at that moment.

No, he gives the shirt a thumbs up. Cyrus invites him to the crime show he and his friends are putting on, but TJ tells him he’s at the park.

Cyrus wonders what that means. Buffy tells him it’s that he wants to meet him. Cyrus waffles on whether to bring the shirt.

Yeah, I mean, the shirt’s a thing now, you gotta bring the shirt.

At the park, Kira wants to know who TJ’s texting with. He tells her no one and suggests they go feed the ducks. Kira suggests they go on the swings first. TJ’s like, are you sure I can’t interest you in some ducks? But she wants to swing.

TJ resists but Kira persists. She taunts him that he can’t swing as high as she can. That works, somehow.

Guess his competitive spirit is such that all you have to do to get him to do something is say he can’t.

“I don’t want to give you a piggyback.”

“Why, ‘cause you can’t?”

“Get on my back! But I swear I’m not getting on the swings.”

“Because you don’t know how to swing?”

“Get out of my way, I’m getting on them swings!”

Boy, if either Reed or Lester had figured out this weak spot, they could’ve just said “Bet you can’t not say anything to the police about this gun, chicken!” and they’d be running free somewhere right now instead of locked up in supermax.

So TJ gets on the swings, just in time for Cyrus to come walking by and see.

Heartbroken at seeing his crush being heterosexual in public, Cyrus takes his shirt and does a sad Charlie Brown walk away.

He looks back first though.

Which, as we know, indicates he likes TJ, though it feels kinda superfluous because it’s following an episode where he was watching TJ from afar, being jealous that TJ was hanging out with someone else, and getting TJ a gift for no reason other than he thought it would look good with his eyes. Yeah, man, we get it. You like TJ.

Cyrus returns to the theft shop. Buffy asks him what happened and he tells her he found TJ with Kira.

Buffy promises him it won’t last, but Cyrus is like even if it does... he’s still straight, though.

Buffy asks him what he’s going to do with the shirt. Cyrus decides to give it to the last straight boy he crushed over. He asks Jonah if he wants it.

I know that this is more to complete a metaphor of sorts, but Jonah has to know that’s one of the shirts they pulled out of the dumpster, right? He’s like, oh, this is awesome, where’d you get it? The trashcan, Jonah. With you. Last night. We’ve been giving them away all day. There’s eight more over there on the rack.

Andi shows up and is like, it’s weird no one got mad at us for this whole thing, right? And Jonah’s like, oh yeah, someone came by and asked a lot of questions about it and I told her everything!

They’re like, no, you shouldn’t have done that. Which, I mean, yeah. He needs to keep his mouth shut. That’s the first rule of crime doing. But in fairness to him, what was this plan anyway? If someone came around asking, what answers were they planning on giving that wouldn’t implicate them in wrongdoing?

They don’t have time to think about that because a cop shows up. Andi tells everyone to stay calm, because they didn’t do anything wrong, but Buffy’s like, we might have. Bet we feel foolish we didn’t stop for a quick Google before all this, huh?

Officer Penn, a.k.a. Budget Clint Eastwood, wants to see their permit, but they say they’re not selling anything, so no permit necessary. Budget Clint Eastwood then tears through their legal arguments fairly quickly.

They say Mint Chip is a store that destroys the clothes they don’t sell and if you really think about it, isn’t that the real crime?

No. No, it’s not. Garbage theft is the real crime. Garbage theft. Officer Penn hauls four children off to jail.

Vivian the Winter Coat Lady, meanwhile, walks into Cloud 10 to look around. Celia compliments her winter coat. Vivian thanks her, saying she just got it under mysterious circumstances, but didn’t bother asking any questions.

In fact, all she really wants to do is go back and get more clothes under mysterious circumstances.

Bex pulls Celia over and tells her she loved the wedding present. She gives her an envelope full of thank you notes she started and stopped because she couldn’t put into words all her feelings.

But Celia is still pretty cold about all this. Bex wants to know how long it’ll take to be forgiven.

Can I knock it down to two if I run some errands for you? Take you to the airport or something?

Bex’s phone buzzes. It’s someone calling from jail, telling her they have her daughter. Bex panics. Celia steps up.

Looks like Andi’s going to have to bring them back together once again. They head off for jail.

The episode ends and then we get a sneak peek at the main title sequence of the spinoff show featuring the Good Hair Crew and Jonah in prison.

Andi Mack: Lockup, coming this fall.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Kira #Vivian the Winter Coat Lady #Officer Penn #episode recaps

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 13: Hurt

Chapter Summary: Steve gets hurt and everybody else has to deal with the fallout. Jerk.

Chapter Word Count: 5197

A/N: I know what the next chapter is going to be and we are continuing our trajectory for ~softness~

I was sitting in bed on a beautifully lazy Saturday morning when my phone rang. I glanced over, expecting to have to tell Steve that I wouldn’t be putting on real pants for anything short of the end of the world and he had to come over or nothing, but it was Sam’s name that showed up on the screen.

“Hi Sam,” I answered and paused my game.

“Hey. I’m sorry to call you like this, but I need to tell you– Steve’s fine now, but he got hurt pretty bad.”

I put down the controller and felt a cold something creep through my body. “How bad?”

“He’ll recover just fine,” Sam said. “But some of his injuries–” He inhaled sharply and I gripped my comforter so hard my hand hurt. “Last I heard, he was still in a medically induced coma, but they were planning to take him out of it soon. It’s actually kind of a good thing though; he was hurting really bad and nothing they did was helping.”

“Because pain meds don’t do shit for him,” I said and held my face. How bad was that bad?

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding regretful. “I had to get back to DC so I couldn’t stay, but he was doing a lot better when I left. Stable, and on his way to healing up. He’s going to be okay.”

Sure, right, yeah; aside from maybe almost dying before I knew anything about it. Not that I was important enough to know– I was just a friend– but… “Do you think they’d let me visit?”

“I think so. There are SHIELD agents keeping watch but…have you met Natasha yet?”

“No. I’ve met Pepper?”

“She might be able to help if you need it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

Me too, but that was selfish. “Don’t worry Sam, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for letting me know.” I looked at my closet. “Fair warning though– when he’s out of the woods and I stop being freaked out, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Nat has dibs I think. He was covering her from an explosion.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if she doesn’t do a good enough job, I’ve got second dibs.”

“I’m not contesting that,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. I’m sleeping on my feet.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take a nap.”

“Sam.”

“I’ll be fine when I get a chance to sleep for three days. And I’m going to, I promise you that.”

I didn’t have time to nag. “You better. Bye Sam.” As soon as I hung up I jumped out of bed, put on real pants, grabbed some essentials, and bolted out the door so fast I got halfway down the hall before I realized I had to go back and lock it.

I spent the whole trip there panicking and trying not to panic. Sam said he was going to be fine, so Steve was fine, right? But he was in a hospital, and what kinds of injuries could keep Steve in a medically induced coma? The guy fought aliens and broke bones that healed in half the time and once stubbed his toe on the doorframe and didn’t even flinch.

I tried really hard to think about stubbed toes and slammed elbows rather than the myriad reasons one would be admitted to a hospital. Those thoughts carried me into the building, to the map where I could find his wing, and over and into said wing, up until I almost ran into someone. I pulled back to get around them. “I’m so sorry; I–”

They put themself right back in my path and I jerked back to see not just one but two very imposing, militarily inclined men. “Uhhhh….”

“This area is off-limits to unauthorized visitors,” one of them said.

Right; the SHIELD guys keeping watch. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers,” I said and told them my name in vain hopes I might be on a list or something.

The first guy, a sandy blond who looked like he wanted to drop-kick me out the window, shook his head. “Authorized personnel only. The Avengers probably have an address for fans to send well-wishes.”

Even though they had no reason to know who I was, I bristled at his snide tone. “I’m not a fan; I’m his friend.”

The other guy– dark hair, looked like a washed-up TV action star– snorted and he shared a look with the other guy that very clearly said what they thought of me.

“Ma’am,” Blond said. “Please leave or you will be escorted out.”

I felt sick. Steve was hurt and I couldn’t see him and the embarrassment of being seen as some sort of gross hanger-on was almost too much. Almost. I was too worried to be completely mortified, but I still had no recourse. They were dicks, but they were doing their jobs, and for the moment Steve was…safe. I turned, intending to text Pepper and wait in the cafeteria until she could help me (and maybe get a dusty bagel to help soak up the misery), when I almost smacked right into Tony Stark.

What a day.

“I’m– sorry,” I said lamely and moved aside to get around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I sighed and told him my name. “I’m a fr–”

“You’re Cap’s little lunch friend,” he said. He knew who I was? Stark waved a hand. “Pepper and Rogers have mentioned you. Well, Pepper mentioned; it feels like Cap brings you up all the time. You going in to visit?”

“I was going to, but–”

“Chickened out?”

“Not allowed, apparently,” I said and jabbed my thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. At least the assholes pretended to be more professional then and stopped snickering, but even Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) peering expectantly at them from the top of designer sunglasses just made knockoff-Stallone shake his head.

“No unauthorized visitors allowed,” he repeated.

“Oh come on; what’s Cap going to say when he finds out you chased off his BFF?”

They looked at me like they still didn’t believe it for a second. Blond said, “I’m sure Captain Rogers will understand we’re just doing our jobs.”

The worst part was that they were right, damn it.

“What does she need? A note from home?” Stark waved his hand. “I can write one; who has paper. We still do paper sometimes, right?”

“She needs proper authorization,” the guy on the right sneered.

“Consider this authorization.”

We all jumped at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit, whose calm smile made him look like the dictionary definition of ‘mild mannered.’ The two guards, however, stood very rigidly at attention. “Sir.”

The new man said my name and extended his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself properly. “I’m sorry but– am I allowed to–”

“You can visit Captain Rogers whenever you like,” Phil Coulson said and looked right at the guards. “Understood?”

“Yes sir,” they said, much less enthusiastically than their initial acknowledgement to him.

“Not that Captain Unblemished is going to be here that long, but hey.” I suddenly had a small bouquet of flowers in my hands, thanks to Tony Stark. “Since you’re allowed all-access now, can you give these to Cap? I’ve got things to do.”

“Uhh, sur–”

“Thanks, nice meeting you, etcetera et al,” Stark said and left with a dramatic turn.

Somehow I had imagined a little more mocking, maybe a few accusatory points about me ruining some of his fun in poking at Steve, but the guy seemed…annoyed. And not necessarily with me. I turned my head to Coulson, who only shook his. “This last assignment got…complicated,” he said and opened his arm towards the hall. Understatement, but at least I was finally going to get to see Steve. The two…gentlemen…parted, and my second savior (wait until I told Steve who the first was) walked with me.

“He’s right in here,” Phil– Coulson– Phil Coulson said, standing next to an open door with no room number. The inside was very dimly lit, and the curtain drawn halfway over the door blocked the bed from sight, but I felt less like a tension rod.

“Thank you, Mr. Coulson,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused problems.”

“It was no problem for me, and there won’t be more for you,” he said like it was a promise. “And please, Phil is fine. I was on my way out earlier and I’m afraid I still have to go, but it was nice to finally meet you. Hopefully next time we’ll see each other under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, next time. Thank you,” I said and stepped in.

It was so quiet, and mostly dark, aside from a single light off in the corner. Steve was very still in the bed, bruised and bandaged, but I could see his chest moving. He looked roughed up, but he didn’t look comatose. He didn’t even look like he had come close to death. He just looked like he was sleeping.

I set the flowers down on the nearest flat surface and walked slowly, quietly, to the chair next to his bedside, and perched on the edge of it. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I should stay– he was sleeping; was this creepy?– but the more I looked at him the more I settled in. One of his arms was completely wrapped up; there was a bruise on his jaw, closer to his neck than his chin; a strip of stitches on his neck; one, two, three, four, five scratches that I could see, plus a patch of skin that was raw, like it had rubbed against concrete. He didn’t look as bad as I’d expected him to, which I assumed meant all the terrible things had happened on the inside.

But he was breathing. He wasn’t even on oxygen; nothing about the machines around him said he was in dire straits. With a little bit of makeup he could have looked like a hospital patient in a Hallmark movie, ready to wake up and be released at any moment.

But he had been hurt. He had been hurt badly enough that it was a blessing he had been out for the healing process. I didn’t know why I hated that idea so viscerally, but it made me want to punch something.

I sighed. A small tuft of hair hung at a weird angle over his forehead and I brushed it back into place. Then, just to reassure myself, I let my hand hover over his mouth and felt a warm, steady pulse of air.

“They took him out of it earlier.”

I jumped so hard I hit my feet and had to windmill so as not to crash into one of the monitors. Miraculously, I didn’t knock anything over or otherwise make a lot of noise, and Steve didn’t show any signs of waking. Once I was done with my quiet heart attack, I turned to face the woman standing at the end of the bed. She had red hair and eyes sharp enough to cut. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was.

“Uh…hi,” I said and forced my hand down, away from my heart and to my side. I told her my name and waited for her to finish looking me over.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she said.

Yup. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Steve says a lot of good things.”

She barked a laugh. “Did Rogers pay you to say that?”

That was surprisingly harsh, so I kept quiet. I was batting a thousand today. But she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.” She straightened out and looked completely composed. Neat trick. “It’s been a long week.”

“I bet,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She moved her eyes to Steve and frowned. “Annoyed, but that’s not fatal.”

“Yeah, I’d have been dead a long time ago if it was,” I said and shrugged. “But I also would have taken a few jerks out with me, so…win some, lose some, I guess.”

She made a small noise that was neither this way nor that and I shut my mouth before I could embarrass myself further. She walked around to his other side. “Who called you?”

“Sam.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not…exactly,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her because I wasn’t sure her current sense of humor would allow for me to fake-threaten our mutual friend, but she looked at me so hard I got my bank information and social security number ready to go just in case she wanted them. “I got upset and made a joke about having dibs on kicking Steve’s ass when he’s better. Sam said actually you had it first since Steve was covering you in some explosion?”

Her lips pressed tight for a moment as she stared at Steve. “He didn’t have to.”

“But he’ll probably argue it when he gets up.” I looked at him. “He’s a jerk like that.”

“Yes. He really is,” Natasha said. She started to reach for him, but then abruptly stepped back. “I’m– I can’t deal with him yet.” She started to leave, but stopped at the edge of the curtain. “Are you staying for a while?”

“I think so.” I pulled out my book to show her and set it on my lap. “I don’t really have much else to do today.”

She nodded curtly. “Good. The rest of us do, but Steve…he doesn’t have the best reaction to waking up in medical. It’ll be better if he has a friend.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone having a great reaction to waking up alone, in a hospital, after almost dyi– “I’m on it,” I said before I could delve too deep into those thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said with a brief burst of warmth that almost made her seem like someone else. Then she was back to being aloof. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t even have time to say “Bye” before the curtain swooshed behind her and settled into place like she was never there.

It was a couple of hours before Steve began to stir, and I had only left my seat to stand up and stretch a few times. I didn’t know he was awake at first, until I saw part of the pillow shift, and I put my book on my lap to find him staring at me. Drowsily, but definitely staring.

“Hi.” He squinted and frowned. “Am I dreaming?”

I snorted and put my bookmark in before I set the book on the table. “No. I’m pretty sure your subconscious isn’t that mean to make my face the first one you see.”

He frowned deeper. “My subconscious definitely isn’t that mean to you.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” I leaned in closer. We were both quiet, and I was content to stay that way. “I’ve been looking up photos and your teammates are pretty. I mean, Sam alone would be a good sight.”

“Sam is very handsome,” he agreed so easily it made me smile. “But it’s not so bad to wake up to you. Not bad at all.”

“Do they have you on pain meds?” I asked.

He shrugged, and winced as he did so. “Doubt I could tell if they did. I don’t hurt as much anymore, though.”

“Good. That’s good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you're okay.”

He got a small smile. “Soft.”

“Only right now. You scared the shit out of me.”

Steve lost his smile and opened his eyes wider. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just…” It felt like my throat swelled, so I took a second to try and compose myself.

But Steve was alert now and sat up. “Hey, no; come here.”

I didn’t quite know what he meant, until I saw his arms open and, well, why not. I couldn’t help but glance at the door but there was no new noise and nobody I could see, and I leaned in to hug him as gently as I could. He wrapped his arms around me, warm and breathing and feeling like normal. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You scared a lot of people,” I said and stayed there until his grip loosened and I could pull back. “But since I’m selfish, yeah; mostly me.”

He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m glad; I…I guess maybe it’s weird for you that I’m here–”

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s definitely not. I’m just sorry I upset you.”

“It’s an upsetting thing.” I shrugged. “Emotions. They kind of suck.”

“Sometimes,” he said. Someone knocked on the door and we both looked when someone came in. I winced as the lights were turned on, but I suddenly realized Steve had still been holding my hand up until that point, when he released it to rub his eyes.

“Oh, sorry Captain,” the doctor said and she smiled at me. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

“Oh, hi Dr. Sherazi,” Steve said, sounding a little brighter. He introduced me to her and we shook hands. I was getting a little tired by all the new people, but I tried not to let it show too much. Steve was worse off; I could be okay for him.

“When I said don’t be a stranger this isn’t quite what I meant,” she said and started checking monitors. When she turned to me, face already expressing apologies, I knew what was coming and I looked at Steve.

“Go home.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be okay.”

And I didn’t hide myself that well, apparently, because he gave me a Look that said he knew I’d rather be gone. I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to call Sam and after that I’ll probably be besieged by people wanting to yell at me.” He cringed. “I…don’t want anyone to see that, really.”

I nodded because I didn’t want to be obnoxious, but after I packed up I asked him, “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow? I don’t– I don’t have any plans, really; but it’s okay if you don’t…”

“I’d like that,” he said and opened one arm. I hugged him one more time and took a real breath for the first time since that phone call.

The next day I pre-planned my morning and set off with a few extra supplies. I stopped by a pastry shop on the way and stood in a long line to get a drink for me, fill a thermos for Steve, and buy a few treats which I shoved in my bag with his tightly-lidded coffee. When I got to the hallway and saw the same two guards I braced myself, but they looked resigned when they saw me.

“We apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday,” the dark-hair one said and his partner muttered something similar. “And for our reactions; it was uncalled for.”

I tried to smile as brightly as I could. “It’s okay; I can be a bitch sometimes too so, hey, kindred spirits,” I joked.

He frowned. Deeply. My smile fell. “It was a– I was just kidding; I meant–” I sighed and gave up when his face didn’t change. “I’m sorry,” I said and left.

Steve looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I came in and threw the curtain back into place behind me. “Even when I try to be nice I fucking suck at it,” I said and dumped my bag on the chair.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve chuckled and put his fork down. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth and stopped. He looked normal, healthy, but he was still in a hospital bed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and put my drink on the side table so I could rifle through my bag. “Here,” I said and handed him the thermos.

“You're my favorite,” he said fervently and took it.

That made me smile again. Pretty big, too. “Also here,” I said and put the two white bags on his tray. “This place didn’t have strawberry so I got you a chocolate and a plain croissant.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he said and pushed the hospital’s plates aside so he could dig in.

“Yeah, yeah; eat it before someone else walks in. I didn’t bring enough to share.” I was the best. My smile was almost painful, but luckily Steve was too distracted to notice while I wrestled it under control. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The burns are gone.” He held up his arm to show me skin instead of gauze.

“I guess you’re not going to be the mummy for Halloween.”

“No, but I could be Frankenstein’s monster maybe.” He extended his neck to show me the scar where his stitches had been.

“Tch.” I sat back. “It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Like nothing ever happened,” he quipped, too lightly, but that was an issue I didn’t know how to tackle.

“Except for my new blood pressure medication from the heart attack you gave me.”

“Were you that worried?” he asked jokingly.

“Yes,” I said. He went silent and stopped eating. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with actual concern.”

“I could learn,” Steve said with a softer smile.

“You’ll need to with friends like yours,” I said. “They were all pretty worried.”

He shrugged. “Most.”

Maybe– I hadn’t met all of them– but I was pretty sure I knew who he meant. “I don’t think I would have been allowed in without Tony Stark’s help when he came to visit,” I said. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are some SHIELD guys making sure not just anybody can come in and some random chick claiming to be your friend naturally didn’t make the cut. But when I was about to leave, Tony Stark came up on his way in and made it a thing until Phil Coulson came by and said I could be here.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I’ll have to thank Tony.”

“Me too, but I’m trying to figure out how,” I said. “I’m thinking the cheesiest fucking card I can find but I don’t think he’d get that I’m joking. That would be awkward.”

Steve smiled. He was about to say something but I caught sight of the book in his lap and I jerked to attention as I suddenly remembered. “I brought you books!” I said and got them out to hand to him. “Just in case you get bored. I almost forgot.”

“Thank you,” he said, laughing, and set them aside. “Did you ‘just remember’ because you know I was going to say something sincere?”

Huh. “No, but wow, I got lucky.”

“Steve, you’ve got to get some friends that aren’t emotionally constipated.”

We both looked to the doorway to see a man with two butterfly bandages on his cheek, a smudge of dirt on his throat (in blatant contrast to his obviously recently washed hair), and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The price sticker was still on the cellophane wrapping and I snorted at the sight. Perfectly coifed spies and billionaires were something else. This guy was an unmistakable disaster. I could handle that.

“But then how would he relate?” I asked as the man came over to give Steve a hug and place his flowers next to the set from Tony Stark.

“I’m way better with my emotions than you are,” Steve said, looking at me as his friend stood up.

“That’s like saying you’re taller than the ground,” I said. His friend laughed and I…took a little pride in that; sue me. Steve then introduced me to Clint Barton.

“Hawkeye,” Clint said and grinned wolfishly. “But if you don’t know who Captain America is then I’ve got no chance.”

I glared at Steve. “You told people about that?”

“It’s funny,” he said, his smirk nearly matching Clint’s grin for deviousness alone.

But Clint’s face fell when he sniffed the air. “Hey,” he said. “It smells like chocolate in here.”

“She brought me a chocolate croissant,” Steve said.

“Aw.” Clint deflated.

“Yeah, it’s all gone. Sorry,” Steve said.

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully.

Clint looked at me and jerked his thumb in Steve’s direction. “This guy.”

“Yup, he’s an asshole,” I agreed. I looked at Steve. “But for some reason we like him anyway.”

“For some reason.”

Natasha was apparently the queen of sneaky entrances, but I didn’t jump this time. She was a little steely, until she saw me looking, and then she gave me a real smile and greeted me with a hello.

Maybe she was like a shark waiting to bite, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I smiled back. “Hello Natasha.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m all right. You?”

“I’m much better, thank you.”

“I don’t like this,” Clint said, creeping towards the door.

“You two have…met?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. Smart.

“Briefly,” Natasha said.

She and Steve stared each other down and I looked around but Clint was gone. Oh. I looked at them. “Should I leave?”

Steve opened his mouth. “Please,” Natasha said politely, without looking at me. “We won’t be long.”

“Okay.” I stood up and left my bag at the chair, but I hesitated. However the way they looked at each other– Natasha ready to strike and Steve ready to defend– made this completely out of my league. I slipped out the door and shut it behind me.

“Oh geeze,” Clint said.

I sighed and stared at the door. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t necessarily good. “I can’t believe I was so worried about him almost dying only to lose him like this. Unfair.”

Clint patted my shoulder consolingly.

But only a couple of minutes passed before Natasha opened the door, and she wasn’t covered in blood. That seemed like a good sign. Then again, strangling someone wouldn’t cause a whole lot of blood loss. I couldn’t help but peek in first and Clint did the same, but while Steve looked a little stunned, he was still alive.

“Wow,” I said and went back to my seat.

“I have excellent self-restraint,” she said and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “At least we finally got to meet you.” Her tone dipped into teasing. “Steve has been so sly, stealing away all the time for his lunch dates.”

Steve turned red and ducked down. “Come on, Nat.”

“Not very sneaky are you?” I said, even though it was true.

“No, he really isn’t.” Natasha’s lips were tinged with amusement. “But I hear you’re pretty direct yourself.”

I shrugged. “Guilty.” I looked elsewhere. “I don’t have the best filter.”

“You’re fine,” Steve said.

Maybe, but most likely not really. He was probably just being nice to me because I had fallen to pieces the day before. I cleared my throat and sat back when I realized I was leaning close to Steve. I could do this; I could make nice with his friends. I hoped. “By the way Natasha, thanks for that photo of Steve chucking Sam into the water. It’s my desktop background.”

“It’s what?!”

I ignored Steve and so did Natasha, but Clint laughed. Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you appreciated it. It is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.”

I realized something then and dared to get my hopes up. “Steve. Surfing. Is there video?”

“Of course” and “Of course not” came in unison from Natasha and Steve respectively, and he whipped his head in her direction so fast I heard his neck crack.

“Natasha,” he pleaded.

“That’s very valuable blackmail though,” she told me. “I have stories that would unseat politicians I’d charge less for.”

“How much to peek at stills?”

“I’m sure your job is lovely, but it’s still probably more than you make.”

“A recounting of the experience?”

“Hmm…how detailed?”

“I’ll take subject-verb-object at this point.”

“Steve surfed wave.” Her lips curled devilishly. “Wave surfed Steve.”

“Two sentences?” I gasped.

“Well, I like you,” she said.

“Hey Clint,” Steve said. “Do me a favor and tell the doc I want those experimental pain meds she was trying to talk me out of. Or just, anything that makes me unconscious so I don’t have to hear Nat get sweet-talked into giving up that video.”

“Wow, you really do believe in me,” I said. “It’s okay though, my imagination can take it from here.”

Steve’s mouth screwed downwards. “I have no friends. Everyone I love is dead to me.” He looked thoughtful. “Or dead.”

That was so delightfully dark it shocked me into laughter, and Clint too by the sound of it. Natasha, however, punched him so hard he actually said “Ow!” and rubbed his arm.

I stayed with them for a couple of hours, until my patience began to fray and I started checking the clock. Not that Natasha and Clint weren't great (I might have fallen a little in love with her when she made a “Die Hard” joke so wonderfully dumb that Clint got caught up in a groan while he laughed) but I was just…getting tired. Before I could attempt some pathetic excuse, though, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

Pepper: You might want to warn Steve that Tony is on his way.

“Oh boy,” I said and fired off a quick ‘thanks.’ When I looked up they were all staring at me, and I looked at Steve to get my grounding. “Pepper just said Tony Stark’s on his way.”

“‘Oh boy’ is right.” Steve grimaced. “You should probably go before he gets here.”

I hesitated, because that seemed a little crappy, however…I knew my limits. “Yeah, I– I don’t think I have the energy for him.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha took a seat. “We’ll supervise.”

“Aww,” Clint said, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. How someone could lean almost 180 degrees in a chair that was very solidly 90 degrees (if not less) and even pretend to look comfortable I had no idea, but more power to him.

I packed up and stopped to hug Steve. He held me a little longer than I expected. “Don’t worry; I’ll be out by tonight,” he said and let go. “And as soon as I’m done with debriefs, I’ll let you know. I still owe you lunch.”

“So you better stick around.” I stood. “I’ll collect. Someday.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that one,” he said.

I held my heart and looked in Clint and Natasha’s direction. “He’s learning.”

I got a pillow to the face, but Natasha got a new cushion. And while Steve may have been annoyed…he was okay. And he was going to continue to be okay.

Win-win.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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kevinbingham · 4 years

Text

“Not every liberal is the same, though the majority of liberals I know think along roughly these same lines”

https://www.facebook.com/thethinker42/posts/10155931022478700

Lori Gallagher Witt

January 7, 2018

An open letter to friends and family who are/were shocked to discover I'm a liberal...

This is going to be VERY long, so: TL;DR: I'm a liberal, I've always been a liberal, but that doesn't mean what a lot of you apparently think it does.

Some of you suspected. Some of you were shocked. Many of you have known me for years, even the majority of my life. We either steadfastly avoided political topics, or I carefully steered conversations away from the more incendiary subjects in the name of keeping the peace. "I'm a liberal" isn't really something you broadcast in social circles where "the liberals" can't be said without wrinkling one's nose.

But then the 2016 election happened, and staying quiet wasn't an option anymore. Since then, I've received no shortage of emails and comments from people who were shocked, horrified, disappointed, disgusted, or otherwise displeased to realize I am *wrinkles nose* a liberal. Yep. I'm one of those bleeding heart commies who hates anyone who's white, straight, or conservative, and who wants the government to dictate everything you do while taking your money and giving it to people who don't work.

Or am I?

Let's break it down, shall we? Because quite frankly, I'm getting a little tired of being told what I believe and what I stand for. Spoiler alert: Not every liberal is the same, though the majority of liberals I know think along roughly these same lines.

1. I believe a country should take care of its weakest members. A country cannot call itself civilized when its children, disabled, sick, and elderly are neglected. Period.

2. I believe healthcare is a right, not a privilege. Somehow that's interpreted as "I believe Obamacare is the end-all, be-all." This is not the case. I'm fully aware that the ACA has problems, that a national healthcare system would require everyone to chip in, and that it's impossible to create one that is devoid of flaws, but I have yet to hear an argument against it that makes "let people die because they can't afford healthcare" a better alternative. I believe healthcare should be far cheaper than it is, and that everyone should have access to it. And no, I'm not opposed to paying higher taxes in the name of making that happen.

3. I believe education should be affordable and accessible to everyone. It doesn't necessarily have to be free (though it works in other countries so I'm mystified as to why it can't work in the US), but at the end of the day, there is no excuse for students graduating college saddled with five- or six-figure debt.

4. I don't believe your money should be taken from you and given to people who don't want to work. I have literally never encountered anyone who believes this. Ever. I just have a massive moral problem with a society where a handful of people can possess the majority of the wealth while there are people literally starving to death, freezing to death, or dying because they can't afford to go to the doctor. Fair wages, lower housing costs, universal healthcare, affordable education, and the wealthy actually paying their share would go a long way toward alleviating this. Somehow believing that makes me a communist.

5. I don't throw around "I'm willing to pay higher taxes" lightly. I'm self-employed, so I already pay a shitload of taxes. If I'm suggesting something that involves paying more, that means increasing my already eye-watering tax bill. I'm fine with paying my share as long as it's actually going to something besides lining corporate pockets or bombing other countries while Americans die without healthcare.

6. I believe companies should be required to pay their employees a decent, livable wage. Somehow this is always interpreted as me wanting burger flippers to be able to afford a penthouse apartment and a Mercedes. What it actually means is that no one should have to work three full-time jobs just to keep their head above water. Restaurant servers should not have to rely on tips, multibillion dollar companies should not have employees on food stamps, workers shouldn't have to work themselves into the ground just to barely make ends meet, and minimum wage should be enough for someone to work 40 hours and live.

7. I am not anti-Christian. I have no desire to stop Christians from being Christians, to close churches, to ban the Bible, to forbid prayer in school, etc. (BTW, prayer in school is NOT illegal; *compulsory* prayer in school is - and should be - illegal) All I ask is that Christians recognize *my* right to live according to *my* beliefs. When I get pissed off that a politician is trying to legislate Scripture into law, I'm not "offended by Christianity" -- I'm offended that you're trying to force me to live by your religion's rules. You know how you get really upset at the thought of Muslims imposing Sharia on you? That's how I feel about Christians trying to impose biblical law on me. Be a Christian. Do your thing. Just don't force it on me or mine.

8. I don't believe LGBT people should have more rights than you. I just believe we should have the *same* rights as you.

9. I don't believe illegal immigrants should come to America and have the world at their feet, especially since THIS ISN'T WHAT THEY DO (spoiler: undocumented immigrants are ineligible for all those programs they're supposed to be abusing, and if they're "stealing" your job it's because your employer is hiring illegally.). I'm not opposed to deporting people who are here illegally, but I believe there are far more humane ways to handle undocumented immigration than our current practices (i.e., detaining children, splitting up families, ending DACA, etc).

10. I believe we should take in refugees, or at the very least not turn them away without due consideration. Turning thousands of people away because a terrorist might slip through is inhumane, especially when we consider what has happened historically to refugees who were turned away (see: MS St. Louis). If we're so opposed to taking in refugees, maybe we should consider not causing them to become refugees in the first place. Because we're fooling ourselves if we think that somewhere in the chain of events leading to these people becoming refugees, there isn't a line describing something the US did.

11. I don't believe the government should regulate everything, but since greed is such a driving force in our country, we NEED regulations to prevent cut corners, environmental destruction, tainted food/water, unsafe materials in consumable goods or medical equipment, etc. It's not that I want the government's hands in everything -- I just don't trust people trying to make money to ensure that their products/practices/etc are actually SAFE. Is the government devoid of shadiness? Of course not. But with those regulations in place, consumers have recourse if they're harmed and companies are liable for medical bills, environmental cleanup, etc. Just kind of seems like common sense when the alternative to government regulation is letting companies bring their bottom line into the equation.

12. I believe our current administration is fascist. Not because I dislike them or because I'm butthurt over an election, but because I've spent too many years reading and learning about the Third Reich to miss the similarities. Not because any administration I dislike must be Nazis, but because things are actually mirroring authoritarian and fascist regimes of the past.

13. I believe the systemic racism and misogyny in our society is much worse than many people think, and desperately needs to be addressed. Which means those with privilege -- white, straight, male, economic, etc -- need to start listening, even if you don't like what you're hearing, so we can start dismantling everything that's causing people to be marginalized.

14. I believe in so-called political correctness. Not because everyone is a delicate snowflake, but because as Maya Angelou put it, when we know better, we do better. When someone tells you that a term or phrase is more accurate/less hurtful than the one you're using, you now know better. So why not do better? How does it hurt you to NOT hurt another person? Your refusal to adjust your vocabulary in the name of not being an asshole kind of makes YOU the snowflake.

15. I believe in funding sustainable energy, including offering education to people currently working in coal or oil so they can change jobs. There are too many sustainable options available for us to continue with coal and oil. Sorry, billionaires. Maybe try investing in something else.

I think that about covers it. Bottom line is that I'm a liberal because I think we should take care of each other. That doesn't mean you should work 80 hours a week so your lazy neighbor can get all your money. It just means I don't believe there is any scenario in which preventable suffering is an acceptable outcome as long as money is saved.

So, I'm a liberal.

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nunonabun · 5 years

Note

If you don't mind answer (Since I'm loving you digging into other answers you give!) What do you think about the show's seemingly Anti-Adoption standpoint? Even when it's for the best interest of the child, or the mother's insistent on it, they seem to do everything they can to convince the mother otherwise. Even when the mother couldn't afford the child at all, and had a home lined up for them, they talked her out of it.

Thank you for the question! Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to, I wanted to attempt a thorough answer but I had a lot going on, so it got a tad forgotten in the drafts.

Your ask is quite a toughie. I don’t know that I’d actually characterize the show as having an anti-adoption viewpoint, I think the show is often trying to be conscious of the way class and other social structures interacted with the adoption system at the time, while also trying to deal with other issues adoption raises. I think sometimes they do well with that, but sometimes, while trying to shine a light on one thing, they manage to fall into other biases. I’ll put the rest under a ‘read more’ as this did get a biiiit long.

Class had (and has, really) a big role in adoption, and views of who “deserved” to be a parent often had harmful impacts. It’s a complicated and difficult subject, and there are lots of factors that can come into play in each case, but shame and other pressures were often usedto essentially force poor and/or single mothers to give up children. Some children were outright taken from the biological mother (or couple, in some cases, though overwhelmingly judgement landed on single women) that wanted them and were trying to keep them. The choice wasn’t really a free choice as they often weren’t given the support they would need in order to make keeping the child a viable option for them, nor were they given support in thoroughly thinking through all of their options and deciding what they truly want. Also, young, single, working-class women were generally condemned for becoming pregnant and were often pressured to give the child up so that they could be given to a ‘better’ family (i.e. middle-class straight couple. Having a British background & being Christian did also come into it).

Another aspect of portraying adoption is contending with the bias that a ‘real’ family is biological; that there’s some kind of innate bond between people who are biologically linked that is not present between those who aren’t (I’m going to call this the ‘biology bias’ for convenience’s sake). The elements of classism and biology bias (and bias against single parents, homophobia, racism, etc.) can interact in complex ways. Trying to realistically portray negative aspects of the adoption system that aren’t often talked about can result inseemingly playing into the ‘child should stay with their real family’ prejudice. Or it can both critique the class bias and buy into the biology bias. The latter case often takes the form of ‘well I guess the adoptive couple is providing a promising future for the child, it’s just a shame that it comes at the cost of a deeper/truer love, as the child would have had with the bio family’ in media portrayals. Or sometimes the inverse can happen (undercutting the biology bias but accepting the class bias) and you get an attribution of blame instead of an examination of how people are constrained by their situations in a way that couldbe resolved with good social supports, à la ‘those (lower-income) people were just bad parents who don’t deserve a child, the child should be given to a good (middle-class) couple.’ And plenty of other complex issues arise when the axes of race & nationality, physical & mental differences, gender, etc. come into play. It’s really a hard thing to navigate and communicate all of the elements that are wrapped up in adoption, and I’d say portrayals are often in the grey zone.

To disentangle the elements in CtM’s portrayals of adoption, I’m going togo ahead and take a little look at all of the examples of adoption in the show and try to examine what they’re aiming for and what I think they convey. Please feel free to point out if I’ve missed one or if you think I’ve missed elements of one portrayal or have misconstrued things. Strap in guys, this is hecking long. Or jump down to the Tl;dr, that’s fine too.

First, in 1x02, we have Mary, the Irish girl who came to London, was taken advantage of and pressured into prostitution and became pregnant. Jenny tries to help her, but as she is single, poor, still a child herself, and a prostitute, the child is removed from Mary (and in episode 4 we discover that that has seriously mentally scarred her, resulting in her taking someone else’s child in an attempt to regain what was taken from her.) Here we see pretty much exactly what I was talking about above. Society saw Mary as morally unfit (as being poor, a prostitute, and single & pregnant were judged to be personal failures/sins, and there was additional prejudice against Irish people), so there was no safety net for her, no public services provided so that she, even as poor and young as she was, could realistically raise the child if she wanted to. You could say it might be unjust to leave the child with Mary, given her circumstances, but I think CtM is showing that her circumstances didn’t have to be what they were. If she wasn’t judged so on a moral basis, she wouldn’t be condemned to continue in those circumstances and she wouldn’t have had her child taken from her against her will. If she had been given a free choice and support in making it and carrying it out, she may have kept the child or she may have given it up, but either way, the outcome for Mary wouldn’t have been as terrible as it was.

The second case we see is Doris Aston, in 3x02. Doris is married and has a few children already, and reveals that her current pregnancy is likely the result of an affair with a black man. Obviously, her husband (who is white) will know she was unfaithful when the child is born, and she and the child will be at risk as her husband is abusive (it’s revealed throughout the episode that he is controlling and aggressive, even prior to learning of his wife’s infidelity.) In the end, the child (who Doris names Carole) is taken out of the house, with the husband threatening to kill Carole if she remains. Carole is taken to the Turners’ to foster and then sent on to her middle-class adoptive family.This episode is meant to shine a light on another pressure that results in women not having a free choice in life, particularly around sexuality and children. Divorce was heavily stigmatizedat the time, and it wasn’t easy for a woman to get a divorce from her husband if he didn’t agree to it, especially if the couple already had children together. Therefore, if a woman was unhappy in a marriage, or even suffering abuse, there wasn’t much recourse for her. Yes, in this situation Doris did cheat, but the circumstances of that are complicated. What’s more, as a result of it, she doesn’t really have a free choice in whether to keep her daughter (and sons) and leave her husband (which she wanted) or stay and work it out either with or without Carole. The only real choice she has is to give the child up and hope her husband a) doesn’t find and hurt the baby, b) isn’t violent towards her as a result of him learning about her infidelity, and c) that she can bury her emotions around Carole and essentially pretend she never existed/died at birth. So the episode is seeking to portray the way women, especially working-class women, were unjustly constrained; forced into choices they would not freely have made. Race is touched on only briefly, in that it’s the element that renders Doris’ infidelity evident, and also a mixed-race child is more difficult to place within the adoption system. This isn’t really explored much, as Carole is quickly adopted and we don’t actually really see how her being mixed affects this.An element of this episode that I think they mishandled was buying into the ‘true family is bio family’ prejudice via their attempt to portray the injustice Doris faced and sympathize with her. This mainly comes in near the end of the episode, where they reinforce the idea that Doris is Carole’s ‘real’ mother. Doris herself worries that Carole “won’t know I’m her mother,” and Sister Julienne says “If Carole searches for her mother one day, hopefully records will bring her to us,” Here I think the norm of just saying “mother” as though the adoptive mother Carole will have isn’t really her mother, is partially just because they’re showing that Doris does feel she is Carole’s mother and doesn’t actually want to give her up, however it does play into the biology bias. This is deeply reinforced when Vanessa Redgrave chimes in with a “[Doris] trusted in God that Carole would have a good life with good people who would give her the future she couldn’t. More than anything, she wished she could have kept her because whatever anyone else might feel, it couldn’t be what Doris felt. Her daughter was of and from her. They were a part of each other and always would be.” That could generously be interpreted as Mature Jenny just conveying what Doris believed, but even so, there’s a heavy narrative buy-in to that message, and the message is clearly ‘Doris wanted to keep her daughter and ought not to have been forced to give her up. Biology and gestation result in an inherent, unbreakable bond that cannot be replicated and it is therefore regrettable that Carole had to be given to a family that - though financially secure, potentially kind, and distant from the threat of violence - lack that bond.’ That message again seeks to convey the injustice of Doris’s situation and sympathize with her pain, but in doing so, it implies that adoptive families lack this deep, automatic bond forged via biology and are therefore inherently weaker. They may provide a more materially promising future for the child, but unfortunately, they aren’t as ‘true’ a family as a biologically linked one.Furthermore, Jenny says “[The adoption agency worker] spoke as though Doris had no link at all with her baby,” and notes that the adoptive parents requested no ongoing contact. These elements reinforce the portrayal of the adoption as cold and insufficiently recognizant of how the baby is ‘actually’ the biological mother’s. This bit is difficult, as Carole is not not Doris’s, and it’s totally fair for Doris to grieve for the loss of her daughter. Also, cutting off contact, not allowing any connection at all to the child’s birth family was commonly done and can be a very harmful practice. The adoption agency (and society at large) certainly thought Doris had no moral right to see Carole, as she chose to have an affair and is therefore a Bad Woman and a Bad Mother, and that is justly critiqued by the show. But I think, in this episode, the show is rather clumsy in its portrayal of this complex situation, and manages to imply that the adoptive family (and mother in particular) are kind of interlopers who are only a solution to a problem as opposed to being a potentially very loving family that is just as true of a family as a biological one. Where this reading is a bit shaken is that this is the start of the foreshadowing that the Turners will end up adopting a child, and their fostering of Carole for the night before she is adopted is shown in a very positive light. The whole scene is loving and sweet, and positive comments are made about Carole’s adoption (though sympathy is also extended to Doris.) So it’s a bit of a mixed bag, this episode. Overall I think that it does a good job with the class and sexism elements, but a poor job with handling the biology bias.

The third time adoption is portrayed (3x06), it’s more of a subplot that serves to introduce Shelagh and Patrick to the idea that adoption could be the answer to their desire to expand their family. Colin Monk, Tim’s friend, is revealed to be adopted. Learning this immediately prompts Shelagh to propose that she & Patrick pursue adoption to continue building their family. She comments: “I really don’t believe I’d have to carry a child inside my body for it to feel like ours. If I felt that, it would mean that loving Timothy has taught me nothing.” This is a firm rebuttal of the biology bias and it nicely links step and adoptive families, explicitly espousing a positive perspective on both.The episode does touch on the class & religious aspects too. Shelagh says that the adoption charity she went to was the Church of England Childrens’ Society, and notes: “I think they quite like the idea of us, a GP and a retired midwife. (…) As the lady [at the adoption agency] said, the children have already got off to a sorry start in life, they need the very best parents the agency can find them.” So, again, the show is bringing up the normative judgements around parenting, and the idea that a (straight) professional couple where the mother stays home is deemed morally deserving of children.The end of this episode also sees Patrick getting antsy about the conditions of adoption, correctly foreseeing that (in 3x07) his mental health struggles will cause the agency to deem him less deserving of a child (so here’s ableism coming in to play too.)Overall, I think these episodes did a good job with the adoption plot. They push back against the biology bias while also subtly highlighting who is deemed socially worthy of children in terms of class and health.

Fourth there’s 3x08, wherein the Turners adopt Angela. Here, the portrayal is overwhelmingly positive, with pretty much all of our excitement and sympathies going to the Turners, who are meeting their daughter for the first time. They’re excited about the news that they’re going to become parents in much the same way we see people on the show excited about an impending birth. Holding Angela for the first time (particularly with respect to Shelagh) is treated as having as much weight and love as any parent being handed their biological baby. Particularly, In The Mirror plays, a musical theme that has been used to score previous momentous transformations in Shelagh’s life (and Patrick’s, as those changes are often linked), Patrick says “here’s your mummy,” and Shelagh says “we have a daughter.” For me, that is slightly undercut by Shelagh saying “This is the closest I’m ever going to get to giving birth.” This implies that the experience is kind of a consolation prize, as close as they can get to what they’d ideally want; for Shelagh to carry and give birth to a child that is biologically theirs. I don’t think that’s necessarily what they meant to imply - especially given all the talk before and in later episodes about loving Angela as much as if she were biologically theirs - but that’s how that line read to me. But again, that is largely overwhelmed by the positive tone and emotions portrayed in that scene.Switching into the consideration of the other end of the equation, the biological mother, we have a very interesting choice to comment on the deeply uncomfortable situation that led to Angela becoming a Turner. When Patrick asks what she knows about the situation, Shelagh says: “Hardly anything, just that the mother is only 16 and she was meant to be taking the baby home with her, but at the last minute her parents changed their minds.” Timothy, always involved in the family building (another strong element of the portrayal) says “That’s terrible,” and Patrick reprimands him with a slightly curt “Tim.” Shelagh says, “That’s why they want a speedy settlement, to spare further trauma for those involved.” We, the viewers, are excited and happy about the Turners adopting, and then we’re hit with this slight insight into the other side of the equation. Though “our” family is getting its happy outcome, that results from a terrible thing having happened to a young, single girl (‘Miss Jones’.) We don’t know the class differential here, so there’s not much to work with, analysis-wise, on that front. Here, it’s more that Miss Jones doesn’t really have the option to contradict her parents in this society, which results in her being forced to give up the child she wanted to keep. So again the show highlights the lack of choice women (and girls) had, and hints at the moral judgements around who is worthy of being supported in their parenting project. Interestingly, this actually puts Shelagh (and Patrick, to some degree, though the whole plot really focusses more on Shelagh’s motherhood, which is a whole other discussion) a bit in the moral grey, as her (their) desire to have a child causes them to kind of callously brush past the injustice their daughter’s biological mother faced. Though that is slightly tempered by Shelagh noting that it’s felt that doing this all quickly is the least traumatic option, having her convey this information as they’re all rushing to pick up Angela really gets across how the injustices on the bio mother’s side of the picture just kind of get glossed over in the focus on joy of the adoptive family. We don’t take that bit more time to consider what actually results in the best outcome for all involved. That’s an interesting counterpoint to 3x02, where the adoptive family’s love and joy is glossed over by our focus on the sorrow and pain of Doris Aston. I would say though that 3x08 does a bit better at integrating all these elements, as the hurried discussion of the bio mother is, I think, clearly meant to bring us up short and make us consider that there are elements of injustice in this situation, whereas 3x02 doesn’t really give us much positive about the adoptive family. The following episode does give us some balance too, showing the Turners worrying about Angela’s biological mother while still clearly maintaining that Angela is as loved as she would be if she was biologically theirs. Shelagh and Patrick reflect on this together and with Timothy, and the ensemble decision is to send a letter to Angela’s biological mother (though administrative structures make it uncertain that the letter will reach her), giving her some closure as to what happened to the child she gave up. This serves to send the message that communication in the process of family-building is important, while also remaining grounded in a time where it was generally held that the best thing to do in an emotionally difficult situation was to not talk about it.

In the following episode, the Christmas special, we get the mother and baby home, which switches gear firmly into focussing on the judgement placed on unmarried women who become pregnant (especially young women) and the abuses these women (and girls) faced in the institutions they were sent to. First, there’s the fact that these institutions existed, largely tucked away to reinforce that falling pregnant outside of marriage is shameful and needs to be hidden. Then there’s the medical neglect within the home, the only staff being the Nonnatus volunteers and the drunken matron who runs the place. We see one case briefly where a baby is basically ripped from a young woman/girl who was not yet ready to say goodbye. Of our two main cases, we have one woman who decided to keep the baby though she was initially aloof and uncaring, and one who was totally comfortable giving the baby up and does so. I think a strong point of the episode was pointing out that whole Mother & Baby Home system is a result of and in many ways a reinforcement of the shaming and punishment of young, often poor, unmarried mothers for what was deemed a personal failing. We see this explicitly with Tim’s comment about “moral contagion,” wherein he’s voicing/testing out/subtly criticizing the mainstream view of the time. In England at the time, society operated on the idea that treating these women like any other pregnant women would be endorsing their sin/personal failing, and that would lead to a whole epidemic of this sort of thing, which would obviously be bad. So the episode as a whole is bringing that to light and critiquing it and the actions that resulted from it.On to the two main cases. One is a young woman/girl who decides to give her bio son up for adoption, saying that she’s happy to think that he’ll have a good life with people who love and want him and it’s the right choice for both of them. She is shown to have a supportive mother, indicating that sometimes, the choice was freer. The narrative is telling us that there were cases where - in spite of wider social prejudice against unmarried mothers - keeping the child would have been a viable option, but the bio mother decided that wasn’t what she wanted/what she judged to be the best outcome of the situation, and this is a perfectly fine choice to make.My feelings on the portrayal of the other young woman/girl are a bit more mixed. On the one hand, yes sometimes someone is totally set on giving up a child but their mind changes when confronted by the reality of the newborn. However, this storyline is a bit of an iffy trope and I think using it requires some delicacy. It’s very easy to fall into the ‘it’s your child and you will and ought to have a unique, automatic bond with it,’ which places a judgement on women who don’t automatically feel that bond, whether or not they want that child and whether or not they ultimately decide to keep that child. That normative view of bonding downplays the work that goes into bonding with a child and implicitly judges those whose bond is not automatic, as well as implying that there is a sort of bond that is exclusive to the person who gives birth to the child. On the plus side, that storyline directly contradicts the idea that these young women/girls don’t deserve to be mothers, and that is a point in its favour.On the whole, though I disagree with the ‘automatic bond’ portion of the one storyline, the episode benefits from having multiple storylines highlighting different elements within the overall focus on pregnant, unmarried young women/girls and the injustices they suffered as a result of sexism.

Sixth, we get the case of Marnie Wallace and Dot (and Eugene) Spenlow. Marnie and Dot are cousins, the former is poor, the latter is more middle-class. Marnie is pregnant and her husband has died fairly recently. She’s struggling with how she’s going to provide for this child as well as the children she already has. The main option is to give the child to Dot and her husband, who very much want a child but cannot have one biologically. This gets uncomfortable as Dot offers Marnie financial support on the condition that Marnie gives them the baby when it’s born. Marnie does this but is clearly unhappy about it. When we see Dot and Eugene with the baby, they seem fairly uncomfortable with caring for it/aren’t going about it as Marnie would, though they are happy. Marnie decides she can’t live with this and takes the baby back, and though Dot and Eugene are upset, they come to accept this and give her all the stuff they bought for the baby. I’m not entirely sure what the episode was going for. There’s the theme of poor women being forced to give up children out of financial necessity (lack of resources & support made available to them), and there’s the theme of family pressuring a woman to make certain decisions about her children. I think they were trying to highlight class dynamics, and that resulted in the episode portraying a more middle-class part of a family directly preying on a poorer family member and taking her child. My discomfort with that (and I think it’s a discomfort that many viewers had) is not around Marnie not deserving to have the support she needs to raise a child that she truly wants. Portraying class struggles has always been an important element of this show and a praiseworthy one. The reason this episode drew some criticism (at least, on tumblr), I think, is that the portrayal of the couple who cannot biologically have children feels malicious. It feels like the message being sent is that there’s something virtuous about being able to have children even when you “have nothing but love,” whereas the barren couple is materialistic, not naturally good at parenting like someone who can bear children and inherently unable to provide the love that the bio mum could give the baby. That Dot practically bribes Marnie to give her the baby borders on a caricature and makes me question why it was written this way, as opposed to, say, having Dot and Eugene being portrayed more sympathetically (i.e. not bribing Marnie, offering her help) and perhaps having Marnie struggle to communicate with them that she feels pressured into a choice that she’s not comfortable with. While the situation that was portrayed isn’t wildly out there in terms of things that could and probably do happen within families, the predatory portrayal of the Spenlows seems to condemn them for being unable to have children that are biologically theirs. And that’s not a super great message to send.Oh yeah, and Tom has some feelings about the fact that he was adopted. That part of the episode felt quite tacked on. I think they were trying to communicate that a person who was adopted may have complicated feelings about the circumstances leading to their adoption when they grow up. How do you process a situation in which your biological mother was forced to give you up, but you love and were & are very happy with your adoptive family? What if you just don’t know the circumstances in which you were given up but fear they were traumatic for your biological mother/family? I think those are all very good questions to explore and I would love to see the show do a good job of exploring them. This episode wasn’t it. Putting Tom questioning those things against the backdrop of Marnie and Dot, the negative message of their story casts a shadow over those questions such that, instead of really exploring them, you’re left with the feeling that the show is saying ‘yeah, that was probably a bad thing that you weren’t raised in your biological family.’ I think they tried to provide balance to this by having Tom maintain that he loved his family and had a very normal childhood and he didn’t even think about the fact of his adoption, but I don’t think it worked. I also think that positioning ‘I didn’t even question that I was adopted and never thought about the circumstances of my birth & bio parents’ as the sign of a positive outcome of adoption is problematic. A person can be curious about and care about their bio family and the circumstances that led to their adoption without that being a slap in the face of their adoptive family or a sign that they were/are unhappy/unsatisfied with their adoptive family. Overall, though there were a few good elements to this episode… it was a bit of a trainwreck.

Seventh, there’s the 2018 Christmas Special. In this episode, we get the case of Anthea (Tillerson) Sweeting, who was abused by her father throughout her life and was then turned out by her family when she became pregnant as a result of the abuse. She subsequently formed a family of her own composed of some children who are biologically hers, as well as some who are adopted and some who she (and her husband) are fostering. There is also the case of Linda & Selwyn, a couple living in a caravan who are preparing for the birth of a baby who is not biologically Selwyn’s. Their arc largely involves Linda escaping the cycle of self-blame and accepting that the man she loves and who loves her is fully committed accepting the child as his and continuing forward as a family. With both of these cases, the biology bias is directly contradicted. With the Tillerson/Sweeting situations, we compare a family where the biological father was abusive and the biological family as a whole failed to protect the children (though there are nuances as to the mother’s responsibility in a situation where she too was suffering abuse) to a strong, loving family where the degree of biological relatedness varies. Then with Linda & Selwyn, you have a family where the biological father is not in the picture and the non-biological father is shown to be loving and supportive and very likely a good father. The episode as a whole strongly communicates that it is the choice to love and the continued commitment to one another that makes a healthy family.

Eighth and finally, we have the 2018 Christmas Special. I’m not going to go into the whole of May’s situation and its portrayal because there’s much to go into about fostering and, while fostering is related to adoption, it’s really a whole topic of its own. There’s also a discussion that could be had about religious institutions and their role in adoption, but that would really go into the role they have in childbirth as well and that is just a whole big other conversation we could have about the show. Also, frankly this reply is long as heck already and a million high fives to you if you’ve stuck with me this far. In this episode, we go to the Nonnatus Mother Ship House and learn that apparently, they run an orphanage. Sister Winifred has a nice storyline with a boy who has disabilities and is therefore unlikely to be adopted. It is shown that children like this were often pushed to the sides and not given the care they needed to flourish. They were also far less likely to be adopted because they have different needs from children without disabilities, so they’re not what people seek when adopting (or hope for when giving birth.) This was a strong point of the episode, as it highlights the ableism in society more generally and specifically within family-building and childcare. Then we have May, who is part of a group of orphans from Hong Kong whose adoptive parents do not show up to pick her up because the prospective father gets TB, so the Turners decide to take her to live with them as a foster child. We learn that May’s biological mother was a prostitute and struggled with addiction and that though she tried to keep May, in the end she couldn’t manage to care for her in the situation she was in. There’s lots going on here in terms of class, addiction, sex work, and international adoption (especially, in this case, the power differential between Hong Kong (a British colony) and the UK (the colonial power in this equation.)) Later in the episode (or possibly in the series), it’s mentioned that May isn’t fluently anglophone and the Turners will have to work on her English with her, but other than that, questions of race, culture, etc… aren’t really touched on. I hold out some hope that these will come up in the upcoming series but I think they could have been introduced a bit in this episode/series. Also on the subject of international adoption, we have the sad (and sadly mishandled) story of the Australian home children. These children were sent to Australia (and other Commonwealth countries) for adoption, but were actually treated more as a source of free labour on farms. We actually did see this mentioned at the end of a much earlier episode (4x01), where four children were left mostly alone in conditions of abject squalor due to a neglectful mother (that was pretty much played straight, we don’t really gain much insight as to what her story was) and after Nonnatus helps them, they’re sent off to Australia where they suffer further abuse. And this is repeated here, the pregnant woman in question loitering around the Mother House trying to gain the courage to enter the last place she was happy as a child and talk about the abuse she suffered when she was sent out from the orphanage within this program. I think there’s a positive to this, in that it’s shedding light on a dark aspect of history, but it seems like there may have been a larger point/concern they were trying to make about international adoption programs and the positives and negatives therein that just didn’t land.So overall, there was a lot going on in this episode, some positive elements around tackling ableism in adoption and orphanage care, and some missed elements in relation to international adoption programs.

Tl;dr (and it’s perfectly fine if you jump down here bctbh I wrote a whole freaking tome up there): Dismantling the notion that someone isn’t a “true” parent or isn’t “truly” a person’s child because there’s no biological link is massively important, as is dismantling the notion that you have this instant “natural” connection with your biological child (in terms of what that implies about non-genetic families, the judgement it holds about people who don’t bond instantly with their biological child, and that it erases the work of bonding.) Dismantling the biases about biological connections is helpful in pushing back against a variety of harmful views both within the context of families and family-building, and more broadly. (I’ve actually done some research into essentialist biases around genetics/”blood” and have some interesting papers on it, so please message me if you’re curious and would maybe like to nerd out about it.)

That being said, it’s also important to remember that not all of the choices around adoption are made freely. As with any form of family building, the social structures surrounding it shouldn’t be ignored. At the time, and even now, class, what is considered morally acceptable in a society, and family structure ideals all play into why children are removed from birth families, and which adoptive families they are placed with. They play a large role in who is given support in making, growing and sustaining a family, and who isn’t. Those structures largely favour(ed) straight, Christian, middle-class couples of British backgrounds and judged as worse or less deserving (or completely undeserving) gay, single, non-Christian and/or working-class people of non-British backgrounds.

It’s a really tricky subject, and trying to communicate that biology isn’t what makes you a parent while also showing how harmful the adoption process could be and how rooted it was (is) in unjust social norms & structures is important. I don’t think CtM always nails it, but I think the show benefits from tackling the subject multiple times, from some variety of perspectives, and with efforts at nuance.

#Call the Midwife #adoption #Anonymous

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