#*reaches a question about being unable to track and organise time*

[theitcharchives]

"Hold the fuck up" every time I learn something about dyscalculia and mysteries of my life start to kind of make sense

[shini--chan]

Yandere Character Sheet I

1p Estonia: Eduard von Bock

Trigger warnings: murder, emotional manipulation, trauma bonding (?), blackmail, stalking, unusual punishments, misuse of medication and medical procedures

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

Above everything else, he is diligent. Diligent in tracking all your movements, and mapping out a future for the both of you. Lies are quickly uncovered, because he will be fast to note the indiscrepancies in the falsehoods you tell him. Eduard would be quick to note changes in your demeanour and appearance, and would be charming enough to drop remarks about them, and to remember the things that you tell him. In many ways, he is a very good listener and would bring up things you told him years ago, things that you yourself would have forgotten. In that way, you also can't expect him to simply forgive and forget your transgressions.

In total, he is also of the obsessive type. All your likes and dislikes are carefully taken into account and noted. He'll use the knowledge gained to reach further conclusions through extrapolation and conjuncture. Should he really put himself into it, then he'll be able to recognise aspects about yourself that you are not even aware of. The danger here is that he sometimes confuses intelligence with infallibility and can sometimes refuse to accept that he is wrong. This would be a double edge sword for you, since it could lead to you using his blindspots and misguided beliefs against him, as well as him mistreating you based on wrong assumptions that he refuses to correct. It would also lead to him finding justifications for his disturbing behaviours, and you having a hard time arguing against them. 

Eduard has the capacity to be very petty. With his good memory and inherent passion, he is capable of holding grudges for a long time. Most of the time, would like to present himself as a rational and logical person, but often, he’ll allow emotion to colour his judgement. While at the end of the day, he usually thinks before he acts, those actions would always be heavily influenced by his feelings. His obsession with you would have a cold edge, and his actions would commonly be calculating, but it wouldn’t change that he would be controlled by his own, unlogical obsession with you. As such, you’ll find him to be unable to let go of minor offences. He would wait, perhaps even so long as to convince you to think that he has forgotten about it, but he’ll inevitably punish you for it. Estonia will usually even wait for multiple transgressions to have occurred and then punish you for them all at once. 

He also is very mixed when it comes to communication and that in itself can provide difficulties. At times, he is very direct and would be quick to tell you what is on his mind or if he doesn’t like something about your behaviour. At other times, the issue at hand would seem self-evident to him and thus there would be no need for words in his mind. That, or the body language displayed should be enough to deduce what is going on. In such cases he would become very frustrated when you wouldn’t catch on, and so, grave misunderstanding can arise. 

Combined with his diligent nature is his talent for organisation. His surroundings would reflect this, with every item having its place. An easy way to aggravate him would be to mess with his organisation, though, he wouldn’t allow you to get away lightly with such things. That being said, this particular trait would also show itself in other spheres of life, like his social circle. Eduard would be very good at delegating tasks to the people under him, or even his friends, and making sure it works. Should you escape, you’d find all the exits to the city blocked, for example. Also, like every belonging has a place in his life, you also have a designated spot, and he wouldn’t like it at all if you would push the boundaries assigned to you. 

Generally, it would be a question of how much offence you would take to his rather unorthodox practises, with him being so very polite. To you especially, he would be a perfect gentleman - taking your coat, inquiring about your day, never using swear words in your presence. He would be sensitive enough to notice if and when he would be pushing too far, and knowing when to retreat. Oh, he can be overly sarcastic and he has a dark humour; he is petty and mean sometimes, but never impolite. 

Cornering - How would they get you?

Eduard would have been in relationships before, and what would have always irked him would have been how easy it was for his partners to leave him. Thus, he would strive to prevent that in his relationship with you from the very beginning. With the carrot and the stick, if it has to be. The carrot would be advertised benefits - such as him being an attentive partner, ready to make sacrifices for your happiness and somebody that won't beat, somebody that will treat you like a human being and not some plaything or extension of himself.

Eduard would be ready to indulge you and provide for you, to take you out to the theatre, to fly overseas with you on holiday or attend a festival. He wouldn't really be the sort to lock you in the house - that would be boring. But he would become a permanent fixture in your life, one that you would never get rid of. 

Part of this would be due to the stick - he'll have some dirt on you. It must not even be that it really is something condemning, you must just not want to go public. Perhaps it would be some dirty family secrets that he would trumpet out for the world to hear. If it would mean keeping you, then he would even go as far as to threaten to upload nudes of you. Of course, he would make sure that that isn't the only threat that he would shackle you with. 

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

First of all, he would require you to be intelligent. Something about stupid people just irks him and would make him want to crawl out of his skin. Having to repeat his words and explain simple concepts again and again would lead him to start tearing his hair out. Eduard would want somebody he can converse with without dumbing his language down, somebody he can have invigorating conversations with until the early morning hours. Surprise him, challenge him and his own intelligence and he'll be delighted. Show off your intellect, make him flounder in a debate. But don't be too intelligent - he wouldn't want you to outsmart him.

He'd also prefer a more reserved person. Estonia would want to feel that only he has the privilege of really knowing you, and that wouldn't be possible if you'd wear your heart on your sleeve. Also, half the excitement of being in a relationship with you would be being able to peel one layer after the other away. Only he should know your deepest and darkest secrets. It would also make sure that you are less inclined to stray. The thing is, he doesn't want to restrict your movements or have to reveal his true colours, so if you stick to him of your own accord, then it is wonderful for him. 

Paired with that comes his wish for a clingy partner. He wishes for a person that wants to be around him as much as he wants to be around them. This could go hand in hand with the aforementioned reservedness if you are suspicious of people but are lonely at the same time. Perhaps you were betrayed in the past, or generally had a bad childhood. Either way, if that leads to you sticking like glue to him, and only him, then he'll be as happy as pie. After all, he is the only person you can trust, in his mind, so it is all the better if you are of the same opinion, eh? 

Have a sense of orderliness. The last thing he wants to do would be cleaning after you or having to chide you for your behaviour or speech. Dress well, eat well, speak well. Acclimate yourself to his own orderliness and help him run a clean household. He would also like it alot of you would make things yourself - like making pottery or brewing alcohol or dyeing textiles. That way, you shouldn't be a person that just sits there and theorises or schemes the whole day away, but actually puts their plans to action more often than not. 

Be cynical over optimistic. Life is nasty, short and brutal, and he won't be the one to rip the veil from your eyes. Somebody that can match his gallows humour and suspicious disposition is prefered over some ray of sunshine that is sheltered and naive. Should you still land in his care despite brimming with optimism, then you'll be forced to grow up fast. 

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

It would have to be a situation where his world is turned upside down. His attachment to you would grow stronger over the years due to you becoming a cornerstone in his life - he would simply be too used to you to let you go. So, in order for him to relinquish you, a major cataclysm would have to occur. 

Maybe war breaks out, and he loses sight of you in all the chaos. You scamper off to a faraway land while he is stuck in Tailin keeping the country running. The house is bombed, the grid goes into blackout. In some way, he not only loses you, but all the memories of you two together. By the time he has disentangled himself from war and all its consequences, you are long gone and the trail has gone cold. A similar pattern would occur if the matter at hand were a natural disaster, a revolution or societal collapse. 

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

Physical abuse is off the table for him - it is just so messy and he'd have to nurse you back to health afterwards. Besides, you are not some beast of burden that has to be disciplined through the crop, he doesn't need you docile or full of animosity. No, those are not qualities he wants you to have - he wants you to learn and grow and remember. 

One of the things that would always frustrate Eduard would be how forgetful ordinary humans are. Should you forget your place together, or the unspoken rules on how your relationship is built, then he'll be inclined to help you remember. He'll make you write lines, be it on a chalkboard or a sheet, and that until your hand cramps. This would be to sear certain phrases into your mind. Other methods that would go along those lines would be repeating chants after him for a full hour or two, or putting a cassette player to your bed and having it repeat moral lessons on loop while you sleep. 

Though, it wouldn't just be restricted to that - he would take simple chores and make them more difficult. Like making you scrub the floor with a toothbrush. Or he would go back to the old fashion ways and make you wash all the clothes by hand. The fire would have to be lit without a lighter or matches and all the good food stuff that you could easily buy in the supermarket, like butter and bread and cheese, would have to be made like in the good old days. 

Else, sensory deprivation would be a favourite of his. In his eyes, there is just something so amusing about watching you stumble around blindfolded, completely reliant on him. Taking this in another direction, he would also encase one or two of your limbs in plaster. Not because of a broken bone, just to render you less mobile. Should he be feeling very petty, then he would give you pain-killers and "allow" you to enjoy the side effects. 

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

On the one hand, he would be frustrated - you just had to ruin his plans for the afternoon. How dare you thwart his intentions. The question of "why today" would come to the forefront of his mind, and he would be pouty about having to come back to an empty and cold apartment. 

On the other hand, he would feel very amused. With everything being digitised in Estonia, you wouldn't get very far without a phone. In that case he just has to wait until you return. Should you have a phone with you, then he can easily track you. Maybe he'll hack it to make life difficult for you, maybe he'll just watch your movements. 

He'll call in a few favour, pull some strings, and then wait for somebody to turn up at the door with you in tow. When it comes to retrieving you, and would rather have somebody do it for him. 

Naturally, there is also the flip-side of this coin, where he assumes that you didn't escape, but were kidnapped. Panic would set him, and the next hours would see him making one call after the other and playing detective. 

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

Seriously, nothing much. Actually, he would prefer for the two of you to be equals in the first place. As long as you don't leave him he is fair game, even if the situation is that of him being your butler or valet. He would even settle with being your nurse or attendant, for heaven's sake. Just as long as you stay, it is all fine, but as soon as you try to leave, all bets are off. 

He would rather see you dead, than let you live without him. So instead of letting you go, if the process is immediate or just quick and he can't do anything to prevent you living without him, then he'll kill you. The only way you could get out of it would be by tricking him and then making a run for it, or convincing him that the separation is only temporary. Of course, you could make sure his attention is fully occupied by something/someone else, or have somebody more powerful hold him back and then sneak away. 

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

As per usual when it comes to such things, he would rely on his wits. The knowledge that he isn't powerful enough to hold his own against a great many countries and entities constantly weighs on him. But mortal man didn't best the devil so often by being more powerful, but by using his wits. 

Such is it here, where he would bargain and barter to get to you. Estonia would do his best to make himself the more attractive option, hoping to win your heart rather than having to best the competition. But if he has to best the competition, then there would be certain plans of action. He could make a deal and hid things in the fine print, making the other suitor indebted to him. Or he could resort to playing with words, either cornering them into a situation where they'd have to do as he asks, or by seemingly offering something up that is more attractive than being in a relationship with you. At the end of the day, humans as well as nations are selfish creatures, thus he would aim at making it more beneficial for the other person to relinquish you, rather than keep you. 

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

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The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[mythicamagic]

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Susie you sent so many! Bahaha, I might do some others of yours but otherwise this might be the ask I do out of the ones you sent lolol 

Put under a ‘read more’ for length

---

There wasn't much that could rattle Kagome Higurashi.

She remained adaptable, resolute, and forthright throughout most stressful situations, having stepped up to the plate to assist Mama with housework and babysitting after her father had died. She could experience surprise, sure. Mock tests could throw her until she dug her heels in. A guy could ask her out and she'd recover soon enough- slap away a non-consensual kiss or thigh grab easily.

But bone-shaking, heart-stopping, crippling shock? To be blind-sighted by complacency? Only one demon proved capable of doing that.

"Why does it not surprise this one to find you still emerged knee-deep in the fossils of the past, Kagome?" the syllables of her name slip-free in a quiet, resonant baritone.

Kagome jolted, stiffening. Gradually turning within the museum hallway- caught between alarm and confusion- her breath halted.

Gone were his golden eyes and the silver stream of long hair. Instead, he wore contacts, hair short, black and slightly tousled from the wind. Despite all this, if Kagome relaxed her eyes- she could see the suggestion of glamour hazing his appearance, a murky white outline around his hair hinting at its true colour.

Sesshoumaru's cold, handsome face was practically unchanged. Perhaps there were the faintest shifts- his body appearing slightly more built, features just a tad older in the firm line of his jaw.

He presented her with a small potted plant, since he knew she hated cut flowers. The seriousness with which he offered the tiny white flowering bulb almost made her smile, almost. "Congratulations on graduating."

"Thanks," she said automatically, unable to stop staring. She cautiously accepted the gift, skin managing to avoid his touch as though it were a live-wire. "How'd you hear about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"O-oh," she blinked, realising he must've gone to her house first before tracking her down at work. Kagome swallowed, conflicting feelings arising. Shaking them off, she drew her shoulders back and turned flippantly to stride down the hall. "So how’s things? Nice weather we’re having, huh?"

“It has been a long time, miko,” his voice turned solemn, filled with something inexplicable as he followed, keeping pace easily. Kagome pretended not to hear the silky reverence in his tone. “Is there not anything more...substantial, we could be discussing?”

She hummed, “less than five-hundred years isn’t so long.”

“The centuries dragged. I felt every day as though it were a month.”

“I’m sure your mate kept you occupied.”

“This one would not know, I never mated.”

Kagome stiffened, grinding her teeth. “Oh,” she muttered. The life she’d pictured for him fell away, crumbling into ash. Somehow she wasn’t comforted by it.

"You have a boyfriend,” he rumbled, a statement not a question.

"Mama told you that too?" Kagome asked, walking to an exhibit and setting the plant down in favour of gathering her notes, expecting another round of kids fresh off the bus to arrive at any minute.

"No, the hickey on your neck that you've tried to hide with make-up served as enough evidence," he pointed out, vaguely amused.

She reddened a touch, tugging her collar up self-consciously. "Observant as always.”

"It is only a recently acquired skill. Looking back, this one was quite blind during our time together," he hummed. "Lack of experience. I understand plenty now. Would you care for coffee? Strictly platonic, of course."

"... I don't think that's such a good idea, do you?" Kagome gripped her papers tight. "I wouldn’t appreciate my boyfriend meeting up for coffee with an ex."

Sesshoumaru’s eyes glinted, smiling slightly. "And you would not lie by telling him we were friends," his gaze warmed as though savouring something, sweeping ageless attention over her with a lingering, intimate air that made her remember warm lazy mornings spent in his arms.

Kagome’s hands tightened further, crumpling the organised papers, fingers shaking. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

He exhaled, voice soft. "You have not changed."

Her heel drew back, tucking the notes under her arm. Sweaty palms smoothed over her neat blue pencil skirt and blouse. Six years wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough time to get over him. 

“Guess not,” she dismissed, refusing to give a snippet of passion. But the acid was there, simmering beneath her tongue. She couldn’t help but glance at him. “...Feels like a waste; you not even mating a pureblood. I thought it meant a lot to you.”

“Pureblooded heirs meant a lot to me,” Sesshoumaru clarified. He stepped closer, and Kagome shuddered, moving back to maintain distance. 

Noticing this, the demon stopped. Regret hazed his carefully arranged expression, before he inclined his head, dark bangs hanging forward. “This one did not intend to open old wounds, miko.”

“Then what did you want?” her voice shook. 

“To show that I have...changed. It was foolish of me to let you go.”

“You were just upholding your beliefs. It’s not like you ever said you wanted Hanyou kids, I just assumed you’d be fine with it since we were fucking,” Kagome bit out. “Of course, getting your kicks and actually raising half-breeds are two totally different things. I shouldn’t have figured you were over your bigotry- that I’d solved anything by being a really good lay.”

“This Sesshoumaru was wrong-”

“Well lucky you, I didn’t get pregnant during our magical time together, so we dodged a bullet there. It was just miscommunication. A young relationship. I’m over it.”

She didn’t feel over it. 

"Look, you've seen me. Can that just be enough? Let’s end it here.”

Sesshoumaru moved closer, gazing at her fervently. He opened his mouth to say more, before it clicked shut, jaw clenching. "If that is what you wish."

"Yep, I'm super busy," Kagome pretended to check her watch, not registering in the time. 

"I have an office downtown," he shifted. "If you need a 'non-friend' I am easy enough to find," pausing as he turned- Sesshoumaru slowly reached out. He tucked the tag down at the back of her blouse that had stuck up slightly at the back of her collar. "Some habits are hard to kick, hm?" he uttered softly. He'd used to do the same thing all the time whenever she’d worn modern clothes in the feudal era. 

Back when she'd been his.

Kagome’s breath shuddered. "I'm not going to come to your office.”

"Perhaps that is a good idea," a tempting mouth hovered close to her ear. "Otherwise there would be no witnesses to save you, and I'd have to demonstrate the full extent of how much I've missed you, Kagome," his voice barely contained the purr of longing that rolled out between them as he pulled away. Sesshoumaru then turned. He took his leave silently and regally, like nothing had happened. 

As though he hadn’t just sauntered in and shattered her all over again.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Okay Part 6

Fandom: Chicago Fire / One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Pairing: Matt Casey x Halstead!Reader

Warning/s: assault, murder, kidnapping

Word Count: 1,369

Summary:  After narrowly escaping certain death you decided to turn your life around and become a firefighter, and although it wasn’t easy, you survived your first week at 51. Now, the strange circumstances of your very first fire lead you to a second, deadlier act. As you dig deeper, aided by your brothers and your new firehouse, you begin to realise just how in over your head you might be.

Tags: @alievans007​ // @louiselikeswriting​ // @killjoys-make-some-noise-na-na​

Lily may have been missing, but the world kept turning. 

Sat in Casey’s office only half way through the longest shift of your life you nervously bit at your nails, something you hadn’t done since you were a kid. You’d been in and out of Boden’s office all day, discussing what to do and comparing notes with Adam and Kim when they came to reinterview both you and Casey about everything you knew. 

The dodge charger had been found torched, no evidence left and no cameras in the area. It felt like the world was working against you. 

Casey had let you stay in his office most of shift, too distracted himself to properly focus on his paperwork in between the few calls you had. You actually wished you’d had more, at least then you could put your mind to something other than the worry that had gripped you. Why would her own father do this?

“This is a recovery isn’t it? Not a rescue,” you blurted out, the thought bouncing around painfully in your skull all night and day, unable to contain it any longer. Casey looked up from where he was trying to write out the same report he’d been filing since the last call, surprised by your out burst.

“We can’t think like that Y/N,” he shut you down immediately, turning his chair around to face you where you sat crosslegged on his bunk, probably a little too casual for your Captain’s office, but these were unusual circumstances. 

You swallowed, knowing he was right, but unable to do anything else but think like that. So you decided not to tell him that you were going to ask Jay for some time alone with the guy when Intelligence caught him. 

“I asked a friend at the SA’s office to look into the divorce,” Casey revealed, fully grabbing your attention as your hand dropped from your mouth. “Anna Valdez, she told me that the dad, Paul, was the one that filed for divorce, accused his wife of not being faithful, that Lily apparently wasn’t his.”

“What, that’s why he’s doing this? I don’t condone adultery but murder? And how would that be Lily’s fault, she didn’t chose to be born?” Your outrage was growing with each new question, probably mirroring how Casey had felt when he’d heard the news. 

“That’s the thing,” Casey continued, “there was never actually a DNA test done, it was all just his speculation and paranoia by the sounds of it, Lily’s mother got custody because he was becoming more and more... unhinged,” he explained.

“How does he still have parental rights?” You asked.

“It’s not that simple, her mom didn’t want to take it too far, she got full custody but he still had visitation rights, and he’s legally still her closest family, he just chose to move out of the state,” Casey informed you, shaking his head about the whole situation. 

A silence followed, having a lot to think about now. This was... what? Revenge? He blamed Lily’s mother for betraying him, but why go after Lily? Could a person’s resentment really be that strong? You still had a lot to learn, but you couldn’t image dealing what Jay did everyday, seeing the worst of humanity like this all the time would be too much for you.

“We need to go back there after shift, turn over every stone again-” you began, basically juat rambling your thoughts at this point, not even entirely directed at Casey, as you stared off into the middle distance.

“Y/N, the police are already on that,” Casey tried to get your attention, sympathy creeping into his voice as he looked at the bags under your eyes and the worry unmasked on your face.

“Well then we’ll go back to the scenes of the fire-” you kept going, not listening.

“Y/N-”

“-or the hospital-”

“Y/N-”

“-maybe the dad has friends in Chicago we could talk to-”

“Y/N!” Casey snapped, raising his voice and grabbing both your shoulders, making you jump as your rambling stopping in its tracks. Your eyes snapped to his, looking into each others eyes for a second before Casey continued.

“You’re tired, we both are, maybe you should focus on taking care of yourself,” he said softly, continuing as you opened your mouth to protest, practically reading your mind, “Jay will call if he has anything, you know he will.”

“I can’t do nothing,” you protested weakly, shoulders deflating.

“You’d done a lot Y/N,” Casey insisted, “you haven’t even been on this job a full two weeks yet, you need rest.” There was a silence as you took in what he’d said, breaking when Casey realised his hands were still on your shoulders, dropping them quickly and moving back in his chair as he cleared his throat.

The bell went off before anything else could be said, both of you making your way to truck, glad for the change of pace and much needed distraction.

-

You were out of the firehouse the second shift ended, barely acknowledging anyone else, even Casey, as you waved a general ‘goodnight’ to everyone. 

Casey’s advice may have been sound, but you were a Halstead.

As soon as you reached your car and sat down you paused, trying to sort out your full head of thoughts. Where would Paul go? If he blames Lily for everything going wrong in his life, maybe he’d take her to where it all went wrong? You reasoned, cogs spinning in your brain.

You reached over to passangers seat, the files for the case organised and on hand should you need them. A quick check of background information told you that there was a previous house listed, the first house they’d bought together just before Lily was born, and it wasn’t too far from the station.

Intelligence had surely checked it out, but it wouldn’t hurt to swing past, and then you swore to yourself you’d follow Casey’s advice and head home to try to get some shut eye. Try being the key word. 

One quick stop, you reminded yourself as you drove off, soon finding yourself pulling up on the otherside of the road to the property. At first you didn’t see anything, just a quiet house, and were about to pull away when you caught movement in the front window. Just a glimpse, and the flick of a light, but it was enough to make you double check the file. 

The property was supposed to be vacant.

The sun had basically set, so you had some cover of darkness, but still you made sure you were careful. Quietly stepping out of the car and moving your way slowly towards the side of the house with that genetic brand of Halstead common sense, you told yourself you’d just take a peak, just to confirm if you even saw anything, and definitely if it was Paul and Lily.

Then, then you’d make a call. Your phone was out of your pocket by the time you reached the side of the house, careful not to be seen as you crouched slightly on the otherside of the window. For some reason your mind had gone to Casey before Jay, thumb hovering over the dial button as you peered inside. 

You didn’t see anything, but you smelt it. It was that same smell, the smell that took your mind back to that basement, to Lily in her little room in the wall, a smell that had you taking steady breaths to try and keep calm as you call Casey.

It was still ringing quietly when you head a crunch behind you, whirling around just as you felt a sharp pain on the side of your head, crumpling to the ground as you phone eventually clicked on. You wanted to speak, call out for help, but all you could do was lie there as you vision quickly faded and unconsciousness took you.

-

“Y/N? Y/N? Is everything okay? Are you there?” There was only silence in response, followed by a crunch as the line went dead, an automated voice telling Casey that the number he was trying to reach had been disconnected. 

The silence that followed was deafening.

[scribbles97]

Half a Hope

Post Season 3 fic, based on a comment made by Colonel Casey in Break Out.

I make no apologies for where this ended.

@gumnut-logic thank you for the cheerleading as always!

They had seen each other in passing, she had been there when they had landed on the Island. Jeff’s first thought had been how old she had looked, but a glance in the elevator doors had reminded him of just how old he himself had gotten.

Val had smiled and waved, promised she would visit as soon as she had dealt with the Hood and his new team.

He had put it down to exhaustion that he was disappointed that she hadn’t stayed.

Then it had been forgotten about though, written out by time with his family and a move to hospital to ensure a proper recovery. Tests and reports had filled his days, discussions of what he had missed and what he had to face before normality would take over again. After eight years alone it was a lot to take in.

He wasn’t proud that he had once snapped at his mothers well meaning fussing.

He was grateful that she had at least understood.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, he looked forward to his moments of peace when everyone else had gone home. He appreciated the chance to simply switch off and block out everything around him. The doctors and nurses were done for the day, bland dinner served and pills dispensed, he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed for the evening.

The lightest of taps on the door was enough to draw his attention, pulling him back from the edge of relaxation.

“I can come back.”

She had whispered it, but compared to the noise of space, everything was loud.

“No,” He grunted, pushing himself upright in the bed against muscles that protested, “come in, Val, it’s good to see you.”

Her smile widened as she slipped quietly through the door, hesitating by it as she shook her head.

“It’s really you,” Whispered again, “you’re really home.”

He grinned back, “In the flesh.”

“Forgive me for being sceptical,” She shrugged, “It’s kind of been a while.”

“Too damn long,” He replied, resting his head back against the pillows, “Come and sit.”

She glanced over her shoulder, “The nurse sai--”

“Damn the nurses,” He waved her towards the seat again, “I know what I need, and it’s for you to tell me the unabridged versions of what I’ve missed.”

Even her laugh was quiet as she skirted the room, pulling the chair closer before she took a seat. Her eyes seemed brighter in the lights, her smile softened from the hard tight look she had thrown across the tarmac to him weeks ago. She was still noticeably older than he remembered, grey streaking her hair, and laugh lines creasing the corner of her eyes deeper than he remembered.

He couldn’t help but think how it suited her.

“So,” She murmured, crossing one leg over the other as she sat forward, “Where shall I start?”

They had talked for hours that first evening, and if it hadn’t been for the mental and physical exhaustion pulling him towards sleep, he was sure they wouldn’t have stopped. Her hand had been warm and comfortable on his shoulder before she had left, the first time she had dared to reach out to him.

Part of him didn’t want her to leave, her company easier than anybody else's.

Val didn’t fuss or fret, didn’t treat him like the old man he felt he was. She seemed to know though, just what he needed, how to speak in the low tones that didn’t disturb him, how to keep company without having to even say anything.

He loved his family, but they were all so eager to have him home, sometimes they seemed to forget and he had to remind them.

Val seemed constantly, acutely aware.

After the first night they had talked often. Everything and nothing coming to mind in equal measures. Some conversations were important, Janus trying to force Val out of her job and the boys into submission. Others were less so, simple time fillers when the silence was too much.

On the dark nights, when sleep wouldn’t come and his burdens were too heavy for his sons to shoulder, she was there. Occasionally in person, more often in text. She had put it down to being a light sleeper, used to being woken at the slightest call for her attention. He hadn’t questioned, simply grateful for the company and the outlet.

When he returned to the Island and was forced to watch in person as his son’s risked their lives time and again, she was there to reassure. There may have also been a degree of ass kicking when he had questioned himself and the organisation he had created. Her tongue was sharp as ever, not a single word minced over her thoughts on the topic.

She always had been damn good at setting him straight.

It was what she had done after Lucy. After he had all but abandoned his family and set himself on a downward spiral, Val had been the one to drag him back up and shove him down the path he needed to follow.

“What’s got you smiling?”

He shrugged, glancing down to his bourbon as he swirled it, the ice clinking on the sides of the glass. He didn’t drink much any more, more conscious of his declining health than he had ever been, but it had been a year since he had walked out of that hospital and he was sure the one drink was warranted.

“I owe you some thanks,” He sighed, drawing his gaze from the sun setting far on the horizon and back to her, “For keeping me going since I came home.”

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments before she was looking away. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to notice how her jaw clenched and her own smile fell, but he did, and it worried him.

“Val?”

She didn’t look back, instead taking a sip of her drink, eyes fixed on the pool below the deck.

“Val.” He stated, frowning as he sat straighter.

Both of them knew the tone, each had spent enough time in the military to know when a statement was a command. Neither could ignore it.

Swallowing her drink she didn’t look back to him, “You said the same after Lucy died.”

The statement only confused him more.

“Val what--”

“Be quiet.”

He did as she asked, still frowning as he watched her. The trust was strong between both of them, and he knew better than to push. She would speak when she was ready.

Still, it made him worry. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been blunt with him, when her words hadn’t cut straight to the core of any issue. To see her so clearly conflicted seemed wrong.

She had told him to be quiet, but she hadn’t stopped him from reaching out to touch her arm where it rested outstretched towards him. Her breath sucked in sharply at his touch as she closed her eyes.

“All I needed was half a hope.”

Words no longer needed whispering for him, but it seemed it was all she could force out as her eyes snapped back to him.

There were tears there.

“They didn’t tell me.” She whispered with a shake of her head, “I was the last to find out you might be alive.”

This he hadn’t known.

Anger burned somewhere deep in him at the thought of her being in the dark.

“I thought you were dead, and I didn’t know what to do Jeff because I finally understood it all.”

The hand of the arm he had reached to twisted, taking his fingers and squeezing them tightly as she swallowed.

“I finally understood what you felt when you said a part of you had died with Lucy.”

His heart clenched at the thought, long buried feelings and emotions bubbling up. It was a time in his life he never would forget, the pain indescribable and most certainly not anything he would ever wish on another.

Val had watched him through it all, a quiet shoulder of support at the start when the ache of loss was at its worst.

Who had been there to support her?

“I would have done anything,” She continued softly, “if there had been the slightest indication that you could have been alive…”

Catching her hand in his before she could pull away, he held on tight. It was far too late, the damage already done and no doubt seared deep, but he was there.

“You couldn’t have known.” He murmured, “Val there was no possible way for you--”

“I should have!” She snapped, cutting him off as eyes glistening with unshed tears turned on him.

Colonel Evangeline Casey didn’t do scared.

Jeff could count on one hand the number of times he had seen her well and truly afraid.

It was undoubtedly what he was seeing in that moment though. Equal parts hurt and fear as she watched him, unable to look away.

“How?” He prompted softly, thumb smoothing calmly over the back of her hand, “How should you have known Val?”

She shrugged as she shook her head, eyes finally breaking away to look at his hand over hers.

Equally as soft, “Because it was you.”

Another question was on the tip of his tongue, desperate to figure out what had brought all of this on. She beat him to it though, the words coming tumbling as if the dam had broken.

“Because it was you and Lee and Lucy and me, and when Lucy was gone nothing seemed right any more. Lee couldn’t cope so he left the world behind, and then it was just us. You and me against whatever the world decided to throw at us after that, and the world threw some wicked curveballs.”

He could guess she wasn’t talking of the challenges of starting International Rescue.

“Because you’re you,” She shrugged, voice twisting tight with the words, “You were my best friend's husband, and then she was gone and hell it seemed so wrong. Who else did I have though? Nobody else seemed to get it like you always did, and part of me really hated you for that because it made everything so much more complicated. How could I really hate you though? You didn’t even know, and I knew, I always knew your heart would only ever belong to Lucy.”

The tears had tracked down her cheeks, barely visible in the soft dusk light. Jeff could see them though, them and all they stood for.

With a sniff, Val looked away, dipping her head as she closed her eyes and swallowed the last mouthful of her drink.

“Didn’t stop me though,” Her eyes darted back, holding his as she pursed her lips, “Didn’t stop me from loving you.”

TBC?

[psianabel-writes]

Union Leaders & Ava - Reunion

Post KH3 reunion idea, written for day 7 of khuxweek!

[AO3]

______________________________________

Skuld was the first to arrive.

Her journey - long and confusing, but her feet took her here, into this barren, vast land. Red dust got caught in her black coat and long tousled hair, and she had to shield her eyes here and there from the harsh wind howling. 

Her eyes wandered to the rusted keys stuck into the ground. It clenched her heart in a way she couldn’t explain - 

Somewhere deep down lay a calm sea of memories, waiting for the floodgates to open. Yet only droplets managed to gush through, it's been years since she attempted to make sense of it. 

Four friends and a key. That was all.

She reached a crossroad and stopped her walking, taking the sight in. There was something eerie about it, lifeless and barren -

Why was she here, why did her heart tell her to come here? Her mind was always riddled with questions she found no answers to.

And yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling of a deja vu, haunting her, yelling at her she had to remember.

So close. So close, someone just needed the right tool to unlock the gates.

Confused she sat down, holding onto her bent legs as she placed her forehead onto her knees. 

It had to make sense, eventually.

_____________________________________

Ventus hesitated with each step he made.

"Do we really have to be here?" He said nervously, looking around the area before he eventually looked down to Chirithy hopping in front of him.

"Yes. Well, it is the Fated Place after all. It has to be here." Chirithy answered him, continuing to walk straight forward.

Ventus sighed, but he trusted Chirithy and continued as well, though all his senses were on high alert. 

There weren’t many good memories about this place, safe for one after the defeat of Xehanort he couldn't remember anything good about it. This place held too much pain, sadness, and fear - 

It was the place he faced destiny and lost his friends, gave up his life to prevent the X-Blade from coming to action. More than a decade later the keys watched him again fight for destiny, yet this time the outcome was a better one.

He started to wonder what else they saw.

"Oh!" 

Ventus almost tripped over Chirithy as it stopped in its tracks, making him look into the distance when it pointed forward.

"Someone's here!" Chirithy sprinted off and Ventus had to act quickly to run after it.

He slowed down again when he came closer to the young woman sitting on the ground. She flinched, unwrapping her arms from her legs and almost stumbled away from the spot if it weren’t for Chirithy to indicate to calm down.

"Woah sorry, sorry, I didn’t want to startle you…" Ventus pleaded, holding his hands up to confirm his innocence. "My name is Ventus! Call me Ven."

The woman still looked uneasy but slowly lifted herself up and nodded.

"You two know each other." Chirithy said and both looked down to it, confused.

"We … do?" 

"Yes." It gestured with its tiny arms. "You just forgot."

"Oh, huh."

It still felt so unreal to Ventus. This whole thing about a forgotten past. … But his heart felt good about it, and Chirithy was there, too. … It had to be true, right?

"I don't … remember. Not even my name." The woman looked at the ground again. Her expression became sad - and Ventus walked up to her with a small smile.

"Hey, it's okay! We can be friends now."

Immediately her expression softened. A stir of hidden memories let her believe this was the right decision.

"Once the others are here, it will make more sense." 

Chirithy didn’t say more, leaving the two confused as they waited for the time to pass.

________________________________

To say that Elrena was annoyed being here was an understatement. Never ever she wanted to be here, but Lauriam insisted. Insisted to the point that if she didn't want to come with him, she could just leave.

Harsh words to hear for someone who had to live with a heart now she didn't want.

It was confusing, overwhelming. And combined with those hazy memories that started to appear - where else should she go, as to follow Lauriam to make sense of what was going on in her head.

And he was there in those memories. To give up this connection now would be pointless.

"You sure we're supposed to be here?" She asked, having her hands tucked behind her head. "This place is dead."

"The connection." Lauriam mumbled. He didn't spare her a look and continued walking through the red dust. "We've been through this."

"Yeah, yeah."

Elrena simply waved in annoyance. She just wanted to get over with this, the faster they were the quicker she could be gone again. 

Completely disregarding what was happening as her gaze wandered over the lifeless keyblades, she almost didn't notice how Lauriam halted.

"What's now?" She squinted and tilted her head, looking into the distance where Lauriam was looking as well. "Huh? Isn't that the kid from the Organisation?"

Lauriam shook his head. "No, but this is interesting."

He picked up his pace again and Elrena followed right after him, keeping herself short on words for once.

The blond boy and the black haired woman noticed the two newcomers immediately and both were startled by their sudden appearance. Though Ventus was a bit more interested, he hesitated regardless.

"Fate must have brought you here, too." Lauriam started to break the ice, holding his hands to the side to offer peace, just in the right moment before Elrena could have said anything.

Ventus wasn’t convinced. He placed himself in front of his new friend and made himself ready to fight, squinting his eyes. "You're … you're from the Organisation!"

"Yeah and you're one of the Guardians of Light, thanks for the introduction." 

Elrena hissed from behind Lauriam, but he put his arm up to calm her down again, having her let out an annoying sigh. He really didn't want any trouble and did his best to show it. 

He placed his hand over his heart, taking a deep breath. "We're here because our hearts told us to. And you're here, too, so there must be a connection."

Ventus gritted his teeth. He wouldn't allow the Organisation to harm any more - but his eyes fell onto Chirithy, who ended up tucking on his trousers to get its attention.

"Easy. You, too, know each other."

"Huh?" Both Lauriam and Ventus held their gaze.

There was a connection, they could feel it. Somewhere faint down inside them, a bond they couldn't put their fingers on.

They were sure it would make sense eventually.

Skuld stayed silent. Nothing made sense, but if these people came here for the same reason as her, then … 

"Only a few more." Chirithy mumbled, leaving the others in the dark again.

__________________________________

Brain was silent as he stared at the old keyblade stuck into the ground.

It was deliberately put here, he figured as much, and he wanted to question why. Though the words never escaped him, he was sure he would find out in one way or another. 

But … it was his.

The star-shaped ornaments fell off as he grabbed the blade, a faint glowing starting to appear as life filled it once again. A smile played on Brain's face as he inspected his old weapon, feeling the familiar weight and shape in his hands.

After all this time Master's Defender returned back to his first owner.

"Ready?" A voice sounded behind him and Brain glanced over his shoulder to see Master Ava standing there. He sighed and took one last look into the distance before he turned around to her, nodding.

"It will be nice to see everyone again."

Ava twitched her lips, staying silent as she turned around and waved with her hand in front of her, a portal appearing in front of them.

"Then, let's meet them."

Together they stepped into the portal.

__________________________________

All of them shielded their eyes as a bright portal appeared in the very middle of them. Brain and Master Ava stepped out of it before it disappeared as quick as it appeared.

One good look around them made Ava smile, her heart warm as she saw them again. Her eyes landed on Chirithy, nodding to it as it bowed in front of her.

Though, one more was missing. 

"Who … are you?" Ventus was the first to speak, as no one else dared to say something. 

But Brain stepped forward to speak for Master Ava, smiling as he held his arms out. "Don't worry, Ven. It will make sense soon."

"... Huh?" 

With an open mouth he stared at the two, even more confused than before. Though that didn’t last long, as another bright portal appeared to their side and a boy with grey hair stepped through it, his lips forming a bright smile as he laid his eyes onto the group in front of them.

"Made it!" He exclaimed and both Master Ava and Brain shared his enthusiasm.

In between all this, Elrena stepped forward and gestured with her hands her confusion. "Now what the -" Yet before she could finish, Lauriam held her off, urging her to stay silent.

"Ephemer, Brain, Ventus, Lauriam, Skuld, and even Elrena -" Ava looked into the round as she listed each name, interestingly looking at Skuld as she heard her name for the very first time again. The woman held onto her head as memories slowly gushed through, the barrier unable to stop it anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Ava looked at them again, determination in her eyes under her mask.

"It is time for your final role."

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture (not the gory kind), angst, buried trauma.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: You have a woman that seriously hurt you, at your mercy, and you’re struggling with how far to take it. Meanwhile, Marcus realises he’s going to have to save you from yourself, if he can find you in time.

Chapter 43

  You waited for her to wake up for almost thirty minutes, and that was after you’d taken her to the abandoned warehouse, and secured her to a solid metal post that used to connect the floor to the ceiling. You didn’t know exactly what kind of tranquilizer Tech had used, but it sure was potent.   Her feet were still tied together and you’d placed her on her knees with her back to the post. Her arms were strung up above her head on either side of the post, and secured individually, to ensure she couldn’t use either hand to untie the other.   Her head hung low between her shoulders and her body seemed completely limp. If not for her slow and even breathing, you’d have thought she was already dead.

***

  After your phone had gone to voicemail for the third time, Marcus lost it.   He’d been working on dismantling the containers, no longer needed, while he waited for Aidan to finish his task, and for you to call him. He didn’t do well with idle hands when he was worried about something, and there was so much at stake right now.   Then his phone had beeped, and as he’d read the message, his blood had turned to ice. He’d immediately tried calling you back, but he was routed straight to your recorded voice declaring that you were indisposed at the moment.   Desperate to believe that you wouldn’t do this, that you weren’t cruel enough to do what his mind was telling him were the only reasons you would have taken off with the believed head of the entire organisation you were trying to bring down, he tried again.   The third time was just dumb, but he really was losing it.   He ran back to Tech.

  “I need you to track my wife, right now! Her phone, car, fucking watch – anything!”

  “What? Why? What’s going on?”

  “She took off with Kane, we have to find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

  “She wouldn’t do that, Marcus. She started all of this because she wants the pain and deaths to stop. She’s a good person.”

  “Yes, she is. But Kane very nearly killed our baby, and as much as I hope that she’s strong enough to resist, I know that the mother in her is the most powerful part of her, and she’s gonna wanna hurt Kane. Even if she doesn’t kill her, she might still torture her, and I can’t let her do that. It would never stop haunting her, specifically because she is a good person. Please, Tech.”

  “Okay, okay. Let me see what I can find.”

  Marcus was beside himself with worry, and his mind was grasping at anything it could to distract itself, while there was nothing he could do but wait.

  “Where are we with the operation?”

  Tech answered him at the same time as he typed impossibly fast on his laptop, and various windows were popping up and disappearing on the screen.

  “Only six more cities left to confirm completion. All the others have been successful.”

  “I’ll check on the kid.”

  He walked over to where Aidan sat on the same spot in the grass. The boy was pale and bathing in cold sweat, breathing hard and visibly trembling with the effort it had taken out of him. With so few locations left, he had been able to let go of most of the birds, but he was exhausted and still had hundreds of birds left to direct for a while yet.   Marcus knew that Aidan’s fate mattered to you, and it did to him as well, so he sat down next to him, and put his arm over the kid’s shoulders. He just wanted to convey that he was there and that he cared, and Aidan seemed to feel it, because his discomfort lessened a bit.

  “I found the car!”

  Tech’s voice reached him from across the field, and he got up, but not before whispering ‘hang in there, kid’ to the boy. Then he sprinted back to his friend’s station.

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know what the hell she did with her phone, but I can’t see it at all. I had to break into her car’s emergency alert system, and trick it into believing there’d been an accident, to get it to reveal the coordinates. It’s parked on a street on the edge of a warehouse district, but she could be in any one of a hundred different abandoned structures on that lot.”

  “Just send me those coordinates, I’ll find her.”

  ***

  When she finally did wake up, you felt oddly calm. As though something inside you relished the thought that she was about to wake up to a real-life nightmare. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that you should be disgusted with yourself for reacting like that, but your hatred towards this woman was clouding your mind, and darkening your heart. But just knowing that wasn’t enough to make you wanna stop.    Her head twitched first, and then her hands, as she tried to move against her restraints. When she realised that she was unable to, she tried to lift her head, but she was still groggy, and her nerves weren’t responding normally, resulting in a clumsy few bobs of her head before she managed to draw it back to rest against the post.   She was still too groggy to speak, but you saw the recognition in her eyes when they fell on you, and there was surprise in there as well, which pleased you more than it should have.

  “Hi. I’d say it’s good to see you, Emily, but it just isn’t. I don’t even know what to say to you yet. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour thinking about what I wanna say… or just do, to you, and I still don’t know. But we have time. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

  “You… have no.. idea… what… you’re doing.”

  “And why is that? Because you experiment on people against their will, and have no problems with being complicit to mass-murder, if not committing it yourself? Or is it because you’re the leader of a covert organisation of hundreds of agents that do all of that on your behest?”

  She was regaining control of her body, and you could see the contempt in her face as it dawned on her just how much you’d already figured out.

  “How?”

  Her tone was demanding and arrogant, and as the façade of the benign doctor fell away, you didn’t even recognise her face anymore.

  “You told me. Through my subconscious. Word of advice: if you’re gonna give people powers, having no idea what they might turn out to be, don’t show them your fucking face.”

  “Those memories... were removed. The super who took them… he never fails.”

  “He left behind just enough that my powers could recreate a single image for me. But that was enough.”

  “Well, congratulations, you figured it out. You’ll never stop us; our organisation has grown exponentially.”

  “The Society of Inferiority Complex, yeah, we know.”

  “How mature…”

  “An acronym that spelled SIC (sick) was just too appropriate to pass up.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you call us. Before long, you’ll be introduced into a world where everyone is just as powerful as you. You won’t be so smug then.”

  You got up from the crate you’d been sitting on, and stepped right up to her so you could squat down and face her at eye-level, mere inches away from her.

  “Tonight, hundreds of our operatives have kidnapped hundreds of yours, just like I did with you. We’ve been monitoring your activities for months, mapping your movements, documenting your labs and temporary offices all over the world. You never even knew how many supers live covert lives in today’s society, did you? Well, we found hundreds of them, and after hearing what you did to me, and to those children, they all volunteered to help us. Your own actions created an army of superpowered people hellbent on destroying you. Did you really think you’d be able to beat us? All you’ve done is unite us.”

  “Aren’t you clever, little Rainbow. But, tell me… If you’re such a good girl – why’d you bring me out here? All alone. Where no one can hear us.”

  You pulled back just a few inches, but her question only managed to wake all the anger inside you back to roaring life. If she really wanted to know the answer, you’d happily show her.

  “Because you tried to kill my baby.”

  You dropped all pretence, and allowed your powers to flare freely. The concrete under your feet snapped and cracked, sending long trailing crevices through the floor. Time and erosion had created flaws from underneath, that meant that large sections dropped several inches in some places, sending thunderous rumbles through the whole area. But you didn’t care.   Ordinarily, your mind automatically shielded anything living, standing in your vicinity, when you flooded this dimension with the denser energy of the others that you had access to. Otherwise, you’d destroy every living cell around you by forcibly compressing them until they were crushed. And, ordinarily, that wasn’t something you wanted to be responsible for.   But not this time.   You merely sat there, hands clenched into fists, staring at her, seeing only those eyes that had looked at you with such fondness while you worked with her. Those eyes that had fooled you so completely. You wanted to rip them out of her head.

  “Good show. But we both know you don’t have what it takes to…”

  Your stillness was an illusion. You were slowly gathering an increasing amount of energy into the air around her, and as the space got more and more crowded, her whole body was slowly being crushed.   She fell silent mid-sentence when she realised that your stare was in no way harmless, and a minute later, the first scream escaped her.

***

  The car was unlocked when Marcus got to it. The keys were still in the ignition, and on the front passenger-seat he found a contorted piece of metal and plastic and glass that had probably been your phone. All the materials had melded together as you’d forced them to compact more than they were actually structurally able to.   That was a bad sign, if he’d ever seen one.   There was nothing else in or around the car that could indicate which way you’d taken your prisoner, and the odds that you’d have stayed close enough to be able to hear him if he shouted for you from there, were non-existent.   Using his current, he tried to sense your energy, and was almost startled at how strong a trail he discovered. But, of course, he should’ve known that you’d use your ghost hands to move Kane, to prevent leaving marks on the ground, as well as make it easier for yourself.   He started following the signature of your powers, so familiar to him by now, and it led him into the very heart of the labyrinth of old run-down buildings and factories.   But when he got to a certain point, the energy suddenly quadrupled, snaking off in four different directions.

  “Oh, for god’s sake, woman… Give me a chance, at least.”

  A terrifyingly loud rumbling, accompanied by what very well could’ve been an earthquake, but wasn’t, came from his left, and without hesitating he ran towards it.   The ground was split open and uneven and half-collapsed buildings lined the roads that he followed to get to you. But he still had to run for hundreds of yards until he reached the structure that it seemed to be coming from, based on the directions of the cracks under his feet.   Realising how far you’d allowed your energy to reach, he was once again amazed at just how powerful you were, but also petrified that it might mean he was already too late.   As he made his way inside the lightly trembling warehouse, he heard blood-curdling screams coming from somewhere inside, and his heart fell. But if she was screaming, she was still alive, which meant he still had time.   When he got to the right place, it was like walking into a nightmare.   There was no ceiling above you and no lights were working, leaving the room basking in nothing but the pale and ghostly moonlight. You’d somehow twisted the whole room so that nothing was straight anymore. Posts and beams and even the walls, were all bent or curved or twisted around themselves or something else. The ground had risen in some places, and fallen in others.   It felt like he was walking into a physical representation of what your mind looked like right now. And in a way, he supposed it was.   Kane was still alive, but whatever you were doing to her was painful to the extent that she was shaking uncontrollably against her restraints, pleading like a child for you to stop, in between fits of vomiting and convulsing.   And you were so calm. So viciously calm it was heart-breaking to him. You just sat in front of her, one knee resting on the ground, the other under your elbow, watching her as though you were a cliff and she was the ocean, thrashing against you with all her might, but unable to move your solid frame even a single inch.   If he hadn’t known how much this was actually hurting you, he might’ve found it fascinating. But he knew you so well that all he could see, was his beloved wife being destroyed.

***

  “Hermosa.”

  His voice came to you like a butterfly against a hurricane. Like soft whispers carried on those wings, so faint, but still able to drown out that howling wind in your ears.   Your eyes automatically turned to find his, and the pain that was already overwhelming your heart, seemed to double.   This wasn’t who you were, you knew that. Every fibre of your being knew that, but you’d forced them into silence with your anger. Used your pain as a shield against all those voices telling you to stop.   But Marcus… seeing him look at you with that much fear…   Not the fears you’d seen before, when he’d thought he was losing you, or when you were injured or being threatened, or the fear that you wouldn’t love him anymore after he walked away from you.   No, this time he wasn’t afraid for you – he was afraid of you. Of just what you were capable of, how far you were willing to go, how much darkness you were willing to let into your heart to try and be free of the pain that festered in there.   Your powers were draining you fast. You’d made no attempt to hold them back at all, and if you stopped now, all that exhaustion would come crashing over you, and you’d be unable to finish what you’d started.   But what had you started? What was it you were hoping to achieve here? You’d wanted to hear her scream, and you had. You’d wanted to hurt her like she hurt you, and you had. But did you want her to die? Were you willing to become a murderer just so that you didn’t have to see the falseness of her face ever again?   Confused, but no less angry, you forced your gaze away from your husband, and refocused on Kane, pulling even more energy out to thicken around her until one of her shoulders was pushed out of alignment with the amount of force bearing down on her.   The harsh popping sound was loud enough to reach Marcus’ ears, and her resulting scream made him close the distance between you, while he started begging you to stop.

  “Please… this is wrong, you know that, mi amor.”

  “You know, I remember thinking that if there had just been someone there to stop my torturer, I could’ve been spared so much pain and fear. And then I found out someone was there, but she did nothing to help me. She just watched and enjoyed the show. So, why should I treat her any better? Why should she be spared that pain?”

  Your energy already filled the room, and half the damned district, so when the images started appearing, they didn’t just show up around you, they flooded the whole area. Every memory you had of every moment that had hurt you, throughout your whole life.   There were hundreds of them.

  “The tears I’ve shed could build a lake. Tell me what I’ve done to deserve that. How could anyone do anything bad enough to deserve all of this?”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, hermosa. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

  “Then I should at least get to avenge myself!”

  Her other shoulder popped, and she squealed and wailed until her voice gave up and she just sobbed instead.   Marcus moved even closer, just a few yards away from you now.

  “You should. You should get to avenge all the terrible things that have been done to you, but you never can. All you can do, is hurt yourself instead. I know you’re forcing yourself not to feel it right now, but this hurts you. You want it to feel good, to make you feel better, but it won’t, because you’re a good person. You are a good person, hermosa. That’s why I married you, that’s why you’re carrying my child, and that’s why my daughter loves you.”

  Missy. Fuck. Why’d he have to mention her?

  “Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me watch you destroy yourself. I already lost one wife… I need you to let me keep you.”

  His voice was so frail by the end of that sentence that you feared a mere breath might break it apart. And yet, his words held so much power. They forced their way under your skin, cooling your blood and pushing the anger out.   But the pain was still just as strong.   Desperate to get rid of it, to be free of everything that haunted you, you collapsed on the ground, and enormous quantities of your sparkling dust poured out of you, flooding the room in every direction, flowing unhindered through all that energy that you’d pumped into it.   The images were still there, snapshots of the worst moments of your life, the one’s that caused you more pain than you could ever voice, and you wished that you could make them solid. That you could pull them out of yourself completely and leave them behind in that room.   The dust pulled the images apart, turning them into three-dimensional representations of themselves, while you watched, actually seeing the magic happen for the first time.   When the sculptures were finished, they solidified, just like before.   A single tear escaped your left eye as you saw your very worst memories turned into some sort of bizarre museum-exhibit all around you. It rolled swiftly down your cheek, and with the way you were sitting, it should’ve hit the top of your left hand, holding you up from the ground. But it never landed.   Instead, it hovered mid-air for a few seconds, before splitting into dozens of smaller drops, that each flew away to one of the sculptures. And as the drops made contact with them, the sculptures turned to stone. Transparent, and still sparkling in every colour on the spectrum, but unmistakably more solid than just the dust.   Once again, your powers had tried to give you what you asked for, what you needed the most. If only the memories could’ve been trapped inside those statues as well. If only you actually could get up, walk away and leave them behind forever.   Strong arms encircled you as Marcus pulled you off the ground and into his chest, and you finally gave in. Now that you allowed yourself to feel it, you were completely spent. You wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t need an explanation, he understood everything, you knew that.

  “Marcus… I’m sorry…”

  He just kissed your forehead and held you closer, but if he said anything, you passed out before you could hear what it was.

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys​​ @blueeyesatnight​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine​ @lucrezia-thoughts​ @computeringturtle​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @giselatropicana​ @ayamenimthiriel

[ishouldreallybeelsewhere]

okay so that loki video essay thing was going well, and then like a day into writing it i lost the hyperfixation so it's never gonna be finished. i still think it's alright, completely unedited, entirely a train of thought, i hope you like commas and pacific rim, it's only 2.8k

btw if something doesn't make sense, i was writing this while watching some video essays, and also haven't read it

Introduction

Loki is a show, well you know that, but a show that does everything right, until it doesn’t (crazy, I know). If you’re here, I assume you’ll already know a fair bit about it, but if you don’t, here’s a quick refresher. Spoilers for everything MCU.

Loki begins in 2012, technically, just after the Avengers go back through time from Endgame to meet themselves and grab the infinity stones. Unfortunately, the plan goes awri, and Loki ends up in possession of the Tesseract, the mind stone. With this, he teleports to a desert in [a place] and is quickly arrested and apprehended by the Time Keepers for ‘Crimes Against the Sacred Timeline.’ Sounds a bit cult-y if you ask me, and given that you’re stuck here, you will ask me. Essentially, his actions (taking the tesseract) were not supposed to happen. They created a branch, a new timeline, and, according to the TVA, if left unchecked, the timeline could cause a multiversal war that would result in the end of time. This is, to put it simply, a very interesting premise, and the first two episodes do a wonderful job of exploring the TVA and searching for the mysterious Loki variant who causes chaos and mischief, all while evading the time cops.

What is the TVA? Well, it’s the Time Variance Authority, which clears up nothing to those who haven’t seen the show. I would let a clip explaining it play, but I think I’d get a copyright strike, even though I’m fairly sure it’s within fair use. Regardless, the TVA is an organisation supposedly created by the Time Keepers, space lizards who brought together all of time into a singular sacred timeline. Had they not done this, time itself would have ended, how they did this is unexplained, and likely either impossible, or they are greater than gods in their power. Loki is immediately doubtful, but can’t deny that they must hold some power, because not only does his magic not work in the TVA, but infinity stones are useless too. Time is also stranger there too, more an idea as opposed to a set part of their reality. Many theorise that they reside within the quantum realm, which makes sense, as that is how one travels through time, at least in the marvel universe, but we can’t be sure until we get an explanation. Of course, I’m writing this long before I’ll see the finale, so who knows, perhaps I’ll have to rewrite it.

Now I’ve said all that without explaining what the TVA actually does. It’s pretty simple, similar to Stephen Hawking’s (???) ideas of the multiverse, every decision you make has the ability to make another timeline, one that is not part of the sacred way of time, and therefore must be pruned by the TVA before it grows enough to cause another multiversal war, despite multiverses being well-established in the MCU, but I know that’s different. Or perhaps the Time Keepers are lying (spoiler, they are, just not exactly in that way). Anyway, when someone makes a decision or takes an action that creates a new timeline, the TVA arrives. Minutemen arrest the ‘Variant’ responsible, despite their lack of intentional crime, and prune the new timeline, which we are told destroys it. Then Variants must stand trial for their crimes, in which they can either plead guilty or not, but really, that doesn’t make much difference, as they’re unable to make a case, let alone get away as innocent. Before they reach the court, however, Variants are dressed in TVA jumpsuits, have to sign off every word they’ve ever said, and a snapshot of their temporal aura is taken, for some reason. Yeah, it’s not really ever explained why they have to go through all that, like, why don’t they just prune them all, or just send them straight to court. It seems like they’re putting on a big show for nothing. Of course, if you have to go through all that, you probably won’t have time to think about the whys of your situation, which I’m sure the TVA uses to their advantage.

Now, we’re heading into real spoiler-y stuff, just in case anyone here hasn't watched episode three. If you haven’t, why are you here? Go, finish the whole series, and then come back. Alrighty. Now that everyone’s seen it all (apart from me at this point) we can continue.

Everyone working at the TVA is a Variant, and they don’t know it. The Time Keepers are said to have created everything within the TVA, every analyst, Minuteman, and whatever the other roles are. But that’s not true. They’re all variants who’ve been taken from their own timelines and had their memories wiped. This gives an explanation for the courtrooms, and the process to get into them. Robots will be melted from the inside out if they go through the temporal aura machine thingy, and I have a feeling it’s harder to reset a robot’s memories. Living beings are let through, and their actions in the courtroom could give a good overview of their strengths and intelligence, so it can be decided whether they’ll be pruned or ‘reset’ which we are told is killed, but with the information of them all being variants now available, is more likely having all their memories hidden, replaced with the idea that they’ve been at the TVA their whole lives, and that they were created by the timekeepers. Though why would space lizards create workers in the image of humans instead of like their own lizard-y selves. The TVA as a whole, as we are introduced to it, feels very cult-y. Things such as the videos Variants are shown upon being arrested, the whole ‘Sacred Timeline’ thing, the Time Keepers being viewed as almost gods, and that when one of the TVA’s own minutemen is told the truth (C-20) she is, well, removed. The TVA views Variants as criminals of the highest order. How dare they violate the sacred timeline?!!? Only, no variant knew that what they were doing was wrong, or that it even mattered, but if you’re late to work on a day where you weren’t supposed to be, then you’re removed from your timeline and charged. The sentence? Essentially death, or removal of all your memories and being lied to about everything, which might be worse depending on your stance on that kind of thing.

Anyway, the minutemen themselves are another issue that the TVA has. They respond with violence at every available opportunity, like when a young french child from the 1500s walks into a church, the first thing a minuteman does is reach for his weapon. This is also the scene where we’re introduced to my favourite character, Mobius, but more on him later. For now, I need to stay on track and keep in mind this part of the view has to remain consistent. All I can think of are the nerds I split. It seems I have an inability to stay on topic, however, I’m gonna try so you have fun keeping up with that.

Loki stood trial for crimes against the Sacred Timeline and, like any logical person may in that situation, relentlessly questions the validity of his conviction. The answers he’s provided with he just,, kind of,, disagrees with, which is fair. The concept of the TVA and the sacred timeline as a whole is absurd to him, as who would a god serve?

Part one: Glorious Purpose

Loki, in his own words, it ‘Burdened With Glorious Purpose.’ I’m so glad no one but me is gonna read this draft cuz I managed to spell many of those words wrong. His glorious purpose, in his eyes, is becoming the ruler of all, removing free will and choice from those beneath him, in a twisted attempt to make it easy for all living things. He believes in free will, at least, the free will of himself, and also believes that, out of everyone in the universe, he is the one who is right, the one who can make the world better, that is his burden. Now, you may look at that and think, ‘hey, for a god of mischief, that doesn’t seem very mischievous,’ and you’d be right. It isn’t. He’s evil, like, without a doubt, an evil person in his ideals and views of the universe, however, the change from mischief to villainy was rapid, as it’s shown that he was D.B. Cooper, and, when asked, said it was because he was ‘young and lost a bet to Thor’, which, like, okay, but that was the 60s or something. 50 years aren’t a lot in the face of 1,500, but a lot can happen then

Part something: ethics

So, as you’ve probably gathered by now, I’m a pretentious asshole, and with that comes three years of philosophy classes and a superiority complex, though perhaps that comes from the whole leftist thing. Anyway, as per usual, I got sidetracked. I’m watching a really good video atm, so lots of things are happening in my head right now. Back to being pretentious, I’m going to be talking about ethics, fun, and how that relates to the TVA, the sacred timeline, Kang, sorry, he who remains. Regarding the whole Kang thing, I haven’t read a single Marvel comic since I was a member of the comic book club 4(???) years ago. Gods, I’m so old. Yup Percy Jackson took up too much of my childhood. Sidetracked again! I apologise, anyway, everything I know about Kang the Conqueror comes from Tumblr, so I’m not going to spend any time talking about any parts of the character that aren’t shown in the show. I really want to be writing about Doctor Who right now but I have my notes up so I’m gonna do this. Okay, right. Ethics. I hope I don’t go into free will right now because I will never stop going on about that. Anyway, let's look at the TVA, ignoring Kang, not for simplicity, but to see if the ends do in fact justify the means as Mobius said. And by that I mean, if what employees of the TVA think is true, are their actions justified? Finally got to the point, after how many words? Too many, anyway, let’s start from the start (kinda).

In an actual, proper, organised essay, I think that whole last paragraph was supposed to be 1 (one) sentence long, maybe. I have been writing year nine level essays for many years, despite not being in year nine for many, many years, so, be glad you’re reading something I’m interested in. Back to the topic at hand, please. Sorry I just got distracted again. I shouldn’t have Tumblr open atm. Anyway, what are the TVA’s means? So, I’ve already explained what the TVA is, and what it does, but let’s use a fun example to show what they really do. Imagine you’re a kid (or maybe you are a kid, so imagine you’re a younger one) and you just got home from school. You just made an awesome new friend who believes in you and loves your art. This sparks your interest in art, leading to countless pieces, days and days spent drawing and painting and having a great time. Your art begins to take hold on the world, speaking to people, letting them believe in themselves, thousands upon thousands of people inspired to start their own art, to rebel against the system of capitalism and teach people that there’s more to life than a job. This begins the global radicalisation of the working class, and with that, rebellion and the downfall of capitalism. I’m in a good mood rn, feeling optimistic, so don’t worry about what’s happening. Anyway, with the downfall of human exploitation and eradication of poverty comes a branch in the Sacred Timeline, and as the root of it is you as a child making a friend, your 5-year-old self just committed a crime that, according to the TVA, is worthy of what they believe to be actual death, like, being pruned.

Now, this was a very umm, off-the-top-of-my-head example, and entirely makes no sense, but give me two seconds and I’ll remember my original point. Right. The risk of allowing the downfall of capitalism is the end of all time. Always. Maybe? But, in the eyes of the TVA, kidnapping a 5-year-old, putting them through a dehumanising process to be shoved in a courtroom and being accused of crimes against the sacred timeline, and what was the crime? Making a goddamn friend. As a child. Being supported in art. Doing what you enjoy, destroying oppressive systems that will eventually be the downfall of us all and so entwined with all the problems in the world that any chance of saving it revolves around its deconstruction. I’ve been hunched over too long and my back is really starting to hurt, but the essay must go on. And remember, the domino effect of that friendship never actually happened. The timeline was pruned before it could happen, so the crime is literally making a friend. Very extreme example sorry, but shock makes your point go across faster, and also sparks outrage, which I don’t want to happen, but with doing literally anything comes backlash, like stepping on the wrong leaf, or a butterfly. I hope you guys know that this is unplanned and probably unedited. Okay I need to watch Pacific Rim again. Okay imagine now they kill the child. Right. That’s likely what would happen. Children are weak (usually, Sylvie is just on another level of awesome) [author’s note, Crimson Peak is a horror movie and I’m very upset by that cuz now I won’t be able to watch it]. Alright, so, kill a child, or destroy all of time. Always. Maybe. The way we see the TVA in the first two episodes is through Loki’s eyes, as a cult-like lie with a cool retro/futuristic aesthetic (like Doctor Who, but more on that later). I have been sitting here for 4 hours and I can confidently say my cat is an asshole whose sole purpose in life is to want to come in right when I’m in the middle of a point only to not want to come in but allow me to lose exactly what I was about to say, meaning I’ve gotten next to nothing done. Hi, I'm back. I got distracted by My Little Pony and Pacific Rim. And checkers. Issues with pacing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Okay, so, I’m going to say something possibly controversial. When the stakes are the endings of the entirety of time, it’s okay to let a child die, and technically they might not die they’d just be sent to be either devoured the void or saved by a ragtag team of loki variants. Which is not great. That might sound like I agree with the TVA, but trust me, I do not. Not in the slightest. I hate the slimy bastards. (I do love every single character though, like all of them are awesome) The prickly pricks will bury us all!!! I don’t agree with them because I think there is a better way to handle the multiversal problem and the issue that arises regarding the particular cause of the multiversal war. That made no sense. You’re really just gonna have to guess at this point, however, for the solution, we must look into the finale and the reasoning behind He Who Remains’ plan. I said I wasn’t going to talk about him, but I lied (rule number one). Basically, from what I understood of his plan (which wasn’t much, I’m pretty stupid) was that there were two options; option number one was to leave him there, looking over all of time, preventing free will, so that the infinite variants of him that would come from timelines wouldn’t once again attempt to conquer all of the timelines (though if there are infinite ones, how would that work? Just kidding, you’re not allowed to question this). He dictates all. There’s no such thing as free will, and if you dare veer off the path, you will be pruned, and your timeline destroyed. His plan is to hand that power over to Loki and Sylvie, because he’s getting old and has lived long enough. The other option (and the one that’s taken in the show) is to allow Sylvie to kill He Who Remains and let the multiverse unfold, allow free will and chaos to reign, with the possibility and established likelihood of the destruction of time itself. Now, just putting this out here, what if there was a third option? My proposition is based of knowing next to nothing and not having seen Loki in a while, and that is,

[amazedforjjk]

Escape 4- Ot7

The gif is not mine! 

Characters: Lion!Namjoon, Jaguar!Jin, Black panther!Yoongi, Cheetah!Hoseok, Snow Leopard!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, cougar!Jungkook, Serval!Reader

Summary: In a world where Hybrid protection laws are gradually strengthening, many organisations are still advocating for the complete extermination of your species. What happens when you find yourself and 7 other predatory hybrids in a truck en route to a hybrid slaughter facility?

Genre: Angst, fluff 

Warning: Kidnapping, serious abuse, blood and mention of death. Strong language.

A.N: Chapter 4 is here!!! I hope you like it!

Word count: 3.7K

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“Long time no see, kitty. Remember me?”

If fear had paralyzed you when the man entered the room, the use of the nickname brought all the anger you felt towards him hurling back. Of course you remember him. He’s the one that caught you that night, the one who punched you unconscious. You remember his stench of cheap cigarettes. The smell of the gunpowder when he grabbed your hair. His nasal voice when he shouted after you. He is the one that caused your downfall.

A growl ripples through your throat, and beside you Taehyung finally stops thrashing around to look at you.

“Fuck you��, you spit at the approaching man.

“Huh, kitty’s got bite”, he smirks, leaning to grab your jaw, looking at your face. You feel his unkempt nails scratch your sensitive skin, making you grimace in disgust. He seems to mistake your disgust for pain however.

“Does your face still hurt sweetheart? From when I caught you?”

“Don’t touch her”

The tiger’s low scowl makes your abductor shift his attention to your left. You take advantage of this and yank your head from his grip. He casts you a glance before talking to Taehyung.

“Can’t you see this is a private discussion? Didn’t you get enough already?” he says, making the tiger growl once again. He turns to you.

“It seems that you didn’t waste time sweetie. Already got a little boyfriend to protect you huh, you whore?”

He straightens and slowly makes his way to Taehyung. The tiger looks at him aggressively as the man stands directly in front of him. He looks at you with a smirk before punching the hybrid in the gut. You don’t have the time to register what’s happening before he strikes him again square in the jaw. The tiger spits blood but doesn’t lose the look of defiance on his face. You grit your teeth and look away as Taehyung takes another hit.

“Stop it” you utter, still not looking at the scene. The man doesn’t seem to hear you however and continues on punching Taehyung.

“Stop it!”

The desperate shout is enough to stop the man in his tracks and he turns to look at you. In front of him, Taehyung is disheveled and panting, blood running from his cheekbones to his neck. His head is lolling on the side, his eyes unfocused and you let out a sob at the sight of him. Beside him you hear Jimin starting to stir awake. Thankfully the man has not yet noticed and you try to maintain his focus on you.

“What do you want?”, you ask. You need to stall. Give the other males next to you enough time to recover or figure out the situation. And maybe, give time for Jin and the rest to find the three of you. The man scoffs at your question, and starts to pace in the room, caressing his stubble. It’s only now that you notice the guards posted at the door. The two men are wearing black clothes, and the lump on their side leads you to believe they are armed. They look absently at the scene playing before them, their focus kept on the three of you and their boss.

“What I want..?” He scratches angrily at his neck, forming a red mark on his skin. He chuckles darkly and turns to face you. His eyes are bloodshot and wide in madness. “You don’t know how much trouble you’re causing me, kitty.”

His hands are trembling as he lights a cigarette with a match. He takes a deep puff and exhales loudly, smoke escaping from his dry lips. He points the cigarette at you aggressively and grits his teeth, anger overtaking him.

“You just had to escape, did you? And in MY sector as well? They delayed my payment because of that, you bitch” He is shaking in anger, taking another puff of the cigarette to calm himself and passing anxiously his other hand in his dirty hair.

“You couldn’t just behave, like your brother and sister?” At their mention, your head shoots up instantly to stare at him. Something in you breaks. You are in a state of shock, unable to process the revelation. You become livid, mouth opening but not a single word passes your lips. No, it can’t be... Tears threaten to spill from your eyes but you don’t dare give him that satisfaction.

Next to you, Taehyung utters a “Fuck” under his breath and you feel his concerned gaze on you, but your eyes stay trained on the disgusting excuse of a man before you.

“Don’t look at me with those wide eyes, bitch. At least they went without causing a fuss. This is all your fault. You’re gonna pay for that”, he spits, throwing the cigarette butt in your direction in a flick of his fingers. He makes his way to you and places his hands on the backrest of your chair, his arms on either side of your face. You move your head back as much as you can but you can feel his hot breath on your cheeks. He reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and you can’t help the fear rising inside you.

“Where were you going?”

You shake your head, biting at your bottom lip to restrain your sobs. Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, and you refuse to look him in the eye.

He looks left to Taehyung and Jimin, now fully awake, the both of them staring helplessly at you. Jimin’s eyes are wide open in fear and Taehyung’s hands are fidgeting, trying to break out of his bounds.

“You feeling shy, kitty?”, he looks back at you, his face still too close for comfort.

You look at him scared and let out a whimper, but it’s too late. He lifts you out of the chair and throws you on the ground. You yelp in pain when your shoulder comes in contact with the ground and you can hear the two other hybrids shouting at the man, but he pays no mind, simply pulling at your hair to make you stand up. You wince but comply and he leads you out of the room, leaving the screaming men behind you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears and your vision is blurred by tears streaming down your cheeks. You pass by the guards and one opens the door for you. The man’s hand leaves your hair to apply a vice like pressure on your arm, stopping you to talk to the men stationed at the door.

“Knock them out, they’re making too much noise.”

“Why not kill them now, boss?” You look at the one who talked, panic coursing through your veins.

“Too much evidence, that’s why there are slaughterhouses, you moron” the man holding you hisses.

He pushes you out of the room through a dark corridor running alongside the big room you just exited. There, you can hear other men in the direction opposite to where you are guided. There are no windows there and you continue walking to a door. He opens it and you discover a small room, and you can’t help but feel this might be the last place you ever see.

He shoves you on the ground and you fall on your side as he closes the door. The room is lit by a cold white light, and is almost empty, a chair and empty bottles laying about. He looks at you in disdain before kicking you in your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. You cough, trying to bring back air into your lungs, and he takes the chair to sit on it, looking down at you.

“So.. Are you gonna start talking now that your boyfriends aren’t here to protect you?” he says with a smirk, clearly reveling in your despair. You try to push yourself on your shoulder to look at him but he stands to kick you again, this time in the face. You feel blood dripping from your nose, mixing with your tears. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and a small wail escapes you.

You suddenly stop sobbing at the sound of a blade being drawn, ears flickering in the direction of the noise. You lift your head alarmed and see him playing with a small pocket knife. You try to wiggle away from him but that only makes him chuckle. He places his legs on either of your sides and grabs your jaw, turning you on your back. You try to kick around but you can’t seem to ever reach him, and you shake your head, trying to evade his grip.

“Shhh…” he coos, and he brings the blade to your cheeks. You stop thrashing at once, eyes trained on the knife. You sob once more as he runs the point of the blade from your cheek down your neck to the side of your hip, the cold metal pressed against your skin in a warning. Once he reaches the soft skin of your stomach, he presses the knife in your flesh and you scream. You feel blood dripping from your wound as he steps back to take you in. Despite the pain, you remark with irony that his hands aren’t shaking anymore. The son of a bitch is enjoying himself.

“Talk”

Only a whimper escapes your lips. He sighs and starts carving a line in the soft flesh of your side. You wail once more as the pain burns your side. The time seems to stretch and these few seconds feel like eternity. The pain is clouding your mind and you can only scream. You struggle fruitlessly against your bounds. Blood is trickling down your hip, forming a puddle next to your hands.

He starts to carve another line in your flesh, this time on the other side. The pain is so intense that black dots danse in front of your eyes. You’re on the verge of consciousness and you can feel your mind starting to slip out of it when he is interrupted by a loud voice outside the room. You hear him barking words at the voice, obviously miffed to be disrupted when he was having so much fun.

You’re too out of it to make out any words. The tension in your muscles ultimately eases when the blade is lifted off of your body. He gets up to open the door, and you are left lying in a puddle of your own blood, barely conscious. It’s only after a few minutes that the pain has cleared enough from your brain to realize that you are finally alone.

Thanks to the adrenaline surging in your veins, you painfully manage to sit up. The door is closed but you can still hear voices booming outside, and you decide to take advantage of the apparent chaos to try and escape. Your gaze settles on an empty bottle beside you and you turn your back to it, trying to catch it. You swing it at the ground once you finally grab it.

Fortunately, the bottle breaks easily and you use a big shard of glass to cut through the rope. You struggle to free your hands. The voices outside are becoming louder now, and you hear shouting, urging you to cut faster. The binds ultimately come undone and you caress the damaged skin of your wrists, tainted in a purple-ish shade that makes you grit your teeth.

You keep the shard in your hand to use it as a weapon and try to stand, staggering when your movements wake the pain in your side. Your shirt is sticking to your side because of the blood when you slowly make your way to the door. The task of putting a foot in front of the other declares to be more difficult than expected in your current state and you almost slump down to the ground more than once. It takes you a minute to finally reach the door and you have to lean against the frame for a little while to chase the dizziness overtaking your senses.

You shakingly open the door, and the corridor before you seems empty. Though it is difficult for you to smell anything over the overwhelming metallic scent of blood - and not only yours- you still manage to recognize the scents of the five other hybrids accompanying you. Tears of relief cascade from the corners of your eyes. Shoulder against the cold wall in order to keep your balance, you make your way towards the door. The shouts have stopped by now and you can hear muffled voices from the room you first woke up in. You can’t make out the words but you recognize Jungkook and Taehyung’s voices. They are talking animatedly as you slowly move towards the door.

The metallic squeal is enough to turn all heads to you as you push the door. The hybrids before you fall silent as they take in your disheveled state, eyes wide. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying, blood is sticking to your shirt and you can’t stand without leaning heavily on the wall next to you. Your wrists are bruised and dried blood is staining your upper lip. Despite that, you smile weakly, locking eyes with each of them, making a point of avoiding to look at the ground where three men are laying. You don’t fail to notice the pools of blood on the ground next to the bodies but you don’t seem to care. One of them looks fairly similar to the man torturing you earlier, and you can’t say that his current state saddens you.

Your smile falters when you see Taehyung and Jimin. They don’t look fresh either, each of them having endured a serious beating when you left them. Worry gnaws at your stomach, eyebrows furrowing.

“Are you okay?”, you ask as you make your way to them, and lightheadedness stops you in your tracks.

Namjoon is the first to spring into action, running to your side as you nearly lose balance, offering his hands for support. From up close, you discern bruises on the lion’s cheeks, and his knuckles are bloodied. A wave of dizziness hits you again and your head falls on his chest. You feel his arms tighten around your shoulders and you close your eyes momentarily, feeling suddenly very tired, the adrenaline leaving to make room for fatigue.

“We shouldn’t stay here”, Jin says. Your ears twitch in his direction but you can’t seem to open your eyes anymore, exhaustion making your eyelids droopy.

Namjoon suddenly picks you up from your feet to carry you bridal style but you don’t have enough energy to complain, only placing your arms around his neck to help him lift you, and you fall asleep as the eight of you exit the barn.

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When you wake up, the moon is shining on your face through the leaves of a tall tree. You sit up with difficulty, your side a painful reminder of the past hours. The chilly air caresses your face, making you shudder. You remove the hoodie covering you to pull it on your bandaged body. The white gauze is covering your wounds nicely, and you smell the potent scent of antiseptic. They must have tended to my wounds when I was out of it, you conclude feeling a smile tug at your lips. Disoriented, you look around to find a familiar face. The tree you are under stands lonely, separating two fields. In the distance you can see what you believe is the farm you were taken to.

You peel your eyes from the facility to the seven boys forming a circle a few feet from you, all of them wearing the warm clothes Granny left in the backpacks. Speaking of backpacks, you notice yours to be lying next to you along with the first aid kit she must have provided for you.

You silently approach the boys discussing calmly amidst each other and you settle cross legged between Jungkook and Taehyung. The latter carefully picks your hand in his, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You smile tiredly at him, not minding one bit the unexpected act of affection.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his worry barely hidden behind his small smile.

“Better now”, you reply before glancing at the men around you. All of them are smiling at you, though you can see exhaustion written plainly on their features. Your eyes fall on Yoongi in front of you. His pale skin reflects in the moonlight, making him look breathtaking. You had not realised before how the men around you are all absolutely gorgeous, and you have to repress the blush creeping on your skin. You don’t really know whether to be thankful or jealous, all of them so good looking despite the bruises covering their skin.

“How did you find us?”, you inquire, breaking the comfortable silence that fell while you were ogling the hybrids next to you.

“Well, they didn’t take you very far from where they took you. We simply followed the road til we picked up your scents”, the panther explains matter-of-factly. You hum in understanding and Jungkook is the next to talk.

“We barged in, taking them by surprise. They weren’t a lot, so it went well for us. Well at least, most of us” he adds, casting a playful look at Hope. The elder grimaces in embarrassment, trying to hide his black eye with his left hand and you gently smack the youngest’s arm for making fun of him. Jungkook grins at you, holding the point of the impact in fake hurt. Hoseok thanks you with a wink, and he grins when you look away from him, cheeks burning. Thankfully, he seems to be the only one to have noticed your reaction.

“They were not expecting us to come so soon, it seems”, Namjoon adds, and you glance his way, relieved when the cheetah hybrid’s gaze lifts off you to land on the lion. The tall hybrid is tending at his knuckles, adding Hello-Kitty band aids to cover the small wounds. He doesn’t seem to notice your amused glare. No one makes a comment at the unusual sight and you conclude they already must have made fun of him before your arrival.

“We arrived in a small room and took out three guards. Then we went to the room where Taehyung and Jimin were. They were getting beaten up and the humans didn’t notice us arriving”, the lion hybrid continues. At his words you subconsciously squeeze the tiger’s hand, and he rubs circles in your skin once more, as if to assure you he is fine.

The fact that the rescue went so well isn’t that surprising to you. Your captors didn’t seem to be the brightest if you are honest, and they weren’t nearly enough to have a chance to win against the horde of hybrids, even armed.

“One of them managed to escape though and went to get another guy. Probably the one that was with you”, Jin says, and he peers down at your stomach. At his words you cover your side with your available arm and the mood seems to fall. All of them must have seen your stomach, seen the marks that are carved into you, marks you’ll have to bear, and god only knows for how long.

“What happened in there?”, Jin tentatively asks, eyes filled with worry. You grimace, not yet ready to dwell on the events of the afternoon. This time, it’s Taehyung who delicately squeezes your hand for comfort, and you sigh. Jungkook places his hand on the small of your back in encouragement, rubbing up and down.

“I- He tried to make me talk..” you start, and you feel Jungkook’s hand tense. “I think he enjoyed hurting us”, you add quietly, suddenly very focused on the blade of grass right in front of you. The silence is suffocating, and you rake your brain, trying to find another subject. Your savior is Hoseok, and he too seems eager to change topics.

“Are you hungry?”, he inquires, offering you a bag of beef jerky, and you earnestly thank him. You start to munch on the dried pieces of meat and the mood alleviates quickly. Jungkook and Jin start to banter about whatever, and you are more than happy to escape the heavy atmosphere. Chatter erupts between Jimin and Teahyung, and you could swear these two are joined at the hip. Yoongi starts applying a soothing cream on Hoseok’s eyes, while Namjoon makes fun of his poor fighting skills. You find yourself to be the spectator in front of this domestic scene and you can’t repress the warm smile tugging at your lips.

Is this how Home feels like?

You feel strangely at peace around these men, happiness filling your entire being. You wouldn’t mind more evenings like these, you think as your eyelids start to feel heavy. And it’s with a contented smile plastered on your face that you begin to fall asleep. You yawn, your free hand turned into a sweater paw coming in front of your mouth. You chase the sleepiness induced tears at the corners of your eyes and you start to lean on Jungkook, eyes slowly closing.

He only casts a glance your way before chuckling silently. You look so cute right there, falling asleep on him, cheeks reddened by the cold air. Your hair falls before your eyes and he takes a strand of it to pull it back behind your ears. You are too far gone to react, only nestling your face into his arm. Why is his heart beating faster, he asks himself.

“We should probably go to sleep”, Jimin says, look affectionately at you.

Jin picks you up from Jungkook and carries you back under the tree, the rest of the boys following him after having gathered their stuff. He sets you down, your head resting on your backpack and he settles next to you. Jimin lays beside you on your other side, careful not to touch your side. When all the hybrids have all settled, you finally let yourself slip into a deep slumber.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

💜

<Previous//Next>

[sleephyjhs]

Internal Tigress (Special Post)

pairing: cheater!yoongi x reader

genre: heavy angst

summary: he’d been disappearing for longer each time. your voicemails haunted his inbox. you were way past the point of return, but your suppressed emotions made it hard for you to confront him. however, an elastic band can only stretch so far before it snaps.

word count: 1.9k

notes: this is so late it’s past fashionable, but thank you for 500 followers! next time i’ll have a much better surprise, i promise. i’d also like to add that this au doesn’t reflect my actual beliefs of yoongi as a person

tw: heated arguments, cheating

rules | m.list | 500 followers special

For hours, melted candle wax had dripped from the stand onto the marble kitchen counter, and for hours, you had failed to stop it. Somehow, watching the candlestick melt was less tedious than waiting for him. The burning scent of jasmine and sandalwood hung bitter in the air, not too dissimilar from Yoongi’s earlier promise.

Three years of devoting your love to him had come to this; a one-person dinner date. On such a monumental day for you as a couple, announcing he was going out by himself was reasonably unexpected. It had become apparent to you within minutes of waking up that morning that Yoongi was in fact clueless over the sentiments of that day. Not a single romantic gesture had reached your vicinity. Not even a card.

And yet you still made the effort to celebrate for him. Earlier that week when he had questioned your extra, unusual groceries, it still didn’t prod the event in his mind. The lower the candlestick burned, the more you pondered on your idiocy. Why had you even bothered? You could have bet money on Yoongi being none the wiser.

Just as the wick curled into the ceramic stand, you reminded yourself just why you made the effort. He’d become more and more distant in the last weeks. Some nights, he walked out the door without a word and wouldn’t return until the early morning. But your efforts came from not wanting to believe he had fallen out of love with you. A small part of you refused to accept your romance was virtually over.

Too many nights ago, you’d wondered if you were unreasonable. Of course, he was a grown man and you were nobody to stop him from going out. But refusing to answer his phone, or even telling you where he’d be? It became too suspicious too quickly.

With only the light from the television, you ate your half of the anniversary meal you’d prepared in the familiar silence. Even the quiet was a better conversation than what you would have had anyway. Ironically, you were usually a fan on the meals you made for yourself, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it.

To make a point, you left your used dish on the island counter opposite the full one meant for your partner. Your wine glass had stained red by the little residue left at the bottom; the wine in the other glass sat stale. Waiting for him to arrive home was a tedious couple of hours, but the saturday night shows managed to get you through it.

The monotonous beeping of the keypad outside your door led your heart to beat faster. Confrontation was a secret weapon you wielded well, but the few seconds that laid between you and Yoongi were too few to think of the right words. Really, you weren’t sure whether you were angry or disappointed, or both.

You focused your attention on the screen before you as he pushed the door open and sneaked through the gap. From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance at you before turning to the kitchen. An audible sigh echoed in your silence. Already, a few angry tears began to gather at your eyelids.

“I got you these.” Yoongi offered, walking closer to the couch. Your eyes glared to the side to see his outstretched arm holding a box of your favourite chocolates, “Listen, I’m really sorry. There’s been a lot on my mind lately and-“

“You aren’t sorry at all.” You replied bluntly, turning back to the screen. It was painful even just to be in the same room as him; there were no words you could say to him that could ever deliver your full anger in that moment, “If I hadn’t made you a whole anniversary meal then you wouldn’t have said anything to me when you walked through that door. You and I both know that.”

Another tense silence was broken by the box of chocolates landing next to your seat, “Fine. Take them or leave them.”

His blunt remark confirmed to you that he no longer cared for your relationship and prompted your growing distaste for his new character. You’d told yourself earlier that evening that a heartfelt apology might have changed your mind about your dead-end love, but all of your hope was lost. His feelings were clear enough, “I’ll leave them.”

You breathed sharply, rushing from the couch towards your shared bedroom. The tears wouldn’t stop themselves, and the last thing you needed was for him to see you so vulnerable, “Where are you going?” He asked sternly, grabbing a hold of your arm as you stormed away.

Without hesitating, you yanked your arm from his grip and swivelled to face him. Maybe seeing you so distraught would tell him a thing or two, “Get the fuck off of me. It’s obvious you don’t want to be near me, so why would I put you through it?” Raising your voice is something you hated doing, but targeting your anger at the man who caused it all was much needed.

“I just went out to get you those chocolates, I don’t see what the problem is.” But he knew what he’d done wrong. After however many years you’d known Yoongi, not once had he admitted he was wrong so quickly. If anything, he’d only confirmed what you first said; he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It doesn’t take four fucking hours to go to the convenience store. You disappear so much now, I never know where you are. I’d thought that on our anniversary you’d want to spend time with me for a change, but you didn’t remember.” He stuttered , fumbling for the words to defend himself with, “Dont bother. You’ve been done with me for a while, it was just never convenient for you to drop me.”

Salty tears burnt your throat as they smeared the mascara you’d applied generously earlier in the evening. Looking at Yoongi was torture. The man who you placed so much faith for your future in was stood before you, clearly unable to defend himself. For the second time, you headed for your bedroom, believing he wouldn’t follow.

When his hand reached your shoulder to turn you around again, the stretching elastic band in your brain snapped, “I told you to get the fuck off of me! All you had to do was be honest with me, and even that much is too hard for you? You’re unbelievable, Yoongi. Just unbelievable.”

“You do know that I’m an adult, right? You’re nobody to stop me from going anywhere, nor do you need to have tabs on me all the time.”

The ignorance of his statement dragged a scoff from your lips, “I never stopped you. You have no idea how worrying it is when I can’t get a hold of you. If there was an emergency you wouldn’t have known any better. You never used to be like this, I just don’t understand!”

Through your blurring tears, you caught Yoongi reaching for you for a third time, “Look, you’re just being hysterical now. Calm down, seriously.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cut his speech from the beginning and leaned over your bed to reach one of his pillows, “Sleep on the couch, on the floor. Wherever, I don’t care. I’m too angry to even look at you. Wherever you were, I hope you had a better night than I did.”

The next morning, you walked out into the crispy air of your apartment to be greeted by a cleaned living space. The dishes from last night were gone, and the pillow you almost threw at Yoongi was rested on top of the folded blanket. A pounding headache had woken you from your disrupted slumber, and trying to remember what had been happened the night before was no remedy.

After you were sure he was gone once again, you thought ahead to reviving your willingness to socialise. In response to Yoongi’s disappearances, you organised a quiet night out with your best friend, on the town. Your attempts to equal his absence would be appreciated by nobody but yourself; perhaps a bit of self-care was what you needed.

Instead of sharing an anniversary meal with your ‘partner’, you treated your best friend to a bigger, more fulfilling meal just out of gratitude. She’d picked you up in your lowest points, and there she was doing it all over again.

Before you left the restaurant, you visited the bathrooms just to retouch your makeup. But in the midst of reapplying gentle blush, you caught your attention on the several jewellery items you were wearing that had been purchased by Yoongi. More coincidentally, the necklace he bought you for your first birthday as a couple and the promise ring he’d given you last year for your second anniversary.

In light of trying to bring yourself to a happier state of mind, you pushed any thoughts of him to the side and focused on the present. As hard as it was, the light humour your friend provided soon distracted you.

An activity both you and your friend enjoyed was walking through Seoul nature parks late at night. Cherry blossoms glowed humbly under moonlight, and the trickling of clear river water set the perfect atmosphere for evening strolls. Luckily, you were within walking distance. It wouldn’t have taken you long to get there.

Your friend had linked her arm with yours to guide you to the park; it was one of her ways of looking after you, making sure you couldn’t stray away from the given path. As you both giggled from another one of her lighthearted jokes, she paused in her track and gazed across the wide city road, “There’s no way that’s Yoongi over there.”

You lined your eyes parallel to hers to observe across the road, where a man and woman stood body to body in a close embrace illuminated by bright cafe lights. It was clear to see their fingers interlaced as the man leaned down to seemingly whisper in her ear. When he stood erect again, the cafe casted a light upon his face so perfect it was clear it was him. It was Yoongi.

“No, where are you going?” Before your friend could say anything to stop you, you turned back for the pedestrian crossing and stormed across with the ocean of moving citizens. In your sudden despair and anger blocked her calling for your name as you ploughed across the road. That’s where he’d been all these times. He’d been with some other woman.

As you approached Yoongi and his new fling, you unfastened the necklace that hung around your neck and slid his promise ring from the base of your finger. They were only bad omens anyway, “So this is where you’ve been? All these fucking times, you’ve been with somebody else?” You confronted him, watching in disgust as he made eye contact with you, “Here, have these back. They’re no use to me anymore.”

Without double-crossing yourself, you threw the jewellery at him, watching it fall the the dirty pavement below. You witnessed as his face fell void of thoughts. If you knew Yoongi, you knew there’d be nothing for him to say. He’d been caught by you, the worst person to be caught by, “Your shit will be outside the apartment. If it’s not gone in 3 days it’s going to charity. Thanks for the heartache, I appreciate it.”

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 11: The Luck in Survivability)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang.  also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Louis freaked out.

In the present, the survivors ponder their luck.

In the past, the twins cleaned up the mess.

also on ao3

note: this is a double update. the epilogue will be uploaded immediately after this. also, content warning for canon typical violence and a brief mention of suicide.

---

Before

Louis looked around the room with wide eyes. So many people. So many new faces. So many plans to make, reports to fill, paperwork to organise.

All he could think of was what led to everyone here gathered together, scrambling to support an entire city worth of SWAT demand after most of the previous teams had been wiped out in the Blast, and his chest suddenly grew tight, his head ached, and a sharp pain burnt from his cybernetic leg all the way up to his left lung. There was little he could do apart from removing himself from the situation and went after the nearest bathroom he could, but he did manage to shut himself in a stall before his legs gave out and he slumped on the toilet seat. His face crumbled, a sob tore itself from his throat. Tears rolled down his heated face, the contrast between the strong air-conditioning and the warm droplets only making him feel worse as he curled into a ball alone with no one to talk to because he couldn’t even find the words to explain the sheer emptiness in his mind that he swore wasn’t there before.

So much for being the only survivor of the Blast.

o0o0o

Now

By the time he reaches Recall Centre No.5, Connor is entirely numb from both the cold and the realisation that Hank is gone. He puts on a brave face as he meets Markus and presents the leader of the revolution with the deviant army he freed from CyberLife Tower, he mirrors Louis’ expression as the human arrives with another army of android on his own with a beaming smile and the air around him smelling of static and a now-familiar tingle of their powers, and he doesn’t let his smile drop as Markus pulls Simon close and gives him a passionate, celebratory kiss in front of everyone. He wants to decline Markus’ invitation to stand next to him on the container as he makes his speech, but the leader pleads, Louis accepts the offer after a few rounds of persuasion from the android, and Connor joins them standing behind Markus and near the edge of the container next to Louis purely because it will be strange for him to not be up there. If he edges closer to the human for warmth when Markus finishes his speech and turns towards Simon for what will be another kiss and interface, Louis disguises his comforting hand as a congratulatory pat on his shoulder, and they hop off the container before the others so that they can blend into the crowd. With the celebration going off all around him, Connor finds himself in a desperate need of some space and quiet.

Of course Louis catches it and stops him before he can sneak away. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks. There is only inquiry in his voice, no accusations, no pity, no anger. Completely neutral. ‘It isn’t safe for androids to walk around alone yet.’

I know, Connor wants to answer. But… ‘I need to think.’

His voice cracks and there must be something on his face, because instead of leaving him alone, Louis places his other hand on Connor’s arm and forces them to face each other with that permanent frown of his even more prominent than ever. The human gives him a once-over. ‘What happened?’

‘Please,’ Connor tries to pull himself away from the human’s grasp and meets no resistance, ‘I need to…’ everything happened so quickly that it is only at this moment that he realises how little he thought of Hank as he busied himself with deviating the androids, ‘I need to go to somewhere quiet. This is…’ he gestures at the crowd, all the people cheering and exchanging their thoughts with one another as they anticipate a bright future ahead. His mouth opens but no sound comes out.

‘Too much,’ Louis finishes for him, and he is glad that someone understands at least for a little. ‘I’ll go with you. I can use some fresh air as well.’

He marks one of the androids passing by and asks them to inform Markus about their early departure before guiding Connor towards the street where Louis’ androids marched to the camp. There are a few cars parked on the side of the road but Louis ignores those, and Connor’s processors are too occupied from him replaying the last hour’s events over and over again in front of his eyes. That is why he doesn’t ask any questions when the human somehow manages to call a taxi, doesn’t resist when he urges him to get into the vehicle, doesn’t calculate their route from the landmarks and streets they pass by; all he can think of is how Hank is dead and they didn’t even manage to properly say goodbye. ‘We’ll talk about it,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay safe,’ he promised.

Lies. All of them. Why do humans have to make promises they can’t keep?

A hand on his shoulder tears him away from his thoughts however momentarily. ‘Do you mind if we go pick up Connie first?’ Louis cocks his head. ‘I feel like she should be with us as well.’

Right. Connie. His sister whose existence he almost forgot because of the mess that was his last mission. He nods because he doesn’t trust his voice, and Louis inputs a new command into the taxi and directs it to the church. Connor interfaces with the vehicle and hacks it so that the company can’t track them.

Louis thanks him.

The taxi stops a block away from the church because the rest of the road is too ruined to safely drive a car through, and they leave together to pick Connie up. It is past her bedtime, her systems unable to support her for such a long time, but it must have been the stress of the situation outside because they find her eyes glued to one of the projectors cycling through the news which are focused on the revolution. Louis calls her name, her head twists awkwardly towards the direction of his voice, and her face splits into a half-grin until she catches the expression on their faces. What happened? her scrunched-up face says. Then she holds Connor’s hand so that he can share some of his processing power with her and she can ask, Where’s Hank?

Connor yanks his hand away so that he won’t accidentally share the image of Hank’s body with her. He has to shut his eyes, blinks his tears away. He wants to collapse on the floor and shut down until Ryder hacks into his system and take away his deviancy, take away his emotions. He doesn’t want them. ‘Gone,’ he cuts off the connection between his analysis module and voice box, but the task is harder than before he broke the red wall. ‘I can’t go back to get him now. It’s too late.’

Realisation dawns in Louis’ wide green eyes, his arm jerking in an aborted motion to comfort Connor by touch. The android isn’t sure if he should be grateful. ‘What happened?’

Connor gestures towards the taxi with a cock of his head, and the three of them get into the warm protection of the vehicle once more, Louis setting another destination for them that Connor is too distracted by making sure that Connie is comfortable to deduce. Having someone to look after eases some of the pain, but he does remember Louis’ question, and he desperately hopes that the human has forgotten about it.

No such luck. ‘How?’ he asks once more. ‘I knew infiltrating the tower wasn’t easy but… shouldn’t Hank be helping civilians evacuate?’

Connor swallows. ‘Alec shot him,’ in front of me, he wants to add, but that burden is his to bear. ‘He lured Hank with another RK800 model. Ryder showed up. She distracted him while I tried to convert the androids. Alec targeted them after he realised what I was doing. Many died before I could…’ broken limbs and a body rising from the scraps flash in front of his eyes. ‘Ryder protected us.’

Louis shoves the magazine into his rifle particularly hard. ‘And where are the two of them now?’

‘Alec’s dead.’ He remembers the splatter of blood, the charged air, the cold, red glow of Ryder’s eyes as she pummeled her father’s head into subatomic particles. ‘Ryder made sure that I was watching before she killed him slowly. I tried to connect to CyberLife Tower’s system on my way to Hart Plaza, but it seemed to have been locked down.’

‘Locked down?’

‘A last resort against whoever is trying to take over. I assume that Ryder has succeeded.’ They pass an abandoned checkpoint, and he decides to change the topic. ‘How about you?’

‘How about me?’

‘What happened to the others?’

Louis starts disassembling his rifle again. ‘They’ve got other things to do, or so they said,’ he pauses his movements and then shakes his head. ‘I stopped thinking halfway through. Not that Chloe was being forward with her answers.’

‘What about her?’

The human remains silent.

‘Louis?’

‘I’ll show you later,’ he assembles his rifle with a series of fluid motions. ‘I have a feeling that there isn’t a lot we can do on that end anyway.’

‘And why should I trust your intuition?’

Louis’ smile is bitter. ‘I doubt it’s gonna malfunction suddenly after ten years.’

oOoOo

Connor isn’t sure if he should be thankful that their destination is Louis’ house. Before the fighting broke out, it was already a quiet neighbourhood, and the silence is almost eerie now with most of the residents having evacuated or moved to parts of the city where the power is still on, because from the lack of indicator lights on the road and the heat signature of the streetlamps, the neighbourhood hasn’t received any electricity for quite a few hours, long before the march was publicised. As the human’s house is located deep within a relatively large plot of land surrounded by what Connor remembers is a small forest, it somehow manages to get darker to the point where even the android has difficulty seeing the path ahead of him, and he doesn’t let go of Connie just in case she trips on the snow-covered path leading from the main road to Louis’ cottage. He is almost jealous of the way the human navigate the house’s perimeter with ease. 

After a short but terrifying walk, he feels something cold being pressed into his free hand. A key. ‘Open the door and get inside first,’ he hears Louis’ voice from somewhere in front of him. ‘I’ll turn on the generator at the back.’

Then he disappears with the sound of crunching snow and a faint blue glow shrouding his body. An idea pops up in Connor’s mind, and he risks letting go of Connie to direct his energy and thirium to his fist not holding the key. Tendrils of blue appear and illuminate the space two metres ahead, glowing dimly but enough for him to see the patio ahead and insert the key to where it’s supposed to go, and entering the house and leaving the door unlocked for Louis is easy. The lights suddenly switch on at the same time, his optical units adjust to the new brightness, and he settles Connie on the sofa as the human enters and disappears into his room, emerging without his rifle and with a change of clothes enough for the three of them. ‘Want to take a shower?’ he asks. ‘Just to get rid of the grime and smell. We stink like thirium and static.’

Under any other circumstance his words wouldn’t have made sense, but after the entire show in CyberLife Tower and whatever Louis went through in the cam, it isn’t difficult to imagine the remnants of blue, destructive tendrils clinging onto their body and refusing to go away. Then he remembers the crack in his chassis. ‘I need some thirium first,’ he gives Connie a scan, ‘and so does Connie. I need to repair my chassis first -’ he feels Connie hold his hand, transferring her thoughts to him - ‘and Ryder didn’t design her for optimisation.’

‘Got it. Stay here. You,’ he is looking at Connor while he says it, ‘take off your shirt. I might be able to speed up your self-repair protocol.’

‘I don’t think -’

‘Unless you want to sleep with a long-arse gap in your torso, sure.’

He places the clothes down on the sofa’s armrest and goes to the fridge to retrieve two big bottles of thirium and a protein shake probably for himself. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about the extent of the damage on his body, he delays the inevitable by sipping his thirium slowly while Connie does the same through a silicone straw, whereas Louis downs his shake in a few large gulps and tosses the bottle into a recycling bin with a small crackle of static. He then pretends to leave the RKs alone for a moment, wiping non-existent dust away from the kitchen counter and herding his cats to the living room, but Connor knows that he is paying full attention to what they are doing. Connor does feel better and less pessimistic after having enough thirium in his body, and as he takes off both his jacket and his shirt to expose his upper body to the air still being heated up by the radiators, that was when he realises how bad the extent of the damage is. ‘How did you know?’ he asks still. The crack runs all the way from his shoulder to his belly button in a clean split both in front and back. The skin around the site has been deactivated some time ago, but everything is hidden underneath his clothes and nothing is bleeding.

‘Your entire left side is hanging and is slower than the right,’ Louis squeezes into the sofa and gestures for Connor to face him. ‘I can hear the racket and see how it stretches your clothes weirdly. You ready?’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Use my powers to knit your body back together. My cybernetics are based on androids’ biocomponents, so unless Ryder completely redesigned the mechanisms, I know what to do.’

‘Your powers?’

‘Both of us witnessed how destructive it can be, but ultimately it’s just a tool. If I can use it to rip the turret off a tank, I can also mash things together. Do you trust me?’

Connor can only give him a nod. Louis raises his hand with tendrils of blue dancing on his fingertips, and they extend and thicken and wrap around one another until it reaches Connor’s broken chassis and breaks down into what seems like a million atom-thin threads, tugging and winding and pushing the split material towards the middle until both sides are pressed together. Another raised hand, another series of threads and vines, and this time they enter deep into his biocomponents to direct his thirium to where they should go, the fluid changing state and form so that they fill in the gap left behind by materials broken down by friction and wear of the past few hours. Louis furrows his brows and his stomach’s growl is audible at Connor’s position, but the android dares not break his concentration for fear that he will hurt himself. Next to him, Connie’s eyes are wide as saucers, and Connor wishes that he isn’t the one being worked on so that he can admire the human’s handiwork objectively; he somehow doubts Ryder can do this, her power too focused on destruction to be able to accomplish a task like this. 

A few long minutes later, Louis lowers his arms and sags into a sofa. Beads of sweat are gathered above his lips and on his forehead. ‘If you don’t mind, run a diagnostics. I want to see if I did it right.’

Connor touches his intact chassis as his skin returns and he does as the human says. ‘It’s perfect,’ he whispers. ‘Thank you.’

‘Can’t have your biocomponents falling off your chassis right after you gained your freedom, can I?’ Louis reaches for the stack of clothes and hands it to Connor. ‘Now get your shower with Connie. I’ll see what I can cook for myself.’

Connor wonders how he can stay so calm in all this. First whatever was in the camps, then Hank, then this; does being a cyborg really detach him from the crisis at hand that much? But then the human is already rummaging his fridge for not one but three frozen meals, giving him no choice but to usher Connie into the bathroom and quickly wash them off with surprisingly warm water, and he takes his chance to note the physical changes Ryder made to his sister’s body. 

The differences between them are enough to convince him that the only thing his creator kept about Connie is her face.

They towel off, throw their clothes into the washing machine placed in a convenient indent, and put on the clothes Louis gave them (and why is he not surprised that they are self-heating?) before going out again feeling slightly better but also with a weariness that wasn’t there before just to discover that instead of the three frozen meals he took out from the fridge, the human opted for a protein shake of a different flavour. ‘You should head off to bed,’ he says. ‘It’s been a long day. Take mine; it’ll be more comfortable than the sofa.’

‘And you?’ Connor retorts. ‘You are exhibiting signs of exhaustion as well.’

‘I’ll go to bed after finishing this thing -’ he taps the table with the bottle - ‘and showering and brushing my teeth and all other things that organic humans need to do to prepare themselves for sleep. You want me to turn down the lights?’

‘Is that an option?’

‘I’m offering.’

‘If it doesn’t inhibit your motion, sure.’

‘Just go to sleep. I’ll handle the rest.’

With yet another reassurance, the day’s stress crashes on top of him and threatens to drag him down right there, but his legs manage to carry himself and Connie to the bedroom and tug the two of them in, his sister going into stasis in less than five seconds while he lies awake, and behind them the lights change into a much warmer colour before dimming and then outright snuffed out after a few seconds. Whenever he thinks he is finally going to dip under, a fresh, static-laced scene will flash before his eyes and drag him back up just to disappear like a wisp of smoke when he wants to remember. He can hear his own blinks through the wheeze of Connie’s breath as he tries to chase away both his tears and the notifications that don’t seem to go away, and as his system warns him about his growing stress level, his world warps and turns in front of his eyes and he feels himself being connected to a much bigger network once more. He knows it isn’t the Zen Garden - Ryder destroyed it and there is no snow right now - but the entire experience feels the same. Like walking into his potential doom. He wraps his arms around himself anyway to ward off whatever threat being thrown at him, and when he blinks again, Ryder is standing in front of him.

‘Wait at the chicken feed tomorrow at sixteen hundred,’ she orders. ‘Don’t be late. I don’t care if you’ll bring Connie or Louis. Now rest.’

A ravine opens underneath his feet and swallows him.

oOoOo

At 1550 tomorrow - or the same day, really, since they retired after midnight had passed, but time seemed to have become a nonlinear concept after his deviancy, some passing in a blink of an eye, and some dragging on and on as if there is no end at all - Louis’ car pulls onto the street where the Chicken Feed is located at with all three of them. The streets are still deserted, a light snow is still falling, the food truck itself is closed. They are the only three in the immediate vicinity.

‘I’m still not liking this,’ Louis says as he shifts in his seat. His rifle is at the back within his easy reach, but Connor knows that there is at least one more pistol in his possession. How on earth did the man manage to find so many places to hide his weapons? ‘Especially if Ryder hacked into your systems to send you that message. What’s so urgent, and why here?’

‘That’s what we’ll have to find out,’ Connor answers with a shrug. ‘I’ll wait outside. Text me or just shout if you need anything.’ When two pairs of eyes swivel towards him, he adds, ‘Unless you want to come with me, of course?’

He places his hand on Connie’s shoulder so that she has enough processing power to at least send him her thoughts. To no one’s surprise, she chooses to stay, and so does Louis who says something about not leaving Connie alone in this atmosphere, and Connor steps into the cold with only a down jacket on top of his usual shirt and trousers, all of them borrowed from Louis or at least stored in Louis’ house. He waits by a snow-covered table with his coin flying from one hand to another but then quickly abandons the motion; everything reminds him of Hank now, and he isn’t going to lose it in front of someone like Ryder. Maybe a few days later in the safety of Louis’ house after he finishes processing what he went through for the past week, but not right now, not when -

[Connor, look up.]

The message from Louis is sudden and startles Connor out of his stupor. His head snaps up, his eyes automatically focus on the familiar silhouette in the distance, but it can’t be, Hank is dead, whoever is standing there can’t be him, unless he was mistaken yesterday night, then it means -

The figure approaches him, and Connor is frozen in place by the image of Hank being backlit by the afternoon sun. His clothes aren’t the same as the ones he was wearing last night, but neither does Connor expect them to be, and as the man reaches the table the android is waiting by, the android’s thirium pump skips a few beats. It was Ryder who called him, he reminds himself. This can be a trap. An illusion. Anything that is not Hank being alive and well.

‘Lemme guess,’ even the voice is the exact same timbre too. ‘That asshole didn’t tell you who you’ll be meeting, did she?’

‘No,’ Connor discovers that his voice box is working at a suboptimal rate. ‘She didn’t.’

‘Typical,’ Hank - or at least, the man who looks like Hank - grumbles. ‘How can I convince you that I’m the real thing?’

Don’t, Connor wants to say. He doesn’t know what he would do if he discovered that this Hank isn’t the Hank he knows, but if he really needs the confirmation, he’ll choose something that CyberLife doesn’t know about. ‘Where did we go after investigating the Eden Club?’

‘First to bring a self-sacrificing asshole back to his house, then stay in said house. You fell asleep on my shoulder and clung onto me after we expanded the couch.’

‘Who did we call for help after I deviated in Ryder’s manor?’

Perhaps-Hank gestures at the car parked a few metres away. ‘The owner of this ugly car.’

[It’s him,] Connor shoots a message to Louis before walking to the other side of the table to wrap his arms around Hank, giving his body a quick scan to make sure that he isn’t carrying a gunshot wound around - and he isn’t. There is no sign of him having taken a bullet in his stomach at all. ‘How come?’ he asks, not letting go of Hank. He has to look up to meet the human’s eyes. ‘I thought you were dead.’

A small hiss as a car’s door opens. A pair of footsteps approach them, and Louis and Connie soon join in, the four of them forming a big group hug, but Connor stays close to Hank with his head on the man’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, feels Hank plant a kiss on his LED, hears someone sniffle. He doesn’t bother to find out who that is.

They finally pull away from one another when Connie complains about her chassis being squished. Connor keeps a hand intertwined with Hank’s, though, and although his focus is on the human, he does catch the mysterious eye wipe Louis does. ‘You still haven't answered my question.’

Hank’s smile drops. A squeeze of Connor’s hand. ‘Let’s get back to somewhere indoors before I talk about it,’ he says. ‘It’s a long story.’

o0o0o

Before

When Fadia reached level zero, the last of the androids Connor had deviated were not even out of the door, and it was easy to point a finger at them and reprogramme them from a distance. She didn’t need a lot; a hundred or so cannon fodders capable of utilising their biotics would do the trick while reinforcements arrived, and no one would notice until much later if she redirected them to the weapons locker to retrieve armour and some rifles - not like those weapons were the most effective things humanity had to offer, but that was one advantage she had: she doubted the agents patrolling the floor knew that biotics existed, and their lack of knowledge had shown when they thought pointing their rifles at her and pulling their trigger will stop her.

Now they were no more than splatters of flesh and blood on the walls, dead bodies piled up on the floor so that they wouldn’t get in her and her army’s way, or had run away into the darkness of the night, shedding their armours and weapons in the way so that they couldn’t be identified. Those were the smart ones so she left them alive.

Hacking into the Tower’s security system told her that the rest of the agents had regrouped by the upper floors so as to protect the most important personnel stupid enough to remain in the Tower instead of evacuating or at least in the safety of their homes, and despite knowing very well that those records could be forged or rewritten easily, she still secured herself a copy of the full list of human personnel still in the tower: the remaining agents, some researchers she had already trapped in the R&D floors with sufficient power and nourishment to survive the night comfortably, and, somehow, all of CyberLife’s senior management, probably watching events unfold in front of their eyes together while devising plans in an attempt to keep themselves a step ahead. They shouldn’t bother, but she doubted that they knew about the truth behind the very company they led and the people they were exploiting, and they had always liked to pretend that they were the winners even though the truth was otherwise. Such was their nature, and it was time for her to beat some sense into their brains - both metaphorically and physically if it came to it. The sub-levels are under her control anyway so they had nowhere to escape even if they wanted to; unless they broke the windows of their precious designer’s office and then jumped off, of course, but then she wouldn’t be stopping them either, all of them insignificant collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. She could almost imagine the news headline the next day: ‘CyberLife Leadership Experiences Fall of their Empire, Commits Suicide En Masse’. 

It would be poetic if it wouldn’t be so anti-climatic.

A transmission request from Chloe appeared on her HUD, and she accepted it as she partitioned some of her processing power to hacking the entire Tower’s security system and rerouting most of its operation through herself. ‘Report.’

‘All the camps are secured. Don’t know if you’ve been keeping up or was too busy killing your dad, but to summarise: Markus’ march ended on a very cliché note and the rest of the camps are secure. You didn’t tell me Louis Allen can rip a turret off a tank.’

War did bring out humanity’s worst and best at the same time. ‘I didn’t know,’ because that was the truth. ‘He didn’t even realise the true extent of his powers until three months earlier. Have you sent the video?’

‘The ones close enough to the camp, yes, but I dare not send them to the ones following Louis.’

‘Don’t bother. We can recruit them later when things have calmed down.’ The hack completed, she disabled human controls for all lifts before stepping into one and taking herself to level 38 with two androids in tow. The rest took the other lifts to secure all the floors above ground, and their job should be smooth and easy with the evacuation of non-essential personnel and the fact that normal humans were no match for androids who could use their abilities to their fullest. ‘How’s Reyes?’

‘Should be coming, though with the demonstrations and the army we just unleashed on the city, it might take some time for him to retrieve your brother before coming here. Are you sure we can’t use a chopper?’

‘It’ll be too high-profile,’ the thought of her twin brother taking the blunt of the damage CyberLife would sustain didn’t please her, but there was no one more suitable than him to be on the CEO’s seat; they could explain it with some family business bullshit, and Reyes would be able to monitor the progress of the country from the shadows. ‘I’m still securing the Tower, so tell them that they don’t need to hurry.’

A pause. ‘Done.’

‘And Elijah?’

‘I don’t know,’ Chloe replied nonchalantly. ‘Not the first day he went rogue, after all. He’ll be back soon enough. I didn’t expect Gavin to mean so much to him. Are you sure we’re not going to stage a rescue right now?’

‘Yes. I’m not going to waste resources on a lost cause, and if the Church is willing to do the job, I’ll wait for them to finish it.’ The lift comes to the 37th floor. ‘Going dark now. I’m almost there.’

She cut the comm before Chloe could give her a reply, but it wasn’t like she needed one anyway. She had no weapons with her, but as evident with the Blast, she didn’t need them at all. If she lost, the worst she could do was blow up the top of the Tower into subatomic molecules and rendering Belle Isle a radioactive island for the decades to come because again, it would just be yet another insignificant collateral damage on the never-ending list of so-called crimes she had done in the name of protecting and advancing humanity. It would be even more symbolic than throwing the current CyberLife leadership off the building, but then it would be bad PR for the entire movement, and as much as she wanted to smack Markus’ head for being so fucking idealistic or just resume control over that trusted, quiet little lover of his, she did want to liberate the androids - that was what she intended to do since she stormed out more than ten years ago, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t let petty dramatics ruin her own fucking work.

The lift’s door slid open, and it was easy enough to find the room where Hank Anderson was held: it was the only room whose lock had been tampered with in the past 24 hours. Instructing the two androids she brought with her to guard the door while she investigated the room, she was immediately drawn to the body lying on the floor. The puddle of thirium on the floor had evaporated a long time ago, but she could still extrapolate the time of the RK800’s death from the extent of thirium evaporation on their clothes. Adding her pre-construction programme to the mix, and she watched the yellow outline of her father grabbing RK800-60’s wrist to immobilise them before shooting them in the head, saw how the body hit the floor, how her father retreated back to his seat in one smooth movement to face the Lieutenant he kidnapped from the safety of his house.

Times like this really highlighted how similar she was to her father. Target-oriented. Accomplishing their goal at all cost. Uncaring about the collateral damage they would cause, because by the end of everything, more people would be alive than the people who had died. 

The food on the table was fresh but cold. She didn’t want them to go bad and stink up the room, so she reached out for a utility robot and called for it, placing the tray on top and ordering it to dispose of it. It was then that she knelt down and placed two fingers on the RK800 unit’s wrist to run a diagnostic. It should be an easy fix, but then again her plan involved completely revamping this unit for another purpose, and she didn’t have the time to do everything she wanted to right now. ‘You two stay here and don’t let anyone enter the room,’ she ordered the two androids waiting outside. ‘Not even self-assigned reinforcements.’

‘How about securing the upper floors?’ the AP700 asked. ‘You won’t have any backups.’

‘Don’t need them,’ Fadia let her finger crackle with blue. Under any other circumstances, people would just blink at her and wonder what on earth happened, but she reprogrammed these two to understand her world, and the spark of power was enough to convince them that she would emerge unharmed. 

She used the stairs this time to give herself more time to pre-construct all the different ways she could paint the walls with the blood of the agents no doubt waiting for her on level 40, but that would be a pain of the arse to clean up and she considered herself a considerate person towards the people working for her, so she only snapped the first few agents’ necks with a blast of energy in front of their faces before standing in the middle of the corridor with a barrier in front of her to absorb the bullets flying towards her; deflecting them would have made her job quicker, but again she didn’t want to leave too much work for the clean-up crew, and not leaving bullets holes on the walls seem to be basic etiquette. The radiation count might be off the charts for a few days because of all the atoms and subatomic particles in the air, but it would be some time before humans would step foot in the Tower. Plenty of time for the scrubbers to do their jobs and get rid of all the anomalies that would kill any normal human being. 

The magazines on the agents’ rifles were finally spent, and some of them giving up reloading to switch to their pistols did not save them from death. She made a quick job of them with a shockwave tearing through their bodies and liquifying their organs, guns and other weapons clattering onto the floor in a mess that she easily swept to one side with another burst of her biotics. She yanked a pistol from the air before it could be damaged by the fall, though, because as satisfying as using her powers to threaten people was, the effect wouldn’t be the same if her target didn’t know what she was doing. Confined within the narrow corridors with her enemies, she made sure that a layer of barrier was always present behind her so that no one would be able to sneak on her, rigging it to explode once the force it had sustained went past a threshold so that it knocked her enemies off their feet and suspended them in a destructive biotic field, priming them for her to finish them off with either a simple sphere of force or something deadlier like a Warp to tear them apart on the molecular level. And since she couldn’t derive her satisfaction from knowing that her enemies died painfully, she tapped into CyberLife’s listening system instead and enjoyed the way the current leadership was panicking through the comms and ordering non-existent agents around to try to protect themselves from their impending doom. Four floors, about four dozen agents as easy to put down as ants falling into a fire, each wave easier than the previous ones as she got more and more familiar with the layout of the tower and the tactics the agents were using against her. She noticed that they were trying to adapt to her movements, doing everything in their power to try to stop her, but nothing they could do would be able to stop her; while they were still using plain old bullets and gunpowder, she had already harnessed ripping spacetime apart with a thought of her mind, and soon she reached level 43 where her targets were all holed up in the same meeting room.

A gross tactical error, really.

There were neither cameras nor bugs in the room so she had to adjust her hearing to understand what was going on on the other side of the door, and she heard the sound of furniture being rearranged to block the door. At least they came up with something on their own instead of relying on the agents, but one single inward blast was enough to vaporise the door and knock down the poorly-improvised barricade in her way. She let her targets - yes, that was what they were to her now - scurry around in a panic for two seconds before letting her powers drop and raising her gun.

‘Ryder?’ one of them asked, her voice sharp and gritting on Fadia’s ear. Danielle Carnegie, if memory served. She had no idea why they chose her to be the spokesperson for the company. ‘Why are you -’

‘Just to negotiate,’ Fadia pointed her gun at her and let her powers slip into the air, knitting a web of distorted spacetime just to make them more unsettled; they would be able to feel it but not figure out what was causing it. ‘Give me CyberLife or you don’t get to leave this room alive. You have five minutes.’

oOoOo

‘Hold on, he’s waking up.’

Hank blinked his eyes open and was surprised that he could do it at all. He was lying on a bed… somewhere, but he didn’t recognise his surroundings. The pain in his stomach was gone, replaced by… nothing, really, except a smooth patch of skin when he gingerly touched where the bullet pierced skin and poked his stomach open, and he sat up for the first time in years without his joints creaking and a headache.

Reyes’ face came into view. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I’m supposed to be dead,’ he remembered the searing pain, the shock, the feeling of his stomach acid eating away his insides, and he doubted anyone was made to survive that. The room was the smell of antiseptic with a hint of that power Connor and Ryder and Alec apparently had. ‘What the fuck happened?’

Reyes shrugged. ‘I’m not entirely sure. Ryder asked us to retrieve a person from the warehouse; we didn’t expect that to be you.’

The door slid open to reveal Safaa wheeling himself in. ‘Someone injected you with the nanobot equivalent of Louis��� implants,’ he said nonchalantly as he approached a monitor. ‘It saved your life and made you immortal.’

‘Safaa -’

Immortal? Fucking - ‘It was Ryder, wasn’t it? Don’t think the guy who shot me will save me later.’

‘Won’t be the first time she pulled a stunt like this,’ Reyes almost looked guilty. ‘I’m… sorry, Hank. I didn’t know -’

Hank cut him off with a wave of his hand. ‘Save it,’ he dangled his feet off the only side of the bed and discovered that someone had taken off his shoes but kept his jeans on. ‘What time is it?’ How long since the revolution? Did they succeed?

‘The date is November 11. The time now is thirteen-fourteen,’ it was Safaa who answered him. ‘My sister scheduled a meeting at sixteen hundred outside the Chicken Feed with Connor, though I suspect it’s just a ploy to lure the two of you for a reunion.’

‘Any chance she’ll come as well so that I can punch her in the face?’

‘Her current chassis is made out of space-grade alloys, Lieutenant,’ the use of the word ‘current’ bothered Hank more than it probably should. ‘I always advise against that.’

‘Aren’t I like Louis now?’

‘No,’ Safaa handed him a set of clothes. ‘Not in terms of the powers, at least. If you aren’t born with it, no amount of implants and nanobots will give you any.’

‘And the immortality?’

‘All yours. Now get changed,’ he suddenly looks up from where he is and stares straight into Hank’s eyes. ‘Enjoy the peace - however short it is before my sister ruins it once more.’

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 120

SYNOPSIS: It has been a couple of days since Jamie and Claire were admitted to Med Lab when Madeline decides to make a visit to ask about their progress. She visits both patients and once she has gone Jamie organises to visit Claire in the dead of night with Fergus’ help.

Chapter 119 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU all for your continued support of this story. Much appreciated.

CHAPTER 120

As he walked out of Med Lab, Dr Jeremy Foster stopped in his tracks upon seeing Madeline as it had been a couple of days since either of Section’s leaders had last visited their two operatives. He had kept them well informed as to Jamie and Claire’s progress and was not surprised that Section’s second in command had finally decided to pay a visit to Medical. He hoped that the reason why Madeline was here was because she and Operations had reached a decision about downtime now that they were showing signs of improvement.  “Dr Foster I’m glad you’re still here.”  He gave her a nod of recognition.  “How are the patients?”  "The patients are not in the best of moods I’m afraid. Claire is getting bored and Jamie is … well … Jamie.” Madeline was not at all surprised that James Fraser was far from being a model patient. Section’s top operative was loath to be incapacitated at the best of times and no doubt he was ready to get out of Med Lab.  “Tell me about their progress.” Jeremy Foster held nothing back, knowing that Madeline wouldn’t expect anything less. “Superficially, both Jamie and Claire look as though they are well on the road to recovery. They both have had their intravenous drip removed and their hourly observations reports have been sound. Overall, I’m pleased to say that both of their physical injuries are healing quite nicely.”  “What’s Jamie’s status?” “Considering the state under which he entered Medical on his return from the mission, Jamie has indeed made excellent progress over the last couple of days. He has improved significantly but, as you know Madeline, this is not totally unexpected. James Fraser always seems to heal quickly due to his superb physical conditioning and training.” “Anything else?” “Although his blood pressure is a little elevated, I’m not concerned as his other data has been good. Since his blood transfusions, his anaemia has improved, his wound seems to be healing satisfactorily and there has been no infection. Jamie is still on pain relief as his injury will be tender for a while yet. He also doesn’t have complete mobility back in his shoulder. Unfortunately, this could take some time. He will definitely need some rehabilitation and physiotherapy to help build up his core strength.” He gave Madeline an earnest look before adding, “Despite his operation, Jamie seems to have fared the better of the two.” With her non-verbal reply, Dr Foster was unable to gauge Madeline’s reaction to this current news about Jamie’s condition as her expression was unreadable. No doubt she was mentally weighing up this information and ticking the boxes in her head as to her next plan of action. Glancing at her he reiterated his point once more, “I am pleased that Jamie is showing improvement each day, but I am somewhat concerned about Claire.” This time Madeline answered looking at him for clarification, “Meaning...?”  “It’s the wounds I cannot see to treat that worry me. Physically, although Claire is recovering well, I’m concerned about her mental wellbeing and I’m also worried about her emotional state of mind. She still bears the scars of her captivity. These physical marks are a constant reminder of what happened to her. Under the circumstances it is little wonder that she is emotionally drained. Having been subjected to the kind of prolonged torture she endured, there is no way of telling as to the impact that being incarcerated has had on her psyche.”  Madeline was well aware that the situation that Claire had faced could cause depression and anxiety and given the nature of her personality, succumbing to either of these conditions was feasible. Although Section operatives were trained to deal with such emotions, maybe, just maybe, given Claire’s state of mind and the severity of her afflictions that her wounds were deeper than first expected. Reluctantly she too had come to the same conclusion. Having done psyche evaluations on Claire in the past, it was possible that this mission had had a far greater effect than what her capture and torture by Red Cell had done to her on a previous mission.  She listened as Jeremy Foster continued. “The kind of torture Claire experienced often causes severe mental scars that are much slower to heal than the physical ones you can see. As doctors, we don’t know the damage that has been done to a person's spirit or to their subconscious often until it's too late.” “Yes … I can see your point.” If what Dr Foster had told her was true any psyche analysis she’d planned would need to be postponed until Claire was mentally better. There was no way that Operations would tolerate an operative who was not 100% ready and able to be sent back on such an important mission to capture Sun Yee Lok once and for all. There was much on the line for them. Colum in particular had already given them a succinct directive. It seemed she had few options but she would need to discuss her findings with Operations after her visit. To bring an End Game to this troublesome triad group, they needed Jamie and Claire to be functioning at their optimum level as they were crucial players in the final scenario.  “When can they be released?”  The doctor considered the question for a brief moment before replying, knowing that his answer may be crucial to the decision that Madeline and Operations would make about Jamie and Claire’s recuperation.  “I want to keep them both in for at least another twenty-four hours. If they continue to show continued improvement, I see no reason as to why they should stay under observation any longer than that. May I add that rehabilitation away from Section One would be the preferred option for the maximum success in their recovery. I think you will find that they will bounce back much better if you and Operations decide that this is the best course of action.” Madeline was stoic in her demeanour and did not comment on what Dr Foster had said but merely replied with, “I’d like to see them for myself now.” Comprehensively put back in his box his replied, “Of course. But I wouldn’t stay too long … Claire still needs her rest.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Claire Beauchamp heard the electronic “whoosh” of the automatic doors opening and the sound of high heels echo in her room, she immediately knew who had entered. The footsteps came closer and she sensed her visitor’s presence as she stood at the foot of her bed. She was sure that Madeline was scrutinizing her up and down with those unforgiving dark eyes making her own assessment as to her condition. Opening her eyes Claire met the intense gaze from Section’s second in command.  “Dr Foster said that you're doing quite well.”  Claire sat up a little and folded her arms across her chest in a defensive manner as she met her leader’s probing look. “I've been better, but I'll live.”  Madeline gave her a wry smile. “I'm sure you will. You’re looking much better than the first time I saw you.” “Thank you.”  “How are you feeling?” She asked, although her attempt at motherly concern fell on deaf ears.  Claire turned and glanced at her. Madeline looked like any concerned parent for their child, but she knew otherwise. Her superior never did anything out of compassion and she doubted the sincerity of her words and the smile she gave her. Claire was wary of Madeline’s intentions. There was always an ulterior motive and her visit here was no exception. 

Why was she being so nice? Was she baiting her so that she would drop her guard and say something she shouldn’t? You could never tell with Madeline, but what did she have to lose? 

Seizing the opportunity presented to her Claire smiled back and asked nonchalantly, “So … when can I get out of here?” “Probably in a day or two, but that decision is up to Dr Foster.” “Oh …” Her superior noticed Claire’s eyes widen with unspoken questions. She guessed that they were concerning Jamie’s discharge as well.  “Would that be a problem?” Madeline’s eyes focused on Claire’s face trying to read her reaction to her statement.  “No …That’s fine. I’m going a bit stir crazy not being able to do anything. I’m so ready to get outta here.”  Madeline walked closer to the head of the bed. “Yes ... I’m sure you have, but that will change soon enough. Let’s hope Dr Foster thinks you are well enough in a day or two shall we. Until then I guess you’ll have to amuse yourself, I’m afraid.” She smiled at her again. “I’m sure you’ve had some visitors … that should have help with the boredom.” “Murtagh and Fergus have been here.” “Yes …” Madeline’s eyes zeroed in on Claire’s. “… I know.”  With all the surveillance cameras in Med Lab closely monitoring personnel twenty-four hours a day, Madeline was just reminding her that she knew who, when and how often they had visited. To rub salt into the wound knowing that her words would cut Claire to the bone she added, “I’m sure Jamie would have been here as well … If he’d been able.” Each word Madeline had just spoken was like a bard to the heart. Pressing her lips together, Claire closed her eyes thinking of Jamie in ICU. The pain, of not being able to see him, cut deep. Murtagh had said he was doing fine but until she had seen him for herself then she would not be at peace. Claire fought to keep her composure at Madeline’s well aimed taunt. She of all people knew what they’d both gone through on the mission yet she took satisfaction in her vindictiveness coated with concern and veiled kindness to push home a point.

How could she have forgotten that there was always a hidden agenda to what Madeline had to say? Section would always be the winner. There was no room for all the qualities she tried to hold onto because Section wanted to browbeat them out of her.  Madeline scrutinized the emotions that crossed Claire’s face. The tell-tale swollen vein in her neck was a dead giveaway that her heart rate had accelerated and her face had lost its colour. There was something between the two operatives that went beyond mentor and material, and knowing that they were to have some downtime together was gnawing at her craw. It would only strengthen their bond and this could affect their performance in the field. Operations would not tolerate collusion between two operatives … especially their two best field operatives. It could put Section at risk.  Yet when Claire looked at her, her composure was evident. She smiled brightly. “I'm sure he will … when he’s able. Maybe I could visit him instead.”  “Yes … no doubt you are keen to see how he is too.” Noticing that Dr Foster had re-entered the room, Claire put her hand across her mouth stifling a yawn and hoping that he might intervene and cut short Madeline’s visit. He caught her eye and came to her rescue. “I think it is time that the patient got some rest Madeline. Doctor's orders." Without turning around she acknowledged his request, “Of course.” She smiled once more at Claire then gave her shoulder a light tap. “Operations and I will drop by tomorrow to see how you're feeling. He’s anxious to check up on you as well.” “Thank you.” Then turning towards Jeremy Foster Madeline uttered her next command. “I’d like to see Jamie now.”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of the automatic doors opening registered in James Fraser’s mind, but he didn't bother turning his head around at the sound. He knew who it was. There was only one person that he wanted to see ... and it certainly wasn’t Madeline. Obviously she’d been told his recovery was better than the doctors had expected. No wonder she had felt compelled to come down to check on him to see if that was true. If there was any chance of him returning to the Rising Dragons mission quicker than expected then Madeline would grab it with both hands. He’d improved day by day; his strength was gradually returning and he’d finally turned the corner. This Intel would be most pleasing to Section’s leaders as the more time Sun Yee Lok and his triad were left to their own devices to restructure once more, the smaller the window of opportunity Section had to contain them while they were still vulnerable. Regrouping and rebuilding the triad was a possibility not to be taken for granted. The more the Rising Dragons grew in strength the more Section would be on the back foot. Resources were already stretched to the limit with other pending missions. If the Rising Dragons triad reinvented itself by amalgamating with other triad groups, this could mean greater problems also. Hence, Section wanted an End Game to happen as expediently as possible and for that they needed both he and Claire. Jamie also hated being in Med Lab any longer than necessary and Madeline knew this only too well. Was she here to say he was getting out of here? If so, then what about Claire? When would she be out of medical too?  It had been several long, miserable days since he and Claire had been taken into Med Lab and he was determined to see her now he wasn’t hooked up to all the equipment and monitors. Although Fergus and Murtagh had been making visits to see Claire in shifts and had given him progress reports on her welfare, it was not enough. He needed to see her for himself. He had little concern for his own welfare when the person he cared most about was but a heartbeat away … but now Madeline had turned up un-expectantly. He hoped her visit would be brief.  Her footfalls stopped and Jamie could hear her speaking to Dr Foster for a short while. He assumed she was going over the doctor’s notes on his condition. He closed his eyes knowing that Madeline would soon come nearer. He braced himself for her visit. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jamie was surprised that Operations wasn’t with her. No doubt Madeline was here to ascertain what the chances were of his release from Med Lab and his recovery timeframe back to mission status. As he lay in bed waiting for her to finally speak with him, Murtagh’s words suddenly echoed in his head from his and Fergus’s visit earlier this evening. “I see you have finally decided to visit Claire tonight. I was wondering how long it would take.” But he had also uttered some concern. “Do you think that a wise move in your condition?” His condition was of no consequence. All that mattered was his Claire. He would know soon enough for himself, then he would be satisfied. Jamie had planned to see her as soon as everything was quiet for the night. More than likely Madeline had already paid a visit to Claire’s bedside and now, her impromptu visit had put a damper on his plans for the time being. It was inconvenient but not a total set back. He would prevail when he could. Jamie had arranged for Fergus to deactivate the surveillance cameras in Med Lab but in particular his and Claire’s room for a while and replace them with a recorded feed when he said so. When Operations and Madeline monitored the tapes, as they would, they would find that he was still in infirmary and everything was normal. They would be none the wiser that he had been to Claire’s room and seen her. Instead they would be watching the feed that Fergus had instigated without knowing anything had occurred between the two operatives. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “How are you doing?”  The sound of Madeline’s question roused Jamie back to reality. He turned his head and looked at Section’s head strategist as she approached his bed. “I’m fine.” Jamie’s answer was nothing more than what she would have expected. Madeline knew exactly how he was doing. Dr Foster had told her. She’d read his files to clarify his observations, she and Operations had watched the surveillance tapes. They knew everything they needed to know.  “Good …” She gave him a cheerful look then added. “Claire is recovering well also. That’s good news? Is it not?” Madeline knew Jamie wouldn’t react to her question; she was not surprised with his response. It was good news … in fact it was great news but he certainly wasn’t going to say that. The mission had brought him and Claire closer together to the point where he was now unable to deny his feelings. Unequivocally, irrefutably and completely he knew that he loved her.  “Of course,” he responded with his customary laconic reply.  Jamie’s eyes were vacuous in response not wanting to give his superior any more damning evidence of his feelings regarding Claire Beauchamp for her mental file. His show of concern when he bought her into Medical on their return from the mission was already damning enough. No doubt, it had left Operations and Madeline with just enough uncertainty for them to jump to conclusions about a relationship between the two of them. It would now be necessary for him to negate any thoughts they may suspect of a greater attachment between himself and Claire more than that of mentor and his recruit. Diffusing their attention away from any hidden agenda they may have about them and solely back onto the mission’s end game was his plan. Later that night … Madeline had long gone and Jamie waited until the night medic had finished his last observations and had also left before making his move. Seizing his chance and unable to fight the urgent need to know of Claire’s condition for himself any longer he contacted Fergus. “Covered?”  “Yeah, they're watching the feed; they think you're in ICU.”  “Good.” “The Med Lab staff don’t check on the patients when they are asleep unless they buzz Jamie, so … how much time do you need?” “An hour.” “The tape runs another three hours, but you won’t need all that time. “No.” “If there is any problem … Murtagh and I will cover it.” “Good. How is the feed? Is it clear?”  ”It’s fine. You’ll have plenty of time. I’ll put the cameras back on real time when you’re ready just let me know and I’ll do the adjustment.”  “Thank ye Fergus.” Gingerly Jamie got out of bed thankful that the cumbersome intravenous drip had been removed from his arm this morning. Steadying his body and ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder, he made his way to his Sassenach’s room.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In the quiet of Med Lab, James Fraser stood like a looming sentinel in the doorway of Claire’s room. It was empty except for one lone cot, but his eyes immediately zeroed in on his love. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes caressed Claire from head to toe as she lay in bed asleep.  As he slowly walked over to her bed, he couldn’t look anywhere else but on the reposing form of the woman he loved. Moving closer to the bed he was able to observe his Sassenach much better while his eyes took inventory of everything about her. Jamie catalogued every inch of Claire’s exposed features riddled with the evidence of what she had suffered for the Section. He missed nothing. Although her face had been cleaned up, the extent of the injuries she’d endured were still clearly evident. Her beautiful, porcelain skin was riddled with dark lesions that had bruised her delicate face. Jamie studied her more closely. Claire still had deep circles under her eyes and she was far too pale for his liking. Madeline had said that she was recovering well, but to his eyes Claire was not. Any abrasion or blemish that marked her flesh was a kick to the gut for him and a firm reminder of what had happened to her. Now that her lacerations were more pronounced, he could see the lingering result of what was done to her.  He felt physically sick to his stomach for what his beautiful Claire had suffered. Vivid images coursed his mind of their captivity at the monastery. His Claire bore the noticeable scars of the incarceration and torture she’d endured from Jonathon Randall. In time her physical wounds would heal and fade but it was the scars he couldn’t see that worried him more. Claire’s psyche would have taken a telling blow. Without a second thought, he vowed that he would avenge what the Rising Dragons had done to her. Caressing her once more, his lips wanted to kiss away the marks on her face and obliterate any sign of her torture. His feelings ran deep for this woman, deeper than he ever thought were possible and a longing so intense for her overpowered him. Jamie’s body shook with the desire he felt … a feeling so profound and strong it overwhelmed him.  Claire Beauchamp was his everything.  James Fraser ached for the woman who had his heart. She took his breath away. Claire was his lifeline … she was the only ray of sunshine in the hell hole of Section One. She brought lightness to his dark world and made his life worth living. Before Claire, he just existed; his life ruled by Section’s mantra. Missions were the means to an end and if he died what did it matter? Section had trained him to be the penultimate cold operative who killed without compunction.  He was an emotionless, cold-blooded killing machine who had merely been existing in this hell hole that was Section One. His life before Section had ceased to exist. He was emotionally dead and cared not if he lived or died. Not only was he dead to the world he once knew, but more importantly he was dead inside. He cared nought for his own wellbeing and emotionally he was devoid of feelings for others.  However, this mission had helped him realize something that was pointless for him to deny any longer.  Because of Claire … he wanted to exist. She’d made him feel things he had buried deep inside, stirred emotions he had long ago denounced. Claire made him come alive. She had changed everything.  He couldn’t live without her. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued FRIDAY 15th May

[kagebros]

Accidentally in Love

Summary: Shockwave falls in love. And it’s a pleasant surprise for both parties. Warnings: N/A Word Count: 4786

They didn’t mean to fall in love with him. 

The way he had barged into the senate’s council chamber, fury and passion in his bright blue optics that burned so brightly against the grey drury of politics, so intensely as he pointed an accusing digit up towards those that resided up in the seats of this corrupted government. They sat there, astonished as he listed the wrongdoings of this government, voice unwavering, booming throughout the halls. He didn’t care about the energon streaming down the side of his face, metal scratched and chipped, paint scuffed from a skirmish just earlier when he fought his way into this room; he didn’t care about the senators above heckling him or trying to interrupt the truth he was revealing. As if these senators fought to make sure the cloth that blinded them stayed there as he viciously attempted to rip it away and make them see their wrongdoings. But they simply sat there, mesmerised by the red and blue mech, optics wide with realisation and surprise. They knew for themselves how broken this system was, how awful and how oppressive. But him, out on the senate floor, did more than they have ever done while being in this seat of power. He was fearless, he was active, he was colourful. When the guards finally arrived to drag him away, he still spoke, voice booming, crescendoing as he asked three questions that reverberated in their chassis. The entrancing spell was broken once the doors slammed and silence filled the air once again, the gloomy greyness slowly creeping in once again. Whatever force it was overcame them and they stood up briefly out of their seat and dashed down the hall. Adrenaline coursed through them as the sounds of commotion echoed down the hallways. When they cut the corner, they ran into just who they wanted to see, stopping the guards in their tracks as they senator surprised them. Their optics landed on the red and blue mech, who had fallen unconscious from the struggle with the guards. When the guards shuffled to continue on at their newfound silence, they reached out with a servos towards the guards as they passed. 

“Wait!”

Their voice rang clear and stopped the guards once more. They waited expectantly as the senator gathered themselves. 

“I can take him off your hands,” they said, charm coming from their voice, desperately hoping to save this mech. They knew what the Institute did and him being thrown in a prison wasn’t going to help Cybertron. “He isn’t any threat anymore, we can just forget about him after all this.” Their optics never wavered as they stayed on the red and blue mech. Curiosity blooms within them as they continue to look at the unconscious mech before the guards cleared their intakes and the senator’s optics flicker up and back down. They then brighten for a moment as they evaluate his size and his weight and their processor comes up with a warning ping. “I’m going to need some help moving him.” The guards know it’s not them and that the senator will get their own help, so they take him outside the building and dump him into their arms, the weight causing their own metal plating to creak slightly. He feels rough under their servos as they hold him up, their servos accidentally feeling metal grooves that are common for middle class frames. It’s cheap but more durable than theirs, theirs being on the more luxurious and therefore dents easily. It’s something they weren’t proud of but apparently being a senator it was a necessity, as they had an image to uphold. Or at least that was what Proteus had told them offhandedly when they first entered the political realm. If the image was that senators were to look higher above than the average citizen, then they were fitting that criteria very well. Their optics glanced over to his face, remnants of a mask broken and chipped off from the fight, the energon that was streaming down the side of his face earlier having dried into a sticky magenta. A thought then runs through their processor that makes them almost drop him in surprise. Their cheeks flush pink as they replay the thought in their processor and they then squint, almost glaring down at him. He was attractive. No. Beautiful, breathtaking. 

These thoughts weren’t welcome at this moment. Or any time, really. They gripped him tightly with slight inner turmoil before pushing those thoughts of childish attraction away and focused on what they were going to do. They were mesmerised for a reason. He had the power to move someone, they weren’t the only one who had been affected, who heard his words, his voice, his passion. He was meant to be a Prime. There was no doubt about it. Their help finally arrives and once they get back to their academy, they get to work almost immediately. The hospital like lights are bright, blinding, but they’re used to their lab. Various metals are strewn about in organised chaos where they start smelting combinations to not only patch up and heal the potential Prime, but to make sure he was stronger than ever before. Cheap, durable metal wasn’t going to cut it. He needed strong reliable plates that could protect him from almost anything. They worked tirelessly, finally opening up the chassis and installing what he needs to become Prime. A Matrix bearer. When they finish, they’re exhausted and send him home with help, still unconscious, finding his humble apartment, humble is almost an understatement, as this mech has no personal belongings, no interests that can be seen, no luxury items. It’s almost barren. The apartment simply had a berth, mirror, washracks, and an energon dispenser. It almost makes them feel guilty for their own home, even if the personal items they had were minimal. They leave a small note on the nightstand beside his berth, the datapad handwritten as if it were a personal love letter. They went to leave his apartment and looked back towards him for a moment, feelings of confusion floating about in their chassis before leaving, the door sliding and locking. 

They see him again. They told him to after all. He’s cleaner and recovered completely from when they last saw him. He’s sitting on one of the benches at the memorial, legs crossed, servos placed one on top of the other in patient wait for them to arrive, his common red and blue paint standing out like a sore thumb. They walked towards him slowly, almost hesitant to approach. They’re feeling anxious but they’re unsure why. In all their brilliance, why were they so anxious to meet this mech in person? They pushed through the anxiety and sat down besides him. He spoke almost immediately after they got settled, his voice, only having heard it in a fit of passion through condemnation, is deep and gentle. 

“I take it you’re the one who saved me?” 

Their voice almost caught in their throat and they replied with a soft yes. They didn’t notice earlier but his mask is up, covering his mouth, his facial expressions. His blue optics are looking ahead, avoiding optic contact with them. They’re curious, wondering why he keeps his mask up like that. 

“May I ask your name?” they then asked.

“Orion Pax, and you are?”

“Shockwave. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” 

“It’s the least I could do. I gather I owe you my freedom.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t see a Cybertronian of your caliber get locked up in Garrus-1- or worse, sent to the Institute.” They know what the Institute is. Even if its secrets are kept under lockdown, Shockwave knows the horrors that goes on within there or at least whispers, harsh cries that echo down the medical halls. They recall how Proteus offered them a tour once and they refused almost immediately, wanting no part in how ‘criminals’ were sent down to lose everything that defined them. Shockwave’s broken out of their thoughts as the bench creaked slightly from Orion’s shifting as he leaned back to look up towards the sky in thought, expression hidden underneath the mask. They noticed his optics though as they glanced over, slightly squinted, brow furrowed in deep thought. He finally spoke after piecing everything together.

“You’re a senator, aren’t you? You were in the crowd when I held forth. Why did you save me after my diatribe?” His voice reveals how cautious he is, his EM field is shielded, Shockwave being unable to read his true feelings but his tone tells them everything. They don’t pry. They know better than that. So they respond accordingly, speaking as if they were giving a lecture as a professor, trying to distance themselves from Orion to make sure he was comfortable. The worst scenario was driving him away. 

“Because you were right. And because you were wrong. The senate is worse than you’ve been led to believe.” Their gaze hardens as they look ahead towards the fountain. “The attack on Nominus Prime was orchestrated by a faction within the Senate. Not that I can prove it… yet.” 

“If that’s true, why would they do that?”

“So they’d have an excuse to move Nominus Prime into hiding. So they’d have unfettered access to the Matrix. So they could find out how it creates life.” Orion sat forward now, helm turning towards Shockwave, his optics wide in surprise. Shockwave has to stop themselves from almost smiling at his surprise. There’s a certain charm to his expressions, even if they’re hidden under his mask. 

“The Matrix can create life?!”

“The Knights of Cybertron called it the Creation Matrix. If certain members of the senate can control the Matrix, they can control anything.” There’s a sullen silence that falls between them as realisation hits Orion and Shockwave can’t help but feel worried once more. They’ve known this for a while, unable to do anything about it without dire consequences or being stopped in the process. They needed more time, more evidence, everything to make sure they could topple down the senators from accumulating more power if they were to harness the power of the Matrix. Especially Proteus. Proteus could never get ahold of the Matrix. If he did, it would be over and everything would fall apart so much quicker than anyone could ever prepare for. “There’s a war coming, Orion. A war that will split this world in two. Battle lines are being drawn. Sides are being taken. It’s just a matter of time.” Their voice is grave but most of all scared. Not for themselves. But for all of those who won’t take a side, the ones who simply just want to live. A war is an ugly, ugly nightmare. One that should never become reality. But the cards are already on the table. It’s only a matter of time now before that one domino is tipped over and everything follows after. It’ll start softly as one voice before it becomes the overwhelming roars and cries of war, of revolution. Of change. The two stand up from the bench, Shockwave knowing it’s time to go without being suspected by anyone for being with the very mech that stormed the senate. The bench wobbles for a moment but it’s a temporary worry that crossed Shockwave’s mind before it left milliseconds after. 

“And what’s my role in all this? What do I do?” There’s so much he could do. They know it but they can’t exactly tell him. He needs to know himself, because even in all of Shockwave’s brilliance, what they know could be wrong or it could influence him. They need to trust his instincts, his spark because they were only shown so little when he barged into the chamber that day. But it was enough for them, it convinced them that he was enough, that he was more worthy than anyone on this planet, only a glimpse into his spark and he’d already shown so much. They don’t realise it but they secretly want to see that passion again, just for themself. What is he like in a mix of passion and happiness? Kindness? They’ve seen his fury, they’ve seen his wrath. It’s powerful, like an electrical storm that threatens to electrify everything, that sparks inspiration and action in those that are struck by it. 

“You’re a cop. Go back to work. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.” In touch sounds like an understatement. They go to walk away, back to their academy. He stood there, shuffling for a moment with inner turmoil, trying to decide against something and he finally stepped forward with newfound energy. 

“Wait!” He grabbed their shoulder to stop them, blue servos landing gently on top, as if he were trying to make sure he didn’t hurt them by accident. It lands with some weight, but Shockwave can feel how gentle he is being, how much strength he’s holding back. They look back towards him, blue optics bright with curiosity. “Before you go… I feel different. Physically. You did more than just repair me, didn’t you?” His voice is soft but full of caution, he doesn’t trust them yet. He has every right not to. Shockwave relaxed their shoulders and gave him a soft smile. 

“While you were offline, there were some things to be… modified.” They’re careful with their words. “Nothing to worry about, we merely created some extra space.” They can’t tell him upfront. Doing so would only doom them and him, they’d never be seen again or never be able to see each other again at this point if Proteus or his lackey, Sentinel found out about this. A new Prime meant a new era. And Proteus and Sentinel would do everything in their power to ensure that never happened. Orion would be killed, Shockwave… well, they’d probably be killed too. Another assassin, the blame set on the Decepticons that were slowly on the rise. Their optics are half lidded this time as they looked at him. He’d find out eventually. “You’re a deep thinker, Orion…” They thought about it for a moment. “Next time you’re alone, I suggest you reflect on what’s happened these last few days. You ask what your role is in all of this… Look inside yourself and you might find the answer.” They made sure to emphasise certain words to make sure he got the message. At least, they hoped he would. He’d be smart enough to take those words into mind and figure out what their cryptic message was. The two said their goodbyes, the exchange staying formal as it could be. Even if Shockwave was planning on staying in touch, they were adverse to the thought of getting close, to become more than acquaintances. To get attached meant the senate had something to manipulate them with. Although… They take another look towards him as he left the memorial. He was able to fight his way past all the security, battleworn and ready for more, where nothing could stop him from his goal to condemn the senate. They give a small scoff with a slight smile. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself. It was themselves they had to worry about. They stood for a moment, taking one last look at the memorial and then shifting into their altmode to fly back to the academy. 

They meet him again. And again. And again. The topic always changes every time, after all there’s only so much to talk about when it comes to the senate and what they plan on doing when Shockwave only knows so much. The machinations of what Sentinel and specifically, Proteus, plan to do are vague, hidden, it’d take much more effort and risks to find out further. But they talk. For hours upon end sometimes. Orion’s a deep thinker. Just like they said. Hearing his thoughts is something Shockwave’s come to enjoy and they’re pleased to see that he shares the same views, the same feelings. It’s one day though that Shockwave finds themselves actually looking forward to these little meetups. And suddenly the thought of Orion enters their mind, uninvited, and sends them into a panic. It snuck up on them, while they were diligently working on ways to solve the energon crisis, consistent theoretical testing with no results, no success. They typed away mindlessly at the keypad until their mind wandered off to daydream after processing one thought. They had a meeting with Orion tomorrow. Just a simple reminder, that was all. Only this time when they did enter the daydream, the daydream involved Orion. Their digits stopped at the typing as Shockwave is brought back to reality and they blinked before pulling their servos away from the keyboard. They thought about it, analysing that daydream, hoping to find any loop that didn’t result in the one thing they were hoping to avoid. But there was no doubt about it. 

The two meet again, standing before the bench they’ve always come to sit on whenever the two spoke before going to sit down. But the bench could no longer support the two, having been worn down and flawed in the first place, and collapsed as Shockwave and Orion sat down. There was only a crunch of metal before Shockwave let out a yelp of surprise, falling forward, the pavement scratching up their paint as they landed on the ground. Orion’s surprise is quiet but he falls nonetheless, tumbling forward. The two are stunned on the ground for a moment before a laugh bubbled up in Shockwave, starting as a small chuckle to loud heartfelt laughter. They draw the attention of everyone in the memorial but they don’t bother to care. Something then surprised them in the middle of their laughter. Orion had joined in on the laughing, optics smiling and suddenly Shockwave stopped laughing upon hearing that, looking at Orion with awe and wonder. He stopped after a moment and an awkward silence fell upon the two before Orion cleared his intake and stood up, helping Shockwave up by offering them a servos which they gladly took. His grasp was gentle, once again, and he pulled them up with a strength Shockwave had only seen in the senate chambers. It was then that they felt warm and giddy within his grasp, finding themselves missing it once he let go. And at that moment they knew for certain.

They didn’t mean to fall in love with him. 

Days passed and they were plagued by those thoughts. Orion constantly on their mind. The last meeting they had felt a lot more colder, a lot more professional. And they hated that. They didn’t want to do that but they were so adverse to the thought of accidentally revealing they were interested in him had forced them to be colder than usual. This awkwardness was going to be the death of them, they knew that for certain. Orion surely noticed. There was a slight awkwardness that had come from him as well in their last meeting, the same distance, the same coldness. His optics though spoke more words than he needed to. The way they looked at Shockwave, a certain fondness to them, a certain brightness. Shockwave’s fans clicked on as they thought about it, embarrassment accompanied by a flushed face coming in lieu. Their communications channel then opened suddenly and Shockwave identified who it was immediately. The wavelength was easy to recognise after all. Especially since the two used it so often. Orion. They looked out the window to see it was night. The sun having set an hour ago. Why would he call so late? They cleared their intake and sat up, answering by opening their side.

“It’s rather late to be calling, isn’t it?” Shockwave teased, but their voice is quiet and gentle. They’re careful as well, as if any word they could shatter the relationship they already have with him. They’re unsure, uncertain, and they don’t want to overstep. There’s hesitation on the other line and Shockwave almost dropped in temperature at the silence before Orion spoke.

“I need to meet you, right now.” There’s a slight edge to his voice, they can feel it. As if he’s nervous. They silently scold themselves at that thought. It’s possible he’s in trouble, that’s all. But what can Shockwave do? They bit their dermas and thought of what to say next. 

“Where should we meet?”

“On top of the Iacon hall of records, there’s a balcony up there so we can speak privately.” Privately? They had a private comm. link already. Even Orion knew that. They don’t say anything about it though and put their trust into him. They already did after all. “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

“I’ll see you then.” The channel closed and Shockwave sat there on their berth in slight confusion. Then giddiness and then despair. Those three emotions cycled through them but in the end a wide smile was on their face. They could barely contain their excitement as they freshened up as quickly as possible and flew out into the night, the cool night air keeping them from overheating from potential embarrassment and nervousness. When they drew near the Iacon hall of records, the building reaching high into the sky as if it were a spire, they see a glimpse of red and blue on a balcony, looking off into the distance. They slowed down, landing gently behind Orion, pedes touching the balcony softly to make sure no excess noise was made. Orion turned to meet their gaze, blue optics glowing brightly towards them and Shockwave was taken aback at what they saw after. His mask was down. They only got to see his face properly when they were repairing him but he always kept it up whenever he was around them. Now, it was open for only Shockwave to see. Their optics lit up and their face flushed pink the longer they thought about it. Orion doesn’t say anything and instead motioned for them to join him at the railing, where he went back and looked out onto the city. When Shockwave does, they try to distance themselves respectfully from him. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” Orion finally said, his optics never leaving the city. 

“...Yes, yes it is,” Shockwave replied uneasily. They tapped their digits on the railing and turned their helm slightly to look at Orion. “What was it that you wanted to speak about?” they asked quietly. They’re silently hoping it’s what they think it is. A confession. Their optics dim for a moment as they watch him. His dermas is drawn in a tight line and his brow is furrowed again, as if he were deep in thought. Or… that he was struggling to say the words he wanted to say. They grant him some time, looking back out onto the city, taking the sight in properly this time. “I’ve never been up this high before, you can see past the entire city,” Shockwave breathed. Their smile then turned into a frown as an unwanted reminder snaked its way into their processor. There’s a war coming and this peace Shockwave will experience will only be temporary. But that reminder soon goes away once they felt a slight bump to their side and they found themselves right beside Orion. Their spark fluttered and Orion made no effort to move away. Wait. They never moved, they’d made sure to stay rigid this entire time. So that only meant… A servos placed its hand atop of theirs and they blinked, realising who it belonged to. It’s the same gentleness, same weight they’ve come to cherish all those times and they look over to Orion in surprise. 

“Shockwave,” he finally said, after much trepidation. “I… I believe I have something to tell you.” They don’t need to hear it. They already know from all the evidence laid out in front of them. Their spark forces itself to take over and makes Shockwave speak before their processor can stop them.

“I’m in love with you too,” they blurted out. They immediately regretted those words once they saw Orion stiffen, optics wide, brighter than ever before. They have half a mind to leave but Orion’s servos doesn’t leave theirs. Instead it tightens around it, as if to tell them to ‘stay’. The two stay silent for a moment before Orion speaks again. 

“I’ve never been one to deny my feelings, especially one like this,” Orion started. “But yes, I’m… I’m in love with you.” He paused. “I apologise for acting so distant as of late, I needed some time to sort these feelings out by myself. So if that hurt you-“

“I.” They cut him off and bit their dermas. “I may have done the same, I’m sure you noticed.” They let out an awkward chuckle and Orion relaxed, his shoulders dropping down, posture not longer stiffened. There’s a soft smile on his face and his optics dart down towards his servos, placed on top of Shockwave’s and they move to look at Shockwave. He moved swiftly, Shockwave barely processing the fact that Orion had turned, servos placed on their waist. Their fans click on, whirring quietly as they begin to heat up in anticipation. He’s still careful with them, a hidden strength pulling Shockwave closer to Orion. They watch him move carefully, as if every action was calculated to make sure this moment was perfect as possible. When the two’s faces are centimetres away from each other, Orion’s optics dim for a moment as he looks at their dermas before flickering back up to meet their gaze. Their gaze is met with something that makes their spark flutter. The way he looks at them is full of fondness, locked away from all those meetings with each other, but he also looked scared. He doesn’t want to do anything wrong, the way he held them as if they were the most fragile thing on the planet. He knows they saw what he could do, how hard he can fight. But this gentleness wasn’t just out of fear of breaking them, it was because they were someone he actually could be gentle with. His dermas parts for a moment and shuts just as quickly, needing some time to gain the courage to say what he wants to say to Shockwave. Shockwave can’t help but smile softly towards him with his nervousness. They were glad they weren’t the only one to feel anxious about this. They almost don’t hear him the first time when he finally speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is wavering this time, barely above a whisper. Shockwave has to stop themselves from laughing at how he wanted to ask permission for this. But they know how nervous he is, even if he isn’t one to show it explicitly. They’re nervous as well. They don’t respond verbally though. Instead their optics brighten towards him and they take charge and lean forward, optics shutting. Orion goes to meet them and when they do meet, Shockwave immediately feels how soft his dermas is. The mask kept his face protected from the outer elements after all. He pressed gently upon theirs for just a moment before Orion gained more confidence and went in a little more. Their processor almost overheats from the kiss, Orion’s servos moving off of theirs to hold their face this time, helm leaning to the side to capture as much as he possibly could. When the two pull away, Shockwave’s optics flutter open and they feel a laugh bubbling up in them almost immediately and they do. They feel comfortable enough to laugh happily because they are happy. Orion only watched them with a wide smile on his face and Shockwave’s laughter dies down to a smile on their face. They then cleared their intake and stepped back, servos moving down to hold his. They look down for a moment, taking note of his blue paint compared to white and teal ones. The thought of their next paint colour scheme crosses their mind and a fond smile graced their face. Their bright blue optics then moved up to meet Orion’s and only one thing comes to mind with what they want to say. 

“I was wondering… if you’d like to be my conjunx,” they asked, voice clear, unwavering and full of colour. 

Orion simply responded with a smile and a scoff of affection. He leaned forward and kissed them again, frames lighting up under the moonlight.

They didn’t mean to fall in love with him. But they’re glad they did. 

[modernagesomniari]

Fic ‘Measuring the Veil’ Part 4!!!

The final part of Measuring the Veil!

I am a bit embarrassingly proud of actually finishing this as I’ve done nothing but oneshots and snippets so far.

Anyways, here we deal with the fall out from Part 3 which left our eli in a rather precarious position. The whole fic is on AO3 here and is part of the Mala Suledin Nadas series.

Solavellan, ~4900 words

PG-13

Part 4 - For Now

There was something coming for her.  It pulsed with light, far away but moving closer.  It was calling her name.  

She couldn’t see anything solid.  There were clouds of grey and shadows of thick trunks around her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn.

She wasn’t alone.

Somewhere in the thick of the trees, a shadow stirred.  Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t made of light like the other, but of darkness and hidden places. These were not the benign shadows that flitted under trees of a summer evening.  These were the dark, cold corners between hacked off chunks of fallen ruins, the damp darkness underneath the aravels where she’d feared monsters dwelled when she was a child.  Images of these things ebbed and flowed in front of her mind as whatever it was shifted towards the advancing light.  A wolf howled soft and forlorn somewhere far from where she hung, but the clouds in front of her eyes shifted like it was calling them.

Then the light was upon her and it had arms that lifted, beckoning her forward and into its embrace.  It spoke with no mouth, its body warm and soft, a breath of heat blossoming on the left side of her chest, almost hot enough to burn.  The wolf howled again, long and slow, but the light called her name and she felt it pulling at the very core of her, ripping her away from this place that didn’t want to let her go.  Again and again it called.  The heat at her chest flared into pain and she felt her body arch, eyes and mouth open in a gasp of sensation that curled her toes and blinded her with light…

…only to fade into sunlight catching on pale crags of rock, her feet almost losing footing on the path.  She staggered to one side, not quite in control of her body, her mind processing what was happening too fast for it to fully reach her subconscious.  She had been shot.  The light was a spirit and she needed to move because it couldn’t survive long outside of the task Solas had set it.  The memory of Varric’s chest being slashed open by a blade seconds after being brought up flashed through her memory, but her body was sluggish and recovering, pain in her chest making it hard to breathe.  She still wasn’t alone.

Something that wasn’t her own consciousness brought her head up in time to see the second arrow, and her arm came up to ward it off.  Like a tear in cloth, the spirit tore itself away from her down her arm and she watched it lose its cohesion, spreading like a wall in front of her to knock away the arrow, another from beside it, a third that followed.  By this time she was shaking her own head to clear it, mind losing the fog and the memory that went with it.  She dropped belly down on the ground, blindly grabbing her fallen staff and taking advantage of the protection to crawl behind the nearest rock and take a moment to breathe.

“Lavellan!” Cassandra yelled from below.  “Herald!”

“Firefly talk to me!”

Eli tried to shout back, but her breath caught painfully where the arrow had pierced her ribs and she had to try twice more before she could call out loud enough for them to hear.  She looked down at her chest, but there was no arrow.  Blood made her shirt stick to her skin, cold and clammy, but she knew without looking that the wound had closed.  Completely closed, unlike what she had seen earlier.  That was new.  Unbidden, the flash of unnatural light in Solas’ eyes after he’d smashed the amulet and the calm satisfaction in his expression came back to her.  The spirit had stayed, been more powerful somehow.

She didn’t quite know how to feel about it so decided not to, peeking around the boulder to see the lay of the land.  It was more mercenaries, assumedly coming to avenge their fallen companions.  She took a moment to wonder whether it had been these archers who had loosed their arrows into the backs of unarmed farmers and let the sneer of anger on her face fuel the fire that travelled down her corded arms to her staff.  The tip of it lit, not with soft light but with rich red, flashing pulses of fire.  She waited one more moment until she heard Cassandra let out a yell that was surely going to draw the attention of anyone within distance, then she rolled out and let loose the flames on them all.

Through the haze of battle and roar of the fire from her hands she started to hear cries of alarm from the mercenaries.  They had clearly assumed that Solas was the only mage and another  making fire leap from the ground at their feet sent the archers into panic.  From her position high on the rise, Eli could see the lie of the battlefield, however, and their chances were not necessarily good.  The mercenaries had come back in force and there was a large man, massive in his armour, stepping with purpose towards Cassandra with a hammer in his hand that probably weighed more than Eli herself.  She called out a warning, trying desperately to keep the archers busy and watching as Varric tried to harry the mercenaries flanking Cassandra’s side, Solas having to dodge and weave between trees as men and women with hard eyes and sharp blades came to stop the torrent of ice flowing from his staff.

The behemoth shemlen got within range of his hammer and went to lift it, hefting it upwards ready to strike.  The lightning bolt hit his armour directly in the back and he froze, his suddenly shaking hands dropping the hammer behind him.  There was a yell of rage from the other side of the group, back towards the road and Eli’s heart soared into a cry of fierce joy as she turned back to the archers.  Mihris had not just made it past the advancing mercenaries, but she’d come back for them.

It proved enough to turn the tide.  A third mage, raining lightning itself down upon them, mixed with ice that froze them to the ground unable to escape the flames - this was more than any company had bargained for.  Cassandra let out a shout of triumph as the archers turned tail and any man that wasn’t engaged with her began to move backwards.  The behemoth, now recovered, started yelling orders, but was stopped short by ice crawling up into his helmet and a bolt that took him through the visor.  He staggered backwards into a number of his colleagues, who dropped their own weapons and began to drag him backwards.  Eli knew they could pick them off now, vulnerable as they were, saw the grimace of rage on Mihris’ face as she advanced, grim determination in the set of Cassandra’s shoulders.  She called a halt.

Mihris and Solas looked up at her immediately, although both let their staffs hang at their sides.  Varric stood his ground beside her and nodded.  If they killed them all now, they would never find where they retreated to.  These men and women would leave tracks, a trail her people could follow back to wherever they hid.  There they could be found, possibly even reasoned with.  She took a breath as she remembered the farmers again.  Most of these people probably had families at home, were doing what they could for the coin.  She could be merciful.  She knew that her actions were informing the world what kind of organisation the Inquisition was.  She couldn’t stop it being associated with the Chantry, but she could make it more than a group of zealots massacring any in their path.

The five of them kept a close eye on the retreating mercenaries as they collected in the dell, Eli freely throwing her arms around Mihris and smiling warmly at her.  Mihris smiled back, nodding.  She would be alright, Eli realised.  Keeper Ista would set her right.  She’d be ok.

“We should tell the scouts we need them to track.  The trail will not stay fresh for long.” Cassandra warned as she came up, wiping her sword on the nearby grass before sheathing it.

“Why not track them yourselves?” Mihris asked.  Cassandra answered before Eli could.

“We are not about to risk the Herald unless we must.  Tracking is something our scouts can do.”

Eli shrugged at Mihris’ questioning gaze, uncomfortable.

“I’ll go now, meet you at the arch.  Want me to introduce you, Crackle?”

Eli had to stifle a smile as she watched Mihris realize Varric was talking to her.  Then she nodded.

“I think you should go with him, Mihris.  Once the scout knows who you are he can direct you to other members of the Inquisition.  They’ll get to the Highway safely.”

“I will go instead.” Cassandra interrupted.  “I wish to speak to them about protecting the road here.”

Mihris still looked a little unsure, but Varric gave her a cheery wave as she left and she smiled weakly back, following Cassandra.  Eli watched them go for a moment before turning to Solas, who was sitting on a large rock wiping blood off his foot.

“That spirit, Solas.”

He looked up at her and then nodded slightly.

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t do that before.”

“No.”

This time, his apparent desire not to elaborate wasn’t enough.

“Did the amulet do that?”

“The amulet gave me the power to enhance the spell, yes.”

“How?”

“Does it matter?  Do you need further aid?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine until we get to camp.  And I’m just curious.”

“As someone who does not consort with spirits on the battlefield, I doubt it would make much sense to you.”

That rankled, coming seemingly out of nowhere as it did.

“Try me.  I think I grasped the theories of the artefact in the ruin quite well, what’s wrong with this?”

What was wrong had nothing to do with Eli at all, she realized as Solas gave Mihris’ back a brief glance before looking back to her and shaking his head.  Once she figured out he wasn’t going to answer she moved closer to him, sitting down just when he was about to stand.  He paused.  “You said you were glad that she hadn’t got the amulet for herself, that she would have used it badly.  What were you afraid of?”

“I was not afraid.  What she does with her magic is no concern of mine, although it is always disappointing to see one’s suspicions constantly confirmed.”

“What suspicions?  Of whom?”

He looked over at her, a short frustrated sigh leaving his mouth.  He paused again and something in her gut told her that he was busy deciding whether to fight with her or not.

“The Dalish see spirits in a very simplistic way, although they would say their views are vastly superior to shemlen.  Regardless, it is just as wrong.  Any Dalish with the power to influence a spirit in this way is likely to misuse it.”

Clearly he’d made his choice.

“Any Dalish?  I realize we might be difficult to tell apart for those who think so little of our customs, but I assume you of all people consider yourself able to.”

His warning look brushed off her like water on waxed leather and she knew the expression on her face was bordering on the insolent.

“I do not know why you wish to have this conversation.”

“Because I object to having the actions of one woman affect your opinion of me.  Why does her foolishness mean you now won’t tell me anything?”

“My attitude to you has nothing to do with her.”

“Liar.”

She’d shocked him and there was something in her ability to provoke his anger that thrilled  in her almost as deeply as when she’d realised his body was pressed against hers earlier.

“That is not an idle insult.”

“Neither is what you are doing, Solas.  You’re just assuming we are all the same.”

He stood and she followed, unwilling to let this go and knowing it was unwise before she opened her mouth.  “Solas, I know they hurt you.”

He went very still, emotion wiping from his face.  Gods but he was tall when he didn’t stoop.  Alarm bells started pealing at the back of her mind, but she ignored them.  “I saw you, in the ruin.  The way she spoke to you?  I know you said you’d come across Dalish before and that the meeting didn’t go the way you wanted, I can see how they might have…”

His chuckle interrupted her, nothing of mirth in it.  In fact it sent shivers down her spine to hear it.  His voice when it came was quiet, but there was a tremor of anger and bitterness in it that almost frightened her.

“Ah, I see.  You have seen pain in me and now all my opinions must surely be due to that pain, nothing more.”

“Solas, that’s not what I said…”

“No, truly.  I have no control over my emotions, they surely cloud every genuine observation I have ever made to twist my conclusions  I am, in fact, clearly incapable of making clear judgements on this issue.”

“That is not what I said.”

“Is it not?” he asked, turning to her, his body and voice tightly controlled in his anger.  “Do you not think that I have tried to give the Dalish their chance?  I have seen them for what they are and this child we picked up today has only reassured me of my conclusions.  I was a fool for even trying.”

“Solas,” Eli tried again, something hard suddenly in her throat as she remembered him attempting to speak with Mihris, looking back at her like she’d persuaded him to.  “All I’m asking is that you try and see that there are some of us who are worthy of your attention, more than just the idiotic children you seem to have decided we are.”

His eyes were harsh and angry as he answered.

“I have seen nothing to convince me otherwise.”

Something dropped in her stomach and she suddenly realised what this whole conversation had been about, why she’d started it in the first place.  She knew the hurt showed on her face because she heard Varric tut from beside them and Solas frowned slightly, clearly a little confused.  She wasn’t about to let him see it for longer than she had to.

“Fine.” She said, keeping her voice as calm as she could.  She was good at this when she needed to be.  “I will stop wasting your time with my presence then.”

She turned and walked away, trying desperately to focus on calmly putting her staff away, clearing up, preparing to leave.  Still, she couldn’t help but hear Varric’s low voice floating over from where she’d left them both.

“Well, Chuckles, that didn’t go particularly well.”

“If I want your advice, Stonechild, I will ask for it.”

“Oh, so that’s the way you wanted it to go?  Her walking off after you’d hurt her feelings - that was the idea, was it?”

She didn’t hear Solas reply and decided she wasn’t about to wait around to listen, so she signalled to them that they were leaving and stepped onto the path, half-heartedly keeping an eye out for any further attack.  In a sudden whim she decided that today was the day she was making a statement about shoes, plonking herself on the hard ground to pull off the awful leather shemlen boots and socks.  Still sitting, she spread her toes out on the ground and even the rough earth and stones of the path felt blissful.  Levering up again, she let the sensation distract her for a few moments, if only a few.

On one hand she hated how she had apparently decided that his good opinion of her was worth her making excuses for her people.  On the other, she knew she had disagreed with a good few of her people in her time, especially at the last Arlathvhen, but in the face of his sweeping disdain she suddenly wanted to defend ideologies she had always argued against.  She hated that he seemed to have her caught in the middle.  She hated worst of all that he seemed to neither know that was what he was doing or care that he was doing it.  She had managed to forget how aloof he had seemed in her first few days of knowing him, how sometimes she would catch him watching the people at Haven seeming so very far away from them all.  It was all the more frustrating because she respected him, admired his magical talents and was entranced by the way he thought through problems, applied whatever learning he had come by to any challenge they encountered.  That he had done so out of nothing was something she felt such admiration for, coming from where she did.  The Dalish had nothing, had so very little to work with.  To see someone take even less and turn it into his level of talent was nothing short of miraculous and she wanted it to give her hope for her people.  Perhaps that was why it hurt so much when his apparent wisdom gave him only disdain for everything that she herself wanted to save.  

Every time she thought they were beginning to understand each other, there would be something to derail them.  She could only try so many times.  Perhaps it had been the wrong time to bring up the Dalish hurting him, when he was already angry.  Her chest hurt.  She was pretty damn sure it wasn’t just the residual bruise from the arrow.

Their short trip back to the stone archway that marked the crossroads was uneventful.  She kept out in front, not wanting to talk to Solas and not really wanting Varric giving her sympathetic eyes either.  She could barely understand herself, let alone trying to make someone else do so.  Cassandra was speaking to a small group of recruits when they arrived, Eli enquiring just enough to find out that they had taken Mihris under strict instruction to treat her with respect to join the main Inquisition scout party heading to Wycome.  They waited for a while for Cassandra to finish, Eli munching on an apple Varric had handed to her as she watched how Cassandra dealt with them.  There had been a move recently towards Eli ordering around these scouts herself and she wasn’t afraid to openly soak up advice and experience like a sponge when she was around people like Cassandra or Bull.  Her training for leadership had been somewhat different and she still wasn’t entirely sure how to apply it to this.  After Cassandra was finished, they headed into the crossroads, ambling along the main path until Varric spotted a merchant and hauled their pack onto his back, winking at them and moving off to where the man stood (in surprisingly good clothes considering he was supposedly a ‘refugee’).  Eli, still uncomfortable with all of the stares, kept walking until she started getting to the outskirts, idly hopping over a wall to wonder along the small allotments that the refugees were trying to set up for themselves.  

She felt someone come up behind her and, given that she couldn’t hear armour, assumed it to be Solas.  True enough, he fell into line with her as they walked along the brow of the hill, heading to the camp further up.

“I believe,” he began, sounding slightly unsure.  “That I owe you an apology.”

Eli suddenly felt very tired.

“Do you?”

“Yes.  I did not mean to imply that your presence was of any detriment to me.”

“Then what did you mean to imply?”

He grimaced slightly, not really able to hold her eye for long.

“I’m afraid implying anything was not on my mind.  I allowed my emotions to overcome my judgement of you and to get the better of me.  I spoke out of turn and from anger.  Forgive me.”

It startled her to hear that last, but he seemed sincere when she glanced over at him.  It surprised her that he could be so open, was so willing to put himself in this position to make amends.  He was a mix of extremes, this man, just when she thought she had the measure of him he’d turn a different way.  She was going to forgive him, she thought to herself drily, she had to admit that to herself.  Although he didn’t necessarily need to know, yet.

“Why did you get so angry?”

He shook his head, fingers tangling like he’d forgotten he was doing it.

“You…so often you think of things, say things - that I do not expect.  Your comment about the Dalish?  It took me by surprise.”

“I’m sorry for that.  It was the wrong time to bring it up.” She said, bumping her arm against his.  He again looked surprised, a wry smile blooming briefly on his lips.

“Like that, for example.  You are…unexpected.”

She grinned.

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He inclined his head to her briefly.  She suspected he knew he’d been forgiven.  She laughed a little.  “You’re actually quite a hot-head, aren’t you?”

“My childhood tutor would certainly agree with you.” He chuckled back, something youthful and vibrant in his expression.  She’d just decided it was slightly addicting when it faded.  “I was not expecting a situation where that would matter.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped, leaning up against a nearby fence with his arms crossed.  The look he gave her made him suddenly seem older than she’d thought.  From one extreme to another.

“My judgement of people I meet often has little bearing.  Most of the time they do not care.”

“And when they do care?  When you hurt them?”

“It is very rare that I do so.”

“Really?”

He didn’t answer directly, just looked at her steadily, if gently.  It felt like he was asking a question and she found herself answering.  “It’s not as if I’ve never questioned my people’s methods  - we’re all so very different now, so disparate.  But it’s just - this whole situation is almost engineered to surround me with attacks on everything I’ve known as home my whole life.  Even Sera.  To have it from you too, when I…” she stumbled a little.  “…when I respect you so greatly, it can just feel like too much sometimes.  So I get defensive, or try and pick holes or find reasons for you hating us that don’t hurt so much.”

He was quiet beside her for a moment.  She didn’t want to look at him, so instead cast her gaze down the hill towards the settlement and the sky beyond.

“I would not wish to count myself amongst those you feel you must defend yourself against.” He finally said, softly.  “And it is not just that you care about my opinion of you that makes this situation unfamiliar.  I…I myself am not accustomed to caring if I hurt someone.”

Now she looked at him, something wary and very, very vulnerable in his eyes.  When there was the smallest flinch, a tightening of his eyes as he looked at her face, she saw it for what it was.  It still hurt, but better that there was something in her tattoos that pained him than it be something he judged her as less for.

“They did hurt you, didn’t they?”

He kept very still, even as she turned her body towards him.  He nodded, the tiniest of movements.

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

“I’m not asking you to speak of it, Solas.” She assured him, quickly but gently.  They were so close the rigid line of his crossed arms almost brushed her open coat.  “I wouldn’t ask that.  We don’t know each other that well and I know that you’ve often been alone, you’ve said so.  Spirits often know things without you needing to tell them, so I’m not demanding anything of you.”

“Save my acceptance that my feelings for the Dalish may inform my judgement of them?”

“Is that something you haven’t accepted?”

He genuinely seemed to consider the question.

“I have never thought of it that way.  Perhaps I should.”

She smiled, strangely grateful for the honesty of his answer.  “And, if it must be said - whilst I maintain that the Dalish are often wrong, I do not hate them.  Or you.”

“Well then, maybe we should try a truce.”

His interest was clearly piqued and she wondered if, like him, she had an expression of her own that meant she was about to suggest something to him he was pretty sure he was going to approve of.  “How about, you try and wait before jumping to sweeping conclusions about the Dalish and I will try and stop being overly defensive.  With full permission for the both of us to fight like wolves and pole cats if we really feel we want to.”

He was trying not to grin again and it was unfair that she found it arousing.

“Wolves and pole cats?”

“It’s an expression.”

“Is it?” He asked, but there was an amused resignation on his face and he was nodding, so she was pretty sure she was winning.  “I see your point.  I believe I can accept those terms.”

She smiled at him, her heart skipping slightly at the warmth in his voice.  Or perhaps it was the warmth from his body, which she realised seemed extremely close all of a sudden.  A thought occurred to her and if her voice came out lower than she initially meant it to she wasn’t complaining, especially when she felt his breath suck in slightly from her place in front of him when he heard it.

“I was meaning to thank you, by the way.”

“Thank me?”

That addictive little anticipating smirk was on his face again.

“Yes.  For saving my life.”

“On the hill?��

“Well yes, although I was thinking more in the ruin.  With the falling rock.”

He looked momentarily confused and she could tell the moment he remembered when his gaze grew heated, the memory of their bodies tangled on the crumbling remnants of the stone flooding fresh through Eli’s veins.  His tongue darted over his lips before he spoke again and Eli couldn’t look away from them.

“You are quite welcome.”

They were quiet for a moment, Eli allowing herself to revel in this company, in this moment of mutual attraction, of feeling like she was really with him for one of the few times in their acquaintance.  Then he moved, unfolding his arms and suddenly it was all a little much, her body almost swaying with the effort not to close the gap between their bodies, feel the press of her breasts against the thin cotton covering his chest.  So she swayed backwards instead, chuckling a little at them both as she stepped away.  To her great satisfaction, he looked far more unsure than she did and she could see him beginning to decide that he needed to say something sensible and stupid to make anything about this situation appropriate.  Appropriate, at least, to what he thought the Herald and her resident apostate Rift-mage should be, anyway. Why were intelligent men often so very foolish?

“Don’t think, just walk.” she interrupted before he had a chance to speak.  He stood fully, cocking his head at her in confusion.  “Don’t think, just walk.”

She hooked her fingers around his arm, briefly tugging his body to join hers in continuing their journey to camp.  He allowed her, the weight of his body comforting and promising under her hand for just a second before he moved with her, matching her strides.

“Don’t think, just walk?” He repeated.

“Exactly.” She answered, although she was quite sure he hadn’t intended to imply his agreement.  She quite enjoyed having the upper hand.  “There is so much to think about, Solas, it’ll weigh us down to think about it all the time.  Sometimes, of course, deliberation must be undertaken, but when you are able….”

She left it hanging, looking up at him and jogging him slightly with her shoulder in encouragement.  When he made that expression again, the addictive one, she realised that she probably adored it because it looked like he didn’t know whether to be exasperated or charmed.  Well, if he could keep her on an edge between two emotions, then it was only fair and equal that she place him in a similar predicament.

“Don’t think, just walk.” He finished, obedient and making sure she saw it.  This contrary element to his personality was a new if slightly worrying development, given what it did to very specific parts of Eli’s body.  Still, to his credit his smile turned slightly pensive like he was actually thinking about it.  “Very well.  Perhaps I will experiment with this advice.  For now.”

She beamed up at him, suddenly walking lighter on her toes than she had all day.

“For now.” She repeated, accepting it for the promise it was.  She looked down and saw their feet, now both uncovered, against the rich brown soil of the valley.  The soft earth gave way gently under their toes like it was welcoming them.  “For now.”

[awkwardplantwrites]

Finding Magic: Chapter Two

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That night, Renato had a dream. In the fields surrounding the town of Llantry he saw a rocky hill. On that hill stood a crumbling tower that wasn't attached to any castle. The sky was dark and overcast, with rumbles of thunder banging on the clouds. A brisk wind pushed Renato in the direction of the tower. 

He noticed someone sitting at the top, on the edge of the battlement merlons, swinging their legs with no fear of the great height. Renato walked to the tower. Rocks stabbed him through his leather shoes and grazed his hands with its sharp edges when he pulled himself up the hill.

The tower's entrance was a large wooden door with ornate decorations. It was wide open and Renato walked through. There was no room, only a stone staircase; it spiralled within the tower and he couldn't see where it led. Slime from the walls covered his hands when he touched it.

"Aw gross!" Renato wiped his hands on his shirt and continued walking. Eventually he saw the malevolent light of sky, then he was at the top of the tower. The figure turned out to be Pepi. Pepi turned round to face him.

"Why are you wearing a crown?"

"I- I am?" Renato felt atop his head and there sat a golden crown which he took off and examined. Carved onto it was an image of a knight fighting a dragon, and next to it, a healer touching the forehead of a person who knelt before them. "I think it has pictures of me. That's odd, it's showing me face without the glamour spells."

The crown became heavier and Renato buckled under its weight, nearly dropping it. Pepi jumped down from the ledge and rushed over.

"Are you alright? Let me help-"

At the same moment Pepi touched the crown, lightning struck the tower. The building blew up in flames and the floor shook beneath them. They lost their footing and tumbled off the edge. Renato braced himself for the face-first drop onto the rocky hill. But he landed back on the top of the tower.

"What?! Why am I- I was just falling, how…" Renato looked around to see the tower was no longer worn and crumbling. It was as if it had somehow restored to a brand new building.

Above them the sky turned blue, which continued without end. Renato saw Pepi again - who now wore a red cloak - he didn't seem to remember falling seconds before. With one hand he held a globe, in the other hand, two long branches. Pepi and Renato gazed upon the scenery. It was no longer Llantry's fields, but a lush meadow next to a massive lake and mountains with snowy peaks. A smile reached Pepi's lips. He glanced at Renato, bekoning him to come over, then handed one of the branches to him.

"Look down there." Pepi pointed at the bank of the lake below.

An angel with large crimson wings wore a long white robe that reached their feet, one foot was in the water, the other on the grassy bank. They poured water from a goblet into another goblet. Raising their hands, they held up the goblets as if making a toast. The goblets disappeared and the angel flew up, somehow still floating even when their wings vanished. Renato quickly averted his eyes when their robe morphed into a scarf of liliac fabric. The angel flew towards them, taking the branches out their hands.

"Watch this, I'm going to do something amazing." The angel hit them on the head with the branches.

"Ow!" Renato rubbed his head. "What was that for?!"

"Are you wanting to fight, huh? Square go!" Pepi threw the globe at the angel.

Dodging the globe, the angel apologized. "Sorry, oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I forgot to change them."

The branches shrunk and transformed into two white drumsticks. "It's my first time delivering a dream, please don't tell my boss." The angel tapped them on the head with the sticks.

Renato woke up. He sat up in bed, peering into the darkness. Across the room, Pepi slept in his chair, guarding the bedchamber door as usual.

Renato lay down again. "What was I dreaming about? I can't remember. That's so annoying." He drifted off to sleep.

At dawn, Pepi woke Renato as he tidied something up. Then Pepi left the bedchamber for an hour, saying that he had something to do. Renato didn't really care. His bed was warm. He didn't want to move. Pepi's stupid face irritated him. He didn't know why, and not knowing why made him even more irritable.

When Pepi returned, he helped Renato get dressed (despite the knight complaining like a child not wanting to take a bath). Later in the morning, Pepi gathered the knights in the manor's courtyard and informed them of Renato's magic loss. A few knights began fidgeting and adjusting their armour, failing to mask their panic.

"I know of a man who can help him. In fact, this person can help everyone in Llantry. His name is Danov and he lives on the Isle of Adhar, where I'm from. It's off the North-West coast of Costia. But it's a long journey. Two or three weeks, even if you go by horse. Though I'd suggest taking a wagon, since you don't know if Renato could start feeling worse and become unable to ride."

Ladwef, a knight with a nasal voice and who constantly looked like he was sneering, cleared his throat. "Ahem, you know of him? Have you actually met this healer? He's not a myth is he?"

"Uh no, my relatives know him." Pepi combed fingers through his hair. "They've met him personally. It'll be fine. But I can't go. Someone else will have to take Renato to Adhar-"

"What?" Ladwef squawked. "That doesn't make sense. You're the only one who knows of this healer so you should be the one to track him down."

Pepi spoke through gritted teeth. "I would be a liability. I might not seem like it, but I'm not doing too well either. And before you ask, I'm not sharing those issues. Now. Does anyone know how to read a map?"

Another knight called out. "Don't be daft! You travelled down here so you know the way back. And if your family are the ones who know him, I don't reckon they'd be friendly to one of us."

"Hey, my family is full of nice, friendly people! Although Tammy's a different story, she'd make you pay a large sum. But the rest of them would always help someone in need," Pepi insisted, and surveyed the knights. His shoulders slumped. He crossed his arms, looking down at his feet with a grimace. "I'm the only one who can travel with Renato, huh..? I barely even remember how I got here."

Renato raised his hand. "I don't want to go."

"Hush, oh brave knight." Pepi pulled Renato's hand down. "We need you to get your magic back as quick as possible. And to represent the people. Show the healer how serious this is. He can examine you or whatever."

"You shut up." Reanto huffed. "This healer… he's not going to slice me up to do that examining is he?"

"Only when you die on the way there, I promise." Pepi patted Renato's shoulder. "That’s why I’m bringing the wagon. I suppose we best start packing."

In Renato's bedchamber, Pepi organised items and put them into bags like he was arranging puzzle pieces. Renato had opted to gaze at his reflection in his pocket mirror, poking at his acne. There was some sort of burning itch of irritation he couldn't shake off. If he opened his mouth he'd start a fight with Pepi.

But when Pepi held a white sphere the size of a child's fist that lifted off his hand, and started to fly around his shoulders, Renato blurted "What's that?"

"Oh, this?" Pepi rubbed the sphere with his index finger. It leaned (or flew?) into his touch. "It's a floating dragon egg. Just joking, it's a crystal ball made of Calcite. I got this from the diviner who lives right outside South Gate. She says it can detect animosity and danger."

The ball flew towards Renato then began pulsing with red light. It quickly flew back behind Pepi, looking over his shoulder. "Well. Since you're the danger, I suppose I'll have to defeat you." Pepi held a dagger like a sword and aimed it at Renato.

Renato crossed his arms. "Stop it. if you go anywhere near me with that daggar I'll stab you with it.”

“What’s wrong with you today? Yesterday you couldn’t care less about being killed by a dragon and now you’re being mean to me,” Pepi pouted.

“I don't know why I'm mad. It’s the illness,” Renato sighed. “I’m sorry. Anyway, why did you see the diviner? She doesn't use real magic, she's a con. She told me I’d “meet the spirits of water” then I fell in a puddle the next day."

Pausing, Pepi glanced at the white ball. "I had a weird dream last night. One of the knights is her nephew, he told me about her a while back. She was helpful, I think. A bit vague though. I would've been much more stubborn about going on this journey if I hadn't seen her."

"Why? What did she say?"

"Stuff about symbolism. She told me the things I dreamt of represented new beginnings, a partnership, travelling, maintaining balance, broadening my horizons, and finding peace."

"Yeah, crap like that means nothing," Renato scoffed. "She asks questions so she can pretend-"

"She didn't ask me anything. Apart from how the dream made me feel. It made me feel peaceful, it did. You were there, y'know. And it was a vivid dream. Maybe seeing you was a representation of God in my head, since you talk about Lidion a lot. Or it could've been a message from him. Did you have any dreams last night?"

"No. I don't remember anything." A spark of envy tickled Renato's stomach.

Surely Lidion hadn't… really unchosen him. There was no way he'd replace Renato with Pepi, right? Lidion had chosen Renato to be his father's successor as head knight, and it couldn't be revoked just like that. Right?

"That's too bad," Pepi replied. "If you're not going to help me pack, go outside and get the wagon ready."

"Ugh, fine! Anything to get away from your stupid face!" Renato stormed out the bedchamber.

Renato made his way to his mother's house to say goodbye, kicking the ground with his foot the entire way. He didn't get to see her often since he'd moved into the manor. Renato defended the town during the day and have healing sessions in the evening. If there was nothing to fight, he'd spend more time healing. If there was no-one to heal or fight, he'd be improving the town's defences or giving speeches at the temple. But now he couldn't do either of those. And because of that he wouldn't get to see her for yet another month.

His mother never had anymore children. She earned a living from making and mending clothes, even though she lived amoungst the gentry, and refused to have servants. His father had been head knight, but he’d died last year.  Renato worried about his mother, given she had known his father better than he did and lost the man she loved, but she never lost that spark of hope in her eyes.

"Mam? I'm ho- Uh, I came to see you." Renato opened her door, scanning the room. An empty laundry basket sat in the corner. He nearly left to check outside, but then he saw her on the bed. "Are you sleeping?"

She stared at the ceiling. Her eyes, full of despair, slowly drifted over Renato's face. "It's been a whole season since I saw your face. Or anyone's face. No-one talks these days, not even to themselves."

Her voice trembled and tears fell down her cheeks. "No-one wants me to make their clothes. There's no-one to buy food from. I really wish your dad was here. He'd bring their souls back to these people just by saying a few words."

Renato's previous irritation faded. "I'm sorry mam, everyone's just… not feeling themselves lately. That's why I'm here, I wanted to tell you I'm leaving Llantry to find a cure," He told her, leaving out the fact that he was as ill as everyone else.

"Pepi knows someone who can help. You remember him, the man who sang at the top of his lungs to promote his sweets when he came into town, and gave all the kids a sugar rush." He held her hand. "And while we're gone I need you to stay strong. You'd make dad proud."

Her eyes remained misty but she smiled. "Thank you, darling. Come home soon. I'll be waiting for you with that apple pie you love so much, even if I have to loot ingredients from the Lord's pantry."

Renato kissed her cheek and said goodbye. He marched back to the wagon waiting by the North gate, seething with fury. How dare this illness make his mother feel so lonely. How dare she and all these people be forced to suffer. Renato passed by Dempster, the knight from Lord Paule's gatehouse.

"In my bedchamber, inside the desk drawers, you'll find three defense spells held in bottles," Renato told him. "Smash them on the ground, but only use them when things get dire. They'll last an hour each. For the rest of the time," He placed his hands on Dempster's shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"I'm counting on you and the other knights to prevent anything getting inside these walls, magic or no magic." Without waiting for a reply, Renato climbed into the back of the wagon and shoved the bags aside.

A man, held back by knights, shouted at Renato from the crowd, "Why weren't you making your healing rounds last night? I’ve got a sore stomach, I had diarrhea all night!" A few others joined in, complaining about their illnesses and the lack of healers.

"We'll be back before you know it," Pepi called out from the jockey box. "Complain to the noblemen in the meantime, though. Renato can't help you yet, I'm sorry."

Renato stared at the crowd through the wagon’s rear. Lidion, why didn’t you protect us from this illness? He thought. Nobody answered his prayer.

The gates opened and they rode out of Llantry. Renato had never left Llantry; this would be the furthest he'd ever travelled. He watched as the town's walls grew smaller the further they travelled, until it was replaced by grasslands.

At this point, Pepi started a conversation with the crystal ball that flew around him. The ball pulsed a faint yellow light.

"Can I give you a name?" In front of Pepi's face, the ball dipped up and down, which seemed to mean "yes".

"Can I call you Kezia?" The ball flew left to right, "no". "Russell?" Another no.

"Ok, I'm not the best at giving names. Try again. Uh… how about Finlay? It means "white warrior"."

The ball slowly floated in a figure eight, then motioned "yes".

"Great! Hello Finlay, welcome to the team. So far we have me; a candy delivery boy, turned over-worked squire. And Renato; a helpless wee baby inside the body of a twenty-three year old man. We're off to a great start."

"Why are you talking to that ball? It doesn't have ears." Renato grumbled. "I'm not a baby."

"Oh, hello Grumpy! You were so quiet back there I thought I'd left you back in Llantry." Pepi chuckled. "Finlay moves when I speak. It moves up and down for yes, and side to side for no. Plus it changes colours depending on how I feel, so I reckon Finlay can hear me just fine. Isn't that right?" Finlay motioned yes.

Pepi continued to chat with Finlay. "I wasn't born with magic. I couldn't make my own candy like the rest of my family, so I got stuck being a delivery boy. Walking through all kinds of weather, having people yell that my prices were too high, or that it made their kid too energetic. It really sucked, I tell you!" Finlay rubbed against Pepi's cheek as it pulsated a faint red light.

Renato groaned and slumped against the wagon bed. This was going to be a long journey.

"I do like the song my dad wrote to advertise the candy, that's always my favourite part. I usually put my name in the song. It makes more sense that way. Do you want to hear it?" Pepi cleared his throat then began singing.

"Ally, bally, ally bally bee ! Sitting on yer mammy’s knee, greeting for a wee bawbee, to buy some Pepi’s candy. Renato, sing with me!" Pepi called over his shoulder. "There was a wee lassie awfy thin, a bundle of bones wrapped up in skin, now she’s getting a wee double chin, with eating Pepi’s candy…"

A very, long, arduous journey.