#I READ TO FAST AND IT JUST SAYS THE TUNNEL COLLAPSED AND SHE JUST FUCKING DIED?!

[asterias-corner]

OH MY GOD IMMA CRY I FINISHED POWER OF THREE -SUNRISE AND IM GOING FERAL WTF THAT ENDING?!

[phatburd]

ask game: N, T, W

Some of my opinions are probably going to wildly offend people but let’s go!

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

Only three things? Hmm. K. So, for The Old Guard:

First thing - I want more morally grey stories, or Dubious Morality as AO3 tags it, or stories where the characters have to make choices with no good, 100% happy outcomes for anybody. Where helping someone will guarantee that some other innocent will get hurt and suffer. I want to see Nile, et al, make hard choices.

Second thing (of which I am guilty so far) is I’d like to see more solo-Andy in the immediate years after she became immortal and the millennia she spent alone before she met any of the others. There’s a lot of stories to mine there, and one of the reasons why I haven’t touched it yet is because there’s so much to mine there. It’s intimidating. I want to do it anyway. I’m currently focused on the Napoleonic Era for Booker, but I’m not above poking at the Bronze Age Collapse at another time.

Thirdly, I want more fics that explore the future of the immortal team. The past is a great resource, and that's fun to tease out and see how the immortals can fit into historical events. But the future has a lot of potential too. How do the immortals deal with a world where facial recognition technology is everywhere? How does one disappear where every movement is tracked in some way or other?

(I work with some huge information databases in my real world job – the details of which I can’t talk about – and let’s just say I know what I’m talking about.)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Booker is not inherently selfish. Full stop.

Let me explain. In the early 2000s I was going through a really bad mental health patch. I kinda fell apart professionally and personally in the aftermath of Bush vs. Gore and pretty much hated everyone and everything.

I don’t know how many people here are old enough to remember the discussions around “enhanced interrogations.” In my really bad psychological state, I read a book that discussed the use of torture through the ages and its ineffectiveness as a tool to gather intelligence. This is because everyone has a breaking point, where they will do anything, say anything, agree to anything, just to escape the pain.

This is the point where I realized the same thing applied to depression and suicidal ideation. At some point, the pain of living becomes so goddamn intense, a person develops tunnel vision and will do anything to stop their own pain. Depression is torture without any visible mechanism. In that case, is it selfish to end your own pain?

This is where shitheads will say, “But what about all other people in your life? You’re selfish because you’ll hurt them!” No, they don’t fucking get it. That’s counterproductive because a person that far down in the hole will think, “Well, maybe they’ll be better off without me then.” The pain is so intense, you're not thinking of others because you can’t. You just want it to end by any means necessary.

What does this have to do with Booker? Yeah, this is the mental state I imagine Booker to have been in for longer than most people have been alive. He wants it to end and he will do whatever it takes, including agreeing to things he probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t in that mental state.

Is wanting to end your own pain weak or selfish? I’d say no. Anyone who says yes hasn't been there, and I hope they never reach that breaking point to understand what it feels like.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

I screeched about this when this last season of Star Trek Picard aired. Actually, I screeched about multiple tropes in Star Trek Picard that I fucking loathed. I’m going to revisit the one that pissed me off most, and that was what happened to Captain Liam Shaw.

Technically, what happened to Shaw wasn’t a deathbed conversion, since he apparently made up his mind before he was even officially introduced that he actually liked Seven. But S3E09 gave all the appearances of a deathbed conversion and I flipped the fuck out.

I do not like it when a character has a change of heart right before they die. Dying doesn’t teach a character anything. They can’t be a better person and grow because they’re dead. They can’t have their past conceptions challenged by new experiences because they’re dead.

A deathbed conversion is nice for drama, but it’s also the easy way out, another form of deus ex machina if you will, and I hate it wherever I see it.

Okay, I think that’s enough. I haven’t had any caffeine yet, what a way to crawl out of bed. I did this to myself though. Lol.

[067supremacy]

Trigger warning: this entry features the reader being followed and grabbed at knifepoint. If this is something that will make you uncomfortable, then please don't read it!!!!

So, I wrote this about a month before Resident Evil Village came out. As you can probably tell as this includes ideas of my own; and missed out some obvious problems that now show after playing the game. It was fun to imagine what the character was like at the time, from what we had to go on! :’) (also, I originally wrote this for the blonde who was rumoured to be called Daniela, but Daniela doesn't get enough love!!)

Guardian-Angel

Living your life at night had become your new regular. Your girlfriend Daniela is unable to live her life during the day, and despite the hardships, it came with, you were more than happy to give up the daylight to be with the woman you love.

Living with a vampire had its ups and downs, but you wouldn't change her for a second. You had been something of a stabilizer for her. When you first met her, she was stuck in her crazy gothic look. She was deadly and bloodthirsty, but you had a way of calming her to a tranquil state. Daniela had two different looks that were determined by her mood. When Daniela was calm, she was a natural beauty. Her Red hair was long and healthy, she had clear skin, and her attitude was caring. But when she was upset, Daniela was utterly different. She was full of anger, covered in black from head to toe, the surrounding area of her mouth was covered in crimson red, her fangs would grow through frighteningly sharp, and wasps would manifest seemingly out of nowhere.

You knew the dangers of living with a vampire, but it didn't matter to you. You trusted Daniela with your life. The first time you slept in the same bed as her, you couldn't help but worry about the possibility of her biting you. Little did you know that she could sense your worry and had even decided to tease you about it by resting her face in the crook of your neck. Daniela was in love with you. And deep down, she feared that one day your time would come. After all, she would be here long after your demise. The conversation of turning you was something she had yet to do, but the thought was always there. She had come close plenty of times to ask you to be with her for life, but her idea of rejection led her to remain happy with what she had.

It had just gone 1 am when you left 7-Eleven in a hurry. The pitch-black sky was unnerving but relaxing at the same time. There was a lot to enjoy about the night-time. Like, how quiet the streets were, how empty the store was, and how the sleepy nightlife was stunning to look overhead. The stars lead you home as you silently walk by yourself, you curse at the fact you left your headphones at home, but at least you could enjoy the walk back.

The dim streetlights ahead offer little visibility, but they give you absolute comfort. You come to the end of the high street where fast-food restaurants end, and the streets get much darker. With no cars going by, it's hard to tell what's up ahead when you turn right into a second street in which should be a straight shot to your apartment. You notice a man traveling just a few steps behind you. You felt uneasy about it but pushed the thought to the back of your mind. You speed up slightly to put some distance between you. The way the world was nowadays, you couldn't trust this situation; it is sad but true.

You decide to do a full circle through an alleyway and back out to the street out of curiosity. Sure enough, the shadow figure follows your every move, and that's the last that you were going to play with this. You pull out your phone and call Daniela with shaky hands. The phone rings once, and the voice you love so much answers cheerfully, but you can't even remember what she said as you were blinded with panic.

"Dani, I think someone is following me," you say in a hushed tone as to not alert the shadow figure following you. Almost as quickly as you finished the sentence, you can hear the familiar sound of wasps manifesting in the background. There is no time to be wasted in Daniela's mind. You can already hear the change in her voice as she asks for your location.

It's like you can feel Daniela's heart aching at the thought of your discomfort, something inside you doesn't feel right when Daniela gets like this, and it's ultimately why she agreed to stay calm in all circumstances.

"Just keep walking home, baby. I'll come and meet you." Your vampire girlfriend replies as you hear the phone fall to the floor and the raging hive leaves the apartment. The sound goes quiet, and you're left with your thoughts, but not for long as the footsteps get closer and louder. You can feel the presence on your heels. Before you know it, a large hand had taken you by the arm and directed you into the closest alleyway.

You yelp at the tight grip on your arm, the groceries you had from shopping had been sent to the floor, but you clutched your purse for dear life. The shadow figure was around 5ft 10Inches tall. The person was stocky in build, rugged looking. They wore a black hoodie and a black balaclava. The only thing you could see was the person's eyes. They pierced through you, you couldn't tell if they held hostile intent or if they were just trying to scare you, but that didn't matter. The person pushes you to a corner and unsheathes a small blade.

A man's voice, deep and resonant, shoots out from his mouth. "I'm gonna need that purse and whatever jewelry you have on you," He waves the blade before your eyes, almost teasing you that he had the upper hand.

Your fears boil over as the tears start to stream, and you feel powerless. You fold your arms over your purse in an act of defiance. The man in front of you seems to be getting impatient already, but you manage to bumble out a small plead, "Please, just let me go," The man chuckles at your plea.

"Just give me your shit, and then you can go. I won't even hurt you," the man jokes dryly. At this point in time, the tables had turned, "You can go now, and you won't get hurt," you confidently claim. Your confidence comes from the single wasp that crawls up the sleeve of the man's hoodie, but the single wasp was soon joined by another one, and then two more.

"I'm not fucking playing around now, give me your th- "he's cut off by the sting of a wasp on his neck. The few on his hoodie fly to the end of the alleyway. A woman's laugh surrounds the area, an angry hive of wasps come together and begin to form the silhouette of a tall woman. Your woman.

The man takes a step back in fear, which gives you the chance to storm toward the love of your life. You smoothly run straight past the form of Daniela, something that the man tries to replicate, but the swarm of wasps begins to surround him. They trap him within a tunnel. You knew what this was and where it was going. Daniela was manifesting into her proper, vampire form.

"the man screams and thrashes around, attempting to swat the wasps away from him, but his attempts were futile. The manifestation of her form becomes complete when she pushes him to the floor. Her movement is quirky but calculated. The wasps cocoon the two in a small dome. Keeping him grounded, Daniela laughs at the man's terrified figure. She taunts him with her newfound power.

"She gave you a chance, oh darling, you should have listened to her." Daniela spits her venomous, spiteful tone at the robber. The man attempts to slash at Daniela, and he catches her with the tip of the blade, but her form sheds more of the wasps surrounding the two instead of blood. She laughs demonically as she picks him up with effortless strength. She shoves him against the wall and prepares to end him.

From behind her, you force your way through the hive and touch her shoulder, which has a visible effect on her. She lets her grip on his shoulder loosen slightly. You assure her that you were unharmed, which seems to sway her, but you can still feel her rage within you. You use the power that you hold over Daniela by commanding that she let him go. She's come too far in her time with you to collapse into her bloodthirsty stage again.

And so, she lets the man run, he quickly flees the scene looking like he had just seen a vampire....... Daniela carefully watches the man disappear into the night. The second he is gone, her walls break down, and her softer side comes back out. The crazy gothic vampire look is gone without a trace. Daniela pulls you into her and crushes you into a tight hug. She couldn't lose you. The thought broke her every emotion as she held you. You could hear her breath hitch as she let it all out. Daniela was crying on your shoulder in a dark alleyway at 1:30 am.

"I love you, Y/N. I can't lose you; it would destroy me. I need you safe. I need you alive." She continues to unload every emotion. You reciprocate everything. The massive hug is filled with love and passion. Before you break the hug, you lean into her ear and whisper, "I love you too, Dani. I'm not going anywhere; nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I have my Guardian-Angel protecting me,"

A/N

I'm planning on doing part two, where Daniela has the talk with the reader about turning them into a Vampire. P.S I absolutely love the idea of her being like a normal looking girl when she's calm, but you piss her off........ Game over.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

maybe 3 or 11 + blupjeans for the kissing prompts? :o

11. when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

(Kissing prompts here :D!)

this got,,, A LITTLE out of hand sjflsdfj. here is OVER 2k of blupjeans for ur reading pleasure (probably to be posted on ao3 later)

--

Barry’s got one arm covering Lup as he’s half leaning over her, and the other up in the air to create a shield around them (god, he was so glad that Lucretia had talked him into learning abjuration magic a few cycles ago). It wasn’t the strongest, but it held up as the mineshaft they were in caved in around them. By the time the ground stopped shaking, and the rocks stopped falling, the bubble he had created was completely covered from top to bottom. There wasn’t a shred of light anywhere.

“Fuck,” Lup said, which aptly described how Barry was feeling. “Quick thinking, Bar, good job.” 

She snapped her fingers and a few balls of light lit up the bubble, floating aimlessly around them.

He lowered his wand, focusing on the spell well enough for it to stay steady, and turned his attention to Lup. She wasn’t injured, besides some scrapes on her arms from when Barry had shoved her to the ground. He felt a little bad about that, but the tunnel was small and he didn’t want her to move out of range of the bubble.

Lup fished her Stone of Farspeech out of her robes as Barry gave her a tight smile in response. He sat up against the side of the bubble shield as she called back to the ship. Davenport was sending Taako, Magnus, and Merle to come to get them out (which Barry already knew would be a disaster, even if they worked well together). When she hung up, all that was left to do was... wait. There was a light on the top of her Stone to show it was being tracked, and they couldn’t do anything else to make it go faster.

“Sorry for pushing you,” Barry said. Lup shrugged and sat cross-legged across from him.

“No biggie,” she said. “It was either be pushed to the ground or get killed by a rock, so I don’t think I have the right to be mad about it right now. Or the want to, anyhow.”

Waiting was slow going. Barry knew Lup wasn’t a particularly patient person and could tell when she was starting to get antsy. Neither of them were good at sitting still, but Lup’s foot had been tapping for ten straight minutes before she started searching through her pack for things to do.

“Hey, Bar,” she asked, five minutes into that, “Wanna help?”

“Gods, yes,” Barry said, shuffling his way over to her side. “Give me something to do.”

Lup muttered something under her breath that Barry didn’t catch, and probably didn’t want to. She turned the whole bag over and pushed half of it towards him.

“Do... something with that,” she said and started working on her half.

Barry started to organize it because that was probably what Lup had meant. He sorted it by use first- things someone would need if they were going to a mission (waterskin, loose charcoal, which Barry didn’t want to begin questioning), makeup stuff (chapstick, face wipes, three different colors of nail polish, and one eyelash curler), and misc. (four individual playing cards, a note in Taako’s handwriting that just said “fuck you”, a photo of a baby elephant). Then he sorted by size.

When he looked back over to Lup, she had made a wobbly tower out of her half. Barry was startled into a laugh, which caused it all to fall over.

“Barold Bluejeans,” she said, turning on him. “You fucking monster.”

“S- sorry!” Barry gasped, leaning back against the bubble, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought- I thought we were both sorting!”

“I said “do something” not sort!” Lup said. “I cannot believe- oh, fuck, is that my charcoal, I was looking for that.”

Which just made Barry laugh harder. She scowled at him, in good nature, and snatched the charcoal from his piles. She eyed him as she started building her tower again, pausing only when he sniggered to send a light-hearted glare his way.

After a while, he finally got control of his laughter and watched her build a tower. She had two books she was using as the base, followed by a thinning stack of sticky notes, and a half-empty water bottle. After about three minutes, she finished the pile, which had been swaying precariously as she added things, and placed the charcoal on top. She leaned back on her hands and looked at it.

“Hey, Bar,” Lup said, not taking her eyes off the pile.

“Yeah?”

“I’m bored.” She tore her gaze away from it to look at him, lips turned into a cute little frown. “I wanna do somethin’ else.”

“Not a lotta options here, Lup,” Barry said. She frowned, tilting her head at him. His heart stuttered a little. “We can, uh. Talk?”

“About what?” Lup asked. “‘What’s your favorite color?�� I already know yours is denim blue. You’re predictable, babe. I don’t know what to ask that wouldn’t seem like this is a bad first date.”

Barry flushed a little.

“This would be a very bad first date,” Barry said and Lup laughed. She scooted up next to him, careful not to disturb her pile while she moved. After a second, she pressed her arm next to his and leaned onto his shoulder. Barry’s brain short-circuited, almost missing what she said next.

“We’d have to be on at least third date questions,” Lup said thoughtfully. “Like, uhh. What’s your social security number?”

“I don’t remember that!” Barry laughed and Lup buried her head into his shoulder, giggling. “I- I barely even knew it when we were at home, Lup, how do you expect me to remember it after forty-five years.”

“Joking, Barry,” she said, laughing a little still. “I’ll ask a better question, then. Uh. When you were a kid, what did you wanna be when you grew up?”

“Astronaut,” Barry said immediately, which sent Lup into another fit of giggles. She looked up at him, grinning.

"For real?" she asked and when he nodded, she whistled. "Dang, babe, you got your dream."

"I- I guess," Barry said. "It's not like- I mean, I gave up on that dream fairly quick back home. One, because it was pretty unrealistic until the Light came, and two, because it seemed... I don't know, unrealistic. I was a professor, Lup, I didn't- the mission was more of a... midlife crisis decision, if we're being honest."

Lup hummed, dropping her head back down to lean on his shoulder. Barry worried he went too far for a moment.

"I forget that human's live such short lives," Lup said quietly. The mood of the room (bubble) shifted when she said that. It took on a somber tone. "Me and Taako weren't adults until we were a hundred. By that age, you'd be all old and wrinkly."

"Hey," Barry said, nudging her. "I'm old and wrinkly now."

She snorted but shook her head.

"Guess Magnus's "live now, die later" attitude kinda makes sense when you think about it like that," Lup said. "Like, you age so fast. You just kinda have to do what you want when you want so you can actually get it in there, y'know."

"Not really," Barry said. "I mean, there's a lot of time to do things still, but I see where he's coming from. You don't wanna not do something and regret that you never did it."

Lup seemed to think on that for a second. Barry did, too. She was still pressed against his shoulder, close enough that her hair was tickling his neck. He looked away and sighed slightly. If he was being honest, he probably should take his own words to heart. Life, love, never lasts long enough and as soon as you get what you want, it's counting down the seconds until something takes it away. Circumstances, opportunities, death. Something always took it away.

They had an endless amount of time to get it right. But Barry didn't want to be the one to break her heart when they stopped the cycles and he started to age again.

"Barry," Lup said, quiet, but absolutely deafening in the silence of the bubble. "I, uh. I think we need to talk." She sat up, turning herself towards him completely. Barry's heart thundered in his chest.

"I know humans don't live long," she said carefully. "And we don't know when we're gonna get out of these cycles. But I... can't ignore things because of that. I can't just fucking- pretend that I'm not feeling things? Because that's not healthy and also, by the way, it fucking sucks. I'd rather-"

She broke herself off. Barry saw her hands dig into the dirt under them.

"This isn't the best place to say it," she said, looking away. She backed up a bit and knocked her pile over in the process. "Uh, my bad, I just-"

"I don't wanna pretend either," Barry blurted out, before he even thought about what he was saying. "Being trapped in a bubble under a collapsed mineshaft isn't the best place to talk about anything, Lup, but it's you and I don't wanna make you not want to say something. I, uh. I think I get what you're getting at, though."

He steeled himself, taking a deep breath in. Okay, he was doing this. He was doing this. He just had to, uh, collect himself first, and-

"I like you," and Lup beat him to the punch line. Barry blinked at her and she hurried along. "Like, in a romantic way, I mean. Not like- I like the others just fine, but I like you, Bar."

"Oh," Barry said. Lup chuckled nervously, not looking at him.

"Yeah," she said. "Um, like I said, not the best place to talk about it, but-"

"No!" Barry said. "No, Lup, I like you too! Fuck, I- I wasn't expecting you to, uhm- Lup, I like you so much, I didn't wanna make things weird."

"This whole goddamn situation is weird," Lup said, hitting the side of the bubble with her hand.

"No, like, us," Barry said. "Like as a friendship, I didn't wanna make it weird. I'm..." he sighed. "It's complicated for a lot of reasons, Lup, I'm human. I-"

"So it's a no?" Lup said awkwardly.

"No!" Barry said. "No, no, no, it's definitely a yes! I just don't want- I don't wanna fucking... die on you when the cycles stop, Lup. I don't want it to end and I don't want you to have to deal with that."

"That's not up to you," Lup said at once, sounding a tad bit annoyed. "If I wanna date you, that's my choice, and if you die, then it's my emotions I'm going to be dealing with. I don't want you to beef it, obviously, but- it's not up to you to figure out how I'll react then. I wanna do now with you and I wanna do that all the way up until we can't. It's fine if you don't- don't want that, but I-"

She was starting to tear up a bit and he panicked, scooting forward.

"Sorry," he said, because he didn't know what else to say. "I- I wasn't thinking about now, I was focusing on later. I- I don't want to see you upset because of something I've done, if I can help it. I got a little stuck in that.

"I desperately want this to work out," Barry said, holding out his hands. She wiped away a tear and clasped her hands in his. "There's no one I'd rather be with than you, Lup, I promise. But I wanna talk about what all it'll mean, first, if that's alright with you. I wanna make this work."

"Yeah," Lup said thickly. "Of course."

She hesitated for a second, and then wrapped him in a hug. His heart was beating fast as he hugged back, burying his face into her neck. After a moment, she drew back a little, pressing her forehead against his.

"Can I kiss you before we talk, or do you wanna wait 'til after?" she asked. The air momentarily left Barry's lungs. He took a deep, needed, breath in and nodded. When he realized that the nod answered nothing, he said,

"Now's good, if you, uh, if you want."

"Now," Lup said decisively, leaning in.

If you asked Barry, the day could be divided up into two parts: before he kissed Lup, and after. Maybe that was stupid, because they were buried under a pile of dirt and rocks right now, but... Her lips against his were fire and ash and everything wonderful and powerful. The touch was soft, because they were both uncertain, and Barry drew back just far enough to say,

"I'm sorry, are you sure-"

Before she was pressing her lips back up against his, stronger, with more intent. Barry's heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest as she tugged him closer with the arms she had around his neck.

And then he felt like his heart did actually explode when something clanged against the side of the bubble. Barry startled back, hitting the opposite end of the barrier, and looking towards where the sound had come from. Lup scooted back towards him, raising her wand towards it. It hit again and Barry recognized the blade of a shovel, scooping away the dirt.

In a matter of seconds, there was a sizable amount gone and there was Magnus, who grinned upon seeing them. He saw Taako standing against the wall a little further back and Merle on the ground, talking to him.

Lup swore. Barry saw that the tips of her ears were pink when she shoved her want back into her holster.

"We'll get back to this later," she promised. "The kissing and the convo, I promise. Help me put my shit back in my bag."

"Yeah," Barry said, his whole face flushed. "I can do that."

[warsmith-38]

How I would do RWBY pt.9

Season nine

RWBY and JN(P)R and the jobbers are all prepping to take the fight to Salem.

Big military invasion is planned targeting the Grimmlands.

Atlas is used as staging ground.

Atlas military, Ilia’s White Fang, SDC militia, Raven’s bandits, Mistral defense force, Menagerie commandos, and more are there to help.

Everyone even vaguely connected to Ozpin’s Council sends aid.

Vacuo’s defenders will lightly pepper the southern coast to make it seem like they’re still planning on attacking from Vacuo.

Everyone has scenes together about emotions and fears and whatever.

Invasion begins.

Goes well. A beachhead is established, casualties are minimal, and grimm are curtailed rather easily.

Normandy was a success.

They have to do what they came to do as fast as possible before Salem’s grimm from the south cross the continent.

The distraction did its job, but now they’re on their way.

That’s when the offensive grinds to a halt because nothing is ever that fucking easy.

Skirmishes become common, but no greater progress is made.

Then the casualty reports keep coming in.

Everyone except Ozpin reads them.

Morale is lowering, which in turn makes the grimm stronger, which lowers morale further and so forth.

Ironwood says that they need a big symbolic victory to restore morale and get things back on track.

Idea is a blitz, push as hard and fast into the Grimmlands as possible, consolidating as much territory as possible along the way.

Myrmidon is the only real strategic obstacle in the way.

Time is of the essence so plan is a go.

Night before the blitz.

Ruby gives a speech to WBY and JN(P)R.

Says that they’re all the best friends she’s ever had and that, even with all the problems going on, the time they’ve spent together has been the best time of her life.

Everyone has a few more scenes together.

Tai has a moment with his girls.

Raven tries to further apologize to Yang in her own way.

Weiss and Winter have video call with Willow and jailtime Jacques.

Blake has a moment with her parents who came with the Menagerie Commandos.

JN(P)R vow to each other that they’re going to either get Pyrrha back or put her to permanent rest.

Qrow and Ruby have moment together.

Ruby says she’s both out of her mind terrified and incredibly excited to kick ass at the same time.

Qrow says that that’s about right for Summer’s daughter.

Day of the blitz.

Coalition forces charge forth with the fury of…an uninterrupted carpool. What the hell?

There’s no fucking grimm.

The entire army is advancing into hostile territory completely unopposed.

Jaune and Ironwood realize what’s happening at the same time.

Sometimes the best defense is an overwhelming fuck you of an offense.

Pyrrha had withdrawn as many grimm as she possibly could in the timeframe and condensed them into two massive combined hordes.

And she’s sending those two hordes, in a pincer maneuver, directly against the sides of the coalition blitz’ spearhead.

Swarms of grimm hit them like a tidal wave.

The offence halts right then and there.

Fighting is brutal and ground is taken and lost at an alarming rate.

RWBY is shining beacon of hope against the darkness.

Killing droves of grimm as fast as the laws of physics allow.

Pyrrha gets involved.

JN(P)R intercept her.

Fight goes similarly to the last two but with one major difference.

Jaune, in his desperation, takes a blade to the leg and wraps Pyrrha in a bear hug, flooding her with his healing aura just to see what happens.

He doesn’t know what the hell it’s going to do, if anything, but it’s all he has at this point.

Pyrrha tosses him off but is visibly stunned and starts convulsing.

Her human parts are being affected by Jaune’s healing.

This gives them enough time for Ruby to blast her with white fire.

Pyrrha gives Jaune a sad look of longing before she collapses into his arms, once again dead and fading away into the wind.

JNR is sad at seeing their friend die… again.

The grimm lose all cohesion and even begin infighting a little at the complete removal of coordination.

The blitz continues all the way to Salem’s Sanctum.

They encircle and lay siege.

Salem and Ozpin communicate.

It’s finally here, isn’t it? The moment they both’ve dreamed about.

Chaos or order. Which will win in the end?

The day of fate has fin’ly come.

The siege is going rather poorly after about a week or so.

No headway is being made on being able to directly assault the Sanctum.

Artillery has little to no effect due to a magic bubble shield.

Swarm of incredibly powerful grimm operate as a sort of moat preventing infantry incursions.

Flying grimm lead to similar results on aerial attacks.

RWBY and JN(P)R are involved in latest offensive.

It fails. Pretty hard too.

Every day that goes on the more people get killed by the grimm.

This lowers morale.

This causes more, stronger, grimm to show up.

Same problem as before the blitz but with even more stressed logistics.

Scouts report that the grimm horde from the south is going to show up in under a week.

The worst part is that it would take just over a week for coalition forces to pack up and retreat.

Goodie.

Cinder has a moment of actually having a conscious and says she has a solution.

She knows of a way past Salem’s defenses and directly into the Sanctum.

The Cavern of Remembrance. (Yes, I’m nabbing the name from KH2FM, roll with it)

Rumor has it is that it’s a tunnel full of vengeful spirits of the departed.

Many have gone mad attempting to go through it.

Tyrian was the last to make it through, probably because he was pretty crazy to begin with.

Salem does nothing with it because the vast majority of people that go through there don’t make it out and those that do are either easy enough to kill on the other side or are susceptible to recruitment.

Ozpin makes the plan to send a strike team through it.

Should they survive, Ozpin will have Raven open a portal to give them a clean shot at killing Salem.

Nobody really likes this plan but they have few alternatives.

Decide that RWBY, JN(P)R, and CEMN would be the best options for the strike team.

Most of them (particularly Ruby and Jaune) cringe at the idea of working side by side with Cinder but roll with it because Salem is a much higher priority.

The teams get ready to go off.

Tensions are high.

Cinder leads them to the entrance of the cavern.

Everyone takes a moment to steel themselves and enter.

The great majority of the walk through the cavern is just that, walking.

So far it’s just a fucking cave tunnel.

Ren and Nora disappear.

It’s a straight, almost featureless, tunnel so they have no idea what the hell just happened.

Emerald and Mercury disappear next. Then Weiss, then Jaune, then Blake, then Neo, then Penny.

Ruby, Cinder, and Yang are alone now.

Yang gets a little angry, thinking that Cinder set them up.

The argument stops when they see a completely out of place cottage door ahead of them.

They enter it and are shocked to see Summer Rose, happily sitting with a pot of tea ready to pour.

The cavern is a font of old magic. It allows those who enter it one chance to speak to the departed spirit of someone emotionally close to them. Not necessarily a loved one, but someone important, good or ill.

As it turns out this has the habit of often making people want to ‘reunite’ with their loved ones or get killed by the spirit of the one they hated.

Ren and Nora are talking to their respective parents. They tell them that they’ve made it after all.

Weiss is talking to her grandfather. Calls him an old fart that history will only remember as a huge cunt.

Blake is talking to Adam. Specifically, depressed Adam that has lost the psychopathic streak.

Penny is talking to herself, the version of her that Cinder killed. Very trippy and self-reflective.

Emerald is talking to her mother. The last genuinely good influence she’s ever had before going good.

Mercury is talking to (read: says three words to and then starts fighting) his father.

Neo is…okay not talking, but with Roman. He teases her for going legit.

Jaune is talking to Pyrrha. Big happy lovers’ reunion.

Conversations range from tear soaked reunions to vitriol filled shouting matches to straight up fights.

Important bits, aside from emotional closure are as follows:

Mercury doesn’t get his semblance back from papa but awakens what would have been a second one.

It’s Armstrong/Greed style body hardening.

Jaune and Pyrrha have a moment properly saying that they love each other but are cut off prematurely, showing that Salem has resurrected her again.

Jaune has a new plan.

Everyone either connects again with the deceased and gains new resolve, or get pumped by telling the dearly departed dickhead to fuck themselves.

Ruby and Yang get confused as to why Cinder is there with them.

Cinder mouths off like a rude fuck.

Summer scolds her and calls her ‘Cinder Rose’.

Do the plot-twist dance, c’mon. (This was the thing that the Mad Scientist tried to reveal to Ruby)

As it turns out, Cinder is Ruby’s long lost fraternal twin that was stolen by Salem and raised in a horrible orphanage until Salem could come and ‘save’ her.

It was almost a contest between Ozpin and Salem.

Ozpin’s kid living in a well-structured and sheltered place with Salem’s living in a shitty environment with constant hardship. The one who’s system made the better kid, wins.

C+R+Y mutual BSOD.

After a few good shouts and some crying Summer tells her girls that she’ll always love them and be proud of them.

Summer and the cottage fade away and C+R+Y are really unsure as to what to make of this revelation.

Cinder is in the worse emotional shape she’s been in in the series.

They all agree to keep it quiet and just get on with things.

Repress now, react later.

Eventually everyone gets through their meetings and meet up at the exit of the cavern.

They’re right at the base of the Sanctum with the entrance to it in front of them.

Ruby shares brief secret words with Neo, Blake, and Emerald as everyone else is distracted.

They send a radio signal, Raven opens a portal and she, TQ, Ironwood, Glynda, Winter, and Ozpin come through.

Everyone moves into the Sanctum.

They enter the main foyer and Salem is standing atop the stairs waiting for them all dramatic and shit.

Says thank you to Cinder for giving her the opportunity to kill Ozpin.

Cinder calls her a bitch.

Says that she’s going to kill her for her mother’s sake.

Salem says that that’s easier said than done.

Myrmidon attacks with a shitload of grimm, including very crude resurrections of Tyrian, Roman, Adam, and some other jobbers.

It’s almost insulting how poorly done they are compared to Myrmidon.

Salem put all her time and effort into Myrmidon.

Big battle royale extravaganza.

The various resurrected try and fuck with people psychologically. Roman saying he never loved Neo, Tyrian bragging about killing Summer, and such like that.

This works on no one and the resurrected get decked but at least they tried.

The Council, baring Ozpin, get tied up against grimm.

JN(P)R distract Myrmidon and get her away into a separate room.

RWBY and CEMN get at Salem directly.

Salem boss fight start.

JN(P)R manage to redo the plan to knock off Myrmidon’s helmet.

Myrmidon believes she knows what they’re planning to do.

JN(P)R know she knows this and have planned around that plan she planned against their plan.

It makes sense, shut up.

Jaune kisses her and floods her with as much healing semblance as he can.

She almost dies, y’know, again, but the grimm taint is healed away from both the healing semblance and Jaune’s aura jumpstarting her aura again with the power of love.

N(P)R’s aura’s flood into Pyrrha as well because friendship and jury rigging Penny’s artificial aura system.

Pyrrha is unconscious, scarred, and in very poor shape. But she’s alive again, truly.

Not that they’d try it, but attempting similar plans with the other resurrected would have just destroyed them due to their comparably shabby creation.

JNP(P)R’s story is now wrapped up.

Yay!

RWBY and CEMN vs. Salem is still going on.

Lots of fire of both orange and white.

Fuck it, black fire too from Salem.

Summons and hallucinations.

Rage mode and NANOMACHINES SON.

Clone decoys and illusions.

Salem is enraged that she’s losing, decides fuck it and starts just blowing shit up with magic.

Ozpin comes in with the assist when Salem has taken a few hits.

He wants to kill-steal like a noob.

Ruby smiles as her own plan has come together.

Fight goes on, big spectacle, you know the deal.

Big crazy god powers combating each other.

TL;DR Salem and Ozpin stab each other at the same time.

Ruby had Neo, Blake, and Emerald fuck with both of their perceptions with their semblances to as many degrees as they can, making mutually assured destruction… assured (shut up).

Ruby even brags to both of them about it.

“There is no need for gods that only take,” –Asura (A really angry dude)

Calls both Ozpin and Salem bitches.

Both are enraged but the prophesy is fulfilled. Only one can kill the other so both now die.

So die the two worst mass murderers in the history of the planet.

It’s a BIGASS explosion.

Ruby wakes up at home, hoping to unholy fucking hell that this whole thing was not just one long dream after the Fall of Beacon.

It wasn’t.

Everyone is there to see Ruby and tell her that, yes, Salem and Ozpin are super dead.

Everybody wins.

Everyone else lived (She’s especially happy to see Pyrrha) and even got her flowers.

The one that draws her eye is the one that people say is the newest, a black rose.

It has a note saying ‘Ruins of Beacon. One week. –C’.

One week passes.

Ruby goes to the ruins of Beacon, alone, armed as she usually is.

Cinder is waiting for her.

Ruby doesn’t really want to fight Cinder now. She’s even talked to whatever authorities remain about getting Cinder a level of amnesty for helping in the last couple seasons.

Cinder tries to bait her into getting angry and attacking her but Ruby calls her bluff and tells her to just be honest for once in her life.

Cinder says that due to her upbringing she needs to contextualize events in a specific way.

Ruby needs to beat her in a fight. Properly.

No berserk insanity, no grimm arm weaknesses, just the definitive one on one show of strength.

Only then can she accept the reality where it’s possible for her to be sister to such a good entity as Ruby.

Otherwise she’s just going to fuck off to parts unknown, content with her stupid worldview.

Ruby tells her to stop being such a chuunibyou, but admits that she still has some shit to work out herself and the best way she knows to do that is a fight.

Ruby vs. Cinder.

Vergil 3 motherfuckers.

The definitive, badass, rival match, season and series final boss fight.

The wheel of fate is turning, heaven or hell, let’s rock!

The fight goes through everything.

Going from shooting, to melee, to fire duel, back to melee, to hand-to-hand, ending in a MGS4 style exhausted slugfest, all interlaced with flashbacks and shit, culminating in a mutual cross-counter.

Final punch, both of them nail each other on the cheek.

They glare at each other for a second, each other’s fists in their faces.

Cinder falls (ha) over first.

Ruby declares victory before collapsing next to her.

They have an absolutely exhausted heart-to-heart.

They reflect on the events of the series and accept each other as sisters.

Cinder accepts the name, ‘Cinder Rose’.

Four months later.

World is recovering from the conflict well.

Grimm still exist.

As long as negative emotions exist, Salem’s grudge will also. But without centralized control, the grimm are just hyper-combative and aggressive animals that crop up now and again, but can be curtailed easily enough if direct threat is posed.

Hunters still need to exist, but grimm aren’t world ending level threat anymore.

RWBY has been enjoying a little time off together as they do minor logistical work.

JNP(P)R have been palling around doing the same as RWBY, very much enjoying having Pyrrha back.

Team CEMN is now official with its members working as a sort of penal squad to work off their respective sentences.

They’ve got house arrest in their downtime though.

Only exception is when they’re working or have supervision from someone trustworthy.

Better than prison or doing the hempen jig so... take what you can get.

Kingdoms use the framework of Ozpin’s surveillance system as a communication and connectivity network instead of a ‘big brother’ type system of control.

Big get together with everyone.

Beacon is about to reopen under Headmaster Qrow Branwen.

RWBY and JNP(P)R decide that getting the Hunter GED equivalent might be the best option for them, considering they’re infinitely more experienced than any first year has a right to be.

Agree to a grad-student type arrangement to still be involved, though.

Everyone’s having a good time. Everyone’s connecting and blowing off steam.

Ruby peaks out and goes off on her own for a particular reason.

Ruby has final moment of series, talking to Summer’s grave.

Turn around and sees all her friends, family, and teammates.

Says she loves them all, half talking to the audience as well.

Red Like Roses plays as it fades to statues of Team RWBY in a cathedral or altar type place.

Fin.

Season nine done.

War arc done.

Series done.

Boom-shakalaka.

 Season of mini-episodes mostly for the fluff, fun, and because I say so.

1. Cinder awkwardly bonding with her new family, despite her best efforts.

2. Raven having a moment with Tai and Qrow about Summer.

3. Pyrrha reuniting with her family post-resurrection and dealing with the fallout of Myrmidon.

4. Weiss and Blake visiting Jacques and Sienna in their respective prisons.

5. Ironwood, Glynda, and others talk about Ozpin, reflecting that he really was kind of an asshole.

6. Team CEMN on mission, very slowly becoming actual friends.

7. Team CFVY make plan to transfer back to Beacon during sparring match with SSSN.

8. Flashback episode for team RWBY when they were children and still had much to learn.

9. Ilia and Blake talking about the restructuring of the White Fang.

10. Un-incarcerated Schnees talking about the future of the company.

11. RWBY and CEMN little sparring fun for stress relief.

12. Flashback thing with team STRQ, going through their forming and breaking.

13. Cinder going on an apology tour. (Pyrrha still hates her guts but not enough to kill her).

14. Qrow and Raven have big over the top dork duel because they’re both dorks.

15. JNPR has moment of “Wow, we REALLY didn’t sign up for that but we made out fine enough,”

16. Team SSSN wondering just what the holy hell all that was about.

17. Ciel and Penny reaffirm their friendship with each other, even though their team is long gone.

18. Flashback to Salem and Ozpin’s original falling out, showing that they were assholes even back then.

19. RWBY are made official huntresses and start a proper career of grimm killing and peace keeping.

20. Flash forward a generation or three later and someone telling their kid/grandkid team RWBY’s story.

 I did this because I felt the need to and nobody could stop me. Too many aspects of the show pissed me off just a little too much and I know that all this amounts to is my insane ramblings, but I did it anyway. Will I ever be put in charge of an actual RWBY reboot or something of that measure? Fucking no. Will this change anyone’s minds? Probably not. Was this entertaining to read? I certainly hope so. But, in the end, I had a ton of fun doing this and have made the points I wanted to make. That’s just about all I care about in the end.

I regret nothing.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Safe in the Dark

Just the tiniest of drabbles because the image was in my mind. 

CW: Trauma response, references to institutional violence, scarring, guilt/self-loathing thoughts, not much here to warn for but if you see something that needs tagged that I didn’t mention let me know

Tagging Chris’s crew: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly , @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions and @oofowouchies and @orphceus  for Antoni  (it wouldn’t let me tag your other blog but you requested to be added!)

Takes place simultaneously to the Safehouse Raid, so you’ll want to read the first piece of that series to have context for this

The darkness around them is total, with a soft weight like velvet against Antoni’s skin, pressing from all sides, as he and Leila make their way with bare feet moving soundless against the slightly damp stone. 

Who made this tunnel, nobody seems to know, exactly. Nat told them it was here when she bought the house, used to be used to people in the 70′s to do the same thing that Antoni and Leila are doing now.

How many people have crept through this space, holding hands like he and Leila are, gripped tight with cold fingers and clammy palms, unwilling to let go? How many? A handful? Two dozen? A hundred?

The silence is so deep that their breathing seems to echo off the walls. Even adjusted to the dark he can’t see Leila, only feel her leading the way. She is the one who keeps them moving, because Antoni would go back, if she let go. So she never lets him go.

“Chris is still back there,” He whispers, and the sound is like a shout muffled, a cry swallowed by the stone.

There’s a dripping sound, somewhere, ahead or behind he can’t tell. Water condensing in the coolness and running down to the ground. He can feel the damp under his feet as he walks, slippery. Never run in the tunnel, Nat told them when they did their safety drills. Walk quickly, but don’t run.

“I know,” Leila replies, and her voice is flat and featureless. He can’t see her but he knows, anyway, what he could see if there was any light - her short black hair chopped close to her chin, the pale of her skin, the way her eyes would be narrowed and her jaw set in her determined stubbornness. “He didn’t move fast enough.”

Antoni is silent, as they move like specters under the houses of Nat’s neighbors, under streets, a faint rumble of cars above their heads. This tunnel was here before the city came out this far and the houses and lives lived above them came after it.

What was there, in the time when they made this, to run from? Antoni doesn’t know. Maybe he never knew, or maybe it’s part of what he lost when they took his mind and wiped it clean, started over.

“They will hurt him,” Antoni tries again, and her hand only tightens its grip.

“I know,” She says again.

“He must be so frightened, Leila-”

“Antoni.” Her voice is sharp. It cuts through the velvet dark like the flash of light off a knife. “Stop it.”

Antoni feels his composure cracking, the sudden flare of a thousand burns under his clothes. One more sin he can’t atone for, one more betrayal he cannot fix, one more one more one more one more-

“I can’t just leave him there-”

Leila’s hand rips from his and just as suddenly her palms are pressed to either side of his face, pulling his head down close to hers, until their foreheads are touching. He still can’t see her, nothing but the faintest glimmer of her eyes. He wonders if they are as full of tears as his. 

“If they take him, there’s nothing we can do,” Leila says, voice fierce and hoarse, thick with rage and grief. “If you were there, they’d take you, too, send you back, we’d lose you. Sometimes-...” She was quiet, and he could hear her breathing, harsh exhales, deep inhales. “Sometimes you lose people, Ant. That’s just how it is.”

“I-I... I can’t accept that. Not for him-... he’s so young, he needs us so much, and what he’ll... what he’ll be sent back to, Leila, you haven’t seen his nightmares-”

“I have nightmares, too! So do you! So do all of us!”

“Not... not like this, not like his, you do not hear what he says in his sleep-”

“Then fucking go back if you want to! Go on! Get caught and go back to your owner but I am never going back to mine! I don’t care who I lose, I don’t care who might have to get left!” Leila loses her careful control, her voice rises to a wail, bouncing back at them off the stone, and Antoni flinches away from the sudden volume. 

“Leila-”

“We have to get to the bus stop. We have to. Nine will be waiting for us, Nat said, she promised. And Chris is a good hider, maybe he’ll... maybe he’ll be okay. Jake is there, right? Jake would-... would do anything for him.”

“If they take him back, Jake would not go with him, Leila, but if I were there I could... I could go, and we could be together until we were r-refurbished- I could help him know he would not be alone when they erase him-”

Her hand presses to his mouth, forces him to stop speaking, as she gasps in a breath. “Don’t ever say that, Ant, don’t you dare! He won’t get wiped!”

“You know they’ll wipe him, Leila! If they take us back, we get erased again!”

“It’s-... it’s a numbers game,” Leila whispers, repeating something they’ve all heard Nat saying before, murmuring to herself, a reminder every time there’s some news story about someone so happy to reclaim a stray pet, another safe place or shelter lost... “It’s a numbers game. One going back is better than two Maximize the good, minimize the bad. Now come the fuck on.”

She drops her hand and grabs him by the arm, dragging him forward with her down the tunnel, walking now with a determined speed and no attempt to stay silent.

“L-Leila-”

“Listen to me.” She doesn’t stop walking and her nails dig into his arm through his shirt, unknowingly pressing sharp edges into burn scars, lighting them up all over again. “I am going to get you to Nine. We are going to keep walking, here where we’re safe, and if Chris gets put back then I’m sorry, but I can’t help him now, I can only help you.”

“He’ll be so scared-”

“So are we! We’re scared, too!” She jerks his arm and Antoni stumbles forwards. There’s a hint of a slightly lighter enveloping black, maybe even a gray - they might be getting closer to the end of the tunnel, to where they can come up in a small city maintenance shed using a loose few boards in the floor and find the bus stop where Nine should already be idling in his car, waiting and waiting for them, hoping they moved faster than the men and women who pursue them.

“Without us-”

“Jake will hide him,” Leila says firmly. “He knows all the dark places, and Chris knows as well as any of us that he’s only safe in the dark.”

“What?”

She sighs. “Antoni, I don’t think they ever meant to, but... they taught us that the dark is the safest place for us. It's in the light that we die. It’s in the light they can take us and wipe us clean and rebuild. If Jake can get Chris into a dark place, he’ll know not to leave it.”

“And if he can’t? If he cannot get him to the dark places to hide?”

Another pause. It draws and draws and draws and now Antoni can definitely begin to see the outline of Leila ahead of him, the slightest hint of light at the end of the tunnel awaiting them. The air smells cleaner, fresher now. They’re getting closer. 

He hasn’t heard anyone behind them. They haven’t found the secret door, or they don’t know what it is, or maybe... or maybe they’re just even quieter than the two rescues and someone will reach out and grab him at any moment, and he’ll hear a low soft voice with an English accent whisper in his ear, hello, love, aren’t you happy to see me?

“Then Chris goes back to the light,” Leila says, and her voice is hard. Uncaring, even as Antoni can hear the lie. “And we don’t. He’s gone and we’re not and that’s all there is to it.”

Nine is waiting for them in a nondescript beige-gray-nothing-color four-door at the bus stop, just like Nat promised. Leila slides into the front seat and Antoni collapses across the back, his chest a twisting mass of guilt that curls inside him, heavy as stone, weighing him down as he curls up on his side. 

“I thought there would be three of you,” Nine says, glancing over his shoulder in the direction they’d come from. “Yoder said to expect three.”

“Only two,” Leila answers, crossing her arms across her chest and sitting back against the seat. “The other one didn’t make it.”

The other one.

“Already, we stop using his name?” Antoni closes his eyes against the rush of guilt and tears.

Chris is going to be gone, again, all the identity he’d built stolen, erased back to factory standards. And it will be Antoni who left him to the death that comes with going back to the white walls, white lights, white floor. 

Nine clears his throat. “Are you... are you sure I shouldn’t wait a few more minutes, just in case-”

“Don’t wait.” Leila doesn’t look back at Antoni, and she doesn’t look back the way they came. Leila never looks back at all. “The third one isn’t coming. Just drive. Jake will do what he can.”

Antoni has never felt so small, so mean, so... worthless. “I-I could have-”

“No, you couldn’t. You’d just get thrown back in there, too. Better two saved than two refurbished.”

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Nine says softly as he pulls away. “I know what it means to lose someone.” 

Do you, Antoni wonders. Do you even have  fucking clue?

If Chris did make it into the tunnel, he’d only come out to nothing and no one waiting to help him, because... because Antoni is a coward.

Because Antoni ran and didn’t stay.

Because he saved himself and left someone else to suffer.

Again.

“I will go back tomorrow,” He whispers. “I am going. You cannot stop me.”

“He’ll be gone.” Leila keeps her eyes on the road ahead, but he can see the set of her jaw, the curve of it. Stubbornness, determination. Strength Antoni could never hope to possess. “You know he won’t be there. They’ll take him. You can go back if you want, but Chris won’t be there.”

“I do not care. I will go back for him, even-... even if there is no him to find.”

She snorts. “Have it your way.”

Then, a pause, and she says, a little more softly. “I’m... I’m sorry, Antoni. I know I’m... I know-... I could be softer, but-”

“Not everyone is made for soft,” Antoni murmurs, and though he can’t see her answering hint of a smile, he can feel it. 

“If I think about it I’ll lose my fucking mind,” She says, softly. “I have to focus on who I can save, and not who I can’t. You know?”

He can understand. Even if he still feels like as much the monster as any of the ones who had been knocking the door off the hinges when he and Leila stopped waiting and ran. 

Silence, other than the low hum of the radio, public news station reporting a story about some kind of law passed about taxes. 

After the awkward, tense silence has dragged on and on and on, Nine clears his throat again.

“Hey, uh... what’s your name?”

“Antoni.” Coward. Piece of shit. Ashtray. Whatever you want it to be.

“Great. Yeah, okay. Uh... look. I’ll drive you back here tomorrow. You can take the tunnel back in to check and see if the, uh, the third one is in the house still. Okay?”

Antoni swallows and nods, curling into himself. His skin is on fire, he can feel every burn all at once, lit up like tiny suns digging deeper and deeper beneath the layers, searching for nerves and bone and muscle and vein to damage and destroy.

“"It’s not a problem.”

“But-”

“It’s not a problem,” Nine repeats, making a left, calming checking his mirrors, driving with absolute caution borne from a need to never ever have his fake ID checked. “You can go back and see if your guy is still there, yeah? Did you have to leave, like... your partner, your-.. your, uh... your bonded? Or-”

“He is not my bonded,” Antoni says, softly. “I will go back for him anyway.”

Please, if there is anything but hell left here on earth, let him still be Chris.

[kenzieam]

Touch

Rating: M

Warnings: Major Angst, heartache, some language

Word Count: 3595

Tags: @jewels2876  @moonbeambucky  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123  @iammarylastar @captstefanbrandt  @badassbaker  @pinknerdpanda  @oliviastan17 @mizzzpink​

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As time runs out, Lev remembers her first encounters with Bucky, and how the touch-starved, damaged man became just as important to her as she is to him.

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

HEADS UP..... MAJOR ANGST AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. i DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY I WRITE THIS SHIT, IT JUST MAKES ME CRY.

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Shit, I’m cold.

But at least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped down here; things have gotten hazy.

It’s been a while though; I can’t hear half as many people screaming for help as before.

I’ve had time to figure out what happened at least, with nothing else to do but lay here, slowly suffocating.

My day, I think it’s fair to say, has gone spectacularly to shit.

I think it was an explosion that made the building collapse, but things were happening so goddamn fast I can’t say for sure.

Either way, I’m here, trapped, and I’m pretty sure I’m dying.

Figures, Bucky didn’t want me to go to this convention. If I live through this, I’ll never hear the end of it; Bucky hates being apart from me, because I’m not enhanced like he is, he thinks I’m fragile.

And to be honest, I’m feeling pretty goddamn fragile right now.

My back is arched, bowed backwards to where I could almost grab my ass with the arm that’s twisted back behind my head; my fingers are in the perfect place to scratch any itch I might have between my shoulder blades, but an itch is the least of my problems right now.

I can’t feel my legs.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that a large section of concrete wall is pinning me from the hips down, or if its something more sinister and permanent, a broken back perhaps. Either way, I can’t see my legs or feel them. Maybe they’re not even there anymore.

Would Bucky still love me if I were broken? No longer whole?

I think he would, he knows what it’s like to be incomplete. So many times, after we’ve made love, he’ll hold me and tell me how much he loves me, how I complete him, make him feel whole for the first time in nearly a century.

It’s a heady sensation, to know someone as powerful and legendary as James Barnes loves you.

I never expected to find someone like him, to feel the things he makes me feel.

It breaks my heart that it’s probably all going to end today, with me trapped, alone, in my proverbial coffin.

Was it only three and a half years ago I heard Tony Stark was hiring and me, fresh out of school with the ink on my doctorate of Physical Therapy not yet dry, decided on a whim to apply?

I never expected a call from the man himself, never expected to be given such a huge opportunity so early in my burgeoning career.

But Tony had a plan. People get hurt all the time, secretaries with carpel tunnel, agents with bruises and bumps, Avengers with broken bones earned on their newest mission, it only made sense to bring in a full time PT to the medical labs in the Avengers Complex, and Tony wanted someone fresh and new, someone without any bad habits to break as he put it, which is ironic when you consider all the bad habits Stark himself has.  

I’m still working on refining his damn posture in front of the computer, but I think it’s a losing battle.

My job was soon revealed, to help after Bruce and Helen had worked their magic, regain range of motion, stretch and massage damaged muscles, ensure the team ran at their peak.

While my job originally was supposed to include the entire Complex, it soon became obvious that all my attention would need to be devoted to the team of superheroes themselves and, after a few months of commuting to and from my small studio in the city, I gave into Stark’s less than subtle hints and moved directly into the Complex myself, becoming a round-the-clock, on-call-all-the-time member of the team.

My first interactions with Bucky were minimal, a shadow lurking behind the much more gregarious Captain America himself. I didn’t take it personally because, from what I could see and had heard, the former assassin stayed as far away from everyone that he possibly could.

But he ended up being half dragged to me by Steve himself a few months into my job, due to a lingering pain in the juncture of his shoulder from a recent injury; or more accurately, from a recent injury on the training mats that merely brought back the pain Bucky had apparently been struggling with off and on ever since HYDRA attached his first bionic arm.

The big man didn’t want to be there, I could tell and only his loyalty and commitment to his oldest friend kept his ass on the table as I examined the puffy, angry red scar tissue, his body rigid beneath my exploratory touch.

I knew enough of his past to realize that Bucky’s aversion to me was part of, if not wholly, due to the rough and cruel way HYDRA had treated him, when every contact meant hurt and degradation, but it still affected me. What had he lived through that had taught him that even simple touch meant pain? And how, with the very nature of my work involving discomfort, did I help him?

“Can you rotate your arm?” I ask quietly. When he hesitates, I continue. “I need to feel the joint when you move it.”

He nods silently, accepting the fact that my hands need to stay on him, press in lightly while he rotates his shoulder and, most likely, increase the pain he already feels.

I fall silent, close me eyes to help concentrate as he complies. “Again, please.”

I finger a particular point, deep in the joint and Bucky flinches, swallowing a low groan. I instantly feel horrible, for surely, to make Bucky react at all the pain I just caused must have been extraordinary, but it gives me something to focus on.

I pull away, trying to ignore the way his skin makes my fingers tingle; must be related to his serum-enhancement, my mind studiously ignoring the fact that touching Steve doesn’t illicit the same sensation and offer him a smile.

“I think a lot of that discomfort can be managed with massage, relaxing and sorting out the muscles involved. I’d prefer to try that, rather than jumping into more invasive therapies right away.”

I wait for his response, glancing at Steve when it appears for a beat that Bucky hasn’t even heard me but then it hits me.

Massage.

Continuous touch, continuous pain while he will be forced to lay immobile, tolerating it soundlessly.

Pretty much Bucky’s worst nightmare.

Shit.

Steve shifts his weight, clears his throat. He’s obviously torn between answering for his friend and letting Bucky decide, although it’s clear he expects Barnes to reject the proposal, to push on grimly through the ache and potentially damage his body more.

“Okay.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him.

“I’m sorry?” I lean closer, frowning with concentration. Fuck, for so huge and imposing a man, the guy can make himself practically invisible, even right beside you.

“Okay,” he repeats, barely raising his voice. “We’ll try.”

“I’ll do my best,” I feel compelled to reassure him, barely stopping myself from resting my hand on his shoulder, pulling back at the last second when I remember that that would probably be the last thing to calm the man. “To make it as tolerable, as pain-free as possible.”

Bucky nods but doesn’t answer.

“Want to start now?” Steve asks carefully, glancing between me and Bucky. I don’t know what Bucky will say, but I’ve probably filled his quota of contact today.

A silent head shake, his lank brown hair swinging, a quick but interesting glance up at my face. Is he concerned about my reaction?

“Tomorrow?” I ask gently. At his nod I continue, running through my schedule in my head and I know these two usually go running in the morning, hitting the gym after and then grabbing something to eat. “How about after lunch?”

“Okay.” Christ, the man’s voice is so quiet and soft, it doesn’t fit with his appearance. He looks like a beast, huge and muscular, danger radiating out of every pore. Its so much easier to visualize him as the cruel assassin The Winter Soldier than as a traumatized prisoner of war. That is, until you look in his eyes; then the muscles, the bulk and silent intimidating air all fall apart.

The concrete around me creaks, the rubble threatening to shift, and I hold my breath. It’s getting harder to breathe but I don’t know if that’s because of the way my torso is twisted, or just a general lack of fresh oxygen. I can’t see any daylight anywhere, of feel any type of air movement, but I also can’t move any part of myself around to look. For all I know, there could be a way out of this mess directly behind me, but I’m pinned.

How long has it been? I think I greyed out for a minute there, remembering one of my first meaningful encounters with Bucky, the first time he answered me, agreed to try massage therapy for his shoulder. The trust he showed wasn’t lost on me.

The building groans, as if its in pain too and I fight a rising panic. The voices I could hear around me have gotten less and less, the faint screams for help devolving into wordless, animal cries of agony before cutting off altogether and I wonder if anyone is even still alive. Is there any type of rescue effort yet? Has there been some kind of terrorist act that’s holding up my salvation?

Have they told Bucky?

The convention was a couple of thousand miles away from the Compound, even with the quinjet Bucky and I were hours apart.

Is he out there right now? Digging for me?

My mind wanders again as a fresh stab of agony shoot through my torso, ending curiously at my hips.

I look up at the soft knock at my office door and smile.

“Hello, James.”

His eyes meet mine, just for the barest heartbeat before dropping. “Bucky,” he murmurs.

“Bucky.” I agree, my smile widening at his soft, endearing air. I want to just gather him up and give him a hug, show him that there is love and gentleness in the world and he deserves it too; although, to be honest, I’d just look like a koala hanging off him, God, he’s beefy.

He follows me soundlessly through the Physio department, to the room I’ve set up strictly for massage therapy. I put myself through school moonlighting as a masseuse, and that was one of Tony’s first requests, that I set up shop again. It seems some days that half of my job is just massage, but I’m not complaining; I enjoyed it in school and it’s just as amiable now.

I gesture to the table, draped with clean sheets. “I’m just going to work on your back and shoulders, so you just need to take your shirt off, if you want to remove your pants too, that’s fine. Lay face down and there’s a sheet to put over yourself when you’re ready. I’ll be right back.”

He nods again but there’s a tension in his body now. Is it because he’s going to be showing his arm, the angry scars that surround it? I’ve seen it before, but it seems to be an enduring shame with him, and I make a note not to draw attention to it.

“Are you ready?” I knock softly and ask through the door, hear his quiet confirmation. I turn the lights lower as I enter, explaining as I do. “I’m just turning the lights down a bit.” I busy myself at the small table covered in different types of massage oil. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t relax under full lighting.” He mumbles some sort of agreement, head lowered into the u-shaped cushion. He’s laying face down, like I requested, but he’s anything but relaxed. Fists clenched tight, breathing quickly, he’s not letting go, not yet. “I can play some music if you want?”

“Okay.”

I pause, then speak. “Bucky? We can hold off; you seem a little tense-”

“No.” He lifts his head to look at me. “I’ll lay still, I promise. Just go ahead…. I won’t react, I can take it.”

I shake my head, that’s not the point. “No, Bucky. That’s not how it works here.”

He lifts his head again after dropping it during his statement about laying still, frowning thoughtfully, if a little suspiciously.

“You don’t have to just lay here and ‘take it’. This is for you, if you get uncomfortable, if you want me to stop, you say so and we’ll take a break. I don’t want you to just lay here and endure the pain. If it hurts, tell me; if you start to get overwhelmed, tell me. The last thing I want is to make this another bad experience for you.”

He pauses then, forehead furrowing slightly. From what I’ve gathered regarding his past, free choice wasn’t something ever offered to him, HYDRA would just order him to lay stay and endure whatever torture or torment they were performing.

That shit doesn’t fly here.

“You are in charge.” I squat at the head of the table to meet his eyes, wanting him to really hear me. “I will not do anything to you that you don’t consent to. I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt, but I will only do want you allow me to, okay?”

Something flickers through his eyes, something soft and vulnerable and I get the feeling that he will lay here for me through the worst pain, if only because I gave him the control to, something he’s never been given before.

“Okay,” he replies quietly.

“I’m not going to lie, the harder I work, the more it hurts initially, the quicker the pain will be over.”

He nods and I think he’s relieved that someone is taking the time and consideration to include him in what’s going to be done to his own body.

“But we go at your speed, okay?”

“Okay.”

I stand again, reach over and turn on my playlist, a compilation of soft, bluesy swamp rock and acoustic melodies and begin.

I’m getting tired.

Is it dark outside too?

Will I ever see the sky again?

I can’t think that way, I can’t give up. Not on myself, not on Bucky.

He will come for me; I just have to hold on until then.

My mind continues to wander, trying to distract itself from the growing lassitude in my body. The weariness, the lethargy scares me, I wish I could still feel the pain, at least I’d know I’m still here, existing, even with the agony.

I remember the way our relationship progressed, slow and cautious, tentative.

Slowly his body would turn from iron to relaxed muscles beneath my touch, slowly there would be anticipation, maybe even eagerness in his eyes when he’d walk into the department, rather than grim resignation.

Once he fell asleep on me, facedown on the massage table and I let him nap, leaving the music and lights low, the door cracked, waiting for him to wake as I went about with other duties, finally seeing him emerge looked a little shamefaced, smiling tentatively in apology as I worked with Sam on a range of motion exercise for his recently injured knee.

That seemed to be the final barrier.

After that, I was one of the few people Bucky actually chose to seek out, a rare and exclusive club.

It was easy to love him.

For even as I seemed to be a source of comfort and contentment for him, he too was my bastion of strength, my rock.

If he could wake up each morning and push on, then anything I encountered in life was conquerable too.

“Baby.” He groans, lips brushing my ear.

His powerful body moves above me, inside me, bringing me to heights of pleasure I’ve never felt before.

It’s our first-time making love together, and in some ways, it’s like its truly the first time for both of us.

He’s so gentle and tender, careful with how he handles me, like I’m precious glass in his large, powerful hands.

He cradles me as he thrusts, holding me close to him, whimpers faintly and its that sound of pure vulnerable surrender that pushes me over the edge. He follows, groaning my name into my hair as his body shudders. I feel him pulse inside me, the most peaceful feeling of rightness suffusing my limbs.

Right here.

This is where I’m meant to be.

This is the point my entire life has been leading to.

He collapses beside me, breathing heavily and I roll to the side, resting my arm across his heaving chest. The faint flinch he always had, that he still has with most other people, is gone. He trusts me completely and it’s a gift I will never waste.

His eyes lock with mine, searching, somehow dark with desire and light with joy at the same time. His body is ready again, hard and straining, serum-enhanced and close to insatiable.

I roll to straddle him, his eyes following me. His hands reach up and I clasp them, twine our fingers together, press against them as I sink down onto his cock, watch his eyes roll back in his head with ecstasy. I roll my hips, encouraged by the sounds my movements draw from him, the low groans and grunts, moans and hums of pleasure.

“Fuck-” he curses and my heart dances.

My body is hungry, wanting more, and I increase my pace, chasing another release.

His eyes open, lock on mine once again and we stay connected like that, both in gaze and in body. I watch the emotions shine there, in his supernaturally blue depths, see the vulnerability there, something akin to awe, as if he has trouble believing he’d ever be this way again, open and honest and bare with someone else, trusting them in so many ways.

“Bucky-” my voice drops into a whine as my peak hits, my eyes closing.

“No.” He orders and my eyes snap open. “Let me see you, baby. Let me watch you.”

Our eyes lock again as I give in and then he’s coming too, thrusting up into me one last time, eyes burning into mine, the expression in them driving me into another, simultaneous orgasm, which infinity loops back into Bucky, his body shuddering as my walls milk him, drawing his seed hungrily, and I realize that there’s few things I’d rather be in this world right now, than joined so viscerally with him like this.

The only thing that would make this better would be if his seed takes root inside me and I’m able to give him a child, a second chance, an opportunity for unconditional love.

I cough, wince at the pain that flares in my chest, taste copper in my mouth.

It won’t be long now, I feel the truth in my bones and, while it breaks my heart, I still fight it.

I need to see Bucky, even if its for the last time.

I’ll miss our life together, the way he always sought me out, wherever I was.

Touch-starved as he was, for nearly a century, once Bucky learned he could trust me, began to touch me whenever he could.

An arm around me from behind, lips on my neck. Tight hugs for no reason, seeming to recharge at our connection. Waking tangled up with the huge cuddle-bug, barely knowing where I ended, and he began.

And the way he’d cling to me on the couch, even if others were there too, uncaring about what they thought. Curled against me like a child, head buried in my neck, almost purring under my touch as I ran my hands along his back and shoulders, like stroking and taming a large beast, soaking in the touch-love like parched earth and water.

After almost a century of starving, he was hungry for connection now, for my touch.

I hate that I’ll be taking that from him.

Slight sounds I’ve been hearing sporadically for a while now but not really able to make out become faint rustles nearby, a muffled call.

The rubble creaks, threatens to shift and, after a fraught pause, the rustling continues.

“Lev?!” I hear someone call, faint and blurry, but the way the word cuts tells me they’re screaming.

I try to answer but can only croak.

The weight on my body is almost too much now, the exhaustion pulling me further and further down. My belly feels heavy and a faint part of me muses that I’m probably bleeding internally, probably have been since I came to in this horrible, choking blackness.

Would Bucky still love me if I were broken? No longer whole?

I know the answer.

Yes.

I loved Bucky before he was whole, when he was broken.

A giant rat is nearby, scratching, then the cutting scream again, closer and cracking with strain. I recognize it finally, Bucky’s voice, breaking with anxiety, snapping under the stress. His throat will be sore for days.

I imagine him tunneling through the rubble by hand, shaking off other’s hands that try to stop him, tell him it’s too late and there’s no way I can still be alive.

But I know he won’t stop, not until he can touch me again.

[imastrangeone98]

Inevitable Confrontation

(A/N: Carlos is a baby. I just realized that all over again. He's an adorable man-child)

Warning: some canon deviancy here, all for the sake of adding drama ^_^ strap on your big boy pants- this is gonna be a long one! Horribly written fight scene ahead!!

Emma felt like her body had been set on fire. Maybe it was. God, she was in so much pain... Her ribs felt awful, as if they were about to pierce her from the inside.

She just wanted to sleep...

"-ma!"

So tired...

"Emma!"

A harsh slap to the face forced her to open her eyes. She sat up with a jolt, wincing at the stabbing pain in her side. "What the hell...?"

"Oh, thank God!"

She was suddenly swept up in a bone crushing hug by Jill, who looked about as bad as she felt. "...What happened?"

She slowly pulled away, giving her a sad look. "The train got blasted from course. I think... I think we're the only survivors."

Emma suddenly thought of the small group of civilians in the back car. Of the platoon leader, Mikhail.

"They're... they're dead?" she choked out, gripping tightly at Jill's shoulders as her friend pulled her up. "All... all of them?"

She was given a weak nod. "Yeah. That fucking monster just won't die."

Emma nearly growled. "That's it. Next time I see that thing, I'm blasting its head open."

"You and me both, partner," Jill agreed, and they grasped each others' hands. "But in the meantime, let's get out of here. I don't think this place is safe."

As quickly as they dared, they made their way through the sewers, making occasional stops to try and contact Carlos through the small walkie-talkie.

His face. His deep eyes. His bright smile.

What was he doing now? Emma knew he was on some important job- at least, that was what her friend told her- but she still wondered if he was safe.

And to think for even a moment that I'd be able to never think about him again...

ROAR!

The two women flinched, glancing behind them at the empty, pitch-black hallways.

"C'mon," Jill whispered, yanking at her partner's shirt. "Climb!"

She obeyed, scrambling up the rungs of the ladder and hauling her body onto solid ground. Her friend emerged quickly after, only for the two to nearly jump at another howl from below.

"That fucker's still alive," she muttered. "We can't stay here."

So they kept moving, hoping to find some sense of higher ground on the bridge. Jill immediately began to try reestablishing contact with Carlos while Emma sat heavily on a bench.

"Carlos? Respond!" she tried once more.

A crackle on the radio, then, "Yeah, what's up?"

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief before responding. "We didn't make it. The train derailed."

Emma listened to them closely, feeling the comfort at hearing his voice.

But it immediately sank when the water beneath them began to bubble.

She stood up and began pushing at Jill. "We have to go!"

"What do you mean- What the fuck?!"

The bridge groaned and shook with the sudden weight of the monster as it slammed onto the surface. Water sluiced off of its grotesque limbs as it snarled at them, not unlike a rabid beast.

"It's back!" she screamed, tackling the other to the ground when it swiped at them. She yanked Emma up and pulled her along, sprinting as fast as they could.

"Keep running!" Emma called out, pushing her friend forward before pulling down pieces of metal in the faint hopes it would slow the creature down. Without stopping to see if it worked, she jumped across the sudden gap in the bridge, grabbing her partner's outstretched hand.

They dropped in front of the clock tower, where the monster slammed down in front of them, releasing another bloodcurdling roar.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Jill shouted at the thing as she prepped her grendade launcher.

Emma sighed, snatching up her dual pistols in both hands and firing them at the monster's potential weak points, expertly avoiding any swipes from its tentacles. Her partner used everything she had- shotgun, pistol, grenade launcher- while she chased after the tyrant, muttering profanities under her breath.

She did her best to keep up. Emma used every grenade she kept stored and nearly ran out of bullets with how frequently she was shooting.

But it was working. Bit by bit, the monster began to slow.

"Jill! It's now or never!"

"Alright," she replied, turning to the growling tyrant. "Let's do this. Suck it!"

Grenades exploded against the monster, over and over. Bits of skin, rubble, and ash flew everywhere. It stumbled, then collapsed, nearly jolting the two women into the air.

Emma groaned, clutching her abdomen. "Hopefully we don't have to do that again."

"Yeah." Jill sighed, rubbing her neck. She grabbed the small radio. "Carlos? You still there?"

No response- just white noise.

"Oh, come on!" she hissed at the machine. "You're gonna crap out on me now? Goddammit." She briskly moved to the other woman's side, helping her get an arm around her shoulders. "We should get moving, find someplace safe."

"Sounds like a plan," Emma wheezed with a pained grin.

They passed through the gate, carefully stepping over the tyrant's massive hand before continuing down the passageway-

And she was suddenly pulled to the floor. Her skin burned as it was dragged against the stone.

"Emma!" Jill cried. Burning with fury, her eyes locked onto the small chain above the gate. She shot it, and the whole thing came crashing down atop the thing's arm.

Blood oozed from the wound. Emma scooted away from it. Shivers ran down her entire body. "Oh God... Oh God..."

"It's okay," she comforted her friend, helping the smaller one to her feet. "Let's keep moving."

"...Right."

They turned their backs on the wounded thing.

A horrible mistake.

Without either one noticing, it released a sharp spike straight into Emma's arm before collapsing once more.

She yelped at the sudden pain radiating through her, and pulled out the spike. A sense of dread overcame her. Then weakness. Then-

[...]

Jill had the pistol aimed at her friend's head.

She knew what she had to do.

After the Arklay incident, the two had made a promise that if something like it ever occurred again, and one of them got infected, the other would shoot them. No guilt, no pain- just the relief that they would not end up becoming one of those monsters.

Jill would keep her end of the bargain. She had to. She promised.

"No matter what happens, I'll always have your back," the rookie promised with a sweet smile.

"You know what? We should go snowboarding," she mused over donuts.

"There's a hundred things I could do, and I'd choose being your friend above all of it."

Tears slipped down her cheeks. The muzzle slowly met the ground. Gently, she adjusted her friend so her head rested on her lap.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. The taste of salt and regret were heavy on her tongue.

She could not keep her promise after all.

[Half a Day Later...]

Carlos was exhausted.

Ever since the haunting call with Jill, he had absolutely no idea what happened to the two women. Were they injured? Were they-

His feet skittered on the pavement. His hands felt clammy. Air refused to enter his lungs.

On the ground, pale as death... was Emma.

He couldn't lie and say he didn't get tunnel vision. He sprinted to her, rifle clattering to the ground as he scooped her into his arms.

"Emma?" he croaked, lightly shaking her body. "Amor? What happened to you?" He turned to the second woman. Anger blazed in his eyes. "What the fuck happened to her?!"

The sobs continuing to wrack her body, but she managed to get out the words "tyrant" and "some kind of infection."

A chill ran down his spine.

Infected. She was infected.

His hands curled into fists. He stared at the cracks in the pavement. Some dark, monstrous part of himself whispered that it should have been Jill who got infected.

He forced it down. This wasn't the time for blame. Logically, he knew that it was something beyond either of their control.

...But there was something within his.

"Tyrell, do you copy?" he nearly screamed into the comlink.

"What's goin' on?"

"Emma's been infected. I..." Tears threatened to clog his throat; he swallowed. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Maybe Dr. Bard can save her."

"Alright. I'll meet you there."

With that accomplished, he turned to Jill. "I'm gonna carry her, but I'm useless with my gun."

She nodded, a glint of her usual determination shining through once again. "You can count on me."

With a nod, he lifted her into the air. She looked so pale... so helpless...

"Hang in there, baby," he murmured, pulling her closer to his chest. "Stay with me. Be strong."

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

A/N: so yea- Emma ended up being the infected rather than Jill but yes drama

Blehhh XD

This ended up being much longer than I expected or hoped. Maybe I should've broken it down into pieces.... whoops 😅

Edit: read the sequel! :D

[silver-wield]

I wanna hear your thoughts on the scene where Cloud, Tifa and Barret just finished fighting that big machine when the were scaling the wall to go save Aerith. (Sorry I totally forgot the name of the boss) Where the platform they’re on totally gives way and they all start falling.

Just finished the fight, or pre and post fight? Imma do the latter anyway cause I love being validated when I saw something and had people tell me I was seeing things.

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be reasonably long.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Other analyses if anyone’s interested.

Shinra HQ vision scene (Cloti/plot analysis) 

Chapter 3 (Cloti reblog) 

Tifa character analysis 

Aerith Resolution (plot analysis/theory – I should probably update this since I’ve had other ideas since then) 

Train graveyard (not really an analysis, but I got some sweet screenshots of Cloti) 

Clotiscrew tunnel analysis 

Cloti reunion analysis 

The Promise Analysis 

Andrea’s approval (Cloti ask response) 

Leslie analysis (not mine, but a good read) 

Cloti action touching 

Aerti friendship analysis 

Cloti body language chapter 3 

Cloti healthy disagreement 

Now, strap in and enjoy the ride.

Recap time! So our trio have made it almost to the top of the collapsed plate in Sector 7 and they stop to take in the view. After that there's some banter and a boss fight and more action touching. I just wanna say before I start that a lot of this is at a distance, so it's not gonna be much of an analysis since there's so few close ups and all the body language is geared towards protective/rescue type movements, which is pretty obvious.

Gonna start with the pre battle image here of Cloud smiling after making a joke because certain people like to get it in their heads that he's being serious here because it’s a callback to the whole “merc/money” thing. The fact both Tifa and Barret chuckle and Cloud literally smiles – DO YOU SEE HIM SMILING HERE?! – has a pretty simple meaning that he's grown close to them. He's no longer that cold af mercenary who only goes on about money in a serious way. This is his version of camaraderie which suits his dry af sense of humour.

Ok, so our heroes are triumphant and pretty pleased about it. Just throwing this one in for context since what comes next is pretty fast paced.

While Barrett's crowing, Cloud's already noticed something's wrong. That's just how quick his reflexes are. Frowning, looking at the mech. He can tell something's about to go sideways.

KABOOM! Platform starts collapsing, taking Tifa with it. Cloud's speed off the mark here is almost too quick to capture. He goes after her before she even realises she's falling. He wasn't even facing her when she slipped. She made a noise and he turned. That's how attentive he is towards her. Like, fucking hell, man, I'm blown away more and more with every in-depth look at their interactions.

We know Cloud's graceful af from watching him fight (not to mention that dance scene), but honestly, this looks next level even for him! I think this is the only time he goes this far with his body language. He's got his arms wide for balance, legs bent, I mean, he is literally using the tilting platform to increase his speed. This takes so much skill I'm super impressed! And he did this without even stopping to consider what he needed to do. He just did it.

Tifa's reaching for the ground, not Cloud, btw. I don't think she's noticed him yet – he's not quite in her field of vision – so she's attempting to save herself because she's not some damsel.

And if you think this screen was easy to get, you're wrong. I've literally never seen this bit of this scene before, it happens that quick! Cloud leaps without even being able to see if he's lined up with Tifa. This looks like an instinctive action from him. This isn't something he's been taught, this is all him wanting to protect Tifa and going above and beyond to do it.

To further reiterate the last screen, he's just leapt at her and hoped for the best. I mean, he could've knocked into her and sent her flying, but he got his arm around her, swung them both around and then shot a grappling hook all in one smooth action. This is definitely SOLDIER!Cloud in the driver's seat if anyone was wondering. There's no way our poor flawed real!Cloud could do this without second guessing himself. That's why he's got the false persona, so it'll give him confidence in situations like this to protect the woman he loves.

Cloud's totally focused in the moment and relying on Tifa to hang onto him now he's got her. For her part, I think she's a bit “wtaf where am I?” because everything happened so quickly. She's got her eyes squeezed shut, so she was clearly scared she was about to die.

Well, I was trying to grab a different shot that proved my point Tifa had her eyes closed and opened them when she heard the grappling gun fire, but this one's better. Yet another part of this fast paced scene that I didn't quite catch because it all goes by so quickly.

Cloud's got his arm around her waist, while she's clinging to his shoulder. To be fair, this isn't a very secure hold by either of them, but highlights the urgency of the moment. He's not been able to get her in a secure hold so he needs to get her to safety quickly.

Tifa's not even gripping him, which validates how quickly everything happened and how she's not caught up to what's going on. Not surprising, really. This all went by in milliseconds.

I honestly wasn't going to screen this either. It's the part where Barrett's line breaks, but I caught sight of Cloud and Tifa in the corner and thought why not? You'll see the hold still isn't that secure and Tifa's legs are all over the place. I will say it looks like she's got a tighter grip on his shoulder from this angle, so that's something. And...is Cloud’s hand splayed on her butt? I don’t wanna say yes, but the angle of his arm is suspicious.

And this is why Cloud's so damn good at what he does! Barrett's line snapped and he saw him falling from his peripheral vision! How on the ball is this guy?!?! Damn, with everything he does throughout Midgar and – we can assume -- beyond I honestly don't know how he can think he's not a hero. He is definitely a hero. Not a perfect one, but damn, he absolutely brings 110% to everything he does!

Omg Tifa's hold is worse than I thought! She's got her hand flat against his chest. I mean, at least grab hold of his shirt or something! She's barely holding onto him, so this is all him with his arm around her waist making sure she doesn't slip. I've gotta forgive her, I mean, it was quick action and I sure af wouldn't move anything in case I fell whatever the distance is between them and the ground lol

Even though Tifa's position is precarious af, Cloud's still relying on her to be his partner in this situation. He can't save Barrett, so she has to.

This is just a nice shot of how graceful they both are. Reminds me of when they're in the drum separately and Tifa and Aerith fall off the pipe – Tifa lands on her feet, Aerith lands on her face – and then Barrett and Cloud fall off a platform and Cloud lands on his feet and Barrett lands on his ass lol

It's telling that these two have similar balance and grace in a fight – probably why they combo so well.

And if I said the above screens were hard to get it's nothing on this one! This happened between one second and the next! I replayed it a million times to get that shot of Cloud going to put his hand on Tifa's back because I knew that's where he had one of them, but damn, if that wasn't boss level rewinding to get!

Okay, obviously the focus is saving Barrett here, and with that in mind the second Cloud's feet hit the ground he tosses the grappling gun to one side and goes to help Tifa haul him up. He puts one hand on her back and grabs her forearm with the other, lending her his strength and support.

And there's the proof in case anyone doubted my eye. That is Cloud's hand on Tifa's lower back. His other hand is gripping her forearm out of frame. I mean, does he need to have his hand there? Is that supportive in the context of the situation? Wouldn't it make more sense that he has his arm fully round her to stop her slipping? I know some of yall would be like “yes, that's better” from a ship pov, but from an action pov it does make more sense that he's got her in a firmer grip. It's almost like part of him doesn't want to make that closer contact because it's too intimate and he's trying to be professional. It's SOLDIER!Cloud basically. Mr “I keep my distance”. The guy who got them through that whole mess. Which does go to show that Cloud relies on that SOLDIER persona to save everyone's asses, but it also makes him more detatched. However, when there's no danger, he's more himself again.

I'd like to point out that if he'd actually had a better hold on Tifa, like I pointed out, she wouldn't have fallen over because Cloud would've been bracing her more. As it is she's on her ass and after checking Barrett's in one piece – quick look – Cloud's offering his hand to Tifa. We can't see his face in this moment, but we could guess there's an element of oops about him since it was kinda his fault she fell over.

Some quick banter and it's onto the Shinra building.

Conclusion:

Ofc this is an amazing action sequence! Everything happens so quickly that you definitely have to back and watch it again, pause it and examine everyone's faces and body language to really break down the sequence of events and motivations – besides rescue.

Cloud is definitely living up to the SOLDIER hype, even though he's never been one. I wonder how he got so skilled. Is this CC stuff? Or is he just going for broke and getting lucky? It says a lot that he'll just dive into whatever danger is around when Tifa's life is on the line. But, he also trusts her to come through in a pinch too. He just had to say her name and she got his meaning. That's some beautiful synchronisation from them. They're showing how much of a unit they are. Battle couples are one of my favourite tropes and that whole mind reader part of it is just perfection to me.

Even though this is a scene of SOLDIER!Cloud at his best, that side of him also knows he can trust Tifa to support him, and even while he's being all business there's part of him that still yearns to be close to Tifa and has to resist.

[nighteyed]

Shine On ~

Let me preface this story with a disclaimer. This is my first ever, Jurdan fanfic. It is by no means perfect. Second, I listen to music and write. If you are an Amity Affliction fan then the title and the contents of this story might not surprise you. I pulled a lot from the lyrics and from their official music video, even throwing in a few scenes from the video. (EXCEPT WHEN YOUNGBLOODS PLAYED AND “FUCK THE REAPER” GOT THROWN ACROSS A SHIRT) 

Fandom: The Folk of the Air 

Pairing: Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: Teen (there are descriptions and mentions of abuse)

Written By: forbiddencorvidae | corvids_5

The green door stares me in the face, it’s like a mocking leer, the color for which I share a name. I hate it. I hate this place, but I press forward, grip the handle and turn it. 

It curls and wraps, shrivels all around, the smoke that sinks into my skin, burns across the whites of my eyes and stains them yellow. There is a haze in this room, as I slowly close the door behind me. My eyes landing on the dozen blue ribbon cans on the kitchen table, my bag swaying at my hip. There is a cat mewling in the corner, four kittens suckling and my lips curl in disgust. Curdling, the smoke weaves through my hair, grazes my cheek bones, congeals at the corners of my mouth and then dives deep down my throat and strangles me. 

I turn to my right, a safe hallway that I will escape through, to the safety of my room and a window that I am desperate to throw open and gulp down air that will purify my already rotting lungs. Doc’s hit something sturdy, hard bones and meat and I’m falling forward, downwards, in a spiral of swinging arms, bracing against the wall, trying, trying not to wake him. 

There is a beast in this tunnel, beneath me and I will not escape him. 

I’m flattened, defeated, pinned under a body much bigger than my own. My eyes are filled with obsidian spots that flutter across my vision. My head pulses and splits, spitting images across my eyes, blocked out by the dark specs that blind me. I feel a hand on my throat, claws digging into the sides of my neck, palm hot and pressing. I’m a child hiding in a closet, afraid and weeping. I feel the wisp of a tail, hear a cat mewling and I am weak, undone, I succumb to the torrent and do not brace for the onslaught. Tears are leaking from my eyes as my nose crunches into my face, a fist smashes against my cheek, my head flies into the wall. Adrenaline rockets though me and my mouth salivates, my body begins to shake as my blood free flows and chokes me. It pours from me in rivers. I’m drowning in my spit, tears and blood, I am drowning in life.  

It’s going to be a real shinner, I hear him say. His laughter penetrates and permeates, slithers up my spine and around my neck. My bag is forgotten as I manage to fight my way to my knees and brace the wall, pulling myself from the floor and fumbling towards my bedroom door. It swings open, a rabbithole that I am all too happy to fall within and my bed a welcoming crash against my skin.

*  

It is raining as I watch them. Three girls file from the suburban and march across the lawn to the red front door. The house across the lane is no longer empty, it is now filled with people and Balekin tells me that one of them has horns. 

“General Madoc is to be my personal bodyguard," Balekin pulls at his collar and smirks. He is proud, I hear the bragging undertones in his voice, cool like onyx. "There has been some disturbing mail coming into the office. Some threatening letters and I do not stand by and obey idle threats." Balekin pulls at the cuffs of his suit and presses the palm of his right hand to the crown of my head, my lips sneer at his touch. 

“You can stop sending them, little brother,” Balekin turns and drags his knuckles along the innards of the hallway, his rings scraping against the paint and drywall. “One day you might end up at the bottom of the creek.”

Good, I want to say, but I've learned that with a quick witted tongue you have to learn to hold it. Instead I feel the corners of my lips twitch and I pick at the tips of my fingers, there is glue under my nails.

*

There is a tap against my window that wakes me. My blood has crusted against my skin, and there is a weal under my right eye, it swells and presses into the underside of my eye. My head is still a ringing mess, my body sore and aching as adrenaline has seeped from me. My sheet sticks to the side of my face and I feel the hairs on my face pull and release as I rip myself from my bed. But when I turn to look at the window, I finally see for the first time, everything that he has tried to blackout.

“You have been home for hours and you never opened your window Cardan,” I can hear Jude from behind the sheer black curtain, from behind the single pane glass. “Cardan,” Jude is already pulling open the window, already swinging her leg through it and into my space. I bow my head at her commanding presence, her air as she enters my room, she fills every part of me with molten, down to my toes that threaten to drag me towards her. My neck is a hinge and I have lost all my will to lift my head and look into her eyes, so I close my eyes and I remember the day that she told me the first truth I have ever received. 

*

I’m free, the wind blowing through my hair. I peddle faster and faster, all the while Jude Duarte yells behind me. Her auburn hair is styled up in horns, like some freak, like those stupid stories she reads.

“I HATE YOU CARDAN GREENBRIAR!” She is screaming from behind him, running as fast as her legs will take her. 

“YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU! YOU AND YOUR BLACK HEART!”

I can’t help but smile at her words, they warm my blackened heart because no one has ever spoken such truth to me. 

I will reward her by dumping this pink bike in the creek tonight. 

*

“Cardan…” 

I hate the sound of her voice, as it is now, laced with pain and pity as it pulls me from a precious memory. She will never know how much I wish her to be that little girl again, in the street, yelling that she hates me over and over again. I just want to feel alive, with the wind in my hair and her words in my veins. 

She approaches me tentatively, it has been different, since that time. When I took her on this bed that is now stained with my blood. She is soft and full of sweet words, when all I need is her seething and swearing under me, over me, around me, I don’t care so long as she breaks over me, like water against rock, coating me, consuming me.

“Cardan, look at me.”

I see her booted feet from between my legs and I struggle to lift my head. Her hands come into my line of vision as her palms cradle my cheeks, my shoulders flinching at the warm, delicate touch of her skin. Slowly, she helps me, rolls my head on my shoulders until it is fully erect and I am staring up at her.

“Will you kiss me now and make this better?” My words are laced with venom as I say them and they slather against her skin as her fingers drag across my lips. “Kiss me Jude,” I press my tongue against her palm, my eyes never leaving her’s. Her gaze, lighting a fire in my heart as she stares down at me with eyes full of adoration, full of love and my guts twist at the emotion. 

“Stop Jude,” I turn my head to my left, tucking my chin to my shoulder. “Stop staring at me with those eyes that disgust me.”

There is a long pause that billows in the air and nestles itself into my collapsing lungs. I pull in a ragged breath, the insult pains me more than the evidence on my face. 

“I know you are hurting,” Jude whispers.

I want to bury my face in her white tank, but instead I snake my fingers through her belt loops and drag her towards me, pressing the crown of my head into her abdomen. I'm weak, so weak, so tired of this and all I want is to find a better place to live.

“But you are too strong to drown Cardan,” she whispers and it is to the room, to whomever will hear the words, I know they are not words for me. Those words are a prayer, for her alone.

I feel her nails drag across my scalp and they catch on a patch of matted hair and a memory flashes through my mind.

*

“Why do you speak like that?” Jude is sitting next to me by the creek and the sun is setting behind the buildings of the city beyond. “You sound too smart for a thirteen year old, it isn’t...normal.”

I scoff at her word choice and deign not to answer, but she presses and I acquiesce to her persistence. “I read Jude, books of all shapes and sizes. To learn, sharpen my tongue, to save me.” My sable hair ruffling in the warm breeze as I feel her shift next to me. Jude presses her pink lips to my cheek and my brows knit together. Partly at her action and partly because her lips have stoked the ache back into my jaw, my bruise with it’s yellowing center and purple ring ripples as I clench my jaw at her touch. Jude weaves her arm between mine and she pulls me closer towards her, it warms my bones. I feel something growing underneath the surface of my skin and there is no energy within me to deny it. So, I do the one thing that I am good at when it comes to Jude, I destroy it. 

"Why do you wear your hair like that?" My question is blunt and like a club it strikes at her. I can see her discomfort as she shifts and pulls away from me and it is only shadowed by the simmer in her eyes. 

"The Queen of Elfhame wears her hair like this," Jude spits at me, like I should know this, like we hadn’t played High King and Queen when we were ten. In a rare moment, when I found myself in Jude’s room, I saw her tattered copy of “The Queen of Nothing”, it fell from her nightstand, under her bed. I had reached to retrieve it, to place it back safely where she could find it when my fingers found a slip of paper instead.

I hate you Cardan Greenbriar. I hate you Cardan Greenbriar. I hate you Cardan Greenbriar. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Hate. Hate. Hate. You. Cardan Greenbriar. I love you.

"Some fairytale, those aren't real Jude. Grow up." My words leave my mouth like needles and I have aimed them to prick in all the right places. There is nothing better than this. This is what we have. I have a brother who beats me and she has… 

A demon lurks behind the walls of her home, a murderer. 

“There has to be something better than this Cardan. Something worth living for,” Jude traces a finger to the bruise along my jaw and gently presses. Jude is so full of hopes and dreams, so hungry for all the things that people like me cannot have. She is blinding, like the sun shinning through a diamond and splashing against me. Yet, I want to believe her, to feel hope curl along my insides and blossom in my chest. I want to be so full of hope that I am sick of it. I blame the day she cursed me in the street, cursed my black heart even though I know it bleeds for her. 

If she wants a fairytale then one day she will have it and I want to see her shine, be the one to give it.

“One day, Jude, I will take you to Insmire,” I let loose a rare smile and revel in the widening of her eyes. 

*

“Jude,” I let my left leg shoot between hers and I crane my neck upwards so that I can see her, my cheek still firmly against her. Walnut eyes stare down at me and my fingers clench tightly against her hips, she is wearing a hat, it isn’t like her. “Your hair—its not, the horns," my voice is soft, questioning, so unlike my usual tone.

"I'm not twelve anymore Cardan," Jude presses her thumb to my bottom lip, her fingers cupping around my chin, pressing the side of my face firmly against her. "You were right. fairytales aren't real. Insmire, Elfhame, they are not real. No matter how much I wish them to be. No matter how much I wish that this—" She finally lets lose the breath that she has been holding in, since she has seen my face. “I just wish this was easier and if I could, I would break him.” Her words are like razors and I know that there is a truth to them. Jude is fire against me and I know now that I don’t want her to crash against me like water, I want her to scorch me, mark me, taint me. 

We are not children anymore.

We've tasted sweet whiskey, gone skinny dipping in the creek, she has seen her mother killed, her father cut down, I've lived my life on the ground, with bruises and cuts inked into my skin and I've pressed my tongue between her legs and tasted sweet bliss. I've felt her heat around me, pulling me closer to her, wringing from me everything that I am and she has always outlasted me. 

"Jude, go home." I push her away as I rise from the bed I've slept on since I was a child, the bed in which I laid her bare. Her eyes are full of hurt, but I see the curiosity that is stitched along her irises, she doesn't understand why I am doing this. 

"You shouldn't be sneaking into the Governor's house," I say as I ruffle the paperwork on my nightstand. "You aren't a kid anymore. It's breaking and entering," I sigh as I fall back on my bed and slide my fingers under my mattress, the thick envelope greeting the tips. 

"Balekin wouldn’t dare," Jude scoffs.

"Balekin, hates you, leers at you." I press my forefinger and thumb to the bridge of my nose and squeeze, the pain knitting my eyes closed. "Balekin says many things Jude. There is only abhorrence for your family, your father, deeply seeded and nourished with pale ale." My eyes find her's, there is shock there, truly. What did she expect?

"Do you hate me Cardan?"

Her question would have caught me off guard, if I didn't actually know that it was coming. 

Yes. 

My voice whispers across the blackness of my mind, her eyes like glass, round and waiting.

Make it easy for me, do not stare at me with those fragile eyes.

"Yes," I finally say. "Yes, I hate you. You once cursed my blackened heart, Jude, but it isn't the worm riddled, flea bitten parts of me that hates you. It's the parts that you have ignited and turned to flame."

She steps towards me and leans forward, her lips brushing against the shell of my ear as she whispers. A second later she is gone, out the window and the last light of the day fades with her.

The shower spray hits my skin like heated bullets and I watch as the water bleeds red between my toes. My hair falls into my eyes as I drag my fingers across my nose and press, I hear a faint pop from under the spray and my toes curl. I can breath again, barely. I toss around Jude’s words in my head and a smile creeps across my lips. I turn the shower knob and I’m left standing naked and in the cold. 

I hear Balekin, in the other room, the television is fading in and out as he flips through the channels and I can see him through the drywall, sprawled across the couch, a blue ribbon can, clutched between his bruising fist. My smile pulls into a smug of satisfaction as I know that even though he has beat me, I have left a mark on his unblemished skin. Tomorrow, when he holds his scheduled press conference, he will wear gloves, in the middle of August and I will know that underneath them is the evidence of his abuse. 

I pull a pair of black jeans on and open the bathroom door, then I break for my bedroom, my toes barely touching the wood floor, it feels as if I am flying. I click the door close softly and grab a black hoodie from my closet, pulling it over my head I make my way towards my bed, slipping into my doc martens. I flip the mattress and pull the envelope, the one that I felt earlier and tear it open. I count the bills in quick succession, the envelope now forgotten on the floor as I pocket the money down the front of my jeans. I pull a book from my nightstand and I grab a duffle from underneath my bed. I quickly pack what I may need and I brace myself to enter the hallway and head towards the front room. 

I see the television from the mouth of the hallway and I count the seconds with each breath that I take. A minute goes by and the television channel has not changed, I hear a faint snoring and I exhale. I tip-toe across the room and I find Balekin’s briefcase tucked underneath the table. I feel inside the pockets until my fingers brush along something cold and heavy, my fist wrapping around the keys and I tear them from the bag. I have to tip-toe to the front door and I close it gently. 

In my driveway Jude is waiting for me. Her hair is flowing in the evening breeze and she leaves me breathless with the sight of her. Her auburn hair is rolled up in two horns on her head and I can hear the little girl in the street from all those years ago. Yet, this time she isn’t screaming how much she hates me, she is whispering in my ear that she loves me. She is wearing a black tank top with a saying across the front and it makes me smile, a gut tightening, teeth bared smile and I want to fall into her eyes as they widen at me. Before I know what I am doing, my feet take me to her and I drop my bag at her feet, my hands reaching for the sides of her face and pulling her into my lips. 

She tastes like spun sugar and I worry that if I am not gentle I will break her, that she will wilt in my embrace, but she pulls me closer and hugs me tighter. 

“Lets go,” I say as I pull her towards the passenger side of Balekin’s black mustang.

“Wait, wait,” She whispers into the night around me. “I’m going to drive, you push and when we are down the block, I’ll start her up.”

I smile at her wonderful mind and watch her as she darts across the front of the car and jumps into the driver seat. I hear the car slink into neutral and it rolls slightly down the driveway. Tossing my bag into the back seat, I reach the backend and push, the car rolls and with every second that passes I can taste freedom. It isn't until I hear the engine roar to life and Jude’s laughter from the front seat, that  I finally run towards the passenger side and jump in. 

Jude hits the gas and the wind pulls at my hair and I do the one thing that I had promised myself that I would never do. I turn and look back at the house that will probably forever haunt my dreams. I smile and raise my fists to that green front door and I flip it off, a howl of laughter escaping my lungs and it feels so good to finally breathe. Without hesitation, without the worry that I would wake a sleeping beast. 

Jude is to my left and there is a smile on her lips and I thank every star in the sky. Her hand weaves towards mine  and I link my knuckles to hers and squeeze, bringing the back of her hand to my mouth. I kiss her flesh with vehemence and press my nose to her pulse. 

I reach for the stereo, flip it on and as we drive through the night, under the shining stars, Jude sings.

"Shine on, shine on young love." 

And I lean towards her and whisper in her ear. "Thank you, for saving me."

[deathpuppies12]

The Bombing of Emotions

Cloud x Teen! reader

Part IV

You did what

Chatting with Cloud can go one of two ways. One, he indulges in my stupidity and jokes around with me. Two, he completely ignores me and I'm basically talking to myself. Lucky for me, today is option one. I wonder what has got him in such a good mood. 

I bet it's Tifa or that he is getting paid a lot of money. Either way I'm gonna enjoy it while I can. The sound of someone coming up from the basement takes us out of our conversation. It's Tifa, looking pretty stressed.

Maybe I should go back to where I was sitting at the table. I slowly start to get up to sit down else where. Thankful Cloud doesn't make sit back down, that would be awkward. 

As I stand up my head starts to pound. It's the most awful pain I've ever felt. I hold my head out of shock. I feel tears naturally drop down my face. 

"Hey you ok", I think Tifa asks.

 "Yeah, probably just stood up to fast", I respond. 

"You sure kid, maybe you should sit down", Cloud says. 

"It's fine, I'm just gonna step outside, gets some sunlight on me", I say.

 I stumble outside, my head still in excruciating pain.

I feel like I'm gonna hurl. What could be causing this. I haven't eaten anything today, maybe that's why. I hear fast footsteps, I stumble to my feet only to crumble to the ground in front of someone. I have my eyes shut tight from pain so I have no idea who's feet I'm laying at. 

I feel more pain, the pounding is so loud it Blocks out the sound around me. Some one grabs my arm and suddenly images are flashing through my mind. I see a figure with long hair and a tall figure standing next to each other. The image flashes and I see a figure on their knees with another figure holding something to their head. The image flashes once more and the pounding stops. 

What the hell, just happened. I open my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. I glance around and see I'm still on the Porch of Seventh Heaven. 

"(Y/n), Kid, can you hear me", I hear a voice say. 

Hovering over me is Cloud.

 "Huh", everything is so blurry, I'm so confused. 

"What happened when you came outside", Cloud asks? 

"Well I came out here to sit down, but then I heard you coming outside so I stood up but I only collapsed", I explain.

"Can you walk", Cloud asks.

 "I think", I slowly stand up. 

I stumble a little bit, but gain my balance.

 "Ok, let's go home", Cloud says. 

I follow Cloud, but we are stopped by a group of strangely dressed men. "Hey you there, blonde guy", they call out Cloud.

 I latch on to Clouds arm. 

"Who are these guys", I whisper to Cloud. 

"I don't know, just hold", Cloud pull’s out of my grasp and walks up to them. 

"Hey you know where a guy with a gun for an arm is" the leader asks Cloud. 

A guy with a gun for an arm, wait that’s the guy from last night. They circle Cloud, I start to get nervous. 

"Depends", Cloud responds shortly.

"Come on let's go talk else where", the leader says. 

Cloud walks off with them, turning to me slightly he mouths "stay there". I listen this time, those guys are scary. I hope Cloud will be ok, there was a lot of them. I know Cloud can handle it if something happens though.

Cloud’s POV

I follow them to the back tunnel I was in earlier. I notice he tells one of the guys to stay behind. What are they planning. I walk in first the rest following behind.

 "Now we got you here tells where the guy is", the guy demands. 

"I said it depends" I respond. 

"Fine if that's how you want it, that girl you were with is another person we were asked to find", he says. 

I pull out my Buster sword, "you stay away from her". 

"Hey man now go get her, we got him", he yells to the man outside. 

Oh hell no, I'll take these guys out quickly.

Your POV

I hear fast footsteps coming my way. I turn around and see it’s one of those men from before. I prepare to use my materia but he grabs me before I get the chance. I punch my arms in out trying to fight back, but I feel all my energy leave me.

 How the fuck is this guy doing this. I feel myself being thrown over someone's shoulder. 

"HEY", I hear a shout in the distance. 

I want to look at who it is but I can't move. 

"Put her down", the voice is closer now.

 "No way man, the pay I'll be getting if I bring her in is more than you can imagine", the guy holding me says. 

What the fuck is going on. I feel the man get kicked to the ground and someone grabbing me out of the air. I being held  bridal style now. 

"If you ever come back here to find her, you will have to deal with me", the person holding me says. I open my eyes the best I can to see Cloud.

 "C-Cloud", I stutter. 

"Hang on, were going back now", Cloud starts to walk home.

My eyes flutter open and closed for the whole walk. "Hi honey welcome home, took your sweet time", I hear a girls voice say.

 Huh, I didn't know Cloud actually had a girlfriend.

 "Psych", I hear her say. 

They must assume I'm asleep because they being to talk about business.

 "Can we talk inside, she's asleep so I don't think she will hear us", the strange girl says. 

We head inside and Cloud sets me down on the bed. Listening in on their conversation I understand that they are gonna sneak into a Shinra building tonight. To get things to build a bomb. A bomb for what though.

 "Last time I used a stronger blasting Agent, that's why the reactor exploded like that", the girl says. 

A reactor, wait does she mean those big towers that have the mako stuff in them.

Why would Cloud do that, I know him and Tifa are close but I didn't think he would go that far. The girl finally leaves, good, now I can confront Cloud. I open my eyes and sit up. 

"You blew up a reactor", I say. 

Cloud jumps, surprised that I'm awake.

 "Yeah whatever", Cloud brushes it off. 

"Why didn't you tell me", I ask. 

"I doesn't matter", Cloud says. 

I guess he's right, I don't even really know what a reactor is. 

"Anyway, about those guys before, what did they want with me", I ask. 

"I don't know, I was hoping there would be some answers In that backpack of yours", Cloud says.

 "Well let's find out", I say.

I open up my bag and unzip the mysteries zipper. I pull a book, I'm it looks like a journal. Flipping it open I notice a lot of the pages have been ripped out. Why, what could be so bad that they needed to tear them up. 

I look over the pages that haven’t been torn out. The first few pages don’t really have any information that will help me. I flip to to the back and find a note addressed to me. What the hell?

‘(Y/n) if your reading this, it means you made it out, there are gonna be people who are looking for you, I can’t wright out all the information on this page but I need you know that I’m here for even if I’m not physically there’ signed Miles.

This isn’t my favorite chapter that I have written but we’re getting more drama from the past

[boltlightning]

man. i know this episode deserves accolades out the ass and we have collectively talked it to death as a community, but the back half of mr. yin presents is so, so powerful. let’s dive in:

chief cares about her people above all else; you see her, for the first time ever, arm up and offer to drive when she knows where yin has taken juliet. she is using every tool available to her to make sure her team is safe, she constantly insists on shawn/gus/henry (who are civilians) being given stricter security, she takes the blame when juliet disappears.....she cares SO MUCH. 

henry would do absolutely anything for shawn. they were a bit cool this season — there’s a few moments where henry sardonically notes that he’s almost always the one who helps shawn unravel his case. he literally bails shawn out from a false accusation in think tank. but when he knows abigail is in trouble, and knows shawn is going to save her alone, he takes a job he didn’t really want just so he can go after his son.

AND BOTH OF THEM IMMEDIATELY PUT ON THEIR CHARMERS TO KEEP ABIGAIL CALM. without hesitation, henry leaps right in with his swiss and cuts abigail free under the pier. shawn and henry spend so much time consumed with their differences that they don’t ever acknowledge their similarities, and especially not the good similarities. both these men have everflowing compassion that are overlaid by their affable manner (shawn) or rigid competence (henry) and it is so gratifying to see them come together at the climax of the episode

gus is just the...the bravest and kindest man. he cares so much about shawn, and has really come to trust and love the entire team. it is amazing to see him seriously involved in the episode, as good as his support system for shawn was in the first yang episode. shawn may have the psychic-ness, but gus is the heart of psych. gus is (very realistically!) afraid of these terrible situations they find themselves in and hates the sight of blood and is adamant about not becoming the casualty of a slasher movie trope...but he is the first to go after juliet when they lose sight of her in yin’s trap. he picks up her gun and chases after her in a secret tunnel. he goes to the clock tower when shawn cannot because they trust each other SO MUCH, and keeps the wire from snapping even though it is the mechanized clocktower for an entire city because he is a brilliant and brave and strong man and i love him with all my HEART

no one needs Another Essay About Lassiter And Juliet from Me, Bolt Lightning, but god. i’d noticed a few episodes in that their dynamic in s4 has shifted to lassiter being overly friendly with juliet because he trusts her that much, while juliet is a lot more confident in their relationship...but their trust and love runs so goddamn deep. for the first time in the entire series (and i think for the rest of the series total!), lassiter directly defies chief’s orders. he sets off on his own to go get juliet as soon as they figure out the clue and doesn’t even stop to consider what it may do to his career if he does. carlton lassiter!! carlton fucking lassiter who, one episode ago, was telling everyone to shut the hell up so he could chase a fantastical lead and get better press coverage. he is petty and mean and calloused but he is loyal to his very bones, and juliet has earned every ounce of his trust.

and juliet...i feel like women who are competent and in actionable roles often get written into a box where they’re defined by their badassery. they aren’t allowed vulnerable moments because it doesn’t suit their image as an asskicking action girl. but juliet is both in spades in this episode; she is fearless and dedicated, and walks into what she knows is a trap because it’s what needs to be done. she knows the risks. she does it anyway. and juliet has never been a damsel in distress — most of the time she and lassiter are bailing shawn and gus out from danger — so the way she faces this says so much about her. that she reads yin’s clue as he directs, and still tries to let shawn know that abigail can be saved too with what little opportunity she has? even though shawn has kind of been an ass to her for the last year? fucking STELLAR. 

she stares straight ahead the entire time she’s on the clocktower, even after gus and lassiter save her, and you can see the absolute terror and eerie acceptance in her eyes. she knows shawn will go to abigail, and she would prefer it. abigail is a civilian, she is not.

maggie lawson is so talented jesus christ. like they all are but this performance is so phenomenal

and then we get that amazing, powerful, wordless shot of her and lassiter at the end. anyone would be rattled after that, and juliet, who is always a beacon of understanding and acceptance and cheer, is going through shock. i actually paid enough attention to lipread on the rewatch and i’m pretty sure she’s insisting to lassiter “i’m fine, i’m fine” and lassiter just says “you don’t need to be fine” and she collapses against him. that fucking shit kills me man. carlton lassiter, the king of emotional repression, tells her it’s ok to not be fine. god. strike me down where i stand

this is getting unwieldy but shawn is the person of the hour. truly. he is such an amazing protagonist. i have so many gripes with how he’s written in certain spots of s4, and i’m sure i’ll talk more about that in s5 and s6, but good god. everything that happens in this episode is his worst nightmare — people he cares for are hurt because he can’t crack a case fast enough. his very profession puts abigail in danger. he has always been flippant, and wise-cracking, and even a little careless, but his intention was to put bad guys away and make a living. he knows the dangers of his career and his loved ones being put in harm’s way has always, ALWAYS made him deeply uncomfortable. and in this episode he confronts what is maybe the worst example of it in the show

he really, truly cares for abigail, and that this completely unpredictable side effect of his job likely ate him up alive for so long. he may have been a bad boyfriend, but he was so willing to see what she needed from him to make the relationship work after her rescue...shawn is also a character you rarely see vulnerable. he has a gun pointed at his head every second episode but he is almost always certain that some serendipitous event will happen to get him out alive. but this was all him. and he bares his heart to abigail, without any of his wordsmithery or reference-laden snark. this case took so much from him. and it truly beat him down the entire time

lighter notes:

i love buzz mcnab and he loves the team so much. tall king

mary’s death is really goddamn sad and it makes me doubletake at the way he’s been portrayed in the musical/second movie

if you read all this thank you very much please talk to me about carlton and juliet

[i-can-do-tricks]

archivist sasha tma au living in my head rent free is just the truth babe!!!!

wrote a little something because while not!jon is fucking great i had to put my own spin on it for a minute. this is all well and good and definitely not awful

now on [ao3]

During the Prentiss attack Jon gets separated from Tim in the tunnels after they both lose Martin, and he finds himself back in the Institute. In artifact storage.

He’s not alone.

After he meets back up with everyone, he’s……not acting quite right. Martin can’t put a finger on HOW, but he concludes WHY is because of this Very stressful encounter with the alleged supernatural firsthand. He doesn’t think about it again for a long time.

Everything’s back to normal, or at least as “normal” as working in the Magnus Institute really can be, but Jon is… different? But not in ways immediately obvious. More…mellow. More keen on making conversation than refusing to shut up about the Leitners. Doesn’t fidget with the stapler anymore. Much more easily pressured to clock out on time instead of staying late.

Every time Sasha’s mind wanders over to one of these thoughts, she can’t help but dismiss it without a second thought. She’s glad that Jon’s making healthier decisions since the attack, it had really taken a toll on his physical and mental health more than the others. She’s glad that she doesn’t have to worry about him, she tells herself, though there’s something lingering behind that sentence she can’t quite parse.

A woman had arrived in the Archives, though to provide support for her friend making a statement rather than herself. She had a statement of her own inside her, Sasha had been growing strong enough to… know that, but the woman just didn’t want to give it, was all. Georgie Barker, she said her name was when Sasha asked.

They got to talking, and both Georgie and her friend Melanie had stayed in touch, being intrigued by the supernatural themselves and apparently what Sasha had to say about it. Georgie had been visiting one time when Sasha noticed she had been looking strangely at someone at the other side of the room. Sasha knew that Georgie and Jon had been together at one point, and now they weren’t, so she didn’t really pay attention to the weird glance Georgie was giving him until she spoke up.

Why was Jon drinking coffee?

At Sasha’s confusion, Georgie started listing things that as they were pointed out suddenly became clear they didn’t make sense. Jon hated that sweater vest, he’d always said it was so scratchy he could feel it under his shirt. Jon claimed to like being tidy, but he could never get papers in just the way they were neatly piled on his desk now. Jon wouldn’t be caught DEAD listening to his old Mechanisms songs for fear that someone would see and find out about the band he was part of in college. Georgie knew Jon, why was he acting so differently? Somewhere behind Sasha’s eyes begin to hurt.

Sasha’s clever. Of course she’d realize something had been shifting her attention away from the couple of statements she’d dropped three times now, one of them even in the trash. It had taken an ungodly amount of excruciating focus to listen and read through each one of them, one after the other. The house on Hilltop Road. A psychology experiment gone wrong. A student choked by a thick cloud of strings that had pulled them along through living for weeks, unnoticed. A tape that had turned on back when Sasha had rushed out of the room to warn Tim of the woman behind him, of Jon confiding in Martin about his encounter with a Leitner when he was a child.

Sasha listened to this one for as long as she could, somehow knowing it to be the last record of Jon she had before… it was the last time she had heard Jon being scared, she realized. The next day, when Sasha looked closely, she could see the faintest of oily threads glinting in the air above Jon’s hands.

Jon was being punished for pulling back the curtain, for showing a thread pertaining to him thought to be invisible, even to just one person that he loved.

And she hated it.

When she’s ready, she sends the rest of the staff home early, and thinks she has Jon cornered. He’s lying still in the cot in one of the back rooms of the Archives, the one he hadn’t used in so long ever since he had been…”convinced” not to overwork himself, with the lights off. When Sasha calls out to who might be the puppeteer, he freezes, curled up so tightly that he felt more like a crumpled sack of….. than a person. When Sasha calls out to Jon, though, he risks a glance over his shoulder toward the door of the room and, seeing a figure there, quickly turns back to the wall, muttering to himself near inaudibly; if he doesn’t move at all, doesn’t struggle, then maybe the Spider watching at the edge of the web he was trapped in wouldn’t notice, and more importantly, he’d know that his inaction was his own–

Sasha hears rope of all kinds of thickness stretching and tightening from down the hallway. She snaps into focus and hefts up Jon in her arms, much to his (though not disgruntled) bewilderment, and carries him out of the institute as fast as she can, wiping cobwebs stuck in Jon’s hair and clothes away, and pulling apart the now oh-so delicate spiderweb threads attached to his hands, his legs, his tongue….

The floor is sticky beneath her feet.

A few days later, when Sasha was still letting Jon stay at her flat and giving everyone paid leave while the…exterminators? got rid of the spiderwebs and the rest of the unexplained infestation, she invited Tim and Martin to get lunch with them.

Jon told the three of them how at first, it really didn’t feel like he was being controlled or compelled. When he did something just a touch too out of character, even for him, he felt surprised, but he guessed the attack had changed him a lot more than he thought.

That is, until he noticed the strings.

Before he could properly realize what they even were the strings tightened, thousands of impossibly strong threads constricting around him so tightly he couldn’t move.

Until he did.

It hadn’t hurt, no, but it felt wrong, walking too slowly and standing too straight, words coming out of his mouth so alien it felt like someone else’s, with the bitter taste of bad coffee lingering on his tongue. The strings hid any sign of loosening its suffocating hold, so he became numb, slowly turning complacent that he would never be able to act of his own accord again at the same time as being utterly terrified out of his mind by that very same thought.

As the months went on he felt something else rise up, however. Jon had lost his tongue to a string ages ago, and when whatever was speaking did talk… they were polite. More considerate to Martin when he slipped up. Friendlier with Tim and easier to laugh with. Jon became all too aware that whatever- whoever he was was taking greater care of himself than he had ever thought to. Maybe- if he ever DID come back- it would just be better to give himself up again, if he did anything himself he’d just ruin everything, he should just not-

At that point Jon had full collapsed with his head on the table, shaking and sobbing in front of the three of them. Martin had been crying as Jon spoke, and now reached out tentatively to comfort him. Tim was certainly no worse for wear, tears in his own eyes and looking completely distraught as he thought about the talks he’d had in the past seven months when someone who was Jon, but somehow so very not Jon had been working with them, and they had just….never noticed.

With Jon’s permission, Sasha placed the tape recorder on the table in front of them and pressed play. They wordlessly listened to Jon and Martin panicking and hunkering down in the Archives, hiding from the worms, when Jon had told Martin about Mr. Spider; the last time in seven months any of the four of them had heard Jon speaking.

[merinnan]

DMBJ Explore with the Note Ep 5

Okay, now that my workshop is finished, time for DMBJ Explore with the Note ep 5! Otherwise I will spend the entire afternoon just fucking around in WoW instead (one day I will show you screenshots of my Iron Triangle-as-WoW-toons).

We start ep 5 with the usual counts 

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone 

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0 

Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 3

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone 

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6

- It's been a few eps since we had updates to the rescue or swoon counts, so here's hoping for Ep 5 

- Ah, yes, the baby archaeologists just discovered the heavenly palace 

- At least this girl is marginally less annoying than she was in the novel 

- ...okay, I take it back

- Sweetie, it's a fucking tomb, why are you upset that there's a corpse in there? 

- Those are some impressive fingernails 

- lol, and they were all so distracted by the girl that no-one noticed 'Xiao Zhang' going all Zhang Qiling to get up there to check out what freaked her out

- I am disappoint that they didn't keep the present time crew in form-fitting wetsuits for the whole underwater tomb investigation like they did with the flashback crew 

- OMG the look on Wenjin's face, I love it 

- I think she's starting to realise that he knows what he's doing

-Very good questions, Wenjin 

- Oh, so that wasn't just better set lighting, the tomb was actually fully lit somehow? The better question in this case is not 'why is it suddenly so dark' but 'how the fuck was this underwater tomb so well lit?'

- THEN you can follow it up with 'why has the mysterious lighting suddenly gone out?' 

- WHY would you bring such a group of easily scared kids on an archaeological expedition to EXPLORE THROUGH TOMBS? 

- That seems like a bad idea even if you didn't think anything weird would go on

- ISTG, Sanxing, Wenjin, and Xiaoge are the only level-headed ones of the bunch 

- A mural. They were in hysterics over a mural. 

- I mean, yeah, there's a lot of high mountains, so not surprising you can't tell which one it is

- I was gonna say she's super judgey for an archaeologist but...nah, yeah, that tracks for academia, speaking from experience XD

 - This episode has been taunting me with potential rescues that never quite get there, so it better actually pay off with one of them this episode

- Oooh, bitty shadow 

- Wonder if it's the baby corpse from the jar earlier 

- ...oh, right, Sanshu's still running around in some weird trance

- Awww, the lights go out in the heavenly palace room, and the entire set lighting goes from lovely and well-lit so you can actually see what's on screen, to super dark and shadowy, even outside that room

- Sorry, sanmei, I know I said I’d stop talking about lighting, but...I live in eternal hope of good lighting. The flashbacks here were actually GOOD up until now. So I am sad they've gone back to bad lighting. 

- I'm embarrassed to say that it's taken me the entirety of Guardian, Granting You A Dreamlike Life, DMBJ 1, and now partway through ep 2 of DMBJ 2 before I've realised that I can pause Viki playbacks by hitting my space bar.

- OMFG, how many rooms are there in this tomb with a set of porcelain vases arranged in a particular order?

- Smart, Wenjin, conserving flashlight batteries like that. 

- I know that this Wenjin must be older than the Wenjin in the Chongqi flashbacks, but why couldn't we have had this Wenjin in those flashbacks as well?

- Chongqi Wenjin is ok, but this one's more level-headed and competent. And much better at de-escalating semi-hysterical girls. 

- Then again, I suppose if Chongqi Wenjin had this Wenjin's skills, they wouldn't have been able to have had that dumb ~DRAAMAA~ with the love triangle

- Tunnel floor is suddenly wet again instead of dry. Wish they'd make up their mind 

 - Evil Hair Count: 4 

- This time creeping on random guy at the back of the party 

- Who is mildly disturbed that he's suddenly got water down the back of his neck. Don't blame him

- Judging by the way Xiaoge just clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, I'm guessing that they all just got gassed. 

- And it must be a REALLY FAST acting gas if they all collapsed like 5 seconds after Xiaoge covered his nose and mouth, and he seems to be fine

- Oh, no, spoke to soon, down he goes 

- Okay, Sanshu. A) That's creepy, and b) why aren't you also affected? 

- ...something that takes down Xiaoge for long enough that he wakes up in a hospital bed concerns me 

- I do not blame him one bit for looking so perturbed

- OMG, that GRRM roast, that's fantastic 

- I hope Xiaoge is just leaving out all of the unnecessary family stuff that he doesn't think Wu Xie and Pangzi need to do, otherwise he just implied that the Zhangs have just, like, misplaced him for 20 or so years and not looked for him?

- Wu Xie is always so desperate to believe the best of Sanshu, it's really cute 

- Ah, I see we're back to the requisite pingxie staring for the episode. Excellent

- Here's the clearest sign yet that S2 does not follow on from S1 at all, as it completely ignores changes that S1 made to the plot and instead is referencing novel events that did not happen in the drama. 

- I would have been SO FUCKING CONFUSED if I hadn't read the first novel

- lol, Xiaoge. Giving a tiny almost-smile and clapping someone on the shoulder after dropping a bombshell like that on them is NOT how you're supposed to talk to your crush

- And it looks like we're now back to Wu Xie's nightmares from the first ep 

- ...is that last one supposed to be Xiaoge? It's hard to tell with the angle and (yes, sorry, sanmei) the lighting 

- Way to ruin the moment, Pangzi 

- ...omg Pangzi 

- I'm kinda cringing now

-  Hahah, the look on Wu Xie's face. Like, same 

- Those are good points, Pangzi, but wouldn't you still have the problem of being underwater without oxygen tanks? That tomb is pretty far down and mostly buried in the sea bed, after all 

- ...Wu Xie that maths made no sense at all

- Rude. Pangzi has said useful things before now! 

- LOL at all the "don't touch anything" "i mean it" "also" "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING" 

- Because we all know that Pangzi is gonna touch stuff and try to steal at least one thing 

- Oh, there you are, A-Ning 

- How did you get in there?

- This is an unnecessarily long sequence of Xiaoge running his fingers over the door and Pangzi messing with his hair, set to super annoying BGM. Was it really necessary to have a full 1 minute 40 seconds of that? 

- That should have been done in, like, 30 seconds tops.

- I do like how excited this Wu Xie is to see the cool architectural stuff like the moving doors in here 

- After that first hallway, they all seem so unconcerned about traps 

- Tombs are usually, quiet, Wu Xie. Hence the saying 'quiet as the tomb'

- Xiaoge's tiny smiles at Wu Xie and Pangzi's banter are just adorable

- OMG THEIR FACES

- But guys, you really should have looked for traps first 

- Before the walls started trying to squish you like pancakes 

- "Start climbing", says Xiaoge, as he just fucking leaps up the sides of the walls

- Good thing these walls are conveniently not smooth and straight, with regular hand and footholds 

- Xiaoge Rescue Count: 3 for protagonists

- Not quite the dramatic rescue I was hoping for, but I'll take it since it's been so long 

- The closed walls has now made them a cute little tunnel to crawl through

- Oh, wait, annoying girl was from one of the Nine Gate families? 

- Which one? I'll have to look her up later, I've completely forgotten her name.

- Xie Lianhuan is talking Sanshu into taking him along on the original expedition. Honestly, dude, you dying is all your fault, you weren't even supposed to be there

- Oh, Qiu Dekao was involved in the 20 year ago bullshit as well. Why am I not surprised? 

- And with the tomb from S1, too, also 20 years ago

- Wait, if Wenjin was the leader the whole time, how come she kept deferring to Sanshu? 

- Dramatic bgm! Dramatic reused footage! 

- Oh yeah, the looks on their faces, I know exactly who just popped into mind for Pangzi and Wu Xie at that 

- Because who else could have done it?

- ...okay, except Sanshu, point 

- Oh noooooo, more fucking underwater diving scenes 

- This show is instilling in me a visceral loathing of underwater diving scenes. They're awful

- Like, seriously, after 5 eps they've already shown enough underwater goddamn diving scenes to fill up a full half of an episode 

- An entire quarter of one episode was made up of them 

- Oh my GOD that bgm. That was...something

- Okay, Xie Lianhuan was supposed to have dug this passage? Seriously? 

- He was only missing for a day before they found his body, how the fuck was he supposed to dig a loooooong passage, high enough for a fully grown adult to walk crouched, in less than a day?

- Ah, and that's ep 5. 

 Count updates: 

 Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 3 for protagonists, 4 for everyone 

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0 

Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 4

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 18 for protagonists, 19 for everyone 

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6 

Season 2 is decidedly lacking in swoons so far. It better up its game.

[tessimagines]

Wash Me Clean // Thomas Shelby - Part Two

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: After arriving in Birmingham, (Y/N) sees Thomas Shelby for the first time since France. 

You can find the series masterlist in my bio!

Warnings: angst, struggle regarding WW1, swearing, PTSD.  

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: Here is part two! Hope you like it! Please let me know what you think :)

The scraping became unbearable. It was becoming louder and inescapable, the constant grinding of the pickaxe against the weak, thin soil wall. Safety was a long-past dream, sooner or later the Germans would break through and pools of blood would clot on the tunnel’s floor. It felt as if the walls of the tunnel were closing in all around them, so close to collapsing and suffocating all of them where they crouched. He could hear the ragged breathing of the men behind them; perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad if they all suffocated in here. It would cause a lot less pain than the Germans would and the air was already getting so thin. Thomas felt he was gasping for it, the mutter of German on the other side of the tunnel. They were so close, so near, Thomas could almost see them.

Or perhaps, he was just going crazy. He could have the shakes, for all he knew he could be dead and in some sort of hell. Or maybe the Germans really are that close, maybe their pickaxes are scrapping away at the thin, soil barrier separating them from him and his men. 

It’s so dark that he can’t even see the men around him. He can hear them though, the little gasps coming from the young lad beside him. What was his name? Teddy? Only a boy of sixteen. Sixteen and likely to die in a cramped, dark and dirty tunnel two hundred miles away from his home. He’s the one who sends letters to his sister every week, each one filled with the comforting lies the men on the front had grown so used to reassuring their loved ones. 

“Fucking Christ!” A Scotsman yelled. His voice was strained, weak and dry. They had a single canteen of water between them. “The Fritz are through!”

He was right. With the sound of crushing soil and the shout of German words none of them could understand, the first German came barreling through the hole in the tunnel. 

Thomas gasped awake, feeling the cool air of his bedroom settle on his sweaty forehead. His breaths were sharp and painful, filling his lungs erratically with every gasp he took. His bedclothes were soaked through and sticking to his body, the musky smell wafting up unpleasantly to his nose. It was nights like these where he would find himself waking up in a panic, only to find there was no war waging on around him. Yet in his head, he could still hear the sound of the pickaxes hitting the soil and the sound of foreign shouting just behind the dirt divider. It kept his heart beating rapidly, the smell of his own sweat on his body taking him back to the long and dark days in the tunnels under France.

He caught a glimpse of his silver flask on his bedside table, quickly reaching across to grasp it in his fingers. It was so early in the morning, but on days like this, he didn’t care. He swiftly unscrewed the lid and took a rash swig, the burning feeling of the whisky on his throat being enough to slow down the pace of his racing heart. He closed his eyes for another second, savouring the silence of the morning before getting up and out if his bed and walking over to the washbasin in the corner of the room.

He stripped his clothes off and started to scrub his skin, cleaning the sticky sweat from his body. The feeling of the water on his skin seemed to relax him, washing the night’s tremors that had been trapped in its pores. And then he caught a glance of the letters on his table and felt his heart begin to quicken again. It was nowhere near beating as fast as the last time, but her name in his head seemed to have that effect on him. And with the event of seeing her again looming upon him, it sent a tingling feeling through him, reactivating and exciting every nerve it met.

The train was set to arrive in only a short two hours, and then (Y/N) (Y/L/N) would step off of it and onto the platform and set his heart off like a firecracker again. A meeting two years apart, drastically different in the circumstances that brought them there. Arthur had laughed at his solution to their problems, calling him mad at the idea of hiring an old Army Nurse all the way from London. Arthur had said he was an idiot for trusting her, after all, he’d only spoken to her for a short three days in France. But deep down, something told Thomas that she was the only one that could help them. And, for whatever reason, she was the only person he wanted to help them.

Putting his clothes on, he walked over to the little table by the window. His eyes roamed over her writing on the page, reading the letters she had sent him once again. He had done this a hundred different times since the letters had arrived, her words were so much like the soothing yet hard vocals he remembered. Many of his memories of the war had muddled and faded, but there were still a handful of ones he could picture vividly in his head. And she was one of them, the only one of the lot that was pleasant to remember. He could almost remember word for word every conversation they had had, or the feeling of her fingers on his skin while she would stitch up the cuts that had been carved there.

“Tommy?” 

He turned around at the raspy voice of his Aunt Pol, letting the letters slip from his fingers and onto the small wooden table. Polly saw them fall and her eyes flickered up to Thomas’ again. “You’re picking up that girl today, aren’t you?”

“Her train will be here in two hours.” He said, taking his cigarette tin out of his pocket. He popped one in his mouth and lit it with a match.

“All the way from London.” Polly raised an eyebrow at him. She had been so curious about the mysterious girl that Tommy seemed to trust so much. Trust was not something that came to Thomas easily, and this girl had earned it in three days flat in a field hospital in France.

“All the way from London,” Tommy repeated, making his way past Polly and out his bedroom door. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he walked down the stairs, the sound of Polly’s boots quickly behind him.

“So when do we get to meet her?” Polly said, watching as Tommy grabbed his coat from the rack beside the door. He slipped it on effortlessly, his eyes moving to meet his aunt.

“Soon enough,” Thomas said. “She’ll meet Arthur first and then everyone soon after.”

“Right, well,” Polly said, her eyes tightening to try and read her nephew’s face. “You better hope this works. I don’t know why you couldn’t have just gotten a proper doctor to help him, one from Birmingham would have been so much easier. It seems a bit much getting a field nurse to come in all the way from London.”

“It’ll work, Aunt Pol,” Tommy said, tucking his cap onto his head. “Trust me.”

“If you say so.” Polly waved him off out the front door. “Just make sure your back by three, okay? Family meeting.”

Tommy nodded and left the house, the smell of the dirty streets of Small Heath filling his nose. With a nod by a man he didn’t know in his direction, he started off down the street, his mind ticking away at the woman he was now so close to seeing again.

The sound of the crowded platform battered your eardrums as you took your first step off the train. There was the noise of people’s chatter around you, excited hellos and rushed goodbye’s, as well as the steady beating of your heart in your chest, the sound of it audible in your ears. You took another deep breath in and did your best to rake the platform in search of the man you had made this journey for.

Two years was a long time. But the process of war had made it seem so much longer. The constant work, stitches and bathing of wounded, muddy men were enough to make two years seem like a lifetime. You were on edge to see him again, to get this whole thing over with. To finally know for yourself whether your image of him was accurate or a thought-up wish created in the grimy field hospitals of Western Europe. 

However, he was nowhere. Everywhere you looked, he wasn’t there. The crowded platform was only filled with the look of unfamiliar faces and voices that meant nothing of importance to you. You couldn’t possibly have gotten the date wrong, you had read the letter over and over a hundred different times to make sure that every detail had been right.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” It was the same deep, Birmingham voice you remembered. Your head snapped around to meet his gaze, those piercing blue eyes exactly how you had pictured them in your head every day since you last saw them.

“Mr Shelby,” you responded, moving your whole body around to face his. Both of his hands were in his pockets and he managed to keep his features unreadable, his eyes moving down from your face and to the suitcases in your hands.

“Let me help you with those.” He didn’t wait for a response before leaning across and taking both suitcases out of your hands.

You were still in shock from seeing him that you were hardly able to think of anything to say. Each word that went to come out of your lips simply dried up in your mouth before it had the chance to reach him.

“Two years, eh?” Was all that Tommy was able to come out with. You looked exactly the same to him, though this time you had no blood-stained apron around your waist and your face seemed to glow in the freedom that came with the absence of war. But that smile that sat on your lips from his words was the same that he had always remembered. It lightened the platform and blurred out the numerous other people in his field of vision.

“Two years. Though it doesn’t really feel like it sometimes.” You said, looking down at the platform. For whatever reason, there was a smile sitting on your lips and you knew that Thomas had noticed it. “You look a lot less bloody and skinny than the last time I saw you.”

A small smile crept up onto Thomas’s lips at your words. He nodded at you to follow him down the platform, pulling your suitcases along with him. “Well, war does that to you, I suppose.”

“I know that all too well,” you said, taking a glance over at him. He looked healthier, much more well-fed compared to when you had tended to him at the Somme. But his face was tired and worn, a typical sign of a past soldier. “So is it a far walk?”

“Not a walk,” he said, taking the steps down off the platform and onto the ground. You followed him up the hill until your gaze met a road. “More of a drive.”

“A drive?” You huffed, eyeing him with a look of curiosity in your eye. “You have an automobile?”

“Just that one over there.” Thomas lifted a suitcase in the direction of one of the few automobiles on the side of the road. You stared at it, your mouth wide open before looking back at him.

“You’ve done mighty fine for yourself since the war ended, huh?” You had seen cars in London of course, but had never expected to ride in one. Especially here and now with Thomas Shelby.

“I suppose you could say that,” Thomas said once you reached the car, lifting your suitcases into the back of the automobile. Another moment of silence crossed the two of you, so unaware of what to say now that you had actually seen each other again. It was Tommy who opened his mouth again once the two of you were seated in the front seat.“So where did you end up after the Somme, eh?” 

You watched as he flicked open the lid of a cigarette tin and offered you one. You shook your head, his thin, pale fingers reaching in to grab one for himself.

“All over the place, really,” you said, shifting around uncomfortably in your seat. “After I was done in the Somme, they moved me straight to Verdun. I was only there a week during the actual battle but I ended up staying back a month after it finished. I ended up at Cambrai before they packed me up there and sent me to the Somme again. I was there in Meuse-Argonne the day the war ended, by then I was mostly tending to American soldiers.”

“I was at Verdun too,” Thomas said, his eyes on the road ahead of him as he continued driving. The cigarette was hanging from his lips as he concentrated on where he was going and what he was going to say next. “Spent some more time in a field hospital there, at the end of the battle.”

“Which one?” You asked, curiously.

“The 19th,” Tommy answered, finally bringing his fingers up to the cigarette in his lips and taking another long drag.

“I was in the 21st,” You said, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “They were so close.”

“I’m surprised that you remembered me at all after all the men you would have tended to,” Thomas said, the cigarette hanging from his lips. He turned a corner with fine-tuned attention, his blue eyes were so pale that they reflected the road in front of him. 

“You were one of the few that didn’t scream in the night. Sure, you were awake for most of it, but you still didn’t scream. That makes you memorable,” You said, unable to meet his eyes at the words. If only he knew the whole of it. Each hospital had been filled with the screams of men on the verge of death, whether it was day or night didn’t matter. But that wasn’t the reason you remembered Thomas Shelby. There was so much more to that. 

“It was the screaming that kept me up.” Thomas turned a corner, watching as you gripped onto the side of the car. It always amused him to watch a person’s first drive in an automobile, the worried looks on their face every time a corner was turned never failed to lighten his mood.

“That and the nightmares,” you added, catching his eye as it flickered over to yours, surprise written clear as day all over his face. Your expression softened as you met his gaze. “I was a Nurse, Mr Shelby. I remember what it was like. It was the nightmares that kept most of the soldiers awake, not the screams. The screams were because of the nightmares half the time. And you definitely had them, I could tell.”

Thomas let his eyes linger on you longer than he should have, only brought back to the road when he saw the flash of something in front of his car. He slammed on the breaks, only inches away from the young girl who had stood out in front of the car. She was staring at you both with horror coating every feature on her face before you leapt out and hurried over to her. Thomas sat staring at you as you fussed over the girl, your comment turning over and over in his mind.

It was the simple way you had said it that got to him the most. The way you just knew that he wasn’t completely telling the truth. He had known you were good, but his lies had never been picked up on that easily before.

“So is this it?” He heard you ask. The girl he had almost hit with his automobile was completely gone from sight.

Tommy simply nodded. “Just up there.” He turned the car off and got your suitcases out of the back, gaining a nod from every man that walked past.

“I really don’t know what to say,” you said, glancing around at the small yet pleasant apartment around you. Thomas stood beside you, your suitcases on the floor next to him and the sliver of a smile on his lips.

“I should be thanking you,” Thomas said, his hands in his pockets. You were still glancing around at your new apartment that Thomas had organised, your hand gliding along the kitchen bench. It was small with wooden floorboards but it still managed to hold an aura of coziness. A fireplace sat in the corner of the drawing room, little lace curtains tied to the side of the small windows on either side of it.

The kitchen wasn’t big but was already stocked with food and utensils. The wallpaper was a light cream colour with a light green floral print, it lightened the room when the sunlight seeped in through the windows. Just down the hall was a bedroom, clearly designated as yours with bedding and a dresser. There was a bathroom just beside it, all taps functioning the way they should be. You turned back to him, a full and bright smile on your face.

Thomas did his best to keep his face straight as he looked down onto your beaming face. Only an hour of seeing you again and that smile was already doing things to him that he didn’t like.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he began, clearing his throat before he went on. “I want to thank you again for coming all the way to Birmingham. My family… well, I’m sure you’ll meet them soon enough.”

Your smile softened and Thomas only just began to notice the loose strands of hair that had fallen around your face as you looked straight at him. “There is no need to thank me, Mr Shelby.” You paused for a second, your lip moving to bite your lower lip. Before you could stop yourself, the words had already slipped from your lips. “Can I ask you one thing, however?”

“Of course.” Thomas couldn’t help but grow nervous as you looked back up at him, your mouth opening to speak.

“Out of all the people you could have asked to help your family, you chose me.” You tucked a few of the loose strands of hair behind your ear, watching as his eyes settled on your face. “You could have had professional doctors or Psychologists but instead you sent a letter to just another Army Nurse that you met during the war. There must have been someone easier to get, in Birmingham perhaps, instead of an ex-Army Nurse all the way from London. So, why me?”

Thomas paused for a moment, his eyes tightening on your face. He noticed that you were fiddling with the side of your long floral skirt, your white blouse tucked away inside it. Most of what you had said was true, there were doctors and psychologists in Birmingham that he could have perhaps tried. But every time he had considered it in the past, the idea of inviting a shrink to talk to his family made him sick. And there was always the memory of you hanging somewhere in his mind, the left-over feeling of your abating fingers on his skin.

“You were the only Army nurse I ever met that could calm a screaming soldier.” Thomas watched as your eyes narrowed, his words taking you by surprise. “I saw you and I saw a hundred other nurses with the same, screaming men. They couldn’t do a thing to stop their screams in the middle of the night. But you could. You are the only one that can help my family, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m certain of that.”

No words made their way from your throat and lips. All you could do was stare at him, his words still thick and meaningful in the air. His eyes were still glued to your own, their familiar blue bringing back memories of your time away in the unkempt and crowded field hospital. You supposed he was right. It wasn’t a common skill to be able to sooth the screams of a dying man, and you had worked hard to gain it. To be able to calm them, just long enough so that they would smoothly fall into their own peaceful sleep forever was enough to make you feel like you had something to give them. Something they deserved. It was a small favour, but one that none of them ever took for granted. And Thomas had noticed it and remembered it, leaving you completely unsure of what to say.

Thomas nodded at you, slipping his grey cap back onto the top of his head. You watched as he made his way towards the front door of your new apartment, his hands tucked away into his pockets.

“Mr Shelby-”

“There’s no need to call me that,” he cut you off, turning his head to eye you side-on. “Everyone calls me Tommy.”

You smiled and nodded at him, a flicker of familiarity blooming between the two of you. “Okay, Tommy. But only if you call me (Y/N).”

Tommy smiled at your words, looking down at his feet as he did so. He looked up at you one last time, allowing you to see the small but pleasant smile on his lips. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

And with a turn, he left the apartment, his dark overcoat billowing behind him.

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[erintoknow]

Self-preservation, really

fallen hero fanfic, sidestep times 3.5k words. (3.5/50k for NaNoWriMo). [ao3]

this originated out of a micro-fic blurb that i wanted to explore more

––

They rose up and ate the EMP bomb before it could detonate. Knew the Nanovores had some rudimentary intelligence to assess threats, but this was far more sophisticated a response than you could have dreamed of. Now what? Boxing the swarm in and dropping an EMP was the go-to approach for a Nanovore attack of this size. It had proved pretty effective during the Gulf wars that had seen the first terrorist Nanovore attacks. If this even was a terrorist attack. If there was someone making demands at the center of this, they hadn’t spoken to anyone. Maybe the nanovores ate them first.

Fucking hell, the containment line is starting to falter, not clear how exactly, the repulsion fields set up to box the swarm in are proven to work, unless – Grab her shoulder and pull her backwards, knocking the wind out of you as she falls back on top of you. The ground around the emitter, where Ortega had been holding it steady begins to crumble, dissolve into a shimmery gray mass.

“Mierda…” Ortega breathes out, helping you back to your feet.

“F–fucking – bullshit is right, the little b–bastards tunneled underneath the shield.” You grit your teeth, holding onto Ortega’s hand as you step backwards from the rapidly approaching silver tide. Need to think of something, now.

“We need to save the emitter!” Elysie reaches for it and Ortega slips out of your hand to try and grab her back and it’s like watching lightning strike in slow motion. Stricken to the earth as Elysie drops to the ground, convulsing – jesus christ, and now the silver sheen is on Ortega’s skinsuit too and no no no. The ground at your feet is beginning to shift and that buzzing pressure clawing at the back of your head is getting more and more intense, it’s like a telepathic dampener but a thousand times more noisy, chittering bitey little mites like it’s the – the nanovores?

They have to stop, they have to stop, they have to STOP.

Your ears hear silence, but in your head it feels like you’ve grabbed a hive of bees with your bare hands.

Constant thrumming buzz, barbed notes cutting into you. You collapse your knees, the pressure building in your head. Screw your eyes shut and push at the sides of your skull as if to keep your brain from exploding.

Can’t read their thoughts – god, do they even have thoughts to read? – but they listen to you all the same, you don’t give them a say in the matter. Cold copper and electrical filament, the smell of silicon smoke flooding your senses. How does something so vast feel so small and yet all encompassing? Utterly alien to any mind you’ve touched before. Devouring – but no, not at least. Stand still! Stand down!

It feels like something bursts inside your head but you force your hands into fists. Force them back, off Ortega, off Elysie, off everyone, back to the center. Silvery sheen of metal locusts glaring sunlight.

Vaguely aware of people rushing around you. Doing what? 

The cages! Back to plan A then? Discarded when the swarm grew out of control. But, have to hold it – them. How long can you hold the pattern? Someone grabs your shoulder, helps hold you out while cursing under their breath in Spanish. Charge? She’s alive, thank god. Can’t spare her any more thought then that, the buzzing demands your full focus. All it takes is even one to slip through and rest will spill out and it’s all over.

As some point it starts getting hard to breath, have to struggle to pull up your mask, not all the way, just enough to free your nose. Can feel something wet and warm run down your face. Are you bleeding? Great. Time limit then. All the will in the world means nothing if you faint from blood loss.

Don’t know how long you kneel there in the dirt, wouldn’t even be doing that much if it wasn’t for Charge. Someone is saying something to you, her? Words of encouragement, you think. Processing anything that’s going on around you is a little much right now. Something gets put in front of you, people talking again?

“–holding up? You’re ––– this, right? Holding them –––––––?”

Nod your head, don’t trust words to speak.

“They’re setting up –––– cages now, ––––step, can you ––––?”

Void Cages, a material the nanovores can’t devour. Lead them in, filling each cage, one by one. The first one catches people by surprise, not an orderly line but the wave of an ocean, buzzing with bees, breaking over the containment unit, sending men in uniforms scattering. But so by wave and bucket even a sea can be emptied. 

“––––––!” The voice calls to you from a million miles away,  right in front of you. “Side–––!” Can’t afford to acknowledge – if you break concentration, if you lose your hold, everyone here dies. Possibly the entire city dies.

Almost all of them, almost done. Each cage filled is that much less pressure on your mind. Your increasingly weak, dizzy, lightheaded mind. Just one more and–

You jolt awake, and your skull wastes no time in complaining. Head like a metal rivet was pounded clean through. There’s still the weight of acrid smoke in your lungs. Push yourself up into a sitting position and your vision briefly goes black before slowly filling back in. How long were you out?

Sitting in a tent, two other cots to your left, both empty but with signs of use. Moved but can’t have been far. Mask pulled up over your nose but no further. It’s actually a little hard to see with how the material bunches up against the visor pieces. If this is a medical tent shouldn’t there be like… a doctor doing medical stuff? Glad there isn’t but still.

Try to get to your feet and you immediately fall back on your ass again, head ringing. Too dizzy. Weak. That’s not good. Can’t be like this. Not here. What happened? Did you finish with the swarm? Is Ortega safe? Elysie? Everyone else?

Are you dead, maybe?

Try to reach out with your mind and – wince, grab your skull. A dull thudding pain from deep within between your ears. The fuck – did you sprain your telepathy? Is that even a thing you can do? Well, could ask the same thing about holding the nanoswarm. That didn’t make sense either. Something tickles the back of your throat and you wince, cough up a chunk of dried blood. Wipe it off on the ground, check your nose. Not bleeding any more. That’s good at least.

Lean back, take a deep breath, hold, let it out. Don’t reach out then, just… open up, let them come to you.

It still hurts, sore, elastic stretched too far and won’t return to its natural shape, maybe. But… pick up shadows of an impression of the minds rushing around outside the tent. Busy, focused, plenty to do, damage to asses.

Haven’t lost your telepathy then. Still have it. That’s… that’s good right? You should feel good about that. It’s all you’ve got going for you after all, right?

Light floods the tent as someone steps inside, anxious, worried, thoughts running circles around their head. Look up and find Sunstream looking down at you. Relieved, red-eyed, tired. “Oh thank goodness you’re up.”

“Hey Sun,” you croak, “w–w–what’s up?”

A smile threatens to break out on her face and she has to pull at her mouth. “We were about send you to the hospital on the next ambulance.”

Dig your fingers into the ground, swallow hard. “N–not happening.”

“I still think you should go, but the Marshal ordered me to buy some time for you and it’s been–”

“Ortega? Where is she?”

Sunstream shakes her head, “Already on her way to the hospital.” She holds up a hand as soon as you open your mouth to speak. “Should be okay after surgery. She got off pretty light, not like…”

Can already feel the weight of the names in her mind. Something cold and terrible twists your insides. “Like…?”

“Elysie didn’t make it. A– A lot of people didn’t make it. God I–” Sunstream shudders, folding in on herself. Admittedly you don’t exactly have the closest relationship with the woman in your three years of working with the Rangers, but you’ve never seen her look quite like this. “When the swarm broke containment everything happened so fast. It was chaos. And I…”

“S–sunstream…?”

“We’re supposed to save people, Sidestep. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was to… to try and… ease things for people.”

Oh.

“And then all of the sudden the swarm stopped, pulled back, and now I keep thinking… did I do the right thing? What if we could have saved them still? What if I–”

“Sunstream.” You cough, pat the ground next to you. “S–s–sit down.”

“What?”

“Just s–sit with me.”

She gives you a strange look, and for the first time you notice the blood and dirt smeared across her skinsuit. You pat the ground beside you again. Watch her mind run through a flurry of thought processes before she makes up her mind and crosses the length of the tent to sit down next to you, legs folded under her.

This really isn’t your wheelhouse, but Sunstream looks like how you feel right now. “J–just… d–do some– some breathing exercises with me. Okay?”

You barely get five minutes with Sunstream when more visitors arrive. Sentinel, flanked by Steel. Both looking in rough shape, but still standing.  Sentinel glances from you to Sunstream, “You’re both here? Good. We need to talk.”

Something about the way he says that – you feel yourself tensing up. “Where’s Anathema?”

Steel stays in the entrance, in his full power-armor he easily blocks the way out. “Helping search and rescue efforts.” He eyes the back of Sentinel’s head. “Like we should be doing.”

“And Sidestep can help with that.” Sentinel gestures towards you. Steel only grunts, not hiding the frown on his face as he stares down at you. “But first,” Sentinel continues, “we need to figure out what just happened back there.”

A gnawing twist in the pit of your stomach. You shift focus between Sentinel, Steel, and Sunstream. “They w–w–went underground. Underneath the–the–”

“No, we all know that part,” Sentinel cuts you off, and you blink. Taken aback. He’s never interrupted you like that before. “How did they stop?”

“I–I–I…” You frown, “W–wait… Why are you… w–w–why are you asking me?” Can feel your heart against your chest.

Sentinel shifts his weight. Can’t help but notice Sunstream has subtly put a bit more distance between you two as well. “Charge coordinated the containment over radio. But, we could all hear her talking to you.” Sentinel’s eyes flicker down towards the blood staining your front. “And you were obviously doing something.”

Should have left when you had the chance, Ariadne. Now you’re trapped here. Three pairs of eyes staring into you. Questioning thoughts. You want to think it’s concern, or worry. It hurts too much to get a clearer read but you you know better than to assume that. Is it doubt? Suspicion?

Sentinel frowns, “You’re not in trouble Sidestep. We just need to make sure we’re all on the same page before reporters overwhelm the scene.”

You sigh, can feel your whole body sag. “I… d–don’t know what I did.”

Don’t even need to look up to know Steel is narrowing his eyes at you. “So you did do something.”

“I had to–to–to think of– think of something to do – And I… I c–could hear them.”

“Hear them?” Sunstream asks.

“In–in–in the back of my head. So… I grabbed h–hold.”

Sentinel breaks the silence. “Sidestep, I thought you said you could only read surface thoughts, intentions, that kind of thing.”

“Th–that’s right.” You nod, sticking to your cover story. No one needs to know the full extent of what you can do. Keep recent events from sticking in memory, subtly alter perceptions. Nothing big, nothing drastic. Admitting to the Rangers being a telepath had been bad enough, re-earning people’s trust. Don’t think you’ll ever get Steel’s back; assuming you ever had it.

Still. There’s no possible way you should have been able to do what you did. To… reach into another mind and make it do something? That’s…

It’s disturbing.

By the feel of everyone’s thoughts, you aren’t alone in thinking that. A hand claps your shoulder, startling you out of your thoughts. Sentinel smiles down at you. “Well, however you managed it. It’s lucky for everyone you were here. You might have just saved the city.” There’s a moment and you can practically read him considering what he just said. Sentinel shakes his head, “No, no ‘might have’ about it.”

“P–p–please don’t tell anyone.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“For once I have to agree with Sidestep.” Steel says.

Sentinel lets go of your shoulder, taken aback. “Can’t say that’s a team-up I expected here.”

You can feel yourself shrinking under Steel’s glare. “That kind of ability is extremely rare. If it becomes common knowledge, that makes Sidestep a target. Am I wrong?”

“I…” What is Steel’s game here? Since when did he start caring? “Th–that’s about the whole of it.”

“Well, we can’t exactly keep it a secret from everyone.” Sentinel sighs, crossing his arms. “Everyone here is already piecing things together. That means us, the mayor’s Guardian Force, the police, maybe some of the EMTs…” Sentinel counts off the groups on one hand. “We can maybe keep the specifics out of the press. With Charge out of commission that means it’s up to you and me to handle things, Steel.”

Sunstream is staring at you with an uncomfortable mixture of fear and awe. “You really stopped the swarm?”

Shrugging, you give a weak laugh. “I d–d–don’t think I could d–do that again if I tried.”

Steel snorts. “Let’s all hope you don’t have to.”

Navigating the press in the cool down of the Nanovore attack is a nightmare all its own. Never appreciated until then just how much Ortega had run interference for you. The Rangers don’t exactly throw you to the wolves, but they don’t physically put themselves between you and the all-too nosey camera crews either.

Still can’t shake the feeling someone might have caught you on film with the lower-half of your face exposed. The LD police were more than happy to take at least partial credit for stopping the crisis, but you had still been stuck with the ‘honor’ of having played a key part in the cover story for saving the city. Too many people had heard you doing something over the radio even if they didn’t know what.

And now Ortega was hospitalized. Again. Not as bad as getting stabbed through the abdomen, thank god, but still out of commission.

These past few nights you’ve really missed not having Cat around. The nightmares have been making it hard to sleep. Or… not even nightmares, just laying down waiting to sleep and a sound of leaves crunching sets your heart racing.

It’s not until the weekend rolls around that you feel stable enough to brave the throng of people at the Hospital to see Ortega. You try to rationalize it to yourself that Ortega needed the time for the surgeries to repair the damage from the attack, but that feels hollow even to you.

At least your identity is still secret, though it seems like a cruel twist of fate that now you have to go about not in costume in order to avoid having the press hounding you.

As you near Ortega’s room you slow your pace, hover at the edge of the door. There’s someone already in the room. A doctor? Don’t think so. Wrong feel for that. Who else would be visiting Ortega though? There’s still a queer soreness to using your telepathy. It’d be easier to try to spy a peak from the open door.

You peak your head around the frame and the flow of Spanish is cut off with a cry of “Ari!” from Ortega.

Shit.

“S–s–sorry, I d–don’t want to interrupt.” You shrink back from the doorway. “I can wait.”

“What are you, crazy? Save me from any more fussing, I beg you.” Ortega is sitting up in her bed with a clear view of the door. One of her arms is in a cast, but she urges you in with the other. 

As you step inside, the other person in the room becomes visible. An older woman, a little shorter then you with greying hair, same skintone as Ortega. Is that…?

Ortega follows your gaze, and gestures between you and the other woman. “Ari, this is my Mamá. Mamá, this is my friend I’ve been telling you about.”

You want to dig into that, talking about you? Saying what exactly? You don’t get the chance, Ortega’s mother catches you in a crushing hug with only the briefest of warning thoughts to brace yourself with. “Gracias por salvar a Julia. Thank you, thank you.”

You freeze up, manage an accusatory look at Ortega who only smiles back at you. A little dazed. Might still be on pain meds. You try to step out of Mrs. Ortega’s hold and she only squeezes tighter. “Uh– De n–nada…? You’re welcome…?”

“Julia is always making her poor mother worry sick.” Mrs. Ortega finally releases you from her arms, though she doesn’t let go of you just yet, hands on your shoulders. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another, always rushing into trouble.” Now that you now she’s Ortega’s mom, the similarities are obvious, right down to how she can command the room with her presence.

“Th–that sounds like C–charge alright.” You smile at her nervously, shoot Ortega another questioning glance. “Um, s–s–sorry, how do you know I’m…?”

Ortega rubs the back of her neck with her good arm. “Sorry, Ari. I tried to be coy, but Mamá’s always been quick on the uptake.”

“My daughter has told me so much about you,” Mrs. Ortega beams at you. You mentally underline that bullet point about having words. “It’s about time,” Mrs. Ortega lobs a quick accusatory glare at her daughter, “I got to meet the young woman that’s so enraptured my daughter.”

You can feel the heat radiating off your face. “Uh– enraptured!?”

Ortega’s laughter is panicked, voice pitching up a little. “Mamá can be very dramatic, aren’t you, Mamá?”

“Oh hush.” Mrs. Ortega mimes a shutting mouth with her hand, “I mean what I say and I say what I mean.”

“O–o–ortega…” Your own pitches upward, “W–w–what have you been telling your mother!?”

“Nothing personal, I swear!”

“Nonsense, there’s nothing to be so embarrassed about, either of you. Goodness.” Mrs. Ortega still has one hand on your shoulder, a warm expression on her face, and knowing smile that fills you with a dread you don’t entirely understand. “Fine, I’ll let you two birds be. I need to pack myself a proper bag anyway.”

“Uh– b–bag?”

“Mm-hm. Julia needs to keep that arm still while it heals. I’ll be–”

“I told you, Mamá!” Ortega’s face looks pained, embarrassed? “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly you can’t! Not until that arm heals!”

“Mamá…”

The indignation on Mrs. Ortega’s face so perfectly mirrors her daughter’s that you can’t help grinning a little. “Aw. I th–think she’s being sweet.” Doesn’t she get how lucky she is?

“Not you too!” Ortega groans.

“It w–was nice to, uh– it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Ortega.” You give her a shakey smile.

“Mrs. Ortega?” She makes a face, then smiles at you, “A partir de ahora, puedes illamarme tía Elana.”

You blink. “T-tía? That’s– I mean– W–we just met.” The whole situation feels unreal. So much like her daughter, but different. Ortega always seems to be holding back a little, even at her most insistent. Maybe because you can’t read her thoughts? But Elana has no such immunity, and even to your presently weakened telepathic senses a clear and frightening level of genuine.

“And I hope to be seeing much more of you around,” She glances over to her daughter, voice gaining an edge. “Isn’t that right dear?”

“Mamá… I think you might be overwhelming her.”

“I– I’m f–fine.” You protest, “Th–this is fine?” You run a hand through your hair, pulling at the curls. You feel… something. What exactly it is you can’t name, but you feel it. Rub at your eyes with the back of your hand. “…thank you Mr.s Or– Tía Elana.”

“Thank you for taking care of my daughter, dear.”

“It– it was n–nothing… self-preservation, really…”