#and logically speaking a bomb would make the most sense. i didn’t know how that would happen but i knew that’s what it was

[ech0light]

JUST WATCHED THE LAST 2 EPISODES OF PERSONS OF INTEREST SEASON 2 HAS ANYONE ELSE SEEN THIS SHIT PLEASE

[maxwell-grant]

so where is the dividing line between pulp weaponry and superhero gadgetry? Is it just a matter of gas guns, grappling hooks,regular guns, etc not being as wacky batterangs or trick arrows?

I think the dividing line just comes down to branding and the visual aspect of it. There's not really much of a basic difference between how Doc Savage fights crime with gadgets and how Batman fights crime with gadgets, besides Batman’s themed branding and Doc specifically being more tethered to practicality and pseudo-scientific/scientifically-plausible inner workings than a comic book superhero gadget usually is.

There is the fact also that comic book superheroes were always more built from the get-go to sell toys, which makes it a sound decision to invest in giving your characters different toys than those the other characters have, which is a lot easier when you base that toy around your character's unique aesthetic that you also had to make unique in order to make them visually stand out, which was less of a consideration in print medium where the covers had to be more visually evocative than the protagonists. I know people use “toyetic” as an insult and I’m really not doing that here, it’s just a basic fact of their makeup. They were much, much more suited to sell decoder rings and costumes and etc, and branch out into other kinds of accessible and identifiable merch, than most of the pulp guys ever really could have been.

We don’t really tend to think of pulp heroes having “gadgets” other than assorted guns because most of them didn’t have gadgets with those combat purposes, since that’s what the guns and fistcuffs were usually for and most of the weird weaponry went to the villains. But disguise kits are gadgets, weird rings are gadgets, weird cars and autogyros are gadgets, smoke bombs and cane swords are gadgets, and etc.

For a specific point, I’m gonna bring up The Shadow’s yellow boomerang from Lingo. It is as textbook gadget as it gets and has been said by some to be the inspiration for the Batarang, which I don’t believe because it functions nothing like a Batarang, but anyway: It’s described as this fairly clunky cross-shaped yellow boomerang that The Shadow tosses around some big stone griffon heads to help set up a zipline, it being colored yellow so that he can see it in the dark and follow it’s trajectory accordingly. It’s not that much more logical, or less wacky, than Green Arrow shooting zipline arrows and you could argue it makes even less sense, but you can see how, if this was a comic book concept, The Shadow would probably be using some sleeker, black-colored gadget to zip around buildings without all the set-up it has to make it believable, or if somebody had the idea of giving The Shadow a boomerang, it would probably be some Castlevania flying guillotine monstrosity to better fit The Shadow’s spooky image instead of something more practical.

Speaking of weird Shadow gadgetry, did I ever tell you guys that The Shadow invented a weird kind of clock that expands his perception of time/slows down the seconds so that he’s able to control the speed/pace of his own work? I mean, is that a gadget? I don’t know what else you could call it, it’s even described as if he’s able to put time on pause, and it’s not even a one-time thing or the only time he’s displayed some kind of weird timing / time-based skill (like in The Money Master where he’s able to crack safes by adjusting his timing and becoming a “human stopwatch”, that’s the story’s phrasing not mine)

An observer would not have believed that those indications on the outer circle of the dial were mere seconds. It seemed as though The Shadow, even when engaged upon the routine procedure of summarizing the reports from his agents, could hold back time in its passage. He was a being who dealt in split seconds when he worked! - The Red Blot

Instead of hands, it showed marked circles which registered the passage of seconds, minutes and hours. Each second seemed to pause as though waiting The Shadow's order. - Death Clew

It’s not that there aren’t cool or unique or visually interesting gadgets or tools to work with, it’s that it’s harder to translate the weird and cool ones they do have into the kind of toyland warfare superheroes, and Batman specifically who is the baseline for superhero gadgetry, thrive in, also not helped by the fact that so many of these were rarely seen and never got to hang around and become iconic parts of their characters, even when they absolutely should.

This is something that’s been phased out more as the pulp heroes started having to become more visually distinct to survive and made the jump to comics and film, with guys like The Green Hornet and The Phantom being particularly successful examples of that kind of superhero-esque branding, applied to pulp weirdos who shoot lightning or green drugs at people, or have a family tradition of punching skull markings into pirates. I think this is a positive development and I think it should be more common place, even if you do start to get a little tired of just guns and rings constantly.

I do want more things like, yes, that weird self-hypnotizing clock that gives The Shadow some kind of enhanced time awareness/distortion that he uses to get investigative work done faster and more efficiently (there’s a part in The Red Blot that states the clock is turned off when he can take things at a slower pace, which means it’s not something he can use constantly Allard what the fuck have you done to yourself). I’ll always be in favor of embracing the further weirdness these guys have in them.

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Town Hall | Group Thread

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Like half the town!  SUMMARY: The town hall meeting goes about as well as you’d expect—everyone is upset and talking over one another until Leah drops the bomb that some people are going to have to stay behind to stop the damage before it spreads outside of White Crest. A few ideas on how to figure out how to stop the destruction of the town are thrown around, and Lil volunteers to make contact with some old, dead townies and see if they have any ideas.

—

Rarely was the town hall filled with such life, despite the thick atmosphere of dread from those within. Even those in White Crest who chronically looked the other way knew something was seriously wrong. They didn’t know what or how, but when all the town’s leadership had to say about things was “ayuh, this is real bad,” it seemed appropriate to panic. As the gathering crowd reached critical mass, a collection of friendly faces and those who rarely tread from their homes, many called out. “Who called this thing?” “Are these The Horrors? Are they back?” “A 20 foot lion ate my son and then flew into the sky”. Maybe there was no one who could truly appease such a fearful crowd, but for now, everyone only needed to listen.

 Now was a bad time for Rio to remember how much he hated crowds. But he kept reminding himself that despite that, he had been one of the first people to ask for a town hall in the first place. It only made sense that he toughened up and threw himself to the wolves. Metaphorically, hopefully. As the group became more restless, Rio figured he needed to say something. He stood up, ignoring his shaking limbs and scratchy throat. He cleared it quickly, unintentionally doing the track of grabbing everybody’s attention. No going back now. “Uh hey everyone. I was one of the people that asked to gather everyone for a town hall. If uh- well anyone that knows me knows that I really don’t like public speaking, but this felt important.” He paused, scratching at his neck as he tried to figure out exactly how to describe the trip to the future he had gone to. “I think something really bad is going to happen to this town in the next two months. I don’t really know what. But I do know there’s been weird stuff going on for a while now. And me and a few other people ended up seeing this town in the future. Or what was left of it. Which wasn’t much.”

 “Is this a Y2K thing? ‘Cause we all know how that ended up.” It was a bunch of mierda that Metzli had experienced. Everyone caused chaos from their paranoia and they were watching White Crest do the same. If people weren’t careful, the mass hysteria could prove to be dangerous, especially in a town filled with supernatural beings. “I’m not trying to be an ass, but we gotta be logical here. Stuff happens all the time here and it always settles.” Their eyes softened at Aylin, and they hoped they didn’t raise her anxiety further. “We just don’t wanna jump the gun.” 

 Aylin made her way over to where Rio was standing, tapping her fingers against her thighs. “Thanks - I - I appreciate you doing this. Apparently not supposed to say thanks but still, thanks.” She handed him a small piece of candy - one of the many sour ones she had on her person. “I also asked about a way to let people know about some stuff that I’ve found out. I - well, myself and some other individuals got a quite literal ‘blast to the past’ - as in, we’ve seen the past of this town and history is - uh, well, repeating.” Her gaze found Metzli and she offered them a small smile.

 This whole town hall thing felt stupid and like a waste of time to Kaden. What the hell could most of the people in this town really do anyway? And would they even believe what was happening? He was pretty sure he should be shutting this down if he were adhering to his hunter duties. Not that he was great about adhering to any of those as it were. But if flannel kid was running it, he’d show up. He believed it had to be extremely fucked if Rio was running this shit. His brows furrowed at his words. “Future? And how bad is bad, kid?”

“I was born after Y2K” Rio replied shortly, but turned back to the person once he realized that his anxiety of the whole situation was going to hold him back here, “I mean I know what Y2K was though. And trust me, I hope I’m wrong. But I don’t think I am” Some dude no older than him called him kid like Kaden did, grabbing his attention immediately. “Really bad. Like a desert where the Common was supposed to be.”

 Emilio was restless. He sat in one of the chairs that had been spread across the room, his foot tapping against the floor as he listened to Rio’s opening speech, grimacing with each new piece of information that was added. The future. It was a hard thing to argue with, wasn’t it? Especially when Aylin added in her experience in the past. It was undeniable that something was happening; the town had been ‘unsettled’ for months now, in a way that was far more intense than usual. What was happening still seemed up in the air. “If what you’re saw is real,” he said, “what are we going to do about it? Can’t fight something this vague.” 

 “So what, we’re fightin’ climate change then, izzat it?” Rhett complained from the back of the room, arms folded across his chest. 

 Metzli smiled back and gave a small wave, eyebrow raising at the bearded man bringing up climate change. They relented, raising their arm and pocketing their hand to stand back as they scanned the room. Some faces were familiar, some not. All in all though, it looked like everyone was ready to listen. 

 Lil wasn’t one for crowds of people, well at least living people. Still, as it seemed like the town was going up into flames, she figured she should at least come in and see what was happening, arms folded in front of her as she tried to blend into the back of the room. Her normal smile and easy glint in her eyes had become more solemn as of late as she listened to the kid in front of them trying to call the town hall together. She thought of a million things to say, but for a moment she couldn’t seem to get any of it out instead just sighing slightly. “ Don’t think we’d all be here if things were going well now would we?” Her voice more quiet, concerned than she normally lets on. 

 Rio’s nerves were almost palpable.  Leah put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly with reassurance.  She knew what he was feeling, and she hated public speaking just as much.  But White Crest and its residents were some of the most important things to Leah, so she sheepishly looked to those around her as she addressed them as well.  “I don’t think panicking is going to do us any good.  We’ve all seen White Crest through some of its worst times, right? It’s quite possible that this will work itself out in the end, like the town always does.  But it's important for everyone to know exactly what we saw, and it seems like there’s a cycle of things just… ending in White Crest.  And the things that have been happening around town lately usually precede it.”

 This whole thing was… weird. Cass shifted where she stood, glancing around the room. There were people here she recognized, and people here she didn’t. They all looked a little scared, which made her feel a little better about feeling a little scared. There was some comfort, at least, in the people she did know being here. She offered Aylin a reassuring smile in hopes of easing some of her anxiety, flashing Rio a quick thumbs up to do the same. “Has anyone ever stopped it before? Do we know that?”

 “We don’t know if anyone’s ever stopped it before.” Aylin paused, “but I don’t think so. I mean, maybe, but we didn’t find anything that said this.” She bit her lip, offering a smile to Cass. “But that’s why we wanted to get all of you here, because maybe someone here can help! Doğru? Belki?” Right? Maybe? 

 Aavyan didn’t want to be here. In fact, a town hall meeting about the damned apocalypse didn’t even rank among the top 100 places he’d like to be. He slunk in, and stood against the back wall, eyes darting nervously among the crowd. There were some faces he recognized (some he wished he didn’t), but their presences did nothing to ease the anxiety that kept the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. “If no one’s ever stopped it before, what makes anyone here think we can do anything?” he asked, voice strained. “Shit–er, stuff, has gotten out of hand. I’m not feeling very confident in our chances with what I’m hearing thus far.”

 Leah piping up was a cause for concern, causing Metzli’s eyes to widen and their anxiety to raise. The situation was definitely serious and they immediately started packing in their mind. When Cass spoke, they perked up minutely and quietly shuffled their way through the mass of people. Placing a careful hand on her shoulder, they smiled and looked back up to listen intently. 

 It was almost like no one in the room recognized him. Not even Rio. Was there something on his fa– Oh. Right. He was still a damn teenager. “Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled to himself. “Ending? As in…” His brow knit together as he concentrated on the thought. “But the town’s still here. What happened before anyway?”

 The optimism in Aylin’s voice was somehow both laughable and admirable. Emilio doubted anyone in this room would have any answers; most people old enough to remember the previous occurrences of things like this probably got the hell out of dodge the moment history started repeating itself. “And if no one can? We should plan for the worst case scenario here.” That was probably going to be the most likely end result.

 “Ain’t the thing about all them time travel movies is that, like… y’can’t change the future?” Rhett seemed incredulous at best regarding the conversation at hand, throwing an unimpressed glance at the few faces he knew. “Sounds like might be best to just rattle our dags n’ get the hell on outta here.”

 Crow stood behind Rio keeping an eye on the crowd and taking in the words. He was a little inclined to agree with Rhett that leaving would be easier than staying and fighting an unknown factor but he wasn’t about to abandon the town if others were staying. “Running is smart.” 

 Metzli’s hand on her shoulder was a welcome comfort, and Cass offered her sibling a quick smile to show her gratitude. “I don’t think time travel movies are, like, based on facts or whatever,” she replied, glancing to the man who’d made the statement. “And I don’t know if we should just give up. There’s a lot of smart people in here, right?”

 “Old dude is right. Can’t fuck with the time shit.” Mateo crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He wasn’t one for gatherings with random people, but with the safety of his loved ones being a concern, he figured it was best to attend.

 Lil saw some of the faces of the faces that she knew and she tried her hardest not to look at them, knowing that her face looked grim. Normally she’d be the first to jump in with Cass, trying to find a solution, but she wasn’t so hopeful about all of this. Not since Jonas didn’t come back. Lil’s eyes focused on Emilio after he spoke and then Rhett echoing what she was feeling. Clearing her voice slightly Lil said, “ I agree with them, but I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. The - fabric is all wonky now.  We need to get people out of here if we can.” 

 “We got anything in place for that? ¿Plan de evacuación? Probably a good time to break it out, even as a last resort.” Though Emilio doubted they’d come up with anything better. Truth be told, he had little attachment to this town; so long as he could take the people he loved with him, he was willing to set up just about anywhere.

 “Have you seen the news? Weird shit is happening in other places too. Not just here. Evacuating may not be a total solution.” Metzli raked their hand through their hair, talking toward Emilio. “There’s something bigger happening and it looks like we’re at the core. We can’t just run.”

 Metzli had a point, and Emilio grunted in brief acknowledgement. “That happen in the past, too? This shit happening outside of town?” He glanced at Aylin, unsure if she’d know the answer.

 Leah looked to the townspeople, the ones she recognized and the ones she didn’t (who was that teenaged boy? He didn’t look familiar at all).  She looked to Nicole, and then down at her hands, and then back at the people again.  “It seems that in past situations, whatever was happening in White Crest was stopped before it was spread outside of the town.  I want to make that clear- the strange things that are happening in the outside world, they’re likely leaking out of White Crest.  Stopping what’s happening here will stop it out there, too.”

 Aylin glanced over to Emilio. “Not entirely sure - but I don’t think so? But also they didn’t have televisions back then, so they probably couldn’t find out stuff as easily as we can now, with like, Instagram and the news and whatever.”

 A year ago, Aavyan would’ve laughed his way out of this town hall. Time travel and monsters eating people was the kind of thing in movies. Maybe the others had a point with that. If no one had been able to stop this thing before, maybe the movies held a grain of truth to them. “Well, we sure can’t stay either. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like our chances if it’s 1912 and we got big lobsters.” He crossed his arms over his chest, glancing between Emilio and Metzli. “Y’all cannot be serious about thinking of staying, right?”

 Something stirred in Kaden. He wasn’t sure what he’d call it. Definitely not fear or concern. “We can’t just all die, either.” There were people in town he cared about and the thought of them all dying as the town caved in on itself – he couldn’t let his thoughts drift there. Not to mention the innocent people who just picked the wrong fucking place to live. “Whatever the solution, it can’t need the whole town. We should start getting people out.”

 “Finally, someone is making some sense,” Aavyan said, gesturing at the French kid

 Crow rubbed the back of his head but nodded at Kaden’s words, “Can help get people out. No matter what we do.” He knew how to get in and out quickly so leading groups outside of town and helping people collect their essentials would be easy for him. 

 “It’s not about staying, tonto,” Metzli rolled their eyes at Aavyan, “If it’s spreading, it doesn’t matter if we stay or not.” Looking to the teen boy, they nodded. Getting people out would be smart, but they’d need to keep capable ones in town to stop whatever it was that was causing the chaos. 

 “There are people who won’t leave,” Cass pointed out. “There always are. In every natural disaster, there are people who refuse to leave their homes. We can’t leave them to die if this thing really is, like, a ‘wipe out the whole town’ kind of deal. We need to find a way to minimize the damage at least.”

 “If people won’t leave, then evacuate them,” Kaden said. “I’m not going to sit around and let innocent people die just because they’re too stubborn and stupid to leave town.” He didn’t know how but he’d throw people into buses heading out of town if he had to. “Whatever’s going to stop this thing clearly is taking the town with it. We shouldn’t sacrifice people just because they won’t leave.”

 With so many people around to comfort him, Rio was starting to feel a bit more comfortable, though the situation didn’t exactly have much comfort to spare. “I’m not sure everyone could leave even if they wanted to.” Rio began. Leah and Rio had gone through hundreds of books probably, looking through all of the Scribe texts they had in an attempt to find records of this happening. They hadn’t been thrilled with what they found. “We couldn’t find much about the weird things happening outside of the borders before, but it’s spreading. We think that’s new.”

 “D’you know how it was stopped?” Rhett asked Leah. “If you somehow know it all happened before… sure someone had to scribble down the damn cheat code, eh?”

 “This ain’t a video game, abuelito.” Mateo chuckled, despite the man having a good point. If it’s happened before, there had to be written history about it. “He is kinda making sense, though.” He muttered with a shrug.

 “You got anything about it in the library?” Emilio inclined his head towards Leah, shifting a little. He probably wasn’t her favorite person, given the whole ‘drunken bone theft’ ordeal, but they had much bigger problems than that now, anyway. “Rhett’s right. Somebody had to have written something down.”

 “Oh!” Aylin chirped nervously, “there’s lots written down, but it does just all come to a halt. Which… is the issue, but also how we sort of figured out that stuff just all,” she gestured away with her hands, “goes poof.”

 Lil sighed slightly, thinking that the entire meeting was going sideways but liking that it was going towards a clearer picture . “ Then we have to stop it, but we don’t all have to stop it.” She couldn’t help but snort at the idea of a cheat code but shook her head. “Do - you guys have any people that could be contacted that might help. Anyone - written down in that book?” She wasn’t quite sure how many cards she could flip, but being an exorcist did give her something to go on. “With all of it being wobbly, I might be able to - talk to them.” 

 Poof was bad. Poof was very, very bad. Cass felt some of her hope slipping, and she leaned into Metzli a little for reassurance. But Lil made a good point; time was so fickle right now. If they could find some way to harness that… Maybe they could get more details? “Is there any kind of, like… pattern to the time travel stuff? Maybe we can figure out a way to work with it instead of against it?”

 Aylin turned to the woman who’d asked about names in the book, “I remember one - Patricia Williams. I think. There might’ve also been someone called Alexander Parrish, too.”

 Lil nodded at the younger as she explained some of the names, her arms stretching in front of her for a moment before nodding, realizing there were plenty people in this room that would be confused on why she asked - although she did find it somewhat charming Cass thought she was going to go through time to talk to them. With the veil breaking - and all the ghosts that loved to scream at her - Lil thought it would at least be a change of pace for them to be helpful for once. “Thanks. That’s something I could work with at least. Although if you guys got something from either of them, it might be easier. ” 

 Nicole stood in the back of the room, leaning against the wall just near the exit. Ready to bounce when things got too heated. It was her first town hall. And by the looks of it, her last one. It was hard to figure out what the real problem was. Something about time travel bullshit and— People kept talking over each other, and she wasn't sure if they were even listening. Was there even a moderator for this event? Just a bunch of kids it seemed. Not that she'd ever want to be in their shoes or to tell them how to conduct the meeting. So she kept her mouth shut, allowing the chaos and the discussions about…whatever the issue was to continue. She was sure Leah would bring her up to speed on the ride home.

 Metzli’s arm draped around Cass protectively, sensing her fear rising as the conversation transpired. None of it was sounding good, and it didn’t seem like a sensible plan could be put together. At least, not with so many people around. Most of them were useless humans who had no idea what to make of everything. “The clock,” They spat out suddenly with a bap to their head, remembering Eilidh’s kid sputtering about her little time warp. “Maybe something is up there? At the tower? Heard lots of stories about all kinds of shifts, and it is at the Common.”

 “We do know how it was stopped”, Leah answered Rhett, looking toward Rio and then Aylin. “And the library is partly how we know”, she said toward Emilio, holding his eye contact momentarily before she looked back in the group. “The problem is, in order to save the rest of the world from destruction, 12 people sort of need to… stay here. While it crumbles.”

 Emilio snapped his fingers, pointing to Metzli in agreement. “Worth looking into,” he nodded. “Weird shit’s been happening when that thing strikes the hour, too.” Then Leah spoke, and he went quiet. Twelve people, volunteering to die. That was what she was saying. He glanced around the room uncertainly. A year ago — hell, a few months ago, he would have thrown his name in the hat without hesitation. But his eyes landed on Rhett, and he thought of Teddy at home. Probably wasn’t fair now, was it?

 Oh. Well that was… less than ideal. Rhett’s gaze quickly found Emilio’s as well, and his brows furrowed. He knew what the idiot was thinking, and just shook his head slowly. “Stay here n’ do what, exactly?”

 Now that was something. Metzli’s heart felt like it dropped, realizing what Leah was saying. “Twelve people have to sacrifice themselves.” They stated blandly, answering for Leah. 

 Aylin pressed her hands against her ears. The idea of people having to sacrifice themselves made her feel sick to her stomach. “But why can’t we save everyone?”

 Twelve people had to die. No matter what. Kaden’s heart sank. Some stupid part of him figured he should volunteer and get it over with. It was his duty to protect people, right? Only no part of him wanted to die in this town. Not now. “Who… I mean how do we decide… who?” 

 People had to sacrifice themselves? Cass’s heart skipped a beat at the notion, and she swallowed as she glanced to her friends in the room. She knew the people she loved were selfless people. She knew some of them would jump at that chance. “Is there any other way?”

 Levi, who had been standing creepily at a window this whole time listening in, turned tail and booked it the fuck out of there the moment it heard the word ‘sacrifice’. No way was it getting itself wrapped up in any of that bullshit.

 The pain from Aylin and Cass was palpable, and Metzli couldn’t help but feel guilty at the thought of already willing to volunteer. Their embrace tightened around Cass, and their brows creased together as they stayed quiet and offered Aylin a worried glance. If they had to pick between themself and the ones they loved, it was always going to be the latter. With or without a soul.

 “Any volunteers?” Aavyan deadpanned. “It’s just human sacrifice or nothing, right? I mean, come on.” Why were they trusting the word of some long dead prophets or whatever? Surely there must be any other option than just letting twelve of their fellow townspeople die. Everyone in this room was someone’s friend, brother, grandmother, cousin–something. He shouldn’t have come to this meeting. Better yet, Aavyan should have never come back to White Crest in the first place. 

 “Volunteers? We can’t seriously be considering this.” Cass glanced around again, hoping to find anyone as horrified as she was.

 “Why do we have to have volunteers?” Aylin spoke up at nearly the same time as Cass. “That seems - cruel, or like - why do people have to choose to die? I really really don’t like that at all.” She took in a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself.

 “We aren’t going to stop looking,” Rio promised. “If there’s any way to avoid this we are going to figure it out. We don’t want anyone to die. Or have to choose to stay behind. But…” Rio paused before letting out a big sigh, “From what we’ve found in old journals it’s never been stopped before.”

 “We’ll figure it out,” Metzli stated with conviction, “We always do.” They swallowed and began to back away, a tumultuous parade of thoughts marching through their mind. There had to be another way, but panic was beginning to creep into the room—or maybe it was just their mind. With all the information they were presented with, there was a lot to think about. Too much, even. 

 “And what happens if we don’t find another way? If not enough people volunteer?” Rhett didn’t exactly make a habit of being a ray of sunshine, but these were the sort of things they had to consider. 

 Mateo had had enough of the conversation. Whatever the town decided to do, he decided that it was their problem, and left. Plenty of selfless people out there would volunteer, and in the meantime, he’d get Vida and Luz out. 

 Lil was already formulating how to get the ghosts to her with relative ease, when she heard Leah’s words and her brain settled for a second. Of course. She’d had a gut feeling about all of this and she settled for a moment.  Everything always had a dam cost, and she figured that the piper usually got paid in the end.  She should have felt some sort of anger or remorse, but instead her jaw settled, not wanting it to start drawing straws or some sort of nonsense. She knew when she entered White Crest she’d die here, and it didn’t seem as horrifying as the other’s expressions seemed to think.

Lil sighed and said, “ Then I guess I’ll be the dumbass to start it, so we don’t end up in fucking lots.” Lil said to Rhett knowing that it would start another argument.  Waiting for the shock to settle down a bit, Lil tried to be gentle and said, “ It’s morbid, but I think we should at least consider having people that are willing to stay behind, if just if it comes to that, or many more people than twelve are going to die. For what it’s worth we still need to know what they did if we’re going to have any chance at all. They must have done some ritual that we’re going to need to do and since we don’t have a book on it we're going to have to ask them. So - at the very least I’m staying here. Whatever happens happens. ” Lil said the last part with a confidence that was mostly stolen from her father as she didn’t look at her friends with a shrug in her shoulder. She wasn’t frightened - death had never scared her - and she was fairly resolute on it.  “So I guess I'm volunteer one. Hopefully it turns out they just fucked up the ritual huh.” She put on an easy expression, not one of fear in hopes that the rest of them would see that she wasn’t doing it out of morbidity. 

 “I’m not concerned about the possibility of there not being enough volunteers, not when White Crest attracts the very people who feel pulled in by this sort of thing”, Leah started.  She looked toward Lil, trying her best to convey all the gratefulness she was feeling with just a look.  “And again, there’s always the possibility that we’re wrong, that it’ll be nothing…  Just a harmless ritual, and White Crest could be back to harmless fish rain as soon as the New Year.”  It wasn’t an irrational thought.  Despite the piles of research she and Rio had pulled up about what was happening, Leah couldn’t help but have a glimpse of optimism about the town that she loved so much.  She had only ever seen it work out, somehow some way, at least in this lifetime.  And how could she distrust what her eyes have proven to her so many times?

 Leah was right — there would be no shortage of volunteers. That was the problem. Cass ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head quickly. “We’re going to find another way.” She said it with conviction, with a certainty she didn’t feel. They had to find another way. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing the family she’d built for herself here.

 Emilio looked to Rhett again, heaving a heavy sigh as he forced himself to his feet. He inclined his head towards Rhett, then towards the door in a silent question. You wanna get the hell out of here? If he stayed any longer, he had a feeling he was going to do something stupid, like offer himself up for this batshit plan.

 Taking the slayer’s point, Rhett frowned and nodded, pushing himself off the wall. “Great. Best put out a notice in the dailies, then.” Making sure Emilio was ahead of him, the warden followed him out the door. 

 “We’ll do everything we can to find another way.” Aylin’s voice shook, but she turned to Rio and whispered to him, “what about pancakes? I think I need sugar to get my mind off of this, and maybe it’ll help us figure out something to do so that people don’t have to sacrifice themselves.” She offered him her hand. “I’m ready when you are.”

 Rio couldn’t ask people to volunteer to sacrifice themselves, he didn’t want to give up on searching for an answer. “We can set up research times. In the library or at the park. We have plenty of books to go through. Anyone who wants to volunteer can show up and help try to find something.” Somewhere, somehow, maybe they’d find some sort of hail mary. After that, he focused on Aylin’s question, grabbing onto her hand and wrapping his fingers in hers, “Flipped has the best pancakes. And they never held it against me that time I got thrown through their window.”

[rocorambles]

Jealousy

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Main), Osamu x Reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Misuse of Duct Tape, Non-Con Bondage, Forced Breeding, Forced Impregnation, Delusional Mindset

Summary: Atsumu is determined to prove that he’s the better twin for you.    

The first time Atsumu meets you he doesn’t remember you so much as he gets stuck on the fact that Osamu is dating someone. Osamu is fucking dating someone and Atsumu is still here single and alone in his late twenties, not a girl anywhere even in sight. It makes him livid as he stares at the identical face gently smiling at you, affectionately holding your hand, looking so damn happy and content. 

What does he have that Atsumu doesn’t? A successful food chain? Cool. But is he a pro-athlete? A medal winning Olympic athlete? One of the best setters in the country? In the world? It’s infuriating to think about and as much as Atsumu loves volleyball, even he dreams of love, marriage, a family of his own late at night when he’s alone on a hotel bed, only Sakusa’s breathing from the other bed in the room keeping him company. 

And those thoughts consume him long after he bids farewell to Osamu and you and suddenly the MSBY Jackals are in an uproar as every team member takes turns being sexiled by their blond setter when they’re off at their away games, as Atsumu nonchalantly strolls into the locker rooms to prep for practice, back littered with scratch marks that Bokuto tries to shield from Hinata’s eyes when the orange haired athlete curiously asks when Atsumu got a cat. 

Girl after girl walks in and out of his bed, his life. Most never lasting more than a night, a few returning for a couple more rounds in the bedsheets, one even manages to interest him enough to grab a cup of coffee with. But it’s the same verdict every time. He’s good enough to fool around with and he’s great in bed, but Miya Atsumu is not husband material, not when he’s already married to volleyball. 

The rejection only fuels his inner turmoil and the green eyed monster inside of him grows and grows, festering and spreading throughout him the more he stops attempting his futile attempts and instead turns his energy to loitering around Osamu and you, inviting himself over for dinners after practice, trying his hand at helping you in the kitchen for brunch on the weekends, crashing in your guest bedroom to the point that Osamu and you gift him a spare key to your shared home. 

Neither of you think much of it, Osamu joking to you privately that this is just Atsumu being the needy emotional brother he really is while you’re just glad to be able to get to know Osamu’s family better. So none of you notice how brown eyes inquisitively trail after the both of you, watching how the two of you seamlessly work out both your hectic lives, never letting the long hours at your job or Osamu’s restaurant get in the way of your relationship, always directing a warm smile or gaze at the other despite how obviously exhausted or far away from a good mood you’re in. 

And Atsumu lets himself believe that this could be his as he hungrily stares at the way you gently caress his brother’s hand, the affection in your gaze as you tenderly kiss him on the lips, the playful wink you give his twin when you tell him you’re getting ready for bed. He lets himself dream that it’s him who you direct those loving gazes to as you cheerfully greet him in the morning, handing him a coffee made just the way he likes it, placing a plate full of delicious piping hot food in front of him. He lets his hand wander down his shorts at night, straining to hear every detail, every decibel of your moans as Osamu and you make love at night, closing his eyes and stroking his cock as he imagines it’s him who’s forcing those beautiful cries from your mouth. 

But it’s not all a picture perfect paradise and Atsumu carefully listens in, alerted by the raising voices he hears through the walls as more and more time passes by. He’d noticed the growing tension in the house, noticed how the two of you were less affectionate, almost awkwardly shuffling around each other when both of you were home from work these past few months. But he couldn’t think of what could have caused both of you to act so strangely, so suddenly, when everything had seemed so swell. 

Curiosity has him placing his ear on the wall and he winces when he hears you shout, anger and hurt in your voice that makes his heart clench painfully, asking when Osamu was going to propose, telling his brother how you’re sick of waiting, how you want to get married and have kids soon. Something shattering inside of him when your voice becomes small and hesitant. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted too, Osamu. Isn’t that why we decided to start living together?”

He expects his brother to leap at the opportunity, to reassure you, yes, absolutely yes, we can get married right away. He knows that if their positions were switched, that’s what he would be doing. But his jaw drops in disbelief, morphing into a scowl when Osamu pleads for you to calm down, to be patient. 

“I do want that. But just not right now.”

“If not now, when? We’re not getting any younger, Osamu.” 

“But my chain is in talks of expanding and there’s so much going on. I just don’t have time-”

There’s a heavy silence as Osamu is quick to snap his mouth shut and Atsumu knows he’s cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, already knows the next words that are going to come out of your mouth, words he himself is all too familiar with from his own past failed relationships. 

“You just don’t have time for us? Me?” 

“That’s not what I meant…”

But it’s too late and Atsumu flinches when he hears loud angry movement, Osamu’s voice imploring you to calm down and stop what you’re doing to no avail as you stomp out of the house, slamming the front door behind you as you make your way to a friend’s house to spend the night apart. 

No one speaks of that night after you return to the house the next day and the three of you continue as normal. Or at least as normal as you can be after an unresolved disagreement that your relationship ultimately hinges around continues ticking like a time bomb in everyone’s minds. And it finally counts down to zero when Osamu packs his bags and plants a cold chaste kiss on your lips before heading to the airport and making his way to seal the deal on the restaurant expansion that’s taken over his entire life. 

Maybe it’s Atsumu’s fault that the two of you are drunk out of your minds, sprawled out on the living room floor. Scratch that. It’s definitely Atsumu’s fault and he drunkenly smiles at how out of it you are, heart warming at the giddy genuine smile spread across your face, happiness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen ever since that argument Osamu and you had. And oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud and he panics, quickly sobering up when your smile falls at his words, eyes glazed in reminiscence as you think of that night. 

Atsumu isn’t known for his patience, but he waits, not uttering a single word, not moving an inch as you open yourself up to him, telling him your hopes and dreams that so closely match his own of a loving relationship, marriage, family, sharing about the argument Osamu and you had (unknowing of the fact that Atsumu already knows far more than he should). But when you frustratedly laugh at yourself, asking him rhetorically if you’re just being silly and naive, if you’re just a grown woman trying to fulfill a little girl’s childish dream, you’re stunned by the fierce denial from the blonde athlete determinedly staring at you.

“No. You’re not being silly or naive. ‘Samu’s being the idiot. Any man would be lucky and proud to have you as his wife and to create a family with you.”

Those words resonate with you, linger in your mind, further branded into your memory by the sheer sincerity Atsumu drowned them in. And maybe that’s why you find it impossible to play house anymore, find it impossible to live a forced and fake lie when you’re not truly happy anymore. It’s hard, heartbreakingly so, to part ways with the silver haired man when he still holds a part of your heart, but it’s for the best. Why continue when neither of you are on the same page in the long run? Why waste more precious years when you can actively work towards your desired future with someone else who wants the same things as you? 

It’s logical. It makes sense. And yet when you meet up with Atsumu at his apartment for dinner one night to catch up a few months or so after the break up you’re still doubting your decision. 

You had been surprised the blond setter had been so adamant about keeping in touch even after his brother and you separated, but if you’re honest, he’s surprisingly sweet and caring, someone you consider a true friend. So as awkward as it might seem to outsiders, the two of you remain in close contact and you happily agree to his invite when both your busy schedules finally match up. 

But as much as you like Atsumu, the two of you really need to stop drinking so much when you see each other and you let out a cry of frustration when your eyes immediately tear up when Atsumu casually asks how you’re doing as both of you sprawl out on his couch, trying to wave away his worried face as he hovers far too close to you, telling him it’s just the alcohol making you more emotional than usual. 

And you still blame all the drinks he had generously kept refilling for you for the way you sob and cling onto him as he wraps you in a tight hug, telling him how you worry all the time about whether or not you made the right decision to break up with Osamu, whether or not you’re ever going to find someone else, ever going to get married, ever going to have that dream romance you’ve always wanted, ever going to have the happy full family you’ve always yearned for. 

It all comes out of you so easily. But everything with Atsumu has always come easy and you don’t think much of it, finding comfort in his solid presence as he continues to hold you, letting him readjust and find a comfortable position-

You scramble to separate from him when lips tenderly meet yours, limbs flailing as you shove the man away from you, eyes comically wide open as you stare agape at Atsumu. 

“What are you- We can’t- No no no. All of this is wrong. This would KILL Osamu-”

Something inside of Atsumu snaps when he hears his brother’s name from your lips. Even after all this time, you’re still thinking of him? You still care about him? When the better twin is right in front of your fucking face? 

He doesn’t even register he’s shouting those questions in your face, barely registering your terrified eyes as you try to shrink away from him. But your movement of pulling away from him snaps him back to reality and reflexes has his hand twisting in your hair, grabbing you by your roots, fury making him numb to the way you desperately claw at his grip as he drags you to his bedroom. 

You’re too focused on soothing your aching skull when he finally releases you by throwing you onto his bed and pitiful tears stream down your face as you gingerly hold your head, ignorant of how the athlete is rummaging through his closet. In hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t try to run while his back was turned, although you already know the answer. This is just Atsumu in one of his moods. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’ll apologize in just a second. Those are the thoughts fleeting through your mind amidst the sore ache Atsumu has left behind. 

But a warning bell rings relentlessly inside of you as you finally look up when you sense him approaching you, a thick roll of silver duct tape in his hands. 

Had Atsumu always looked so...intimidating?

You try to fight back as you’re suddenly pinned to the bed by a muscular body, flailing and thrashing as calloused hands hold your arms above your hand, tightly wrapping your wrists together, looping extra lengths of the tape around the headboard, securely fastening your arms up and out of the way. But it’s useless, pathetic really, although Atsumu thinks there’s something adorable about how hard you’re trying, only to be easily batted away by his much stronger body as he tears off your clothes and bends your knees, taping your calves to your thighs, one side at a time until both your legs are bound. 

And then there’s silence and stillness other than your wriggling tied form as Atsumu sits back and admires the view of your naked body, reality so much more lucious and gorgeous than he had ever imagined. You struggle against your tight restraints, recoiling as brown eyes leer at you, ravenously devouring the sight of your heaving breasts, raking down your figure before finally landing on your bare pussy on full display as his hands spread your bound legs on either side of you, palms searing your inner thighs with their unwanted warmth as he holds you open. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape to hold you down and keep you still. One day you’ll let him have you of your own free will. One day you’ll see that he was always the one for you. But he can’t help but feel that there’s something breathtaking about how vulnerable and pretty you are, laid out for him like a wrapped present, something filthily attractive about how striking the silver stripes are against your skin. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape...but that doesn’t mean he'll stop using it. 

You shudder as he trails his fingers over the duct tape, grinning at you all the while. 

“Can’t have you moving too much if I’m going to breed you. You’ll make all my cum spill out of you.”

He tsks when you frantically struggle at his words, pathetic begs and pleads spilling from your lips as dread fills you from learning exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are, how tight the front of his pants look as his erection presses against the fabric, how far too close he is to your most intimate part. And you sob as he leans on top of you, pressing his toned body against yours, something hard pressing against your bare pussy as he captures your lips in a kiss to silence you. 

“I thought you would be more thankful considering how you were practically in my arms begging me for kids not even a hour ago. And now I’m here ready to give you what you want and you’re making such a fuss.” 

He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you only sob even harder, body shaking and trembling, sniveling as you stare up at him with teary eyes, begging him to stop. 

“Oh shut up. What? Are you worried about the order of things? Worried I’ll just knock you up and leave you alone? Don’t be stupid. I’ll make sure to put a ring on your finger and marry you after this. Who cares about the order of things when the end result is the same.” 

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, unsure where to even begin telling him just how wrong his reasoning is, unsure how to even process his words. Ring? Marry? What-

But thoughts fly out of your head when a hungry mouth suddenly descends on your breasts, harshly sucking a nipple between wet lips, fingers roughly twisting and pulling at your other nipple and you wail at the jolt of sudden stimulation, too focused on the tongue lapping at your nipples and lances of arousal swirling inside of you to notice how his free hand is shoving his pants and boxers down and off. 

You hate how quick you are to melt into the delirious pleasure, body craving for the touch of another, to be brought to new heights by another after being left to your own devices for the past few months and you can feel your pussy clench and throb, feeling so exposed and empty, practically begging to be stuffed full as slick begins to form between your legs. And as if Atsumu can hear your body’s silent cry for more, he begins to push the tip of his cock inside of you and your back arches, mouth instinctively opening as he takes his time, pressing past your tight opening, slipping further and further inside of you until he’s finally fully sheathed inside of you, letting your body adjust to him as he continues licking and sucking on your breasts, groaning as he feels your tight walls clamp around him with every move of his mouth. 

Atsumu is not known for his patience, but he tries his damn best to take it as slow as he bearably can for you, dragging his cock back and forth against your gummy walls, constantly adjusting the angle of his hips with every stroke until you’re crying out, and he smirks triumphantly, memorizing the exact position and angle that has you seeing stars as he continuously hits that spongy spot inside of you. And all it takes is for his hand to slide between the two of you and gently circle your clit as he continues his steady assault to have you breaking to pieces underneath him, garbled versions of his name escaping your mouth as your orgasm washes over you in heavy tall waves, his own release joining with yours as your pussy convulses and milks him of his sticky white liquid. 

As post-coital bliss disintegrates, shame and relief flood through you, shame for enjoying it, relief that this ordeal is finally over and you wait. Wait for him to remove the tape. Wait for him to pull out of you. Grimacing as he affectionately nuzzles you and litters your face with kisses. But you panic, pure fear flooding through you when you feel his cock twitching inside of you once more, growing inside of you again. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? Need to make sure I fill you with so much cum that your body has no choice but to get pregnant.”

And he stays true to his words, fucking you over and over again, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes passionate and sensual, sometimes soft and gentle, but always finishing inside of you, adding to the splattered pooling mess inside of you. You feel disgusting, the increasingly wet noises as he thrusts in and out of the sticky wet mess inside of you permeating throughout the room, stomach feeling so bloated with cum that you swear you must be pregnant already. 

Quiet, relieved sobs wrack your body when the weight on top of you finally lifts, when he finally pulls out of you and your body slumps down, all the tension leaving it, discomfort taking its place as you feel a torrent of liquid move to rush out of your overfilled cunt, the beginnings of it already starting to trickle out. But despite your aching dry throat, you manage to let out a strangled cry of disbelief when your hips are uncomfortably raised up, upper body almost folded in half as Atsumu keeps your glistening pussy upright, not allowing even a single drop more to escape. 

And in this new position you have no choice but to watch, anxiety coursing through you when he tears off another piece of duct tape, chest hyperventilating as he places it over your gaping hole, effectively sealing you shut and despite the fact that you thought you had no more tears left to shed, new salty teardrops slide down your cheeks at the debauched site of your own pussy being treated as nothing more than an object, a receptacle for his seed, his beaming smug face between your legs only adding to your humiliation as he smiles down at his handiwork. 

All you can do is mindlessly stare when he directs his smile at you, verbally praising himself for how smart he is for finding a way to keep his cum inside of you and making sure all his hard work doesn’t go to waste, mind and body feeling numb and broken as he finally lets your body lay fully back on the bed, slumping down next to you in exhaustion and cuddling your listless and still bound figure. 

“We can go pick out rings together tomorrow, okay? Maybe try a few more times for some runts after. You think the more I cum in you, the better the chance that you’ll have twins?”

You don’t know, but you have a sinking feeling that you’ll soon be finding out.

[tomatograter]

What are your Thots on jake’s pq route?

I already wrote some about it in this post where I discuss the problem with taking dirkjake as a literal parallel to tavris (Mainly, that it’s inaccurate to both situations and misrepresents the dynamics at play) but it’s been long enough since release that I feel like I can talk about it without that criticism being taken as a personal witch hunt. TL;DR: As a general rule of thumb I don’t cite Jake’s PQ as part of his characterization, and I think basing your Jakewriting on it will only lead you astray.

I liked a lot of the Pesterquest routes and the alphas were among some of my favorites, but I think when you play the four of them in sequence Jake’s really... stands as the odd one out. It’s almost as if he’s afforded way less sympathy from the get go for some indiscernible reason, or like MSPAR took a day to say ‘I can’t stand this kid in particular’ after dealing with waaaaaaaay more mindboggling troll customs or stupid dangerous situations that tested their patience and their limits. When it comes down to it, it’s mostly an issue of framing.

Let’s go with the “Just the Alpha routes” example, because I think that makes the overall context clearer and the response/reactions it gathered (or the lack thereof) easier to understand. The alpha kids were the last 4 Pesterquest episodes. They were also afforded entire volumes just for themselves, which cemented our expectations on “oh, they’re going to really dig into unexplored territory!” and for the most part, that’s what we got! It was really nice to see the internal mechanics of Jane as someone raised within a corporate echochamber, Roxy as a grieving, isolated kid, deprived of all human contact, and Dirk as a nerdy doomsday prepper haunted by private flashes of himself as a supervillain. It all works! Those are things the alpha kids were dealing with on the background of the broader Homestuck story, things we were only hinted at as the *larger* problems played out. It makes you understand their point of view. Except on Jake's route, where nothing about his life seems to be relevant at all? 

With Jane we get discussions about HIC and her family, with Roxy beautiful passages about a mother they never met and growing up alone— Same for Dirk, who gets a whole brother zapped from an alternate timeline. But on Jake's route there's not even an expansive dialogue path dedicated to Grandma English, Skaianet, the rebellion, or the giant red ship that came and murdered her in the night and then bombed his house, leaving him trapped inside his only surviving tower. No understanding passage realizing that this kid has had to fend for himself in an island full of Actual Giant Alien Monsters trying to eat him alive, or that he cremated his guardian specifically to avoid attracting predators to the scent of fresh blood drying on her mutilated corpse at the age of an actual toddler. The text refuses to dig into any of the psychological implications or impact an environment like this could have on a kid, which is even weirder when you consider MSPAR has met and helped Vriska get out of a similar situation. The whole thing with Jane in the previous volume has just happened, even, while Jake's particularities go unremarked. He was just supposed to deal with it. And that's because a choice was made to portray all of Jake's problems in this route as sort of... single handedly Dirk's fault? Something he should have Just Dealt with?

There's not even a hint that Jake knows Hal exists. Which is important! Jake can pick out Hal from Dirk based on *verbal cues*, and the fact that he considers Hal a barrier between him and his "real friend" getting to communicate with one another is a whole point of contention (and even comedy) in the story proper. Instead of examining Jake's isolation, or grief, or how he literally locks himself in his room and plasters it with cinematic posters to pretend he's just the main lead of a wacky adventure movie in the face of the immense shitshow outside, we get brobot acting nonsensically and threatening to break into Jake's room to beat him up. 

A general reminder on brobot: He was programmed to scout the jungle and deal with predators so Jake could a) Be allowed to safely leave his room (something he simply didn't do before age 13 out of sheer terror, and we know this because dirk and jake talk about it on his birthday conversation, when he first gets brobot) and 

b) Learn how to defend himself in the case of a surprise attack, with different combat settings adjusted to his level. The brobot has a novice mode Jake feels patronized by, but pushes him up levels quickly enough. In Homestuck proper, the brobot only enters "stalking mode" after Hal gets pissy with Jake for finding him out, and forcefully switches the setting on to make Jake work for the Uranium inside it. When you take Hal out of the picture, this plotline makes no sense! Jake's route is set way before the Alphas even think of entering the game, so this particular event hasn't even happened. Jake goes on to text Roxy and she turns the stalking setting off remotely anyways, so even if brobot was programmed to murder Jake in his sleep, or jump him inside the safe zone of his room (he's not) he has literally no reason to be acting like that when he's been set to Baby Buff Up Mode.

(Brobot does end up spontaneously pulling himself apart to give Jake his reward after this)

Which brings me to my other problem with the general framing of this volume; the alpha kids don't feel present in Jake's life as friends at all. It's all "romantic options" and "shipping discourse" and MSPAR making these silly logic jumps to justify insisting on this line of query, and all it does is completely flatten out anything of interest having to do with Jake as a Person, to build up an image of Dirk as being suspicious and shady for his volume and more or less come to the conclusion that Jake sucks because he just Cant Choose Who To Date Between All His Friends! And that's why jake is just like tavros… and dirk is just like vriska! Or something. 

And just as a reminder, here's Jake talking with Roxy so I don't have to explain why that feels like a weird choice to me. (click to zoom)

And then there's the endings. On the vriska ending, MSPAR just ends up weirdly angry at jake for being such a piss baby and not getting that he's tavros and dirk is vriska so he had to… uh… take all his anger out on this 13 year old alien girl he has never met and teach her a lesson to prepare to do the same on dirk, or something. And on the other ending Jake mentions his pen pal, is zapped to meet jade, they have some non-committal greetings and then a cosplay party where Jake insists that he totally likes Lara croft not because she's a femme fatale and he relates to that, because he's never ever in his life thought of anyone being interested on him. Or Something. He likes Lara croft for normal reasons only. He wears really tiny shorts and does sexy poses because he's not aware at all of how other people find him attractive. He's just too dumb to get this, or the shipping thing, or that he's tavros and Dirk is vriska (who the hell are these people?).

Jake feels like an afterthought in the grand scope of events. Sidelined on his own episode. This volume is busy with rehashing age old fandom arguments that have little to do with his character, because said arguments were started and maintained by bored teens engrossed on fighting online instead of analyzing Homestuck; we introduce vriska for no interesting reason at all (thank god at least Jake has enough decency to say he's not into hitting on 13-year-olds, because that would have been particularly rancid.) And aside from catchphrases and old slang sprinkled liberally into his dialogue like a fog making machine, none of the motivation for the character is there. What does he want? What does he fear? Why does he act like the way he does? What would accommodating him look like? What would helping him look like? We get this on Jane's volume, Roxy's volume, and Dirk's volume. To really heart-wrenching and dramatic results, too. You get to know who they are, where they live, what they want, what they fear, what might help them get better, but Jake is just sort of There. He's a burden. MSPAR either ends this volume berating him for not doing what they want or finding him weird and confusing and like they don't know each other at all, and the fact both of those were marked as dubiously bad ends in the game files speaks for itself, I think.

[myheroheacanons]

Chapter 23

- You thought you and your best friend were having an outing, but then you bump into your soulmate who broke your heart. Can he atone for what he did? 

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: ummmm I can’t apologize enough for what took so long. I am truly sorry that it took me this long to get myself together and finally finish it. Although I’m sad that enemy is finally over, I’m really excited to start working on my next smau! I hope you all are doing okay, and stay safe!

You wandered around the park, admiring the pretty sunset. Summer was great in the sense that the sunset was so late. It was 8:30 in the evening and the sky was filled with beautiful warm colors. You were walking towards the tree that Todoroki told you he’d meet you at. An odd location to meet if you were honest. A random tree of all places. You spotted the unique features Todoroki described in the text and walked to it. You also didn’t know why he wanted to meet in a park of all places. His explanation was that he was doing something in the city, but couldn’t you just meet in the shop? You decided to stop questioning your friend’s weird logic. You saw someone underneath sitting on a picnic blanket but thought you’d just stand near the tree and not bother them. Until you saw who it was.

Bakugou looked at her and a shocked expression came on his face. You stood there speechless.

“Y/n…” he nearly whispered, looking her over with a soft look in his eyes. He stood up and made his way to her. “Don't,” you said sternly. “What are you doing here?!” the expression on your face changed from confused to furious in seconds. He looked at you, eyes filled with regret and sadness. “I said, what the hell are you doing here?!” you clutched your purse and furrowed your brows. The hurt in your voice was painfully obvious and it stung Bakugou.  “I need to talk to it, but I wanted to do it in person,” Bakugou said, attempting to keep his composure. At that moment you were a ticking time bomb. All the emotions you have been suppressing and hiding now coming to the surface. And as you stared at him, tears began to spill out of your eyes. “Who do you think you are?!” you yelled at him, anger pulsating through your whole body. Bakugou’s eyes widened at your outburst. He watched you with caution and guilt. “Y-you can’t just do that!” you sobbed. Your knees were wobbling, you felt as if you were going to collapse any minute. “Do you know how angry I am at you?! You lead me on and gave me hope that someone truly loves me for once! Then you just rip it all away, and now you want to talk!” you continued. Bakugou heard the hurt in your voice and his guilt grew. It was hurting him too, to see you like that, knowing he caused it. “I know, and I understand if you hate me and never want to see me again,” he said sadly. His voice was unusually quiet. Almost no one ever heard Bakugou speak like that.  “But can you please hear me out…” he said so quietly. You looked at him, eyes filled with tears. In front of you wasn’t the Bakugou that yelled at everyone. The Bakugou that hid his emotions from everyone and everything. In front of you was a vulnerable boy, with all the hurt and sadness spilling out of his body. He was letting you see him in his worst state. He was letting you see him with his walls down. You continued to stare for a couple seconds. “I don’t hate you, dummy,” you said, dropping to sit on the grass. You were also in her most vulnerable state. All the anger and sadness also spills out your body like a waterfall. “Well you probably should,” he said, dropping down next to you.   “Yeah, I know,” you said, giving a weak smile. “But I could never hate you..” you finished with a sigh at the end. You both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the sunset. Those beautiful colors that filled the sky reminded you of the boy sitting next to you. “I already said this, but I am so angry at you” you continued. “But I could never hate my soulmate” you muttered as you met Bakugou’s gaze. His eyes filled with surprise for a moment which instantly turned to soft happiness. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you. But can I please explain myself, surprisingly I'm not an asshole who did that just cause he was bored” he said as he looked at her with the tiniest bit of hope in his eyes. You snorted quietly reacting to his words. “I’m always willing to listen to you,” you said laying back into the grass, watching as the sky turned dark as the sun went away. “When I was dumb and naive, I met a girl” he started, laying back down to level with you. You turned your head to look at him. He had a sad smile on his face. “At the time, I thought that girl was my soulmate, but in reality, she was my enemy,” he said. You watched as different emotions played on his face. “She seemed like a dream. Beautiful and funny” as he said those words, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. “But then, she cheated on me. Multiple times. And would manipulate and gaslight me.” your eyes widened with surprise when he said that. “She seems like she's a great person,” you said sarcastically. “Yeah, and at the time I thought she was,” he said with sadness in his voice. “But we eventually broke up. And somehow she was an even bigger headache when we weren’t together” he said, continuing to stare at the sky. You leaned in continuing to listen. “She spread lies and rumors the moment we broke up,” he said with a sad look in his eye. “And when I met you, I didn’t….I didn’t want to believe such an angel really came to me” he said. You couldn’t help but have a blush spread across your face. His face was also turning red with embarrassment. Bakugou was never this honest with his feelings. Especially, in front of another person.  “I’m sorry that I hurt you. Believe me, I never meant to” he said giving you the most sincere look. You stared into each other's eyes for a while. His face for once was filled with vulnerability. His sadness and guilt shined through his eyes. “I forgive you, Katsuki,” you said, sitting up and he did the same. His expression was filled with hope. “You really do?” he said in almost a whisper. You saw the guilt and sadness in his eyes slowly melted away and instead became filled with happiness and love. “Yes, you dumb ass,” you gave a weak laugh when you said that.  “Who are you calling dumb ass” he snarled, his ego slowly returning to him. As you guys both looked at each other, eyes filled with pure love, you felt his hands on yours. Your heart fluttered as he leaned his face closer to yours. His eyes fluttered shut and so did yours as your lips connected. His lips were the softest things you ever felt. You put your hand in his hair and pulled it a little which made him kiss you even harder. All the emotions he’s been hiding and suppressing, were all being poured into this kiss. You and him broke apart for air. You looked over his face. You found all his features beautiful, you just loved him so much. “Y/n, I love you” Bakugou muttered out. At that moment, it’s like time stood still. Everything seemed so calm, so happy, and so...good. You were, you were truly happy at that moment. “I love you too, Katsuki,” you said as you leaned into his chest and closed your eyes. His face lit up in a cherry red when the embarrassment reached his brain. “Awww are you embarrassed?” you teased him, which made his face turn even redder. “S-shut up” he muttered covering his face with the back of his hand. You and him stayed like that and watched the stars. You saw people describe online how beautiful and happy they felt when they were finally with their soulmate. When you read those articles you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, yet hopeful. Because maybe in the future, you would finally meet your soulmate. The person that is supposed to be by your side through thick and thin. The person that is meant to love you forever. And at this moment, you knew that you finally felt what you imagined all those years. You closed your eyes and inhaled his sweet scent. You finally found the place that you belong. With Bakugou by your side.

A/n: And now we just have the epilogue left! Let me know what you guys think! Thank you so much for reading and all the support! 

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[jadoue1999]

Maximoff triplets - one shot

Summary: a look into the lives of the Maximoff had they been born as triplets instead of twins. 

*This is a merging of the Avengers events with the X-Men events, but it takes place within the Avengers timeline*

Words: 12 239

Warning: Angst, major character death

In most universe, the Maximoff came as a pair, sometimes joined with a younger or older sibling. But this, was not most universe. In this one, the Maximoff came to be as triplets.

Magda definitely wasn’t ready to take care of three newborn, especially alone. But looking at their three little faces, peacefully sleeping after all the screaming they had done when they came into the world, it didn’t matter. She’d do what she’d always done, figure it out.

The triplets grew up to be quite the trouble markers. Most people assumed that Peter and Pietro were the tricksters and while that definitely was a part of the truth, Wanda was just as mischievous. Though, you’d never guessed what she was about to do, her face innocent as she would approach her victim, unlike the boys who couldn’t keep their giggling to themselves. When they started high school, their mom had warned them about pranks, though her little smile couldn’t be ignored. “I think it freaks people out that there's not one, but three Maximoffs roaming your school, so... please, try not to cause any more trouble, alright?”

They had all nodded and promised to be on their best behavior. The first day had been going well, they all had been able to keep themselves fairly out of trouble. Of course, there was a little teasing of classmates when Peter got bored halfway through math class, but a glare from both Pietro and Wanda kept him in line. He did pull his tongue at them, though, before he drummed his fingers on his desk for the rest of the period. Finally, they were back home and spent their night playing games and unfortunately doing homework. Still, all things considered, they had each other and together, they could get through anything.

...

A few weeks after their fourteen birthdays, Wanda had knocked on the bathroom door, urging Peter to hurry since they were going to be late. No answer came, so she knocked again, this time a little harder.

“Peter Maximoff, I swear, if you don’t let me take a shower, I will drag you out of there and dip your toothbrush in the toilet!”

“What’s going on?” asked Pietro, who had just woken up a couple minutes ago.

“Peter’s not sharing,” said Wanda as she rolled her eyes.

A sob made them freeze and forget all the anger they had. They called out his name, asking him if everything was alright. Another sob was heard, and Pietro got up, a worried look on his face.

“I’m getting in,” he said to Wanda before turning to the door. “Peter, open up please, I don’t want to break down the door, but I will if I have to. You know I would, I did it before when you took an hour-long shower and used all the hot water.”

A little laugh echoed behind the door and movement was finally heard. The lock clicked and the doorknob twisted, revealing a very puffy eyed Peter. It was obvious he had been crying, his eyes were still watery.

“Frate, what’s wrong?” Questioned Wanda as she looked at her sibling with worry about his state and guilt about screaming at him.

The teenager didn’t speak, he sniffled before lifting his messy head of brown curls to reveal the roots.

Pietro frowned in confusion, “what- why are your hair turning silver?”

Peter shut his eyes and let out a quiet sob, bringing his hands to his face. “I don’t know,” he cried, “I just woke up and I have an inch root of grey hair.”

Pietro and Wanda shared a look, silently agreeing to do whatever it took to cheer up their brother. The shower forgotten, Wanda proceeded to make waffles, Peter’s favorite. Pietro didn’t complain about the amount of sugar his brother put on his breakfast. The ridiculous amount of sirup mixed with sprinkles and chocolate sauce definitely wasn’t healthy, but it was obvious he needed to find comfort, both in food and in the company of others. They all agreed to keep quiet about this, it was only an inch. Maybe it was due to stress, maybe it would go away on its own. It was probably nothing.

...

The one-inch-long root was now fully set in, the brown curls had turned silver in less than a week. It didn’t really make sense; it was like the hair itself was losing pigment. There was no way that it could be explained logically. The hair change wasn’t the only thing that manifested, for three entire days, Peter had had trouble moving. His muscles were sore even though he hadn’t been exercising any more than usual.

“Am I turning into an old man at fourteen!?” He complained sometimes between two naps.

That remark had greatly amused his siblings, who suggested that they should get him a cane or a walker. Their mother had seemed worried. Though, she insisted that taking him to the hospital wasn’t necessary. The triplets had wondered many times what she was hiding, she obviously knew what was going on, but didn’t want to believe it. They finally got their answers when she sat them down on the old couch in the living room.

“Dragă,” she started, instantly catching the trios’ attention. Romani wasn’t often used in the household, not since she had insisted, they all learned English. Their native language meant business; they all knew it. “I haven’t been honest with you, all of you. I think I know what’s going on, but I did not want to believe it.” She sighed and turned her gaze to Peter. “I think that the sudden changes in you is your mutation manifesting.”

The triplets looked at each other with wide eyes. They had wondered the same thing but had dismissed it since their mother wasn’t a mutant. Though the recent developments could only mean one thing.

“Your father was a mutant,” confessed Magda. “We were married and had another child before you three. Her name was Anya.” Their mother’s eyes were quickly filling up with tears, something they hadn’t seen often in the strong-willed woman. “She died when a bomb struck our house. Your father tried to get her out, but it was already too late. He went on a rampage to make him pay.”

“Him?” Questioned Pietro.

“Tony Stark, the bomb was manufactured by Stark Industry. Your father left on his quest for revenge, and I discovered I was pregnant. He didn’t come back, and I didn’t go look for him. You know the rest.”

They had been silent for a few minutes, trying to take in all this information. The three had, of course, wondered about their father, who wouldn’t? But their mother had never really said anything other than the fact that he left one day and never came back. Any further questions had been shoved away with a serious glare that meant that it was a sensitive subject. Neither of them had pushed further. But now, the teenagers were finally able to question further, and they used it to their full advantage. They learned that their father was called Erik Lehnsherr, they had met when they were both living in the streets and trying to survive. They were only sixteen years old. They stuck close together afterwards, him being great help since he could control metal. Locks and gates were easy. They had stuck together for five years before getting married, Anya being born a year after. The little girl had died at only six years old. That left a 28-year-old Magda Lehnsherr alone and soon to be an expecting mother. She had gone back to her maiden name, Maximoff, deciding to erase Erik from her life and spare the pain to her children. She informed them that she had heard of their father being somewhere in America still on his manhunt and hadn’t bothered to learn anymore since.

After the long talk, Magda left her children alone, knowing that they needed to talk together to better make sense of the situation. It’s what they’d been doing ever since they learned how to talk. The triplets shared a look of amazement. They finally knew who their father was, and even though they didn’t have a face to associate him with, it didn’t matter. Erik Lehnsherr, a mutant who could control metal, was their father.

...

Just a week after the revelation, Peter’s mutation manifested. On the contrary to the trio’s belief, it wasn’t metallokinesis, but speed. It was the strangest thing to ever have happened, one moment they were instructed to sprint by the PE teacher and the next Peter was running while everything around him stopped. He slowed down to try to understand what was happening. Upon closer examination, he could see excruciatingly slow movements from birds and a few of his peers. He observed his siblings’ faces, they were determined and a little red from the sport the teacher had made them do. He pulled on Wanda’s hair to try to make her react, but nothing happened so he poked Pietro on the cheek. There was a ripple on his skin but nothing else changed. Peter sat on the ground, his breath caught in his throat and his heart beating fast. He began to wonder if he was stuck like this, forever stuck in the moment. He buried his face in his knees and tried to get his breathing back under control.

Sounds made him look up, just in time to see Wanda falling to the ground and Pietro being flung to the side, both landing painfully. The pair seemed a little pissed as they looked up, trying to find the culprit. When their eyes landed on the form of their brother, all anger was forgotten, and they rushed to his side.

“Freak!” A student said, passing in front of them.

The teacher shooed the teenager away as he approached the triplets. “Mr. Maximoff, what just happened?”

“I- I don’t know, one minute I was running like everyone and then everything slowed down, and I was still going, and no one was moving, and it was super quiet. I tried to get someone’s attention, but no one reacted, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“It’s alright,” interrupted Mr. Smith. “I can see you are quite shaken, and you two are hurt. Perhaps it would be best if you all went home for the day.”

The trio agreed and after a quick visit to the principal office to explain the situation, Magda was on her way to pick them up. They explained the best they could as Peter felt exhausted. Pietro suggested that it might have been due to the amount of energy he had used. No matter the explanation, the silver haired teen was asleep by the time they arrived home and had stumbled back into the house and in his bed as soon as they had arrived.

...

The next few weeks, Peter struggled even more at school. The hour-long classes were too slow for him. He had sneaked our quite a few times, he was too quick to be caught anyway.

When they weren’t at school, the triplets were experimenting with his mutation. The many holes in the walls from the occasion where Peter couldn’t turn the corner in time. They also figured that he had to support someone’s head if he were to move them in superspeed; Wanda’s head crick was the proof of it. Peter was glad he hadn’t been going full speed, he’d rather not think about what could have happened.

While the three found his mutation amazing, the students didn’t feel the same. They picked on the group, calling them ‘freaks’ and ‘mutant scum’. Peter tried to defend his siblings, telling people they were normal, but it didn’t really help. The Maximoff name slowly grew to be one you’d whisper about and judge the mutant child and his weird silver hair.

Peter barely left the basement; he didn’t see the point since he’d be looked at every time, he’d even take one step outside. He did find a liking to stealing stuff he wanted. That way, no one was seeing him, and he was staying entertained. Magda kept telling him to stop, but they were both aware he couldn’t be stopped. The police showed up at their doorstep a few times to try to arrest him, but they never had a proof of their accusation, so the speedster always walked free.

Peter didn’t go to school much anymore, to Magda’s dismay. He just didn’t really see the point of sitting on a chair for hours to then graduate and go to college to learn a job when he could just steal what he needed. Plus, he kept being teased by everyone. His hair didn’t exactly make it easy to hide his mutation. Wanda and Pietro always defended him, but it only made them victims too. After a while, it was settled between Magda and the school that it would be best if the teenage mutant were homeschooled. They claimed it was for his safety, but Wanda was quick to point out that mutants weren’t the best to put in a brochure.

At that, the triplets looked at each other. At least there was only one freak in the family.

***

Two years later, the trio having freshly turned sixteen, Peter was still the only one with a mutation. Wanda and Pietro were pretty bummed about it since they were so used to be doing everything together. Nevertheless, they still went out and did stuff together, Peter wearing a hat or a hood to cover his hair. The stealing had become a daily thing for the mutant, he couldn’t help himself. Their mom had sighed one day after he had stolen an entire tv, promptly diagnosing him with kleptomania.

Looking back, it was most definitely the reason why he accepted the offer from three strange men to go break out someone from the Pentagon. Pietro and Wanda had been in school when a knock at the door sounded through the house. It was Magda’s day off, so she was the one to go answer the door. That gave Peter enough time to check out their car and registration. When they came to him, he was playing ping pong by himself. How they managed to have heard of him, he didn’t know, but their mission was a serious one.

“Why should I help you?” He smugly asked.

“Because you, you kleptomaniac gets to break into the Pentagon,” tiredly said the hippie. Though thinking back, he might have been high.

He accepted the job; it was way too good of an opportunity to pass up. They piled up in the small rental car and were on their way. The men explained the plan quickly and thoroughly. They’d get in, disable the cameras, which left Peter time to infiltrate the kitchen elevator where a guard would be on his way to bring the food to their friend. The speedster would only have to switch places, break the man out and meet them in the kitchen where they’d make a quick exit. It was planned out enough to be a potentially good plan, so the teenager had faith. Plus, he’d be quick enough to save their asses if they encountered trouble.

After the deed had been done and Peter was at the airport with the now four men, the hippie guy thanked him. They had, in the end, needed his skills to save them from the guards.

“Now Peter, do me a favor and go bring back the car,” he told him, throwing him the keys. He was about to walk away when he turned to him. “And take it slow.”

The teenager laughed, “sure man.” The long-haired guy started walking away, but Peter cleared his throat. “The man I saved, he said he was in there because he killed people.”

“Yes, I’m afraid he did.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine. But like, I don’t even know who I saved, could I get a name at least?” The similarities were there, the man could control metal and the people he had murdered were probably rich people, which explained his imprisonment. He had to know.

The guy removed his sunglasses to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

That took Peter by surprise and gave the men enough time to gear up and leave. The teenager was frozen in place as he watched the jet make its way across the sky. His father leaving for somewhere in Paris. Probably another sixteen years before he would see him again.

When he came home Wanda and Pietro, were all over him asking questions.

“I- I met our tată,” he answered to the surprise of both his siblings.

They spent the rest of the day talking to each other and asking every detail the silver haired teen could remember. He told them about the way he broke the glass and sped his way through the kitchen to save them from bullets. Because apparently, he was faster than bullets now. Peter then explained how he learned his father’s name and how he totally hadn’t crashed the car on his way back because come on, who actually goes that slow in the streets?

They re-enacted from Peter’s memory the even of that day, him being both himself and the hippie that just punched his friend out of nowhere.

“Lovers, definitely,” declared Pietro with a pensive nod.

“You don’t know that! You weren’t even there,” replied Wanda.

“It’s all about the tension, a kiss or a punch is all the same. Haven’t you watched movies before?”

They continued talking until the stars were bright in the sky. They talked about the Pentagon, about Erik and how much Peter’s powers had grown in the last two years. Magda watched them from the kitchen, them being in the living room. She had a worried look on her face at the mention of her ex-husband. Bad things always happened around him, she hoped that habit hadn’t rubbed off onto her children.

***

The very next day, on a Saturday, the news showed a brand-new discovery. One that couldn’t be covered up anymore: mutants. There were, of course, enhanced people. The Avengers were proof of that. But the government had been very secretive about people born with mutation. Though with Erik, or Magneto as he called himself, interrupting an official ceremony and literally showing the world the power of mutants, there was no denying it anymore. The triplets watched worryingly as he declared war on mankind. He took care of the Avengers easily, though it was to be expected with people that called themselves Iron Man, War Machine and Captain America. Their outfit were basically metal. Thankfully, Black Widow had stopped him before he could do any more damages to the mutant world. Peter shared a look of horror with his family.

“I- I didn’t know. I never would have done it if I did.”

Magda put a comforting hand on his shoulder before pulling him in a hug. The teenager started letting out small sobs about the possibility of what had just happened and the consequences following his actions. Mutants would definitely take the blame for everything now. His siblings very soon joined them; their game of cards abandoned ever since the emergency news had turned on. They held each other for a few moments before letting go. Magda took in each of her children, they all looked worried. She gave them a small smile.

“Now, we still have each other. Your father just did a horrible thing, yes, but you have to stick together. Thing might be rough for awhile, but they will get better eventually.”

At that moment, their mother’s speech calmed them down. Though, they would soon look back at this moment and wonder how they could have been so wrong.

Only a week after the Magneto incident, another knock echoed through the house. Magda ordered the triplets to go in the basement and stay there until the coast was clear. She opened the door to reveal four official looking men in suits and sunglasses. They were all different shades of skin and hair, but each of their posture were imposing and meant business.

“Mrs. Maximoff?” One of them said with a serious voice.

“Yes,” she nodded, “how can I help you?”

He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the woman.

“We are members of SHIELD, and we have permission here to talk to your son, Peter Maximoff. Is he currently in the house?”

“Uh, yes, but I don’t see-“

“Your son is a mutant, is he not?” Interrupted the man, clearly trying to hurry things along. Magda nodded, he continued. “From our record, I believe he has the ability to go faster than any recorded human?”

Magda didn’t deny anything. She knew they were confirming information they were already aware were right. There was no point in denying. They all knew why they were there and what was going to happen.

The men demanded to see the teenager, who promptly appeared next to his mom with a worried look on his face. It was obvious he was trying to look strong, but anxiety was eating him from the inside.

“What’s going on?”

“Could you please tell us where you were a week ago, on Friday?” The teen stared at the group with a blank look, the agent continued. “We have reasons to believe you were involved with the breakout of Erik Lehnsherr. While the cameras were disabled, we have an eyewitness account telling a very accurate description of you.”

Peter’s body seized up with fear as his eyes widened. They hadn’t even thought about the guard that witnessed the whole event. They had foolishly assumed he wouldn’t talk. The man repeated his accusations, already knowing he was right. There weren’t many teenagers with silver hair.

“Can I at least say goodbye?” Whispered the teen, resigned to his situation.

“Actually, Mr. Maximoff, our orders are to bring all the Maximoff children.”

Magda gasped, “you can’t do this! These are my children; I will not let you take them away!”

The man took out the paper once again, “you’ll see that we can. Since, one of your children carry an active mutant gene, it is only logical that they do too.”

The woman took the document and carefully read it. Her eyes grew as it confirmed them the right to take her family away for what they deemed to be national security. She handed back the paper and negotiated that she would go get them. It would be better if they talked to their mother. As she walked down the basement stairs, she heard Wanda’s voice.

“Mama, what’s going on?” Her daughter’s eyes were wide with fear, as well as Pietro’s.

She gave them a small smile. “I’m sorry. The men upstairs are people from the government, they suspect Peter of being involved with what happened in Paris.”

“But they can’t just make him disappear!” Cried out Pietro, already partly clued in on the situation.

Magda shut her eyes, “not just him.”

They both protested when they realized what their mother meant. But in the end, there was no real choice. They all walked up the stairs to see the men cuffing the speedster’s feet together. His hands were already behind his back.

“Is this really necessary?” Spat Magda.

“Afraid so, ma’am. We know what your son is capable of and will not take a chance of losing him.”

His voice carried no fear, no anger, and no judgement. It was said just as if it was a usual thing for him. To them, Peter was just another mild threat to deal with. The man let the family say their goodbyes before bringing the triplets to a black car with tinted windows. They thankfully didn’t restrain Wanda and Pietro. They noticed a few neighbors looking through their curtains with a suspicious look on their faces. As the doors shut, Magda watched powerlessly as her world was taken from her.

***

They drove for what seemed hours, then switched to another car that brought them to an isolated airport. From there, they were moved to a private plane and Peter’s cuffs were removed once they were in the air. Each of their questions fell on deaf ears.

The triplets realized halfway through their twelve-hour flight, according to the screen in the pilot’s cabin, that there truly was no going back home. Wanda and Pietro looked at their sibling with increasing worry. He seemed catatonic. Peter had barely moved since they had boarded the plane; it was worrisome behavior since he’d never been able to stay still for long, even before his mutation. They huddled together on one of the small couches and held each other in fear that they would be separated as well.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Peter, “I never should have gone, maybe if I hadn’t, we’d still be with mama.”

They dozed out a few times, they were all exhausted from the amount of stress they experienced in the past 24 hours. When they finally caught a glimpse of the land, they realized that they were in Romania, their birthplace. It was an ironic twist of fate, really. Magda had always wanted to take them there and show them where she had grown up and where she would have brought them had they been raised there. That realization only strengthened the heartbreak they all felt at the possibility of never seeing their mother again. When they landed, the triplets were surrounded by a group of armed men, they dispersed themselves when a tall man with glasses approached. Though, glasses weren’t really the right term. It looked more like a monocle. He had a serious look on his face as he greeted them.

“Welcome, I am Baron Wolfgang von Strucker. I will be in charge of you three.”

They were then led to another car that brought them to a big building surrounded by guarding towers. The sight of it sent chills down Wanda’s back. The hallways of the institutions were dark and cold, the grey cement kept the suffocating air inside. They seemed to be going on forever with their twists and turn. The triplets were each given a grey hospital gown and ordered to leave their clothes in the room. The thin fabric helped very little against the persistent chill in the air.

Strucker soon entered the room and took in his new acquisitions with a grin. “As I am sure you are aware, mutant kind was revealed to the world just a week ago, thanks to the maniac you boy helped release,” he said, eyeing Peter. “We were aware of its existence since the early forties, the first super soldier serum was actually derived from the DNA of a mutant.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” questioned Pietro. Had the man really expected them to even care about the past when the government just took away their future?

“Because,” uttered Strucker, turning to him with a dark gaze. “The mutant gene is usually carried in the family. While it is possible for siblings of different ages to only have one developing abilities, we have yet to see twins follow this rule.” The man paused to observe the Maximoffs siblings. “Do imagine our delight when we discovered you. Triplets, all carrying an active mutant gene.”

“But we don’t, it never developed”

That remark from Wanda made the man curl his lips in an ugly smile. “Oh, but you do miss Maximoff. Usually, we wouldn’t bother because the process of activating a gene carries a high risk of mortality since we’re not sure what exactly causes it to develop. But using the DNA of your brother is relatively safe and guaranteed to work.”

The triplets shared a look of panic and horror as the true reason they were taken was revealed to them. They wouldn’t be prisoners, like they had expected, but a much more worrisome position: lab rats. The man briefly stepped outside only to re-enter the room with soldiers that made sure they would follow the scientist. They were led to another plain room with a few doctors in white coats carefully eyeing their arrival. The trio barely had time to register what was happening before they were each approached by a doctor.

The teenagers were given no choice as they were each brought to a separate room where a basic medical examination took place. Pietro was the first to go back in the cell they called the common room. They hadn’t given him food in the last eight hours and his body hadn’t taken the blood sampling well because of it. He felt sore as he sat on the small bench, the exhaustion was pulling at his eyelids, but he wanted to be there when his siblings would arrive. After what seemed like an eternity due to the lack of clocks, Wanda appeared.

“You look awful,” remarked the brunette.

Pietro pulled his tongue at her, “you don’t look all that amazing either, soră mai mică.”

She smacked his shoulder as she sat down next to him. “I’m not your little sister, we’re literally the same age.”

“Still twelve minutes older than you.”

***

It hadn’t taken long for the scientists to get on with their experimentation. They used any method that held the slightest potential, from radiation, to blood transfer, to electroshock therapy. Pietro and Wanda, who didn’t have increased metabolism showed the effect of the isolation and rationing of food way quicker. Their eyes had sunken in and dark bags circled them. Tiredness was a constant state for the triplets since a goodnight’s sleep was a rare thing in a facility eager to run tests whenever they wanted.

It was obvious that the doctors were getting worried about the lack of progress. The closest they had been to succeeding was when they nearly killed Peter by taking too much of his blood and giving it to Wanda and Pietro. From what the teenagers understood, their DNA had slightly altered, but not enough to unlock any mutation. The scientists had gotten slightly carried away and taken even more blood, nearly two third of the speedster’s blood. He went into shock and whispers among the facilities suggested that his heightened metabolism was the only thing that saved him.

They gave Peter, and by extension his siblings, a few days to recover. The silver haired teen spent the first two days sleeping and complaining about being hungry. Surprisingly, the guards complied and gave as much food as they could provide. They were probably worried about losing the only hope at having new mutants. Still, the few days of peace were definitely appreciated, and needed. Those rare moment of quiet were spent playing dice and cards provided by the facility. They also used their time to talk about home and their mother.

“What do you think mama did after we were gone?” asked Pietro during one of their card games.

“Nu știu,” sighed Peter, “but mama was always a strong woman, I’m sure she managed.”

“And I’m certain she didn’t mind the fact that she didn’t have any more random holes in her walls. You made what, half a dozen holes in less than a year? Not to mention our poor rug and floor,” joked Wanda, trying to ease the depressing feeling in the air.

The speedster pulled his tongue at her and put down a 2 of spades. “Draw four cards.”

“No, I should only draw two!” protested the brunette.

“Afraid not, soră. This is the spades, that means you have to draw double.”

Wanda grumbled under her breath as her brothers chuckled, before picking the cards. She groaned as her deck was filled with four useless cards that only made her victory further away. After a few turns, it was Pietro who won. They hadn’t even seen it coming, he had kept quiet and played his game skillfully and swooped his triumph.

After the eighth day, the doctors deemed Peter back to his full health. Which surprised the scientists since a normal human would need nearly a month to recover. They wanted to try a new method: bone marrow transplant. Why they hadn’t thought of that in the entirety of the two months they had been there, the triplets couldn’t figure it out. Maybe the promises of new mutants they could control had blinded them to the obvious way. Peter groaned when he realized he’d need more days to recover. Though, he did find comfort in knowing that, based on his increased metabolism, he’d only need a day or two; compared to the month and a half Wanda and Pietro would require.

They wasted no time and brought him in the surgery room. Peter was worried about sedation; he was very well aware that anaesthetic didn’t work on him. At least not with a normal dosage. And he didn’t exactly want to feel the doctor digging into his hipbone. The nurse assured him that they had acquired the patent of the sedation necessary to knock out Captain America himself. It had been developed years ago in case he’d ever need surgery of any kind, though Peter doubted that it was the only reason. They informed him that the procedure would take about twenty minutes, but he would be out for approximately an hour in case anything was to delay the operation. They made him lay on the operating table and put an IV in his left arm. The teen watched as the solution slowly entered his arm and for the first time in two years, he felt the sedation take over and he was out like a light.

Wanda and Pietro were anxiously waiting in their room ever since Peter had left. They were well aware that the doctors would do everything to not lose their test subject, but the last slipup had proved that everything was possible. Nearly forty-five minutes later, the doctors brought them to two separate operation room and showed them the small container containing the bone marrow of their brother. They were both put to sleep and the operation began.

When they woke up, they were both feeling like one of the first time Peter had used his superspeed without any support. Wanda felt nauseous and her head felt heavy. Pietro was sore, sorer than he had ever been before in his life. They looked up as a crunching sound was heard in the room. Peter was munching on whatever the facility had given him as he watched disinterestedly the flickering in the neon lights.

“You awake, slow pokes?” he said between two bites. “I’ve been here for like hours. Thought you might not have been able to handle my awesome DNA, so your body gave up.”

“Taci,” replied Pietro. He groaned as he slowly sat up, dizziness was making the whole world turn around him. He felt his brother’s hand on his back, steadying him. “Thanks.”

Peter pulled an offended face. “Oh, so now I get a thank you, but just a minute ago you told me to shut up!”

“And I’ll say it again if you continue,” he chuckled.

The three of them laughed before the silver haired teenager gave each of them a hug. He sat on Wanda’s bed before smiling at them. “I’m glad you two are okay. You are not leaving me alone in this place where the food isn’t even good. Can’t wait to see what your mutations are!”

***

A few weeks later, both Wanda and Pietro were back to their full health. The scientists had followed the development of their cells and were satisfied to see their mutant gene activating. Pietro was the first one to show signs of change. His hair slowly went from a dark brown to a pale blond and his brown eyes changed to a light shade of blue. After a few days of sore muscles, he predicably developed superspeed.

“So, I get that copying is the greatest form of flattery,” whined Peter, “but why do you get blue eyes? That doesn’t even make sense!”

Wanda herself had taken an additional week and a half to show her mutation. The first manifestation of her powers was when she sneezed and red energy accidentally knocked her brothers out of their chairs. Their faces went from surprise to excitement as they quickly got up and demanded that she do it again. Strucker soon entered the room, probably having been alerted by one of the guards.

“What happened?”

“I uh, I sneezed and knocked them out of their chair,” answered Wanda with hesitation. She looked at the man and was attacked by emotions.

Satisfaction.

Ambition.

Greed.

Strucker raised an eyebrow in satisfaction. “Telekinesis, good. Very useful.” He glanced at the triplets, his eyes gleaming with aspiration. “ Two speedsters and a telekinetic, you will become very valuable assets to us. But you require training, all of you.”

The very next day, they were given proper clothes and brought in a large room they hadn’t been in before. The ceilings were high, and the light were reinforced, there were a few mannequins adorned with a target in one of the corners. Strucker instructed Peter to show Pietro the basics before turning to Wanda.

“Now, I want you to move one of those mannequins, it doesn’t have to be big, but I want to see a shift.”

The brunette nodded as she brought her hands in front of her in concentration. Her brow creased in focus as she tried to manifest the red energy once again. Trouble was, she didn’t even know how she managed to do it in the first place. The man urged her to try harder and she had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t talk back. Couldn’t he see that she was doing her best? A satisfied chuckle from Strucker made her look at her targets. There strewn across the floor like bowling pins. Her hands were still glowing red, so he demanded that she made the mannequins float. She focused on the middle one, red mist coiling around it like a snake. The figure slowly rose in the air, inch by inch. After it was about 10 inches off the ground, Wanda began to struggle. She strained as the prop began to tremble out of her control, the brunette could feel herself losing control. Strucker told her to continue, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it for much longer, she could feel the energy dangerously building up.

“I can’t!” She screamed, “I can’t hold it!”

True to her words, the mannequin suddenly blew up, rendered into ashes by her loss of control. She stared at the falling ashes with wide eyes as she fell to her knees, out of breath. Peter was at her side first, soon joined by Pietro.

“Te simți bine?” Asked the silver haired teen as Pietro helped her get to her feet.

She nodded her head, “yes, I’m alright. Just lost control for a second.”

Strucker looked at the trio with narrowed eyes, annoyed at the sudden interruption. It was certain that the girl held great powers and if they could harness the destruction into something she could control, she would definitely be their most valuable asset.

***

A month later, there still wasn’t much progress made concerning Wanda’s powers. The boys had been a good team, learning and improving together. The guards had eventually admitted that it would be best if they trained outside since the flat terrain of the training room definitely wasn’t a realistic fighting location. Though, the running conditions were mainly an excuse they found to finally get some fresh air. After nearly a year stuck in a cold facility an ocean away from home, feeling the wet earth and refreshing wind on their faces was the greatest thing in the world.

While Strucker refused at first, they were able to negotiate two outings a week with tracking bracelets so they wouldn’t try to escape. Though Pietro found the precaution unnecessary; they had nowhere to go, and they made sure to remind them that Wanda was still in the base. They occasionally let her join them, but they were always accompanied by guards with special weapons to stun them if they tried anything. It was during one of those exterior training with Wanda, where Strucker insisted that she practice on various targets such as trees and small animals that the doctor had suggested a new training. He had called the triplets to him before revealing his newest idea.

“We will train all you three in both offense and defense. I want you boys to try to dodge and stop your sister as she tries to catch you with her powers.”

The triplets stood in place hesitantly for a few moments. They looked at each other with wide eyes, wondering if the man really had just asked that out of them. Strucker clenched his jaw and glared at them before repeating himself. Wanda raised her hands in front of her and nodded to the speedsters who started running. Red energy tore down trees and made holes in the ground, but the girl had difficulty even getting close to the blue and silver blur of her brothers. Her lack of precision greatly frustrated Strucker, his angry tone echoed through the valley.

“Focus!”

“Don’t hold back!”

“Dammit, girl, if you can’t hit your targets, you won’t last long in battle!”

Wanda’s heart was pounding in her chest, her blood deafening in her ears. The man’s yelling kept breaking her concentration. She manifested a shield on her right, just in time to stop one of her brothers from attacking. The brunette could feel herself losing control, like the time with the mannequin. The red mist around her hands grew into a big angry cloud that nearly surrounded her completely. Wanda screamed as the energy released, knocking Pietro and Peter to the ground, sending them rolling into trees and some bushes. She stared around her with horror as she realized what she had done. She was still for a few seconds, save from her hitched breathing before collapsing to the ground.

Strucker barked at the guards, ordering them to bring the teenagers back into the facility. They were all unconscious and even paler than usual. They didn’t react at all when they were picked up, which only worried the man even more. He couldn’t afford losing all three of his best weapons, not with the Avengers so close to uncovering the truth behind SHIELD. Once they were back inside, the triplets were laid on stretchers as the doctors quickly took their vitals. Even though there were no apparent injuries, they didn’t seem to stabilize. Strucker met with a few other scientists and observed through a glass window as the doctors did their best to try to save the young mutants.

“It was foolish to think we could create such abominations,” said one of the scientists, an anxious hand fiddling with his wristwatch.

“On the contrary, doctor Thredson, our experimentations were successful. And will continue to thrive if we can find a way to save them.”

The black-haired doctor sighed as he looked at the teenagers. “What about the sceptre?”

Strucker swiftly turned his head towards the man, surprised by his sudden change of opinion. Nevertheless, the man was most definitely right. He ordered the teenagers to be moved in an isolated room, along with the sceptre. They watched anxiously through the glass panel as the staff was carefully placed between Wanda and Pietro. Nothing happened for a few seconds and he was about to admit defeat when the room was bathed in a bright blue glow. It lasted for about fifteen second, slowly morphing from a blue glow to a bright golden glow and suddenly disappeared.

The team observed the teenagers uncertainly, they had regained a bit of colors in their faces, but they still weren’t moving. Dr Thredson walked a little closer to the window.

“Did it work?”

***

As it turned out, it did work. The triplets had recovered in record time and were back into action. Their powers had become even more powerful, which required them to relearn the basics since what previously worked now didn’t work. Peter was especially annoyed at finding himself crashing into walls again after spending two years without doing so. Another surprising discovery was the unlocking of a secondary mutation: metallokinesis. It had come as a completely unexpected thing; they were running, and he had gotten frustrated and had accidentally crushed Strucker’s glasses right on his face. The trio had also developed a sort of telepathic bond thanks to Wanda’s telepathic powers. The only downside of this ability was the fact that they felt sympathy pain whenever one of them was injured.

Some time later, Strucker had done some digging and made one of the most promising discovery ever since they had found the triplets in the first place.

“I did some research about you three,” he told them, one day after training. “I was aware of your mother, but never found much about your father. Until I found a marriage certificate. You children never told me that Magneto himself was your father.”

They hadn’t had much time to explore whatever Strucker had in mind when alarm blared through the facility. After checking some screens and yelling at guards, he turned to the trio with malice.

“We have intruders. Defend the base, that’s what you were trained for.”

They had indeed defended the base and defended it well. Though they did not expect the intruders to be the Avengers themselves. The only thing was that they had lost the sceptre that had saved their lives a few months before. According to Wanda, it had been the right thing to do, and the boys didn’t question it; they trusted their sister. After they used the attack as an opportunity to leave, the triplets weren’t sure where to go. Pietro felt drawn to the West, like something was calling to him. Though, his siblings weren’t completely sold on the idea of following a weird voice in a country they’d never been in outside of Strucker’s experiments.

The lack of options eventually made them give in to his instinct. The speedsters had run for a whole hour without pause, Peter holding Wanda, who wasn’t much affected by the superspeed anymore, and Pietro was guiding them. When they finally stopped, they found themselves at the foot of Wundagore Mountain. The landscape radiated a feeling of warmth that they hadn’t felt since they had last seen Magda. They had set up camp and had been staying in the mountain for nearly a few days when a strange looking robot approached them.

“I do not come to bring you trouble, but an opportunity,” started the robot with his strange electronic voice. “I am Ultron. I know who you are, the Maximoff triplets. Taken from their home and mother after a foolish mistake and experimented on and used as weapons by cruel men.”

“How did you find us?” asked Wanda, her eyes glowing red as a warning.

“My drones have been scouring the world, your fire and the stealing was easy to assume your position, especially considering the proximity of this place to the base.” Ultron electronic eyes scanned the teenagers, noting how their body language still showed distrust. “I understand your reluctance to trust me. But I assure you, I am here to help. While returning to your mother might not be possible at the moment, I might be able to reunite you with your father, Erik Lehnsherr.”

That caught Peter’s attention. “You know where he is?”

The robot nodded his head as he turned to the young man. “Yes, ever since Paris, he has been held in a secure cell in the Avengers tower. Though, why they did not take him to the raft, I cannot understand.”

The trio didn’t care much about what this ‘raft’ was and demanded more information. Ultron assured them that they would be updated in due time, but they first had to go in South Africa to get vibranium. They hesitantly agreed, still unsure of the robot’s plan, but eventually followed. Once they arrived, they were cornered by the Avengers.

“You distract them,” said Wanda to her brothers as she manifested her magic. “I’ll take them out one by one.”

The two turned into a blur and were off, Pietro knocked into Thor, sending him tumbling a few steps back. He continued running, dodging plasma blasts from Iron Man before landing a good punch on Captain America’s jaw. He continued running as Peter slowed down next to him with a mischievous grin.

“I bet you can’t steal Thor’s hammer!”

The blonde man took up the challenge and looked smugly at his brother as his hand closed around the weapon’s handle. Instead of complying, the tool sent him flying down into a pile of crates. Peter was quickly at his side, mocking his mistake.

“You should have seen yourself! I totally spotted the moment you realized you made a grave mistake’” he laughed, mimicking his previous expression.

“Shut up,” Pietro told him, trying to get the world back into focus. “At least, I hit both Thor and Captain America, you didn’t do anything.”

“Hey,” Peter said, rising his hands in front of him, “I got a punch on Black Widow. You know, the one that stopped, dad? I count that as a win.”

Pietro slowly sat up and stared at his brother’s hand as he extended it toward him. He was about to pull him up when a presence appeared beside him. A strong hit on Peter’s lower back cut his breath and sent him crashing on the ground. Captain America then pushed the already dizzy speedster on the ground and glared at them.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

The boys watched him walk away, both in various degree of pain.

“That guy’s got problems,” breathed out Peter.

“No kidding,” answered Pietro, rolling his eyes. “Not a word of this to Wanda.”

The silver haired teen snorted, “no promises.” He touched his hip and hissed as he felt the sore spot where he’d been hit. “Seriously, that shield is gonna kill somebody eventually, he’s not even considering the damages it can do.”

They watched  from afar as Wanda subdued the Asgardian god. Seeing as Captain America was the closest, Pietro took the opportunity. That man wouldn’t even get a chance to lay a finger on his sister. He knocked the super soldier off balance and sent him crashing into the metal stairs. He watched satisfyingly as the brunette sent him into his personal hell.

Wanda quickly ran up the stairs and hid in the shadows. Natasha Romanoff was still, she didn’t seem to realize that she wasn’t alone, but the mutant knew not to trust appearances with that woman.

“How can I help?” Echoed Peter’s voice through their telepathic bond.

“Distract her.”

The speedster nodded to his sister and casually walked up into the light at normal speed, instantly catching the woman’s attention. She raised a curious eyebrow as he leaned on the wall with a smug smile.

“Coming for more?” Asked the redhead.

“Actually, I got the hit, if I remember well,” nonchalantly answered Peter. He examined his hand before looking at the woman. “But I’m not here to hurt you, she is.”

Before the spy had time to react, Wanda put her under her spell. The teen smirked as the woman’s eyes became filled with red and slowly unfocused.

“I love your red wiggly woos, have I ever told you that?”

Wanda cracked a smile as she rolled her eyes. She told him to go join Pietro as she would take care of Hawkeye. Peter joined his brother, who was at Ultron’s side. A sudden shot of migraine made both speedsters wince and hold their forehead.

“Wanda’s in trouble,” realized the silver haired teen. He turned to the taller man, “go get her.”

Pietro disappeared and left the young mutant alone with the robot revolutionary. Ultron had stopped moving, his eyes examining the teenager with curiosity.

“You three have a very efficient relationship. You work surprisingly well, for humans.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forgive me if it sounds pejorative, but such a level of understanding and cooperation without conflict is rare. Especially with powerful people.”

“We’ve always worked together when we pranked people, nothing has changed since.”

The conversation was cut short by Wanda and Pietro appearing next to them. The brunette seemed nauseous and disoriented as the man lowered her to the ground. After making sure she was fine, Ultron declared they’d be going to Seoul to go get an actual flesh body.

“After this, we’ll go get your father.”

***

Well, that definitely hadn’t gone according to plan.

Wanda had read the robot’s mind and discovered that he never wanted to save the world, but rather wanted to end it. The triplets had never signed up for genocide, so they decided to join the Avengers. While the superhero team didn’t exactly align with their point of view, at least they had no desire to end the world.

Also, Ultron’s body, the Vision as the scientists called him, was now alive, though activated might have been the more accurate term. The android had lifted Thor’s hammer without any problem, something that made the Avengers trust him. Which was a little stupid if that was really the only test. The team were getting ready to leave, but the trio interrupted their packing by requesting to see their father.

“You want to see the terrorist that wanted to start a war between humans and mutant?” Tiredly asked Tony Stark.

“Yes,” answered Wanda with one of her signature intimidating look.

The man had eventually agreed to their request and led them down a long corridor that gradually became devoid of metal as they approached the prison cell. The trio held their breath as they spotted their father sitting on the floor, reading a book. He looked up as he sensed the visitors approaching. He watched the newcomers with narrowed eyes until he spotted Peter.

“It’s you,” Erik said, slowly getting up. “The mutant who broke me out of the Pentagon.”

The teenagers didn’t miss the billionaire’s unimpressed stare, but they were all to focused on the metal wielder to care about it. Tony sighed loudly as he started walking away.

“You children have fun with your old man, cameras are all around so don’t try anything,” he casually said the man before closing the door.

The triplets froze as they realized what the billionaire had said. They hadn’t planned on telling Erik of their relation until they had at least known the man a little. But it was too late now, the metal wielder stared at them with wide eyes and a thousand questions running through his head.

“What he said,” started Erik, now looking at the ground in disbelief, “is it true?” He snapped his head up, his eyes teary. “Are you my children?”

Peter didn’t say anything, he did want to tell the man, but he couldn’t find the courage to confirm it. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case for Pietro.

“Yes, we are.”

Erik looked at each other them with an unreadable expression on his face.

“He wasn’t ready,” echoed Wanda’s voice through their bond.

“Give him some time, soră,” answered Pietro. “It’s not every day you discover you’re a father to seventeen years old triplets.”

“Not only that, he’s also got to deal with the fact that he’s already met me.”

Their personal conversation was interrupted by Captain America entering the room. The triplets turned to him with narrowed eyes, the super soldier raised his hands in a way to show he didn’t mean any harm.

“Tony wanted me to let you know that we were leaving soon.”

“Take me with you.”

They all turned to Erik, stunned about his suggestion. Steve took a few step forwards, observing the man for a few seconds. The men stared at each other before the veteran cleared his throat.

“Why should we trust you? You tried to kill us barely a year ago.”

Erik glanced at Pietro, Wanda, and Peter. “I didn’t have much to live for back then. I do now.”

The super soldier followed his gaze to the teenagers, picking up on the man’s insinuation. He sighed before shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

Soon after the Captain had left to talk to the team, Erik and the triplets continued their conversation. The older man had asked about their mother and their life before Peter had been recruited to break him out. He barely talked as each teenager answered his questions, taking in the fact that he could have had a family with Magda had he never gone on his quest of revenge in the first place. He then asked about their mutations, to which the triplets shared a hesitant look, wondering if they should tell him of the circumstances of their origins. They told him of their powers, and tried to leave it at that, but the man saw right through their coverup.

“What are you not telling me?”

The siblings wondered for a moment who would tell him, and ultimately decided that Peter should be the one to tell the man. The silver haired teen took a breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“Freeing you… Didn’t come without consequences. Government officials came to our house, we were told they were from SHIELD, but they’re definitely more Hydra. They took us to Romania, in a private facility and… experimented on us.” Erik clenched his hands in anger at the mention of the experiments. “Wanda and Pietro didn’t develop any mutation, that’s what Strucker, the guy in charge of us, wanted to do. Have three trained weapons he could use whenever he needed them. We were there for about a year and a half, according to today’s date.”

Erik nodded understandingly, “anything else?”

“Tell him about your metallokinesis,” Wanda’s voice echoed through his head.

“I can’t even control it. I’ve hardly ever used it before.”

“He could show you,” replied Pietro.

“Why don’t you trust him? He’s our father.”

“Last time I trusted someone, we got taken away and experimented on.”

His siblings didn’t argue, so Peter turned back to Erik. “No, that’s it.”

***

The Avengers tracked Ultron to a small town in Romania and didn’t lose time before embarking the private plane. The team watched warily when Erik was brought on board and kept a suspicious eye on him the whole time. The air was tense, probably due to Black Widow’s disappearance. Steve was biting his lips as the miles slowly passed.

“So…” said Peter, speeding to the pilot’s seat, “is there a plan?”

Tony rolled his eyes, already done with the teenager. “Look goggles, we’ll assess the situation when we get there. Go back in your seat, we’re not babysitters.”

“Geez man, you can just say no and leave it be,” replied the teenager, a little offended by the man’s tone.

The billionaire sighed loudly, fully intent on ignoring the boy, but a flick on the back of his head made him turn in anger. “Who did that?”

“Wasn’t me,” shrugged Peter as his siblings giggled and shared a high five.

After awhile, everyone was in their seats, no sound around them save for the fidgeting of the two speedsters that drummed their fingers and bounced their legs. Wanda’s focus was sometimes on the android, something her siblings caught on quickly.

“Wanda don’t tell me you’re crushing on him,” thought Peter with a judging tone.

“No, I’m not!” replied the brunette.

“Oh my god, you totally do,” realized Pietro. “Come on sis, he’s literally nothing more than a glorified toaster.”

When they finally arrived, Tony had been the victim of the triplet’s teasing twelve times, Steve eight times and Clint six times (he had threatened them with his arrow, but the speedsters had laughed at his ‘pointy sticks’). They tasked the teenagers with evacuating the city while the heroes intercepted Ultron. Erik was in the fire of the battle, crushing dozens of robots at once. Never in a million years he would have guessed that he’d help the very people that imprisoned him, but here he was, fighting at their side.

The triplets were separated, Peter and Pietro were zooming through the city and saving people from certain deaths. Wanda was with Clint and they were working together in taking out Ultron’s robots. The woman could feel her powers building up inside of her. She did her best to keep it under control, but she was constantly overwhelmed by the time she had nearly killed her and her brothers. Wanda was very well aware that her powers reflected her state of mind, and right now it was chaotic.

“How could we let this happen?” she cried out, looking around. “We joined Ultron, we had no idea, we caused this.”

Clint brought her into a small house and grabbed her shoulder. “Hey, fine it’s your fault, it’s Ultron’s fault, it’s Tony’s fault. Hell, it’s everybody’s fault, alright? But right now, that’s not what’s important. The city’s flying and will rip apart the planet if we don’t stop it, that’s what’s important. This is our fight, but you’re still a kid, and your powers are unstable. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. But you can also choose to stay here, and I’ll send one of your brothers to come get you, no hard feelings.” Clint paused in case the girl wanted to say something. She didn’t talk, so he continued. “But if you get out of that door, you’re an Avenger, and we can really use all the help we can get.”

Wanda didn’t answer, so the archer got up and resumed the fight, a little disappointed that his speech hadn’t done much. An explosion behind Clint made him turn around. He smiled as he spotted the teen joining the fight. Thanks to her powers, the robots around them were quickly taken care of.

“Alright, we’re all clear here,” he said in his earpiece. He turned to Wanda, “thank you, you did good work.”

The brunette gave him a nod just as Pietro appeared and picked up his sister. “Try to keep up, old man!” he mocked as the pair disappeared in a blue blur.

The archer raised his bow on the general direction of the speedster. “Nobody would know. Nobody.” He started jogging towards the action. "The last I saw him, when Ultron was sitting on him. Uh...yeah, he'll be missed, that quick little bastard. I miss him already."

Pietro and Wanda joined Peter and the rest of the Avengers, who were defending the vibranium core. They settled into a defensive circle, covering all sides as the robots attacked them. They each used their abilities in unison with Peter and Pietro making sure to grab the few robots that tried to sneak in by the air and the sides.

“Why do they have to crawl?!” Exclaimed Peter.

“Dramatic effect,” replied Pietro, punching one of the robots and sending it crumbling into pieces. He pulled a disgusted face as he looked at the slowed down form of the Hulk. “Is he… is he biting off one of the robot’s head?”

The silver haired teen shrugged his shoulders. “At this point, whatever works, am I right?”

The battle suddenly took a turn for the better when the Vision blasted a laser beam at Ultron and sent him tumbling away. Though, the beam didn’t do much else, that is, until Erik stepped out into the light and concentrated onto Ultron. He flexed his hands and made a ripping motion with them. Ultron’s vibranium body slowly creaked and ripped apart, giving Vision enough space to damage the robot, along with the help of Iron Man and Thor.

Hulk punched away Ultron, sending him flying in the air. A group of robots scattered away in fear because, apparently, robots could fear stuff. Tony warned the team that they couldn’t let a single one reach the outskirts of the city.

“We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin,” said Steve. “You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you.”

“What about the core?” Questioned Clint.

“I’ll protect it,” declared Wanda. She watched the Avengers leave before turning to Pietro, “get the people on the boat. Peter will stay around and keep an eye out.”

The blonde man scoffed, “I’m not leaving you here.”

“What’s the matter, frate, you don’t trust me?” teased Peter.

The three looked at each other, all a little out of breath from the fighting. Finally, Pietro rolled his eyes, “fine, but I’m coming back as soon as I’m done.”

Wanda smirked at him. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She nodded her head, “go.”

The blonde man was about to leave but stopped after his sister’s order and seeing his brother biting his lips in an effort to suppress his laughing. “You know, I’m older than both of you.”

The triplets shared a laugh and Pietro left, leaving Peter and Wanda to defend the core that was holding the city together.

***

The citizens kept coming, all panicking as the city rose higher in the air. Pietro had been going back and forth for more time than he could count, but there was always more. Still, he continued, there was no other option, he had a job to do. When one of the last groups finally got onto the air carrier, the speedster let himself take a breath.

Pietro spotted Clint with a child, and the upcoming trail of bullets that were headed towards them. He quickly calculated the distance and pressed his lips in hesitation as he realized there was no way he could be there on time. Peter was nowhere close, and the danger was imminent. He quickly made up his mind and pushed Clint and the child out of the way, gasping as he felt the bullets tear holes through his torso. The archer watched with a dumbfounded face as Pietro struggled to breathe.

“You didn’t see that coming?” He teased the man with a pained smile on his lips.

The speedster used his last strength to focus on their telepathic bond and project his thoughts to wherever his siblings were. “Frate, soră, forgive me.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, to let them know, but the ground collided with his body and his vision faded to black as he let out his last breath.

Far away on the battlefield, Wanda was fighting off more than she thought possible. But no matter how many robots she destroyed, four more would take its place. A shockwave behind her revealed Peter, who had just knocked down one she hadn’t noticed. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach and she saw the silver haired teen grab at his chest. They shared a look and understood what was happening.

Pietro was in trouble.

An even greater wave of pain coursed through both of them, and something was seemingly ripped from their very soul. Wanda let out a gut-wrenching scream and her powers flared out, dismantling every robot around them. Peter collapsed on the ground and she ran to his side, trying to feel his pulse. She panicked as she found none. She didn’t want to be alone; she couldn’t be alone.

Thankfully, his pulse came back soon enough, but that didn’t fix the emptiness inside her. There was still a gaping hole in her chest. Peter and Wanda were momentarily relived when they heard their brother through their bond.

“Frate, soră, forgive me.”

They shared a horrified look as they realized what had happened. They didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be happening. There was no danger at the moment since the Ultron robots had been destroyed by Wanda’s wave of destructive magic, the coast was clear. Peter took Wanda and sped them over to where the bond led them to. The brunette screamed once again and fell to her knees before grasping Pietro’s head and running her hand through his hair. Peter, too, fell to his knees, crying at the sight of his brother’s lifeless eyes. They were interrupted in their crying by Clint and Erik who tried to get them on their feet.

“No! No, please! I can’t leave him!” cried out Wanda.

The adults tried to reason with the pair, telling them how the city would fall at any moment and there would be no chance of survival.

“Good, leave us here,” sobbed Peter. “We’ve always been together; we can’t continue without him.”

The men didn’t say anything, but Erik cradled Pietro in his arms despite Wanda and Peter’s protest about moving him. Nevertheless, the metal wielder continued his walk towards the air carrier and gently laid the speedster’s body onto the ground. Erik brushed a hand on Pietro’s face as he mourned his child that he would never get to know properly. The teenagers soon sat on each side of their father, staring in disbelief at their sibling.

“I could have saved him,” choked out Peter.

“Don’t blame yourself,” reasoned Erik. “The distance was too big, even for you.”

The speedster shook his head. “I have metallokinesis, I could have stopped those bullets! But I wasn’t there, and now he’s dead! Because I was too late.”

Erik pushed away his shock at knowing his son shared his mutation and instead wrapped an arm around him, his other arm finding Wanda. “Peter, have you got full control of your mutation? Have you ever practiced?”

The speedster shook his head again, his eyes not leaving his brother’s form. “No, but I could have done something! I could have taken his place.”

Erik tried to think of something that might help. “When you’ll be ready, I could teach you.”

“No,” refused Peter. “I’ll never use it. I don’t deserve to.”

***

After the dust had settled, the Avengers offered them a place amongst their team. Perhaps out of guilt, pity or because they saw an opportunity. No matter the reason, they were done being somebody’s weapon. Erik also offered to be a permanent addition to their lives, though Wanda and Peter doubted that the Avengers would accept having the ex-terrorist around. Though, the first thing they did was visit their mother. Magda was holding back tears when she saw them approaching the front door. They both looked sick with their red rimmed eyes full of sorrow. They all burst into tears and held each other for a long time. It felt strange being home after everything that had happened. Especially, now that they were missing a piece of themselves. Magda asked them how it happened, and cried again, knowing her son’s protective nature was the thing that got him in the end.

Wanda and Peter wanted to stay at their house, they truly did. But staying in their childhood home where each room held memories of Pietro quickly became too much. After a long discussion with their mother, they packed two suitcases before heading off to the airport. Neither of them felt like using their powers at the moment, not with a part of them missing.

After a long flight, they finally arrived. Peter had surprised them both by his lack of crankiness despite the long hours of stillness. Though, being immobile for such an extended period of time made him very fidgety. They agreed that running to their destination would be the better option. They skillfully arranged their luggage so it wouldn’t get blown away when Peter broke the sound barrier. Wanda’s magic helped a little.

The duo arrived at dawn and they sucked in a painful breath as Wundagore Mountain stood tall and ancient before them. They rented a room in a nearby hotel, but they climbed up the mountain just as the sun gave its last glow. Peter gathered some wood to start a fire. The teenagers sat in silence as the flames danced in front of their eyes, Pietro’s presence mockingly hanging in the air.

“You can feel him too, right?” questioned Wanda. Her voice showed no emotion, but they both knew it was only a façade.

“Yeah,” whispered Peter.

Later, they would go back to their hotel room. Later, they would call their mother, and their father, they had to tell them where they were. Later, they would accept the Avengers offer. Later, they would bury the small lock of Pietro’s hair, along with his fingerless gloves he loved so much. Later they would return to the real world.

But right now, Peter and Wanda sat huddled together in a warm wool blanket, staring at the fire burning in front of them. The stars shone brightly in the sky, sometimes adorned by a shooting star. The world would never be the same after what had happened, but for this moment at least, Wanda and Peter pretended that it could be.

In most universe, the Maximoff came as a pair, sometimes joined with a younger or older sibling. While this rule was sometimes ignored, there was always one constant. One Maximoff always died. This universe was no different.

_________

Romani translation: 

Frate= brother

Dragă= Darling

Tată= father

Soră mai mică= little sister

Nu știu= I don’t know

Taci= Shut up

Te simți bine= Are you okay?

Soră= Sister

[voidcat]

— take me home

Characters: Dazai Osamu/gn!reader (+agency members)

Genre & wc: fluff — 1.9k

a/n: happy Valentine’s Day!!! Normally I was gonna make this one big thing but my writing style for all this so far and “the second part” don’t carry the same vibe. (Also it was getting v long) Anyways, enjoy. I still suck at naming fics. — part 2 !!

“You could feel the bomb going off and suddenly-“ Doctor Yosano stops looking at the clock, “Oh it’s been that long already? I shouldn’t keep you waiting for any longer” she motions with her hand to you with a smile.

“It’s alright, I enjoy hearing your stories.” You smile back. “If it’s alright with you and no new cases show up, would you like the finish the story tomorrow at my place? Maybe over a cup of tea or a glass of wine?”

The glint in her eyes tell you the answer long before. “Only if the infamous pastries Ranpo cannot get enough of are there!” Yosano says with enthusiasm and all you can do is nod and share the excitement.

As she proceeds to get her coat and bag, you decide to wait until you hear someone else speak up.

“I thought you didn’t like to have people over?” Atsushi asks standing behind you with a stack of papers and files.

Eyes closed, you hum “True, true… But I make an exception for some, dear. Where did you think we baked all those for Kyouka?”

Stopping for a second to recall that day Atsushi scratches his head. The moment of realization comes to him fast, apparent from the sudden change of expression and the wide smile on his face “Oh! You’re-“

“I thought you didn’t allow anyone in the kitchen!” Ranpo exclaims rather loudly, slamming the newspaper he was reading moments ago onto his table.

Tilting back and forth from where you’re standing and occasionally looking for Yosano to come back, you turn to where his voice came from. “That rule only applies to you, I’m afraid. No matter what an amazing detective you are, cooking and baking simply aren’t your forte.” With one hand in the air as if offering the plainest of truths, you say.

“However you’re still my most trusted taster, so please don’t make that face?” You finish with an apologetic smile and hearing a low rumble coming from him, you let out a breath thinking you’re off the hook.

You thought wrong.

As Yosano’s heels clank against the surface, you can feel a persistent gaze on your back, already sensing what’s to come next. Before you can make an attempt to the door however, Dazai announces your name, in a whine no less, coming a little too closer than you expected right behind your ear.

Slowly turning back to see his smug face, right in your personal space just as you guessed, you refrain from rolling your eyes. “What was it Dazai? Is something the matter?”

Coming all the way from wherever he was previously , he couldn’t be here now for anything other than to bother you. You just hoped Yosano would show up and drag you away before your patience was tested again.

Raising his arm and resting the back of his hand against his forehead, eyes closed and mouth open, as if a he were a character straight out of a tragedia, Dazai opts for the dramatic route. “Yes! I’ve just been informed of horrifying news!”

“Which is?..” you leave the statement unfinished, already knowing what’s to come.

“That you never invited me over to your house! And we’ve been friends for the longest time! What our live have come to, have we driven so far away from ea-“

“Enough with the antics Dazai, we’re busy, can’t you see?” Your savior, Yosano cuts in putting a hand over your shoulder. Turning to look at her, you mouth a ‘thank you.’, and you think she has never looked as beautiful as she does in this moment now, with the golden sun behind her setting, the lights illuminating her face, making her look like those heroes painted to be immortalized.

As you step out, you hear Yosano stop and say: “And for the record, I’ve known them the longest.”

The day spent with Yosano goes better than you could accept. By the end your face hurts from laughing, your stomach full from all the food and drinks you’ve consumed, times flies away like a plane and by the time Yosano makes way to the door, it’s dark and you’re both dragging your feet.

Despite the enjoyable day off, Dazai’s recent behavior starts to make you question if it was worth inviting her over so publicly.

At any chance he gets, he tries to get you to give away something about your location, who has been over before and how many times, what type of hosts you prefer and ‘oh maybe we never got the chance because of our schedules, you should invite me over some time’, ‘don’t be so shy, we’re friends after all! Oh is it your place you’re ashamed of? Worry not, I won’t judge!’, ‘hey are you free on a Thursday night?’s met with ‘No, I don’t want you over.’, ‘Yes, I have a very good reasoning.’ And almost a slip up of a ‘I’m free- Oh wait, I have a date with Sergio, sorry no can do!’.

For each cheeky smile he offers, you give back a grunt or a snarl, one time almost yelling right in front of the director and another time you stomp out of the office in fury while Atsushi watches in horror.

Fifth time of your hiding in the café and you find yourself wishing for a crisis to surface, the carefree Dazai to be replaced by the serious and logical man that manages to impress you no matter how hard the case, counter measure after counter measure, even if he takes reckless risks once in a while.

Inhaling the sweet smell of your tea before taking a sip, your wish seems to have come true partially, from the set of steps approaching you in a determined yet unrushed pace.

Taking a long sip, savoring the taste and the warmth of it, you slowly place the cup down and open your eyes to see Dazai standing in his neutral and calm state.

The two of you stay like that for a while, like a photograph, the café empty and the mixed smells of coffee and tea lingering in the air, not quite looking at one another but not dozed off either.

When he opens his mouth, it doesn’t feel like the moment has been broken, not even a clearing of throat or a quite mumbling under his breath beforehand, yet his voice flows along the smells despite the absurdity of the topic of conversation.

But you beat him to it. “If you’re going to be standing for so long, you might as well sit down.”

He settles down as you reach for your cup again.

“So, how are things with Sergio?” He says the name with a hint of hostility.

It takes everything in you not to spit out your tea laughing. “Sergio is a street cat I take care of.”

Composure and crossed arms off, Dazai’s eyes widen. “But- you said that-“ “A date with Sergio, yes, for his yearly check up at the vet.” You finish for him.

“That was just an excuse to get you to stop bothering me.” You add.

“Fair enough, I deserved that.” He chuckles “but you did mention you had a very good reasoning for not inviting me over. I know I pestered you enough about that…” he trails off, reaching for your hand with his. “And yet, would you be so kind to tell me why?” he asks, eyes locked into yours.

“My cat doesn’t like you.”

And this, you think, is the exact moment the atmosphere is ruined, the photograph ripped apart in the middle.

Dazai just stares at you, still holding your hand.

Blinking few times, rather unimpressed, you notice a waitress by the counter, probably there to rearrange something.

“Alright, I’ll be off now if that’s all!” You say a bit too cheerfully, pull your hand before Dazai can do anything, pay and leave as soon as you can.

Dazai just blinks, hands still in the air, stays frozen like that until Kunikida drags him back to work.

Bad decision after bad decision seems to follow you wherever you go because after that interaction at the café, it gets worse.

You thought Dazai was like a fruit fly before? It gets more irritating than an army of them. And on top of that, Kunikida scolds you to undo whatever you’ve done on Dazai, his already poor work ethics now on the floor, getting on Kunikida’s nerves and yours.

Hearing your name spreads terror in you now, the second your ears catch the familiar tone of Dazai’s voice, you fleet for your life.

Coming clean and explaining your statement from earlier would be the logical way to end this but fate disagrees as it laughs you in the face.

“Why wouldn’t your cat like me? I didn’t even step foot into your place before!”

“Hey Dazai, remember the day you wouldn’t get off my back? Trying to embrace at any chance and I gave up in the middle of the day at one point?” Resting his hand under his chin to think, as if his face doesn’t make it obvious he remembers the day crystal clear, he lets out a “hmm…”

With a snap of fingers and a “Ah! I remember now! You were so comfortable, I almost fell asleep.” He grins.

With a shake of your hand, trying to dismiss the memory of how he basically trapped you to the couch, you cough and continue. “That evening, when I got home, my clothes must have reeked of your smell.” He nods, good, so far he seems to follow. “My cat just sniffed the air once and stayed in the living room until I washed those clothes and took a bath.”

Hands resting on his hips, he keeps nodding and humming in understanding. “I see…”

You let out a breath, thank god it’s over.

“Nope! Still makes no sense.” Hs exclaims suddenly, turns away and leaves. You just stare at his back, now it’s your turn to blink in ‘unbelievable, is this real?’

The loud chatter and pestering doesn’t stop however and with each word, it gets more ridiculous.

“Is your cat perhaps jealous of me? That you secretly love me and they don’t want competition?”

“The cat is just another excuse, isn’t it! Admit it, you have a secret! It must be something you’re afraid I won’t like.”

“Is it Chuuya? Did you take pity and let him rent a room?”

“I don’t even know a Chuuya…”

“Maybe a weird collection…” he gasps and says your name. “Are you a hoarder? Is that why you won’t let me in? I told you already, I would never judge your lifestyle!”

“Dazai, please stop-“

“No, no, I got it this time. It’s a shrine of me! Isn’t it? Your face tells it all, it is a shrine! Ah, I must say I’m flattered, if not a little scared now.”

If anger could set a fire, you think Kunikida would be arrested of arson right now. You just rest your head in your palm, trying to ignore Dazai’s ongoing nonsense.

“Is there really a-“ Kenji begins a question as Ranpo ends it with a firm “Nope!”

Getting up from your place at last, you grab Dazai by his coat and drag him out.

“There is No shrine, no other human, no hoarding or weird collections. It’s just me and my cat who scrunches his nose when I bring home a file that sat in your desk all day!”

Before giving him a chance to reply, you walk away.

The next day, and many other days to follow, goes uneventful, Dazai’s never ending bickering about your house seems to have reached a stop. Everyone, especially Kunikida, enjoys the newly achieved peace of going back to normal. You hope this marks the end of this whole nonsense, and that the Dazai everyone knows with a little mix of annoying and impressively serious has returned back to his sense of regular.

Tags: @atsumusdomain @celosiiaa @ywanfen

[itsclydebitches]

Something I find very ironic in how the characters (and thus the writers) speak about Clover after his death and what he would've done/wanted reminds me a great deal of how for years the fndm has used Monty's name to justify/dispute what happens in the show. I'd like to think the writers would know better than to do actually that.

Everything said about Clover post-death hinges on reading his attempted arrest as a 100%, black and white evil deed. It’s only through elevating the horror of attempting to arrest Qrow that you get “logic” like, “He definitely would have tried to bomb Mantle too.” There’s this idea in Volume 8 of RWBY that any loyalty is equivalent to blind loyalty, when in fact the story never let Clover live long enough to determine how far his loyalty to Ironwood went. The fandom (and the writers, apparently) react so harshly to the arrest attempt because they have the full context of the situation, including the meta perspective of who the Good Guys and Bad Guys are in this situation. Clover has none of that. He knows Ironwood recalled everyone because something bad went down back at headquarters. He knows that Ruby called to say that Salem is on her way and Ironwood is declaring martial law before communications cut out. He knows better than most the danger Salem presents —  specifically danger involving sabotage and betrayal — thanks to being in Ironwood’s own inner circle. And he knows that, for whatever reason, Ironwood had demanded the arrest of their former allies. The “for whatever reason” is the key bit there because really, Clover doesn’t know shit other than Things Are Bad And History Teaches That Being Cautious Is Justified. And when you have so little information to work from, it becomes a matter of where those loyalties lie: with the job you’re meant to uphold and the man you’ve sworn to assist, or with the guy you made friends with a few weeks/months ago? Is Clover going to risk everyone on a friendship with Qrow, or is he going to be careful based on the chance that Ironwood has a good reason for this arrest? If RWBY wanted to establish blind loyalty in Clover they should have had Ironwood order him to kill Qrow on sight. THAT is a, “Holy shit, I can’t do that!” situation. But asking him to bring Qrow in on suspicions that have yet to be established (for Clover) is not indicative of some intrinsic, evil nature. Arresting Qrow does not intrinsically harm Qrow. As far as both are aware, they should be able to just go talk to Ironwood and clear things up. Either a) this is all a huge misunderstanding in which case Qrow will no longer be under arrest, b) Qrow has legitimately done something worthy of arrest that Clover will find out about, or c) Ironwood has gone off the deep end and Clover will be given the chance to say, “Haha... not following you anymore!” But he was never given that chance. Instead what happens is that Robyn verbally agrees with Tyrian, she attacks Clover, Qrow willingly joins in, and then Qrow refuses to stop fighting Clover to get her help, leading to a team up with Tyrian and Clover’s eventual murder. You know what all that looks like from Clover’s perspective? Like a case of Option C. Gee, why would Qrow join Robyn in needless attacking me, endangering the mission of bringing Tyrian in safely, if everything is fine and this is all just a misunderstanding? Could it possibly be that the General I’ve worked under for years didn’t call for his arrest for the hell of it? Might Qrow’s strange and sudden willingness to turn on me, to the extent that he joins our enemy, have something to do with Salem’s upcoming attack? We know Qrow is innocent, but Clover absolutely does not. 

Clover doesn’t know what the audience knows. The fact that he knows something awful happened, knows Ironwood has declared martial law (something Winter was suggesting days ago), knows Salem is on her way, knows Qrow’s wanted for arrest, and knows that he has now willingly attacked him... and didn’t immediately attack Qrow post-airship crash under the assumption that he was 100% a traitor speaks to Clover’s willingness to get as many facts as possible before acting, not putting his decisions on blind trust alone. That the story would show him doing this, kill him off, and then spend the next volume having the characters make huge and arguably illogical leaps about how he would have blindly trusted Ironwood is... really disheartening. 

If you want a character who has done more to prove their willingness to blindly obey, the rest of the Ace Ops and Winter are right there. I’ve argued strongly that they weighed the situation in the Volume 7 finale, but they lost that defense in Volume 8. They apparently did see Ironwood kill the councilman and still followed him! They saw Ironwood try to take control of Penny, threaten to bomb Mantle, and try to shoot Marrow! None of that kept them from leaving until the final hour. Winter, meanwhile, supported Ironwood 100% until the plot needed her to be one of the good guys for the final fight. Clover agreed to an arrest warrant when he had no reason to question his boss. Winter, Harriet, Elm, Vine, and Marrow for a very long stretch all followed Ironwood after having informed knowledge about what he was doing. So the fact that the ignorant character who was murdered is the one presented as the Totally Evil Guy is, uh, messed up. The story kept damning Clover for his arrest attempt, but forgives Harriet for actually trying to blow up Mantle. The literal act is presented as more forgivable than the outrageously hypothetical “I think he would have done this Evil Thing too.” As always, what is said in RWBY and what is shown in RWBY is too disconnected to make any sense.  

[okay-victoria]

What do people think of Tanya? AKA: Actually, a lot of people agree with Lehrgen

Summary: WHOOOOO BOY. You know it’s going to be fun when my subsections have to have their own subsections. Briefly, there is the Good [people who like Tanya both personally and professionally], the Bad [people who like/love Tanya professionally but not personally], and the Ugly [people who ideally, Tanya will never speak to, look at, send mail to, or be in the general vicinity of ever again]. 

I would say most people fall into the “Bad” category - they recognize her value as an officer, sometimes to a worshipful degree, but on a personal level range anywhere from thinking she’s a creepy child to actively disliking her. Unfortunately for Tanya, the people that fall into the Ugly category are as a rule higher-ranking than the ones in the Good category, and most people in the Bad category seem to like her specifically in her military role, and it is questionable they’d want her as even a coworker outside of that, let alone as a friend.

The Good

People who’re in here: People who have only ever heard of Tanya in the context of the Silver Wings award, people she interacts with in the Imperial Navy; rando soldiers; someone kinda high up in the later-war Eastern Army command; Ugar

People who only know her from Silver Wings:

V1/C1

Describes the nice aura people would see in someone who wins the Silver Wings.

The Navy

V3/C2

A naval officer does assess Tanya as having a predatory look, but doesn’t seem to think particularly badly of it, he just notes it, and then says “Degurechaff was a fellow soldier he could be proud of, which was why he extended his hand in utmost seriousness to wish her well.”

Rando Soldiers

There’s no real good single quote on this, but over time Tanya comes in to reinforce various units and leaves behind various impressions, ranging through Good, Bad, and Ugly, but anyway, there almost have to be low & middle ranking officers and soldiers who are presumably nothing but grateful to Tanya for rescuing them, even though we never get much of anything from their perspective.

Others

A superior officer of Tanya’s in Eastern Army command, in V5/C1, gets a transfer request for Tanya’s unit and reflects he is sad to be losing her.

Ugar - I don’t have down any specific pieces, but IMO it comes across in the LNs that Ugar is generally well-disposed to Tanya and doesn’t have the positive professional/negative personal thoughts that most other people close to her do.

The Bad

People who’re in here: Tanya’s academy/war college instructors, the 203rd battalion & later Kampfgruppe, Zettour, Rudersdorf, Generic Superior Officers, Romel, Lehrgen’s professional opinion

Tanya’s Academy & War College Instructors:

V1/C1

Tanya’s zeal during academy scares her instructors.

V1/C4

The instructors scrawled “abnormal” across the top of Tanya’s file.

“In the academy, we were told over and over – and, for some reason, over again – to love our troops. Weirdly, now that I think about it, I feel like they emphasized this the most when talking to me.” <= Tanya...you’re...you’re so close.

V1/C5

Mentioned that some teachers in the academy are on Lehrgen’s side of the What The Fuck Do We Do With Tanya debate.

V3/C5

Romel’s summation of her personnel assessment notes that at least on paper, the academy and the war college gave good overall evaluations of her.

203rd Battalion:

V1/C3

[Visha] “The moment she turned her icy cold eyes on us like we were objects to be appraised, I shrank from her in spite of myself. People might laugh at me for being afraid of such a little kid, but those eyes reminded me of the way a cat looks when it’s playing with a mouse, which creeped me out”

[Visha] “I was different from Lieutenant Degurechaff, who could calmly nail fleeing soldiers in the back with optical sniping or explosion formulas. I was relieved because I wouldn’t have to shoot.”

V1/C5

[Visha] “Was she an agent of the devil or of God? It had to be one or the other. Ahh, I can’t believe I have an ally more horrible than the enemy. She’s not human. I would bet my life on it. Me and a few others saw it once. During training, one of our teammates dropped like he was dead. The captain gave him a good kick, and before we knew it, she was back on his feet. I had been staring into the abyss of death myself…the captain heaped abuse on me. But I know, I saw it: she charged into the avalanche to save me. Even after my friends told me that she tossed my busted body aside like a used rag, I believe. She is definitely a good commander, even if I’m not sure about her as a human being. Of course, we all laugh and bad-mouth her…if the captain is an apostle of God, then only the devil can possibly exist.” <= in good news, Tanya, you are currently winning on your quest against Being X and mostly making people believe that he’s the Devil for allowing you to exist!

V2/C1

[Weiss] also refers to Tanya as a vampire

[Weiss] thinks Tanya is arrogant

[Visha] “her thought is That’s so low, Major.” <= this is in response to Tanya pulling out her child voice to announce they were going to bomb Dacia’s factory.

[Weiss] “Weiss has only known her for a short time, but even he can pick up the displeasure his superior doesn’t bother hiding. Her mood is as dangerous as nitroglycerin. When Weiss quietly takes a step back, everyone discreetly follows suit. Nobody wants to be so close to Major von Degurechaff when she’s irritated.”

V2/C5

[Grantz] “If the devil exists, it has to be our instructor, the commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Assault Battalion, the legendary Major von Degurechaff. The way she smiled. The way she looked at us like we were maggots. The way she seemed thirsty for blood. I’d believe she had tried to kill a rebellious underclassman or crack his skull open. If I screw up on the battlefield, she’ll definitely kill me. That’s how threatened I felt by the instructor who just had to also be my advisor…I wanna cry.”

[Grantz] “This was the major who had once said during a speech at the academy that deadweight should be killed…This is crazy. No one said it aloud, but it was the look on everyone’s faces. This was a nighttime mission to abduct enemy soldiers…Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz realized he was shaking. My survival instinct was screaming. I wanted to avoid the war, the combat, the killing. I was hesitating. But one glance from Major von Degurechaff was enough to subjugate that instinct. She was far more terrifying…I was so terrified I hardly felt like myself anymore…How could the major just calmly sing a hymn?”

[203rd banter] Visha asks if anyone wants to trade places with her so she doesn’t have to be with Tanya all the time, and Weiss and Grantz are not itching to take her up on the offer.

V2/C6

[Grantz] Is really, really bothered by how chill Tanya seems to be about Arene.

V2/C7

[Weiss] Reflects on all the horrible things Tanya has put him through, but ends his reflection on the note that he understands why it was necessary to prepare them for war.

V3/C5

“Apparently, the troops serving directly under her thought she was a great field officer” <= Romel re: Tanya’s personnel file

V4/C5

“‘Please have the 203rd be part of your Kampfgruppe. All of us in the battalion wish to continue serving under you.’”

Tanya doesn’t get what she wants, is then pissed, and it gives off weird abusive-parent vibes where all her children try to flee and not be present, and for the ones who have to be (Weiss & Visha), they take it by flinching, cowering, praying to God for Tanya not to explode, etc.

V5/C4

[Visha] “Reality is far too unreal. She’s crazy. There’s something strange about her...The colonel cackled – no, she giggled, smiling like a child. It was positively surreal to see her eyeing the enemy with her tender gaze and licking her lips. She snickered, but what was so funny? She was terrifying...Dripping red liquid. Pink things that used to be humans, flying everywhere. And opposite that scene was a beaming little girl. It was so surreal, it made more sense for me to suppose I had gone insane. No, maybe I really did go insane. The sight of my superior officer nodding with satisfaction and beginning a confession of her faith was horrific. I didn’t get even a glimmer of madness from her beautiful, innocent eyes. They were the eyes of a stubborn servant of logic, full of pure reason. But that’s what was horrific: those eyes stuck on that doll-like face.”

V5/C5

Tanya has some good banter with her Kampfgruppe soldiers and it seems like everyone’s getting along.

V8/C4

T: ‘Are you saying you throw yourself into the slaughter purely, justly – sane and sober? Don’t make me laugh. That’s a broken man talking. Going to war after downing some liquid courage with a grimace is much more human.’ He frowns for a moment, perhaps thinking to argue back, and then whines, ‘So are you drunk, then, Colonel?’ <= yes, a random officer from Tanya’s Kampfgruppe just asked if she was drunk and that’s why she’s always throwing herself into battle so excitedly.

V8/C5

T: ‘Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant.’ V: ‘Thank you, ma’am. That said, I would have rather you spared me from getting caught up in that attack.’ T: ‘What choice did I have?’ V: ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Serebryakov puffs her cheeks out in a pout, which is surely a sign that she’s feeling better. <= Tanya, Visha wanted you to apologize, not excuse yourself, damn!

Zettour

V1/C5

“He doesn’t know whether they should praise her original ideas or call her insane.”

“Apparently, she hasn’t forgotten that she once said she wanted a battalion. She, a first lieutenant, to a brigadier general…something liable to provoke antipathy? She’s already done that.”

“The smirk on Tanya’s face reminds Zettour of some unpleasant rumors he’s heard about her.”

V2/C5

Zettour both remains horrified that Tanya was able to speak so frankly about a world war, yet he is sympathetic to the fact that she could do it because she understood what would happen.

V4/C3

Tells Rudersdorf that he “unwaveringly trusts” her military decisions.

V4/C5

Tanya comes to Zettour to request better units than he’s given her. He finds the request beyond arrogant, seeing as how pressed they are for men, especially for the fact that this is shortly after the Moscow situation and her battalion has “gone too far and been a handful”.

“Somehow, he didn’t think there could be that many damaged kids in the Empire like this young teen back from the battlefield. And actually, regardless of how he felt about it as a soldier, personally, the idea of interacting with them was terrifying.”

“But Degurechaff was unfazed and inquired about their experience with killing people. She saw people as products, and she was asking if they had been tested – that was the nuance. Could such a completely utilitarian view of people even be taught? Certainly, the army is an organization that pays attention to individual functions. Substitutability and cost consciousness are two factors hounding everyone. But can you really judge a human being by those criteria alone?...That innocent face and her straight back made her look something like a surreal doll. Doesn’t…Doesn’t anyone think this is strange?”

Zettour is mentioned to have originally had the same doubts about Tanya as Lehrgen, but after her performance he claims he is ready to “swallow any pill, no matter how bitter” (I think working with Tanya being the bitter pill) to win the war.

Zettour gives Tanya a little discretion to commandeer some equipment, she takes a lot of discretion. Zettour sort of laughs at off saying “this was Degurechaff” but does also mention that Tanya’s actions “amounted to a borderline interference in Supreme Command.”

V8/C4

Zettour is impressed with how Tanya has trained Grantz and thinks that if she wasn’t so good in the field, he’d put her in education.

“Sure, Degurechaff may have been broken, but not as an officer.”

Rudersdorf

V2/C1

Rudersdorf says that Tanya has a “distinct” [read: probably means difficult] personality, but if he just divided people into useful and not useful, she was useful.

V4/C3

Zettour and Rudersdorf debate Tanya, and he mentions that he only thinks she is talented in the military realm.

Generic Superior Officers

V2/C5

Tanya has a misunderstanding with her CO on the Rhine front. He wants her to train some new recruits normally, she mistakes it as saying “well, kill as few of them as possible, but do what you gotta do,” she gets kind of reprimanded over it.

V3/Intro

“Performance Evaluation: Major Tanya von Degurechaff:

Counselor’s Notes on character and conduct [this is printed normally]: Abundant loyalty and excellent fighting spirit. Follow regulations to the letter. Devoutly religious.

[this part is handwritten] Has a bad tendency to take matters into her own hands. Competent but as difficult to handle as a mad dog.”

V3/C1

“Some of the officers even added another thought in the back of their minds: Major von Degurechaff might actually be able to wring out even better results.”

V3/C3

Tanya goes wild on her base commander when he won’t let her sortie to Brest to prevent the French army from evacuating. <= Oddly, IIRC, no one ever like, apologizes to Tanya for not believing her, which is kinda rude, so mostly the incident reflects negatively on her instead of being a balanced: ok she did violate some rules, but...maybe if we’d listened to her we’d have avoided the rest of the fucking war, so seems like it might have been called for?

V3/C5

“The most important evaluations during a war are the ones from the battlefield, and those were all over the place.” <= Romel, re: Tanya’s personnel file

“The second was that although the evaluations were contradictory, she had achieved enough that she was considered an outstanding soldier. Awkwardly, regardless of how she was as an officer, as an individual mage, she was thought very highly of. Her number of kills was among the highest on the Rhine front.” 

“In any case, strictly as a mage, she was unrivaled. As an officer, too, she was by no means incompetent. So they must have been giving her to him as reinforcements and as an excuse to get her out of their hair. Honestly, he felt like they were foisting off their problem on him. ‘They’re telling me to take a mad dog out on a walk with no leash?’ He let slip a complaint. Maybe it was just prejudice, but that wasn’t what it felt like to General von Romel. After all, he was basically being asked to bet on a bad hand.”

V4/C2

Everyone on the General Staff realizes the huge amount of fallout from Tanya attacking Moscow. The backstory of this is that when Tanya asked for permission, the General Staff thought she was just going to do a fly-by and freak them out, not attack the city. It pretty much kills any opportunity they had to negotiate a quick settlement with Russia in the cradle.

Romel

V3/C5

Romel’s first meeting with Tanya pretty much goes: “so arrogant it’s invigorating...unbelievably insolent...in addition to her self-important attitude, it exuded heavy sarcasm...not only was she arrogant, she was clearly horribly warped.”

“Any commissioned officer would understand just from hearing her make that one comment why the Northern and Western Groups couldn’t control her. Having a mage battalion drop out of the command structure was almost like losing a whole division” <= ie, Tanya’s previous superiors must have really disliked her to give her up.

“She simply decided she would be a patriot if it was good for the nation. In short, she’s a capable lunatic, but the bad part is she doesn’t realize she’s twisted…She’s crazy. And competent. And more sincere than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Without a doubt, she’s going to end up being the most horrible person I know. And she’ll probably also be one of my most reliable friends on the battlefield.”

V3/C6

Romel reflects that she is a mad dog, and that she is an ego-crushing entity for the average officer. <= while Romel never brings this up, this has a *ton* of important real-world implications for Tanya, especially assuming men still have more than a little trouble listening to women outside the military. Even if you believe the best rumors about Tanya, you still might not want to hire her because she’s going to be better than you, and most people hate that feeling.

V4/C1

Tanya goes to the Eastern Front, and Romel reflects that he is sad to lose her and that once you got used to her, he found her easy to work with.

The Ugly

People who’re in here: Lehrgen’s personal opinion, Some wartime randos, OG Eastern Army Command, OG Northern Army Command, Imperial Government, people who mostly know Tanya from her Arene reputation, Western Army Command; Implied Future View of Tanya

Wartime Randos

V1/C5

“Some of those who had been on the front lines had a strange reaction to the name [the 11th Goddess] we picked. They claimed it was the worst joke they’d ever heard.” <= ie, Tanya was the Devil, not a goddess

V2/C1

Tanya is happy that Dacia has zero airpower. She displays her happiness by smiling maniacally and skipping around her tent. Everyone thinks Tanya is happy that they just got invaded again and the war is growing and she can go kill people. 

V2/C5

A kinda random infantry guy is still having nightmares about Tanya in like, 1960, and reflects back on how he felt when he heard Tanya casually call for friendly fire to go right through where her men are flying. He questions why anyone listens to her.

“But when I replay the memories in my mind, I can’t help but shout, You monster! A hero, a star, and outstanding magic officer. You, ma’am, were a great officer. To all of us imperial soldiers serving on the Rhine lines, you were a god...Yeah, she’s a god – an immensely powerful one who presides over life and death. Her words, brimming with a spine-chilling anger, swept over the area as if she was planning to attract all the enemy hostility like moths to a flame. Major von Degurechaff had bared her fangs. It invited a violent reaction. The Republic wanted to hunt the devil. In other words, they devoted all humanity’s wisdom to killing the god of death. Gods don’t die, but those of us next to them? …They were right to call her a god of death. She killed the enemy, and the enemy killed our men. Then the noble major, with a glance at all the dead in the mud, took her leave. Fucking hell.” <= and you thought Lehrgen hated her. But, again, real-world implications of this could very well be that post-war, Tanya is a total persona-non-grata as someone that had a high degree of influence on how rabidly everyone fought against the Empire, and how the Empire was treated in the aftermath. I don’t make it out quite that bad, but it could be really rough if someone wanted to make it that way.

V4/C5

“The Guard Division had been on many assignments dealing with formal events, so we had experience…But what is that? That absurd, expressionless, doll-like creature was giving orders to people who appeared to be bloodthirsty mages just back from the war zone.” 

“Could it really…could it really be possible for a child to wear such a smile?...Her hands were soft and would have looked more natural holding a doll, but instead, this odd, human-shaped creature spread her arms as she delivered a welcoming address. No one. None of the high-ranking officers present could raise an objection to this thing. The veteran mages all obeyed this inhuman being in the form of a person.”

OG Eastern Army Command

V1/C5

“The members of the eastern army had been openly angered by her annoyed look until days before, but now their faces were pale. She said exactly what she thought: ‘Incompetent, pitiful, lazy, arrogant, unprepared, mentally disabled, inattentive, no powers of observation’ and her conclusion was that ‘all mages of the Eastern Army group require reeducation’”

“The ranking officers from the regional field armies who had come to protest ended up bearing the brunt of the General Staff members’ critical glares.”

OG Northern Army Command

V2/C3

“With no idea when Colonel General von Wragell might explode in his seat at the head of the table, Lieutenant General and Chief of Staff von Schreise was inwardly annoyed, but at the same time, the atmosphere was so tense he wanted to bury his head in his hands.”

“Schreise couldn’t be the only one thinking that he would have thrown her out immediately if she weren’t a representative of the Central Army’s view.”

“‘You’re very humble, aren’t you?’ one of the staff officers murmured, curling the corners of his mouth into a smile that was more of a sneer.”

“Schreise had never seen a major with such a big head without making light of him…without hesitating even a little, she – a mere battalion commander – matter-of-factly gave her opinion to the staff and even had the audacity to disagree with them. Even with the sacred, inviolable General Staff’s power behind her, she was nearing an inexcusable challenge to authority. A head could be allowed to swell only so far. There’s a limit to what can be tolerated, even for recipients of the Silver Wings Assault Badge!...the major, though still rather new, was readily crossing a line of which all graduates from the war college should have been aware.”

V3/C5

“There was a pile of especially severe criticism from the Northern Army Group. They said she was transferred after voicing a clear objection to those in authority.”

Imperial Government

V2/C5

Tanya sinks a Commonwealth vessel, she is court-martialed, the military says she did nothing wrong [which I agree with], but the diplomats want to punish her to appease the Commonwealth. After the not-guilty verdict, Tanya’s smug-ass smile makes everyone go: umm...should we really have let her get away with this??

V4/C2

She then further makes the diplomats hate her over her Moscow raid.

V4/C3

Rudersdorf warns Zettour that Tanya going overboard is earning Zettour criticism from the government.

V4/C4

During her second court-martial, Tanya doing the most in Moscow manages to fracture the relationship between the government/supreme army command & the guys more in charge of the day-to-day war, like Zettour & Rudersdorf.

International Post-Hoc View on Arene

V2/C6

“They gunned people down like they were so many targets in a firing exercise. They got ‘points’ for shooting people. People had blocked themselves in, so they used heavy-explosion formulas to bombard whole districts. Those are all painful memories of the tragedy being shared today. Even counting only the confirmed deaths, the city of Arene lost half its population that day. In order to avoid the heavy responsibility for each soldier that would result if they went into the city and had to visually confirm their targets, they aimed to cause widespread fires via artillery bombardment from positions surrounding the city. A portion of the documents shows that they had chosen targets that were likely to spread the flames as proof-of-concept for firestorm.” <= the reporter doesn’t know this, but Tanya is the person that comes up with that proof-of-concept for creating a firestorm, as well as the person that creates the case to make it legal to repress a civilian revolt with a military. To me it seems like Arene is presented as the Tanyaverse Bombing of Dresden, except how it would be viewed if Germany had won WWII.

Tanya thinks about how if the Empire loses, her reputation is in the toilet if it becomes known that she did this.

Western Army Command

V2/C6

[The Lt. General or above that is in command of the Western Front] “A terrifying report or a proposal from hell. The one who thought of this was either a lawyer so cunning the devil would invite them to join forces or a criminal. This way of thinking is practically inhuman. Only a devil who forgot their reason and conscience in their mother’s womb could come up with such a tactic. That someone would equate having the technical capabilities for an operation with actually doing it…Are they deranged?”

“Luckily, an army corps commander summoning a mere major is extremely rare. Exceptional though it was, it meant there was a chance he might have to summon this monster again someday…Doing his best not to look directly at the monster straightening her posture in front of him, the army corps commander accepted that it was for work and met her.”

“The principles behind the actions of this major in front of him were impossible to understand using anyone’s logic or emotions. Her inorganic eyes compelled you to conclude that her thoughts, her frameworks, her way of being were all warped.”

This guy keeps going on and on more than I have here, tbh he’s one of Tanya’s main haters. It’s fine Tanya, it’s only the guy in charge of Western Army Command, who listens to him?

“I hope no one noticed that I just flinched, thought the army corps commander, sensing that he was distinctly afraid of her…No worries about what? He deeply wanted to ask what she was planning to do, but he held back. He told himself it was surely better not to know…But there is probably no one more suited to being a soldier than you. Perhaps you feel at home in hell on the Rhine front.”

V3/C5

“The Western Army Group declined to evaluate her, saying her good and bad points neutralized each other, so it was difficult to rate her. Furthermore, she had attempted to resist orders.”

Implied Future View of Tanya/The Parable of the Salamander

V4/C5

“From what I heard, the Salamander is adorable and very clever. If you show it affection, it’ll get attached to you. Like a German shepherd, it can become a trustworthy member of the family. Sometimes it begs or plays tricks, but apparently, everyone ends up overlooking these things. Of course, Mrs. Legen grew angry and screamed that it went too far, but…Well, in the end, everyone doted on the Salamander. Because when it’s even more reliable than a German shepherd, how could you not? At some point, though, the Salamander’s requests and pranks grew to be too much. But what do you think happened when no one was sympathetic to dependable Mrs. Legen, who had continued to angrily scold it the whole time? That’s right. No one was able to stop the Salamander! Of course, the Salamander loved and cherished everyone. But sadly, there was no one to teach it right from wrong. So the Salamander never realized that everyone disliked it. Soon it had exhausted everyone’s patience.” <= for reference, Tanya commands the Salamander Kampfgruppe; this is told as a cautionary tale that Andrew says circulates throughout the future Empire.

Your Author’s Take on Tanya’s Reputation vs Reality

The above should have real-world implications for Tanya’s personal life as far as friends, and for her career both within and beyond the military once the war is over, because, you know, people talk. Anyone who phones up an old pal because said old pal had some quality time with Tanya and they’re curious what she’s like is probably not going to receive a glowing personal recommendation, and the higher up those people are in society, the worse it is likely to be. 

Even for people who think she has a genius applicable beyond the military sphere, outside of extreme circumstances people generally don’t want to employ anyone, no matter how smart, who is known for being unpredictable, uncontrollable, arrogant in the extreme, abusive towards coworkers, manipulative, possibly just straight up evil, etc etc. Within the military, after the war I would expect her to be hampered by the fact that a lot of people won’t want to work with her unless there’s a really pressing reason they need her skillset.

I can’t believe I’m bringing this show up from years past, but she’s sort of in the same position as Dr. House from the TV show - famously talented; famously toxic in the workplace; only one place will employ him, and at a much lower salary than his reputation should command, and even so, thinking that he could get away with that in real life is pushing the suspension of disbelief for the show. The same goes with friendships - very few well-adjusted adults are willing to befriend The Cool Asshole in real life.

When it does happen IRL, those relationships usually aren’t healthy & happy, and can easily end up with borderline-emotionally-abusive undertones because the follower is afraid of losing the leader, and molds themselves to fit what the other person wants so as to be an unchallenging, uncritical presence in the life of their idol.

For a story about an adult man reincarnated as a young girl fighting in magical WW1.5, YS manages to put a surprisingly interesting twist on the Main Character is a Cool Asshole Without Consequences model, with Tanya getting away with it in the present due to extreme circumstances, not realizing that the war is the only reason she’s getting away with it, and facing many implied future consequences for it.

While it’s entirely possible and often completely necessary to handwave Tanya overcoming this for storytelling purposes, as you can’t go many places story-wise if Tanya is as screwed as it sounds like she’s going to be, standard reality is that she’s gonna need to do some serious legwork to dig herself out of the hole she’s in, both personally and professionally. 

I appreciate that the crux of a good Tanya story is often Tanya thinking normal reality will apply to her but then bypassing normal reality to end up somewhere she never intended on being, much to her chagrin, and readers therefore may feel adhering to realism violates the reality of Tanyaverse. 

For the purposes of this story, I have chosen to stick with where the preponderance of evidence leads and apply a good amount of normal reality to Tanya, because that is exactly what allows me to proceed along a different avenue of Tanya misunderstanding things and ending up somewhere she never intended on being, keeping to the spirit of Tanya stories. Plus, Tanya doesn’t seem very intent on growing as a person in the absence of consequences and I need my character growth drivers.

...and I can’t avoid admitting I still end up handwaving some portion of those consequences for Tanya, since, as stated above, it’s...hard to go anywhere with a story if you don’t.

[violet-knox]

Hey, can you do Adult Severus/Muggle. Reader finds Severus and takes it upon herself to look after him? Can it be fluff and cute af, please?

Long Forgotten

Pairing: Severus Snape x Muggle!Reader

Summary: You’re infatuated by the man in black who hangs around the school where you work until one day you approach him out of concern.

Word Count: 6112

A/N: So I got a bit carried away with this one. The fluff comes a bit after and in this story they don’t actually end up together (yet), it’s rather slow paced, but it was a lot of fun to write. I may end up doing  part two for this one when I get the chance. I feel so unsatisfied 😅

Your stomach growled and you knew it was time to pack up the essays you’d been grading and head home for dinner. But once again, the shadow hidden behind the tree at the edge of the playground wiped any thought you had of leaving the classroom. The same man, always dressed in black, always dragging his feet like he held the world on his shoulders, had been lurking around the edge of the school grounds every day for a little over a week now and the sight of him always sent shivers up your spine. You were wary of his presence, always caught in the corner of your eye as you stayed behind in your classroom despite better judgment. 

Common sense told you to speak to someone of the man’s daily visits to the school, yet you were reluctant to say a word to anyone. He would always show up well after the students had left and he’d never wander anywhere past that tree. He didn’t seem like a threat to you, his sadness instead reflected by the way he’d hang his head low, one hand on the tree trunk, sinking down to the ground as he continued to stare at it. You knew he had a story, a reason for being there but you’d never once thought of approaching him to ask, fear striking you back. You were conflicted and so you stayed the observer, watching him from afar, his movements never changing, his intentions never present. He was a mystery that you weren’t sure you’d ever solve. 

“You’re still here?” Looking up from the desk you saw Ms. Simmons at the door of her classroom with a smile as large as her optimism. She was such a sweet woman, under appreciated by her students and misunderstood by the staff. But you were happy to have been assigned to her, helping and learning from her. Most of your mates from college complained about the teacher they got placed with but not you. Ms. Simmons was the one good thing about the miserable placement you got: the worst ranking elementary school in Cokeworth. Many saw it as a joke of a school, yet children of varying households would attend it nonetheless.

“I’m just finishing up the essay’s they handed in today,” you informed her. She walked over to her desk where you were sitting and pulled open one of the drawers and reached inside. You watched her pull out an empty flask and stuff it into her giant purse, shattering your perfect, innocent view of her.   

“I’ve worked here since the day this school has opened and never have I seen someone as dedicated to work with these students as you are.” She spoke with such glee in her voice but when you looked back into her eyes, all that optimism you’d previously admired sizzled away, replaced with the burden of working as an underpaid teacher in such a horrible school district. Your eyes drifted away from her face, unable to take the sight, your mind rejecting what you saw as your probable future. Instead you found your thoughts returning back to the man in black as you watched him hunching over the tree with one hand leaning on it’s trunk as he slowly kneeled down to the ground, his head hung as low as ever.

“I’m just delighted to have the opportunity to work with you.” Your words flowed like you were reading off a script, your mind completely detached from where you were, wondering why that man was so obsessed over that tree.

“Well don’t stay too long.” You snapped back in time to watch Ms. Simmons walk around you and back to the door. “Have a nice night!”

“You too,” you said, trying to reciprocate her fake kindness as she disappeared down the narrow school halls. Sitting back in the chair, you tossed the pen in your hand back on the desk in defeat. This job wasn’t worth it and you’d been lying to yourself, believing it was anything but a waste of time. You’d only gone into education thinking you could make a difference in the sad meagre town you grew up in when in reality, any impact you could possibly have wouldn’t make a shred of difference to anyone.

With a loud groan, you closed your eyes and threw your head back in frustration. What would you do if you quit this job? Four years of college down the drain and even if you tried to move to a different city, London perhaps, you knew your credentials wouldn't hold up amongst the competition that awaited you there. You had no choice; you had to stay in Cokeworth and make what you could of the path you chose, else you’d have to back pedal completely and find a way to head down a different road. 

Looking back towards the window, you looked for the man in black, trying to get your mind off your own life because pondering over the mystery of someone else's was better than dealing with your reality. The man’s figure was nowhere to be found when you looked at the tree. Squinting you thought perhaps his shadow had merged with the trunk he’d been sulking over for so long, but you still couldn’t catch a glimpse of him. He couldn’t have left. You knew that because you’d always refused to leave before he did. He was the reason you’d eat dinner so late, why you’d been living off of four to five hours of sleep every night. Curiosity taking over any sense of logic, you stood and walked towards the window, realizing you couldn’t see him from the desk because he’d somehow found himself lying on the ground. Taking a step forward, you placed a hand on the window, your brows furrowed as you tried to make out any sense of movement, any indication the man was alright but you were given no such luck. 

You stood there a moment, praying he would move but as the seconds slowed, your heart beat faster and your concern for the stranger grew. Against better judgment, you turned on your heel and ran out the door. The sounds of your quick footsteps echoed down the empty hall as you pushed open the door leading to the playground and ran towards the man, slowing as you approached him. He was in the exact same position you’d seen him from the classroom window but as you drew nearer, you couldn’t fathom why he was unconscious on the ground. 

“Hello?” You tried to speak to the man. No response. He looked young, perhaps even a bit younger than you and you couldn’t spot any wounds on him though the black trousers and jacket surely didn’t help with visibility. “Are you alright?”

No response. Stepping a little closer, you kneeled in front of him, your hand hovering to reach for his shoulder but you hesitated. This was a bad idea. You didn’t know the man and for all you knew, he could have been stalking you this entire time, peering into the classroom window which was much more exposed than you thought it was from here. 

“Can you hear me?” You tried again, your hand pressed against the thin material of his jacket, gently squeezing his shoulder. No response. You swallowed hard, your chest heaving for air. What were you to do? You’d never trained for something like this, never been told what to do in a situation like this. Desperately, you peered over the man and his surroundings, no open wounds found but his chest still rose and fell with every breath he took; he was alive at least.

Standing, you looked at the tree the man had spent so long near and saw an engraving, one that was clearly done a while ago, the wood browning as the tree healed from its carving. Judging by the height and sloppy handwriting, you assumed the two names that were spelt were written by children: Lily and Sev. Sev, what an odd name, or perhaps it was a nickname of some sort. Strange how you’d never noticed it before, but there was no time for your curiosity right now. Sprinting back to the school, you made your way to the office, panting as you picked up the phone and called the police, informing them of what had happened. 

With the assurance that an ambulance would be by within a few minutes, you put down the phone and made your way back to the man, immediately peering at his chest to see that he was still breathing. The women on the phone had asked if the man had a pulse but you were unsure. You’d seen people check a person’s pulse in movies, but you’d never done it yourself. You felt absolutely useless talking to that woman, unable to tell her a single thing, not even a proper description of the man. 

Peering at the man’s face through the hair that showered him, your eyes ventured down to his neck, his hair long enough to cover any skin that wasn’t cloaked by the black button up he was wearing under his jacket. Cautiously, you moved a hand to ever so gently brush away his hair and expose his face and neck. It felt as though you were defusing a bomb, fingers so gentle, gliding against his skin which seemed colder than it should have been. Pulling your hand away, you looked back down at him, realizing how awkward a move you’d just made. He wasn’t anyone you knew, yet you touched him as though you were waking up to your long-life partner in the morning.  

It was odd seeing his face for the first time after recognizing him from afar for so long. He wasn’t anything like you imagined, his features though prominent, grew much softer the longer you looked at him. His eyelashes were long and thick, much like his hair and eyebrows, his lips were thin, his cheeks sharp along with his jaw and his nose was hooked. Looking at him now, you weren’t sure how old he was. You’d initially assumed he was in his early twenties but something about him made you think otherwise. It was as though he’d lived a life long enough to stretch over a century, but you knew that wasn’t the case, it couldn’t have been. 

Shaking your head, you tried to get your mind off of filling in all those questions you’d wondered about him this past week and reached over, pressing two fingers on his neck, searching for a pule, unsure of what you were truly looking for. No resp-

You gasped at the sudden grasp on your wrist, the charcoal eyes of the man staring back at you as his nails dug into your skin. Your heart nearly stopped as you looked at his stern expression, his body too weak to project the alarm on his face. 

“Are-Are you alright?” You croaked, your throat suddenly dry as you tried to pull your hand away from him. His grasp was too strong despite his obvious need for medical attention. Where was that damn ambulance!?

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy, like there was a frog in his throat but his tone confirmed he was on the defensive, unable to let go of your hand in fear of your intentions. His words at least answered one question floating around in your mind; he hadn’t come around the school this past week to stalk you, he was likely here for personal reasons, something to do with that tree and the engraving it carried. 

“I-I work at the school, I-I'm a student teacher,” you said, reluctant to give your name, still completely clueless as to who he was. The man looked down at the school you gestured to, his expression suddenly changing as if he had some sort of awkward realization. “I think you’re hurt.” 

You could still not identify the source of his wound, but people don’t just collapse, they don’t struggle to speak or move if there isn’t something wrong with them. You wanted to help the man despite his less than friendly attitude towards you, but you still had no idea what to do. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, finally letting go of your hand only to press his palms into the ground and try to stand up. Instinctively, you grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from falling as his legs shook failing at supporting him. He was skinny, his limbs looking like twigs the kids would play with, pretending they were swords. How he’d managed to sit up was beyond you. 

“I don’t think you should be moving.” You protested as he tried pushing you away, too weak to counter your own strength. “I called for an ambulance. They should be here any minute.”

“No,” he said all too quickly. “I don’t need them.”

His sudden reaction to the mention of an ambulance was rather alarming. Who would turn down help when they so obviously needed it? Even if it seemed that the ambulance would never arrive, at least he could have found comfort in knowing help was on its way.

“But-”

“Leave.” His tone turned cold as he summoned every fibre of strength left in his body to push you away. “I don’t need you either.”

You looked at him, stunned by his attitude. Sure, you were a stranger, but in his position, you wouldn’t have questioned taking any sort of help from anyone. His body trembled under your touch as he tried to get away from you, like if he’d stayed here any longer, all his secrets would be spilled, exposing themselves to you. You let go of him as he got to his feet, his body immediately seeking aid, throwing itself onto the tree to keep himself upright. You heard a low groan escape his lips as his entire upper body placed its dependence on the tree he’d been obsessed with this past week.

“I can’t just leave you here,” you said, your hands grasping him to ease the pressure off his frail  legs. He seemed to finally accept your aid at first until you felt him regain some of his balance enough to push you away once again.

“I told you-”

“I’m not leaving!” you exclaimed in protest, your grip on him returning stronger than before. Clear shock was written all over his face as he looked at you blankly, wide eyed. You’d surprised yourself with your own assertive demeanour and clearly it had the same effect on him. You were inclined to give credit to your position as a teacher for your need to help the man, but it was more than that. He was a book you wanted to read, one filled with sadness and loneliness. You could see in his eyes the abandonment he’d been through, something you were all too familiar with. He wasn’t used to depending on anyone, thus the resistance he showed you now, your own determination countering it as you insisted on providing him aid, any sort of aid, no matter how little. “Let me at least help get you inside”.

You gestured to the school, your grip on his arm loosening when he finally stopped resisting you. You looked at him and you felt time stop, something new appearing in the depths of the darkness in his eyes. Hope was a powerful feeling, one that showed up in many forms. You’d felt it the day you met Ms. Simmons and now, you could see it emulated in the eyes of the man in black. 

“No. Not here.” Whatever spell grasped you to his mind was broken when he looked back towards the school and as he spoke, you could sense a drastic change in his tone. He was much more relaxed, much warmer towards you, a sense of trust growing between you for reasons you couldn’t understand. “I-I need to go home.”

His lack of energy emulated itself in his voice. He seemed to have accepted the situation he was in, yet still seemed reluctant to accept proper help. There was only so much you could do for him, a hospital being the best place for him to be not his home. 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” you protested his request, feeling rather nervous about his odd behaviour. It was human to accept help when offered so why was he so adamant on rejecting it? 

“Please, if you want to help me, leave me be.” He sounded desperate, as if it was imperative for you to leave him to his own demise, like he’d die if you dare give him any aid. “I cannot go to a hospital. They cannot help me there.”

“Why?” His words told you one thing while his tone spoke the opposite. He’d been claiming he didn’t need you, that he didn’t need anyone’s help yet you sensed something entirely different from the way he spoke, the way he eased into your touch when he began to trust you.  

“That is beyond your concern, now please let me go,” he said, his body making no motion to push you away either out of protest for his words or he was simply too weak to do as he wished. You couldn’t tell. His voice was still so raspy, even more so than before now that he’d started to let go of that defensive behaviour he’d taken with you. 

“If you insist on going home, then at least let me drive you. My car is just over there.” You pointed towards the parking lot to the side of the school, not too far from where you stood. The man looked over to where you pointed and took a moment before hesitantly nodding in agreement to your suggestion. Slowly, you helped him walk down the hill to cross the school park, making your way to your car. You opened the passenger side door first and helped him in before jogging to the other side of the car. 

“Your seatbelt,” you reminded the man, pointing to it as you fastened your own. Surely if he had enough energy to push you away, he would have enough energy to clip in a seatbelt. The man looked at you with that blank expression again before he rolled his eyes and slowly reached for the seatbelt. Funny how the man who seemed to be on the brink of death not moments ago continued to elude any sort of aid, even if it was from something as simple as a seatbelt. “Where are we going?”

“Spinner’s End,” he mumbled, the click of his seatbelt your queue to turn on the engine and leave the parking lot. You kept your eyes on the road but could feel the man’s black eyes on you, like he was studying you as you’d studied him over the past week. Fate must have a twisted sense of humour if this was where you were meant to be, driving an injured stranger to his home after pondering over the mystery that surrounded him the past few days. 

“You know where Spinner’s End is?” The man asked, clearly surprised you hadn’t asked for directions. 

“I used to live in the neighbourhood when I was growing up,” you explained, knowing most people in this town would rather pretend like the area around Spinner’s End didn’t exist before acknowledging there were actual people leaving there. It was reputations like that that made you adamant on changing the town, on trying to impact its youth. But of course, it was reputations like that of Spinner’s End that would live past the lifetime of the city itself. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said, his voice sounding a little weaker but at least he seemed to be relaxing in the car instead of fighting to get away from you under that tree. 

“You say that as if you know every single person on Spinner’s End,” you said, smiling at his claim, trying to lighten the mood a bit after everything that had happened. For a short moment you felt like you were driving with a friend, someone you’d known for years but the awkward silence thickening the air broke that illusion all too quickly. You looked over towards the man and saw that blank expression on his face again, like his mind had wandered somewhere else as he stared at you. “I-umm, I moved away when I was old enough, went to school in London and came back to teach here.”

No response. The silence was quite deafening, but the awkwardness had begun to fade when he took his eyes off you, choosing to stare out the window instead, leaning his head back on the headrest. The feeling of friendly company returned as your grip on the steering wheel loosened. You didn’t mind the silence, for some reason, it felt soothing with him sitting beside you and you didn’t even know the man’s name. 

“You chose to work here?” His delayed reaction took you a bit by surprise, but you found it rather warming. There was something about him, something about your dynamic with him you couldn’t quite get your finger on. All you knew was that you needed to find out more. You needed to find out more about him and why you felt such a connection to him.  

“I wanted to make a difference,” you shrugged in response, feeling as though your story wasn’t interesting enough to go into. You arrived at his home a few minutes later, spending the rest of the car ride accompanied by the man in black and the settling silence that surrounds you. Turning off the engine, you undid your seatbelt, hearing the sound of his own coming undone. Quickly opening the door, you ran over to help him out of the car, the man already stepping out, trying to get to the door on his own but his body was still so weak, still so fragile. 

“Do you need-”

“No-” He’d rejected your help before you could even offer it, trying and failing to get to his porch by himself. Neither of you said a word as you helped him up to his door, carefully letting him go, watching as he reached inside his pocket to fish out his keys. 

“I-I can take it from here,” he said as he went to unlock his door. You stood there like a rejected puppy wanting to come home but the man had barely opened the door enough for him to slip through, leaving you on the other side of the door. 

“My-my name is (Y/N), I-I realized I never introduced myself,” you said quickly before he could close the door on you. You didn’t want to leave him, whether it was because of the infinite amount of questions floating around in your head or simply to make sure he would survive the night you didn’t care. All you knew was that you couldn’t leave him, this wasn’t the end of your interaction with him. He wasn’t going to close the door never to be seen by you again.   

“I- umm-” The man had frozen when you spoke, the door neither open nor closed and for a second you thought perhaps he’d obliged to you offering your company. “Thank you for your help.” 

His words rung in your ears, his tone stuck in your mind as you watched his cloaked self disappear behind the door. He was gone, but your worry for him remained. You heard the sound of the lock clicking into place, followed by a loud thump. You stepped forward, placing one hand on the door, the other balled into a fist, your knuckles pressed against the etched wood, ready to request entrance. But it was your heart that pounded instead, begging him to open the door, to let you know he would be okay. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were tired of being pushed away and you were afraid of what might happen if he put any more effort into rejecting your help. Afraid you may do more harm than good, you slowly took a step back, trying your best to let go of that compulsive need to care for others until you found yourself back in your car. 

Looking back at the house, you examined each window, trying to find any sign of life, anything to let you know he hadn’t dropped dead the second he locked the door. The house looked back at you offering you nothing but more questions. The place looked like it was uninhabited for years. Like the owners had decided one day the house wasn’t worth caring for, that it was a waste of space and that abandonment was the only solution. 

Against instinct, you put your keys in the ignition and turned on the car engine. A small sigh escaped your lips as you put the car into first gear, slowly pressing down on the accelerator to drive away. Your eyes shifted between the road and your rear-view mirror, your mind still hoping the house would come alive but you were given no such luck. 

Sleep didn’t find you that night. Your mind instead continued to replay the events of that evening over and over again. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt about leaving him there. More than once you contemplated driving back over there if not to simply observe him from afar like you had this past week at the school.

The sun finally rose, and you immediately jumped up to shower and make yourself a cup of coffee. You made your way to the only supermarket you knew would be open this early in the morning and went shopping for a few items before hurrying back to your car and making your way to the man in black on Spinner’s End. You once again found yourself frozen in place, staring at the forgotten house, waiting for it to come alive. Nothing had changed from last night, not one single movement was found through the windows that remained shut. The house was locking what it held away from the rest of the world, never to be seen by anyone or anything.

Despite its uninviting vitality, you still pushed open your car door, locking it as you gripped the paper bag in your hand tightly. Your heartbeat grew heavier with every step you took towards the house until you felt it stop the second you found yourself in front of the door. Once again, your knuckles were pressed against the wood, waiting for your queue to rap. Your heart settled in your chest, quiet in anticipation as it approved your request and let you knock on the door four times. Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

No response. You could feel the protest in your chest, the ache from the silence of the morning but you made no motion to walk away. Instead, you tried again: knock, knock, knock, knock.  

Was it you? Had he seen you from the window, identified your car and decided you weren’t worth opening the door for? Or had you made the grave mistake of leaving him to his injuries last night? You were no longer concerned with knowing the man, of having your questions answered, you needed to know he was alright, that you hadn’t killed a man by fulfilling his request of being left alone. 

 Knock, knock, knock-

The door opened and your mind drew blank. Staring back were the same black eyes you’d spent all night thinking about, his expression blank once more, his hair the same stringy black streaks, his cloak removed to show his lanky body. 

“It’s (Y/N). From-from last night,” you croaked out, your throat suddenly dry. His face softened when you spoke, the door opening just a little wider. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and give you this.”’

You showed him the bag in your hand, but his eyes kept lingering on yours. He stared at you, into your soul, reading your empty mind, flipping through your emotions like a book, or at least, that’s how it felt. His stare wasn’t one you’d ever seen before. He looked at you like you were a puzzle to be solved, a mystery to be discovered. Like he was seeking for something he could never really find. Your thoughts were interrupted by his gaze shifting down to your hands, his face giving away nothing but more questions. 

“It’s not much. A few home remedies, some tea and a first aid kit,” you tried to answer whatever questions were lingering in his own mind, hoping he would return the favour as you took a closer look at the man. He looked perfectly healthy, not a single sign of injury, like yesterday never happened. The way he looked at you now like he was shuffling the puzzle pieces in frustration, unable to figure you out. You began to wonder if you’d indeed hallucinated the entire evening and we're intruding on the home of a complete stranger.

“Why would you give me this?” he asked. 

“You were hurt yesterday, or so it seemed. And I-I just thought since you didn’t want to go to the hospital you could use something to help you recover.” You tried to explain, to justify your presence not just to him but to yourself. Of course, you hadn’t spoken the whole truth, leaving out the fact you felt drawn to him, that you wanted to figure him out, listen to his story. But it didn’t matter as it seemed your words had eased him enough to open the door for you. 

“Would-would you like some tea?” His offer took you back. He’d been so cold yesterday, his immediate reaction when he first met you to push you away and now here he was, inviting you in for tea. It was now your turn to stare into his eyes, frozen in the moment. Loneliness and despair stared back at you. You felt bad for the man as he started to open himself to you, his expression finally displaying a hint of his emotions. With a smile, you took a step inside, watching as he closed the door behind you, gesturing for you to take a seat on the old and forgotten couch. 

“Why are you so insistent on helping me?” he asked as you placed the bag on the table in front of you, the man taking a seat on the armchair adjacent to you. He was trying to solve you again, his eyes narrow, his hands folded in front of his chin.

“I-I don’t know really. I’ve seen you around the school before and when I saw you weren’t moving yesterday, I thought something horrible had happened.” you said, finding his glare rather intimidating. You sank back in your seat, your back hitting the couch as you placed your hands on your lap. “I just wanted to help.”

He looked away from you, his hands falling onto the armrests. His defences had fallen once more, your words somehow assuring him of your intentions. He believed you and you weren’t sure why. 

“Thank you,” he said, speaking to his lap more so than to you. His reluctance to accept help was rather astounding. He seemed hurt somehow, as if showing his gratitude to you would be to show weakness, to admit he was human. “I haven’t… It’s-it’s been a while since anyone has shown me kindness.”

You looked at him in surprise. Yes, the people didn’t take kindly to those living in this part of the town but surely he didn’t mean what he said. “That’s an awfully sad thing to say.” 

You spoke softly, feeling rather nervous, not wanting to offend the man in any way. He however didn’t seem to care much for your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours once again. 

“Perhaps,” he said simply, letting the silence settle in as you both sat there, wondering about each other. 

“Have you lived here long?” You’d shifted through your many questions, trying to pick the best to ask without sounding horribly eerie.

“I grew up here,” he said, indulging you in the small talk you’d requested, but his answer only kept you guessing, feeling rather excited as you began to wonder if the name ‘Sev’ from the tree back at the school belonged to him or someone he knew. “And like you, I’ve recently returned.”

“And you chose to return here?” You giggled, referencing the comment he’d made last night about your job choice. The man smiled in response, a singular chuckle puffing out his chest. Your own grin grew, his elated expression contagious. He looked rather sweet in this moment, the harshness of his defensive nature gone, the sadness in his eyes replaced with temporary joy, his smile softening his features. You felt like you could speak with him all day in that moment, but it was gone all too soon, his smile fading along with your own as his anguish returned.

“I needed a reminder.” he said, his eyes fixed on his lap, his hair falling in front of his face, the curtains closing on that brief moment of bliss you’d found with him. 

“A reminder?” You asked hesitantly. Silence fell once again and you felt the air thicken, the room around you somehow darker than before. The man slowed his breathing as he stared blankly into his lap, keeping his face hidden behind his curtain of hair. 

“I’ve recently lost someone.” His voice was as low as his posture, his shoulders hunched defensively as if he wasn’t worthy of receiving comfort for his loss. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said simply, knowing nothing you could say would help ease his mind from whatever pain he felt. You sat there a while, waiting patiently for him to collect himself, the curtains opening not long after, a look of wonder and empathy meeting you. You happily eased into a different subject, speaking of your time as a teacher, hoping he would bring up the story behind the engraving on the tree but it was clear whatever memory attached to that story was too painful to hash up right now. You still indulged him in some small talk until you realized it was time to head to work.

“I’m sorry. I invited you in for tea and neglected to make you any,” the man looked guilty, liked he’d offended you in some way but you simply smiled, preferring the conversation you’d had over awkwardly sipping tea anyways. 

“That’s alright,” you chuckled. Turning around, you faced him as he opened the front door. Taking a small step forward, you felt the heat rise to your face as you tried to summon up any courage you had left. “Perhaps you could make it up to me this evening?”

You could hear nothing but your heart beating, waiting for his answer, fear that you overstepped bubbling up in your mind. But you waited patiently and watched that blank expression of his soften, hope staring back at you as he nodded in agreement. Your smile returned to your face as you told him you’d be by tonight after work. As you stepped out of the house, the man spoke, turning your attention back to him one last time.

“My name is Severus.” Sev. “Severus Snape.”

Your mind was wiped clean, replaced with an abundance of new questions, Who’s Lily? Was she the one he’d lost? Is she the reason he’d hung around your school this past week? Is she the reason you’d met this mysterious man?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Severus Snape.” Your smile stretched from ear to ear and you felt a spark of joy ignite in your chest, one you thought would never return since you’d come back to Cokeworth. Extending out your hand to him, you felt his thin, ice cold fingertips graze your palm as he captured it. You walked back to your car and Severus Snape, the man in black, kept his door open as he watched you buckle in. He was too far to read his face yet not far enough to know how he felt; serene, rejuvenated, content. For the first time in a long time, you were happy to go to work, looking forward to the day as you were sure he must have felt. For the first time in a long time, you’d pushed aside your worries and focussed on the present. You’d found yourself again and all it took was a simple conversation with a mysterious stranger.

@raven-hopeflyte @sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @darkthought15 @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @mitchiesdungeon @severuslovebot

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Weird q..but i really dont understand why most fans hate season 4, especially the last episode. Why? I think it gave us a deeper look on both sherlock and mycroft! I felt it tells a lot about mycroft how he had to step in and take control of things ever since he was a kid himself. Also he is not a robot or a killer. Also redbeard thing. It was an appropriate deep psychological trauma (cause most shows usually disappoint in that area). I am not trying to impose my opinion. Just want to understand

Hey Nonny!

It’s all good, and I totally respect your opinion and how you enjoyed S4! It’s totally okay! I know that there are quite a few who got a lot of of S4, and who genuinely enjoyed it.

Sadly, I am not one of those people, and I’ll try to be as diplomatic a possible in my response, but PLEASE know that I don’t think you’re “terrible” or “stupid” for liking S4 because I DO get passionate sometimes in my responses, and I’m just merely speaking as someone who studied the series very closely for quite a long time before S4 aired, and as someone who knows Day-One-ers (ie., people who watched Sherlock on its day one airdate) who also are a large majority of the people who did not like S4. This is just me simply stating why I didn’t like it, but it’s different for everyone.

Stating what I DO like: The acting and cinematography of the first two episodes were brilliant for what they had to work with, and I’ve never faulted any of the actors for the flaws of S4. And for TFP, they did the best with what they had to work with.

That’s… pretty much all I really liked about S4.

Now, here’s my problems with S4:

Nothing made a LICK of sense to the narrative that they were telling in Seasons prior. 

This series was always based a bit in reality, and suddenly everything became comic-book rules: X-Men villains, shitty “redemption” arc, destroying favourite characters just for drama, ludicrous physics, explosions that only destroyed one small room in an apt where in previous episodes one explosion destroyed an entire block, etc.

Sherlock was OOC.

Mary was being built up to be a fantastic villain? Ah, nope, here’s the lacklustre twist where tee hee Mary’s just an assassin with a heart of gold that still emotionally abuses Sherlock and John and just won’t fucking stay dead.

And speaking of this, the DVD’s make NO LOGICAL SENSE unless she was planning to kill herself

AND she tries to make her death equatable to Sherlock’s??

Everyone was RIDICULOUSLY out of character in TFP, I’m so sorry: Mycroft is a bumbling coward for the most part, Sherlock disregards John when he gives the Vatican Cameos warning, the Holmes Parents are assholes because Mycroft COULDN’T SOLVE A PROBLEM WHEN HE WAS 12?? ARE YOU SERIOUS???? And that creepy Moriarty / Eurus thing, and LITERALLY they’re implying that EVERYTHING HAPPENED BECAUSE EURUS DIDN’T GET A HUG. Like, I’m so sorry, but that’s lazy writing.

And don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of the entire character of Eurus. She LITERALLY had X-Men powers, and like… just nothing made sense. Her involvement in the entirety of S4 MADE NO SENSE. Why go back to prison if you can get out?? WHAT IS THE POINT?? AND I repeat: She did all this because she didn’t get a hug. Yes. I’m oversimplifying, but at the base level, that’s what it was, because she wanted Sherlock’s attention. Welcome to the club, kid, stand in line, everyone on the SHOW wants his attention.

The ENTIRE plot of the first 2 seasons got wiped out all because it wasn’t Moriarty who was interested in Sherlock, but Eurus?? What… What about Carl Powers?? Like…. the ENTIRETY of season one and TGG makes no sense now, because of that one 5 minute scene where Eurus “enlists” Moriarty. I… ugh.

The SUDDEN tonal switch from kind-of Sherlock to James Bond, for some fucking reason.

And on that note, how terribly lazy and cheap TFP looks in comparison to the other two episodes. The whole episode looks like it was filmed in a small house with 4 identical rooms.

EVERYTHING that was etablished in 2 episodes prior were COMPLETELY forgotten when Mary was “shot”.

The complete character assassination of one loyal blogger John H Watson in favour of Mary for some fucked up reason, even though AT HIS OWN WEDDING HE COULDN’T STAND BEING AROUND MARY. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe for one damned second that John would EVER forgive Mary for murdering his best friend after seeing what it did to him. That’s not love from her, and that’s NOT John’s character EVER in the ENTIRETY of the series.

And speaking of character assassinations, Molly’s character being devolved to S1E1 Molly, where instead of giving her agency like they were doing with her the ENTIRE series, so much so that Sherlock picked up on her dominance enough to give her a big role in his mind palace in HLV and TAB, only to make her a sad little self-insert Mary Sue pining for the main character, and in turn made Sherlock a TERRIBLE human being for MAKING HER say what she did. It’s gross.

AND speaking of Molly’s character, they’ve been setting up Mollstrade since as early as ASiB, but I guess that plot line got shafted. Look I LOVE Hopkins, and I am ANGRY they didn’t give her more than 3 fucking lines in the entirety of ONE episode after HEAVILY promoting her actress and character, but they essentially reduced her to a piece of ass for Lestrade to chase. AND THAT’S NOT HIS CHARACTER EITHER. EW GROSS.

The constant plot holes being gaped wide open, and the Chekov’s gun moments where they bring up shit but do nothing with it!! 

TD-12? Nope, just a lame reference to a story we like. 

John got shot at the end of TLD with a VERY REAL FUCKING GUN? Nope, it was a dart gun. 

John not suddenly knowing how to be a doctor.

The TGG one I mentioned up above. 

What was in the letter? And who was Anyone??

Moriarty essentially being erased as anything other than a hired thug and had no part whatsoever in Sherlock’s history. 

Eurus… Just all of her character is asinine. 

Everyone in T6T suddenly not knowing John’s the blogger, which is in direct contradiction to literally the entire series. 

The AGRA plotline was ridiculous, in the end.

Baby? What baby? It was only there when convenient.

They dropped whatever plotline they were going to do for Mycroft: He was being set up as either dying, or the villain.

Redbeard. I’m sorry, I disagree with you on that. Mofftiss is trying to tell me that a little boy fell down a well and went missing, and that WASN’T the first place searchers / the police wouldn’t have looked? Sorry, no. And then. AND THEN his parents just… go along with this thing where Sherlock shuts down and they DON’T get him therapy? Yes, I agree the mind is a funny thing, and we can be traumatised into forgetting or dissociating from traumatic events. I GET IT. But… like I don’t believe the Holmes are so heartless as to just never grieve or have memories around about their supposedly dead daughter. It’s another OCC thing for me.

John’s cheating.

Disappearing and reappearing characters, like this scene, and the entirety of the aquarium scene.

Mary and John being terrible parents

OH GOD THIS FUCKING SCENE. That bomb SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED THE ENTIRE BUILDING.

What… who was this girl on the plane? What? Like I know WHO, but if she’s supposed to be Eurus talking to Sherlock, why don’t we see Eurus… talking to Sherlock? I … Ugh.

NORBURY. 

The glass SUPER SECRET GOVERNMENT ROOM THAT NO ONE SHOULD SEE INTO in T6T.

Sloppy camera work that some believe was intentional, but if it wasn’t, jesus c’mon.

The RIDICULOUS amount of 4th Wall Breaking. Like… even the actors didn’t give a shit.

Essentially, everything on this list here and in this blog tag here.

And everything mentioned on these three posts:

T6T: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night 

TLD: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

TFP: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

There’s SO much more I can go into, but please go through my “something’s fucky” tag in that last link.

Notice how probably 90% of that has NOTHING to do with “johnlock not becoming canon” because the Johnlockers get MONSTROUS accusations as to THAT being why we didn’t like S4, even though it was, like critically panned by the GENERAL AUDIENCE who have NO investment in the series other than “I liked it in the past”.

Two of my fave YouTubers have interesting (not perfect, but still good) takes coming at the series as casual viewers:

‘The Day Sherlock Died’ by The Closer Look

‘Sherlock is Garbage, and Here’s Why’ by hbomberguy

So it’s NOT just Johnlockers. I’ve talked to Sher1011ies at 221B con who didn’t like S4 either, because most of them realized how shitty Molly was treated in the last episode. So yeah, a big middle finger to those who think I dislike S4 because of  “no Johnlock”. No, I disliked it because I need my stories to make logical narrative sense. I disliked it because I love John and they ruined his character all for the sake of drama and because Moffat has a “hurting Ben” kink. I disliked it because Mary should NOT have been “redeemed” because she was an abuser. I disliked it because Moriarty was turned into a cartoon villain, even though he was already overused in the series. I disliked it because the core of the show – the FRIENDSHIP of Sherlock and John, and their solving mysteries together – did not exist at all. I disliked it because John got sidelined. I disliked it because TFP was a ridiculous episode that, if you replace ANY of the characters, it wouldn’t make a difference, because it didn’t feel like an episode of Sherlock. I disliked it because everyone was OOC.

Anyway. Sorry. One too many accusations my way over the past 1100+ days LOL.

As for your assessment of TFP, I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you. There was no growth and actually it implies something far more sinister: That the Holmes are and were terrible parents that gave no shits about their daughter, their traumatized son, and expected their eldest to essentially be a parent. It implies that Mycroft, at 12 years old, orchestrated the ENTIRE Sherrinford thing… Look I can suspend my disbelief, but there’s limits, and this is one of them. A LITERAL CHILD. Perhaps Uncle Rudy had a hand in it somehow, but then why not shit on Uncle Rudy? Why is Mycroft blamed for it all?

Look, I don’t doubt Sherlock had a traumatic experience regarding “Redbeard”. But then why play into the fact that he was a dog? Why bring another character into the series just to have a gotcha moment? Because Mofftiss wanted a “Shyamalan twist”, that’s why. They threw EVERYTHING away for a twist ending either because they GENUINELY thought it was good, or they got tired of doing Sherlock. ALL of TFP is LITERALLY a really bad plot twist because reasons. TFP makes no sense to the ENTIRE narrative structure of the previous 12 episodes. It erased EVERYTHING from the previous episodes, and coated it with a gross closing by a character no one wanted in the series, and then tried to convince us that it’s a new beginning – “a journey they had to go through” – but it SOLVED NOTHING.

Anyway. I have big feels about S4, and the only way I can enjoy it is to watch it subtextually, but even then, I cannot sit through TFP without cringing. 

That said, Lovelies, please do not attack Nonny for enjoying S4! I know you guys won’t, but Nonny came out with an olive branch and they just want to understand why the fandom is passionate about S4′s… whatever it was. We can have a civil discussion about it, and point out – without attacking – why S4 is universally panned. It’s okay to like things no one else does, and Nonny was respectful to me in this ask! 

So with that, feel free, lovelies, to express why YOU didn’t enjoy the series, or why you did! I’m interested in both “sides” / pov’s whatever :)

[thebluelemontree]

Is it wrong to say that Sansa uses an out of sight out of mind coping mechanism? I noticed it because it's what I do a lot. I know some ppl say she rewrites traumatic memories to make the memories bearable but it doesn't make sense. If that was how she coped, wouldn't she have been telling herself lies about Joffrey still in acok? Or found a way to erase/rewrite Marillion's attempt to rape her?

Yes and no. She does that except all the times she doesn’t. ;) I think that characterization is extremely reductionist (and ignores character complexity and  growth) when it’s applied that broadly to every situation Sansa has been in. You have to take these things instance by instance because they aren’t all the same. Sometimes that labeling doesn’t fit at all. In many cases, it feels more like the fandom pathologizing the act of romanticizing or trying to push aside or reframe something unpleasant or even traumatic when that’s just something most human beings do now and then. Some do it more than others, but its all within the realm of typical coping behavior and being older or more educated or more “logical” doesn’t make one immune to it. So I hope you don’t let those interpretations make you feel abnormal or more fallible for identifying with Sansa in that way. Romanticizing doesn’t even have to be about coping at all, but simply expressing desire through daydreams. People imagine being in idealized scenarios with crushes all the time.  

You also hit the nail on the head. Sansa just doesn’t go around making up false narratives about every objectively awful thing that happens to her. In fact, her actual responses to those moments can be a useful basis for comparison when we’re analyzing the unkiss, for example. Misunderstanding the unkiss is usually where a lot of these assumptions stem from. That’s a whole other can of worms in itself. The unkiss is just too long of a discussion to put here, so I just recommend this post as to the reasons why it isn’t about trauma and take a browse through my unkiss tag. It does bear repeating that Sansa factually remembers every scary thing that happened during the Blackwater and why it happened, indicating she has processed it honestly and critically, before any incarnation of the unkiss happens. The unkiss is a mismemory added on to the facts, which began as her being the actor that kissed him first. It’s not a lie to deny the facts or to excuse his behavior. It’s regrettable to her that Sandor was not able to be the person she could rely on to get her out of KL at that time. Nonetheless, this repressed desire is just so strong in her that it manifested in a kiss so real she could remember how it felt after the reality of his leaving KL for good sank in. 

Early AGOT Sansa tended to want to move past unpleasantness rather quickly. Just sweep those red flags under the rug so everything can go back to blissful harmony. Sansa is naturally averse to conflict and just wants her present with the royal family to be smooth sailing into a bright future. Ned had a very similar tendency when it came to concerns over Robert’s true character. He saw things that disturbed him, but he hoped and clung to his idea of Robert anyway. For Sansa, this resulted in some misplaced blame and rewriting events so she could deal with the aftermath. This is mostly seen in her processing the Mycah incident after Lady’s death and how her perception of all the characters involved shifted in varying ways. This is after she knew perfectly well what really happened, because Ned says Sansa had already told him the truth of what Joffrey did while Arya was still missing. However, it would also be unfair to completely chalk this up to Sansa’s idiosyncrasies. We have to put her flip-flopping in the context of the situation as well. She’s also experienced a gutting loss with Lady’s death and the fact that the first blow to her innocence was her father volunteering to put Lady down. She doesn’t have Catelyn to go to with her confusion and hurt, and Ned has largely been silent. She’s also still engaged to Joffrey through all this, this is still a patriarchy, there are political ramifications to speaking against a crown prince, and she doesn’t know how to deal with seeing such cruelty and vindictiveness in her future husband. Especially when he responded to her tender concern and wanting to help him with venom and hate. 

I mean, jeez, she’s 11. I don’t expect an 11 year old to understand how to identify the signs of emotional manipulation or see how this situation can escalate into domestic violence. Just because Sansa can’t articulate what is happening within her relationship with Joffrey, doesn’t mean she has blocked out any notion that Joffrey can turn his anger on her. Part of the reason she misplaces blame on Arya (and rewrites what happened) is because Joffrey turns scornful of Sansa for being a witness to his emasculating shame. He punishes her with the cold shoulder because she didn’t immediately take his side and pretended not to see instead. He regains power through making Sansa feel small and fearful of his moods. 

“He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him.” -- Sansa II, AGOT.

Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. -- Sansa II, AGOT.

This is coming from someone who is supposed to love her and someone she will spend the rest of her life with. To fix things, she must be unequivocally on Joffrey’s side going forward or suffer the consequences, which we can see happening as her story completely flips over breakfast sometime later. This is not saying Sansa is fully exonerated from not supporting her sister when she needed her, but that it’s understandable how she arrived at this point. Even when things start to get really bad after Ned’s arrest, Sansa still holds out some hope that she can appeal to Joffrey’s (and Cersei’s) love for her to get him to be merciful. Is it really her fault she believed a part of Joffrey really loved her (and thus was reachable by her pleas) if he also heavily love bombed her and treated her like she was the most special girl in the world? Love bombing is a classic feature of the seduction phase leading up to abuse.  

So we can see Sansa does ignore truths and rewrite events sometimes and her personality is a factor; however, the context surrounding it matters a lot. Post Ned’s execution, Sansa does a full 180 regarding Joffrey and Cersei.

Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered. -- Sansa VI, AGOT.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. -- Sansa I, ACOK. 

"A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." -- Sansa I, ASOS. 

There’s also her conscious efforts to push away thoughts of her dead family and Jeyne Poole, but she states why she does that. It’s traumatic, the tears start flowing uncontrollably, and she is desperately trying to avoid falling into another suicidal depression. Her survival in KL depends on her holding it together and appearing loyal and obedient to Joffrey. Mourning her loved ones would imply to Joffrey she is plotting treason. Besides, she knows that even if she did ask Cersei or LF about Jeyne, she has no reason to believe they’d do anything but lie to her face in a patronizing way. There’s no point being plagued with wondering what the truth might be when she can’t do anything about it. Still, she prayed for Jeyne wherever she might be. She genuinely thought Arya had made it to WF on the ship and was safe at least until she got word of her brothers’ deaths and her home being sacked by the Iron Born, though there was initially a touch of projection and fantasizing about Arya being free while she remains captured. As of Feast, she believes she is the last Stark left alive and she has no one but Littlefinger to help her. So while she is suppressing her grief, it’s done with good reason, and it’s not being replaced with any false narratives to cope. 

We also cannot ignore that her relationship to Sandor Clegane has instilled in her an appreciation for the un-sugarcoated truth now that she has experienced betrayal and injustice first hand. In his own way, he’s encouraged her to listen to her own inner bullshit detector. The rose-tinted glasses have become a lot more clear compared to where she started. This is a newly learned skill though, and her self-confidence has been wrecked by internalized verbal abuse. She’s also been left on her own to figure out people’s intentions by herself, which runs parallel to her mounting desperation to get out of KL as Joffrey’s violence escalates. Developing a touch more of a jaded, skeptical side does sometimes clash with her enduring idealism and faith in other people (like with the Tyrells). This struggle is not a bad thing. The goal isn’t to become as cynical as the Hound, but to arrive at an earned optimism that has been tempered by wisdom and practical experience.

Her situation with Littlefinger is much more challenging than anything she faced in KL. He moves her where he wants her to go with complex web of lies, manipulation, grooming, isolation, coercion, dependence, guilt and shame. Her safety and desire to go home are tightly bound to being complicit in his lies and criminal activities. She feels indebted to him for getting her out of KL, even though his methods push her past her boundaries and force her to compromise her moral integrity. The thing is, there are things Sansa does know about LF, but she doesn’t seem to be ready to try and put the puzzle pieces together. She’s not daring to ask probing questions about Lysa’s reference to the “tears” and Jon Arryn or about the possible dangers of Maester Colemon prescribing sweetsleep for Robert’s convulsions. While the subject of Jeyne’s fate is still one she doesn’t want to revisit, somewhere in her mind she does know LF took custody of her friend. If it feels like this is somewhat of a regression back to her early AGOT self, there’s probably some truth to that; however, it’s perfectly okay for positive character arcs to be an imperfect progress. There can be relapses, regressions, setbacks, missteps, and misguided actions. All that growth isn’t lost. Everything she knows is just stored in the back of her mind, not forgotten completely. The general trend line moves her toward successfully confronting Littlefinger with the truth when GRRM is ready to pull the trigger. She’s definitely aware of Littlefinger lying to her more than she lets on and she knows his help is not out of the kindness of his heart, but motivated by what he wants her to be to him. But it’s not like she has the option to go anywhere else, does she? She’s a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head and has no other friend or ally in the Vale she can trust with the truth of her identity. Confronting LF without any means of neutralizing his power over her isn’t the smartest thing to do when he’s shown her he can literally get away with multiple murders. Again, it’s not just her personality that makes her hesitant to pull back the veil and face the horrible truth head on. The outside forces pressuring her perceptions and behavior cannot be discounted either.    

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day seven: friendly fire

CW: war, bombs, explosions, death, pain (of literally every kind)

fic under the cut

“Newbie, can you check our coordinates? Kuvira’s starting fire soon,” I heard my squadron’s sergeant say in my direction.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, walking the short distance to where our map has been laid out.

“We’re in block F32, sir,” I looked up at him and he nodded, pushing up his sleeve and tapping his watch twice.

“Good, good. We charge forwards the moment we hear the explosives launch, and if all goes to plan, the barrage should provide enough cover for us to get in and sabotage their defences,” I watched as he checked the time again and nodded to another officer behind me.

“But sir,” I asked cautiously, folding the map in front of me.

“What happens if all doesn’t go to plan?” I stood up, folded map in hand.

He looked at me sadly and gave me a quick smile, patting my shoulder with a rough hand.

“We won’t get caught in the fire, kid, don’t worry. After all, they don’t call it friendly for nothing,” He let out a boisterous laugh and walked around me, helping to pack up the last of our supplies from the overnight.

I put the map I held into one of the cases we kept for smaller supplies and we hid all our sacks in a small cave behind some bushes. The plan was to come back to this site after the attack to retrieve it all, so we didn’t have unnecessary clutter on the move. Once everything was set and ready to go, we got into our formation.

The minute the first explosive flew overhead, I knew something was wrong.

“She’s firing too close!” I yelled, turning in horror to our sergeant.

“Does she not know we’re here?” I continued, panic growing in my chest as another bomb launched over us.

Our sergeant gave me a grave smile and nodded.

“She knows we’re here, kid,” He said above the now near constant sound of explosions.

“But you said- you said we’d make it out alright,” I flinched as several shells exploded a little too close for comfort.

“You said the barrage was to provide cover!” I had to fight off tears as the panic climbed up my throat.

How was everyone else so calm about this? Did they not realise she was firing right at us? She swore she would protect us, train us and then keep us safe. And yet here I stood, surrounded by living corpses, all because she lied.

She lied.

And I’d trusted her. But of course I had, my village had been one of the first she’d helped. I’d left with her on the train that same day, pledging my allegiance and going to her first training camp. Most of the officers that I was with now had been in the army before Kuvira had taken over, but I had been top of my unit in training. I’d been sent here early.

If only I hadn’t.

Another shell screeched overhead, exploding mere metres in front of us. I let out a yelp and ducked down, covering my head against the debris that came flying towards us. Several of the others squatted as well, our sergeant not among them. I saw a piece of shrapnel come into contact with his cheek, leaving a mark that would undoubtedly scar.

“We have to get out of here,” I screamed, no longer fighting the tears.

“It’s too late,” The private next to me said in a low and scratchy voice.

I stared at her, tears rushing down my face. I saw that her eyes were watering too, though from emotion or from the dust in the air, I couldn't tell. She pulled her lips into a tight smile and held her hand out to me. I took it gratefully, a sob escaping my lips as she laced our fingers together. I tried not to think about the fact that I was about to die, holding the hand of someone I barely knew, and at the hands of the person who swore to protect me. To protect all of us.

There were several loud booms as more shells were fired. Something felt different this time, though. There was a negative energy suddenly enveloping us, hanging over us like a heavy rain cloud. Time slowed as the bomb gave a high whistle and fell right in the middle of our group. I watched, frozen in place, as its fuse burned down to nothing. The air seemed to pull towards it in the long seconds it took for the reaction within to occur, and there was something in me that longed to reach out and touch it.

I never got the chance.

Those long seconds were over all too quickly, despite how slow time seemed. I felt the energy coming off of it in waves, each one larger and more intense until the casing of the bomb split open. It’s contents flew everywhere, the force of the release sending us all flying backwards. My hand slipped from the kind private’s at some point, her warmth replaced by that of my own blood as shrapnel was thrust into my skin.

I landed hard on my back, a jolt of pain going through my body at the harsh contact. I tried to sit up but gasped and doubled over, clutching my stomach tightly. My head was spinning, a loud ringing in my ears, and I was in the worst pain I’d ever felt. My legs screamed at me as I shifted again and I gritted my teeth, trying not to throw up. My stomach was churning, just about every muscle and organ around it throbbing with pain. I closed my eyes against the spinning of the world, hoping to ease the nausea, but it hardly helped.

My eyes snapped open again, my head lifting quickly, when I heard someone shouting something. I cringed at the webs of pain that renewed throughout my body, but looked around anyway, searching for the source of the voice.

I saw the private who’d held my hand lying not too far from me. She was fighting to keep her eyes open, the leg closest to me blown clean off. Behind her were several other recruits who’d been closer to the bomb when it had exploded. I no longer recognized any of them. I tried to turn my body to look in the other direction, still wondering where the voice had come from, but something above me caught my eye.

It shone in the sun as it flew through the air, it's cold metal almost like a mirror. I didn’t hear the whistle this time, the ringing too loud for any other sounds to break through. The world seemed to still as it landed, bouncing once before rolling to a stop just in front of me. Somehow, at that moment, I felt calm. I reached forwards, ignoring the agony I was in, and picked it up. I ran my thumb over its smooth metal, mesmerized by how it sparkled in the sun. The fuse was burned down to almost nothing now, the burnt end of the rope sticking out the top of the perfect sphere.

This was the end.

There was a sadness about it, perhaps the fact that I had barely lived to twenty, or maybe the tragedy of destroying one’s own people. You might say it was both. That sadness was what brought the idea into my mind, fueling what could only be described as hope. Hope that I might spare the people around me, people who didn’t deserve to die. The logical part of my brain told me that they’d die anyway, whether from injuries from the first bomb or from wounds to come later. The desperate part insisted that that might not be true.

I gave in to the desperate part of me and pulled the bomb into a hug. I curled myself around it, pressing it harshly into my stomach.

It’ll be over before you know it, I thought to myself.

A tear slipped from my eye, carving a path down my dirty cheek.

Soon, I thought.

Soon.

I was right.

It was an odd sensation. At first there was the shock, the build up of energy coursing through my body. Then there was the sickening ripping of limb from limb as the bomb fought to expand. I expected it to hurt more, but was pleasantly surprised when I mostly felt detached, in every sense of the word. There wasn’t much after that point, the world quickly fading around me. I knew I should’ve felt sadder, more scared, but there was a peace to it all that almost made me smile.

I heard the voice again and closed my eyes, listening with everything I had left.

“Come,” It says to me, making me open my eyes again.

Everything around me is gone. I push myself off the ground, staring down at my unwounded body as the voice speaks again.

“Come home to me, child,” I then recognize it as my grandfather’s voice.

I look up to see him standing a few feet in front of me, both of us surrounded by the vast space that is both nothing and everything at the same time. He reaches his hand towards me, taking a slow step forward.

“Come,” He repeats as I place my hand in his.

I suddenly become light-headed at the touch. I close my eyes and let out a breath, trying to steady myself. When I do, the breath doesn’t stop. It pulls the air from my lungs until there’s nothing left. Then, it takes my soul. My eyes stay closed and I feel myself falling, back, back, until there’s nothing. And when at last there is nothing, I know, I feel, I am gone.

[emachinescat]

Wind + Water - Tree in the Road

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 12 / alt. 5 - hostage situation

Summary: AU of 2x21.  The bank robbers make their escape with Mac, but this time there isn’t a tree in the road to slow them down.  The rest of the team arrive at the marina just in time to see the robbers procuring a boat - and they have every intention of taking their hostage with them.

Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley, Bozer, Matty, the robbers from 2x21 (apparently their names are Booth, Pike, Dean and Ash)

Words: 4,129

Note: The Spanish is a mixture of my own adventure learning the language (I’m getting there) and a more advanced translator than Google.  Hopefully there aren’t any mistakes, if so - I apologize to any Spanish speakers.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

“So, for the record, this wasn’t part of the deal,” Angus MacGyver informed his captors testily as he carefully steered the stolen Chevrolet down the narrow, debris strewn backroad toward San Juan Marina and Boat Rentals.  Even though his eyes were on the road, he kept the gun pointed at him in his peripheral vision.  He felt the eyes of the four bank robbers on him, so he continued, very aware that no appeal to logic or conscience that he made at this point would have any effect, largely because these men had depleted stores of both.  Plus, they were desperate.  “I said I’d get you out with the money if you left all the hostages behind,” he continued, then added pointedly, “All including me.”  

One of the three robbers in the backseat, Pike, leaned forward to give their hostage a hearty slap on the back, which sent waves of agony shooting through his battered body.  Mac’s sides, stomach, and back felt every kick and weighted punch, and his mouth tasted like blood.  “Guess you shoulda been more specific,” he taunted, and Mac glanced back long enough to see the amusement on the man’s face.

“Honestly,” said the leader – his followers had called him Booth – “After giving us a glimpse of what you’re capable of, you really think we’d just let you go?”  His tone made it clear that it wouldn’t have mattered if Mac had drawn out and made them sign an extensive contract expressly stating that he was to be left behind with the other hostages, nothing about his predicament would have changed.  He’d gotten them out of a seemingly impossible situation, he’d made himself a valuable asset, and if there was one thing Mac understood about desperate people, it was that once they had something they saw as an advantage, they would never let it go.

The realization left a distinctly sour feeling in Mac’s stomach. He’d been seen and used as a tool before – in the army, he was a bomb defuser; for Phoenix, he was a kind of real-life troubleshooter.  But even in the army, he’d still been a person whose life mattered.  And now, he knew he was valued for so much more than just his skill set by his friends.  

Here, though, with these four men who looked at him with a kind of contemptuous greed in their eyes, he was nothing but a tool, something to be used to their advantage, over and over, until his usefulness had run out, and then he would be discarded like a broken drill bit.  To Booth, Pike, and the others, Mac was less than human, and it made him feel dirty and used and caused his chest to tighten anxiously despite his cool demeanor.  He knew he had to find a way to get away, and soon.  Otherwise, one of two equally unfortunate things was going to happen to him: Either he would be used to bargain their way off the island and then, as soon as they were safely away, he’d be shot and tossed overboard, or they would decide to keep and use him, and his life would become a living hell.  Neither option was a possibility that Mac was willing to entertain, so he would keep his eyes out for the first chance of escape.  

Noting once again the scattering of wreckage in and lining the road, Mac found himself hoping for a large piece of debris – perhaps a fallen tree or power line – would end up in their path.  If they ended up having to get out of the car for any reason, that might give him the chance to plan an escape.  Until then, with the five of them in such close quarters, with all but Mac armed, it was too risky to try anything.  He’d wait for his opportunity, and then make his move.

***

Mac’s opportunity for escape never came, and as he reluctantly directed the vehicle into the marina, the knot it his stomach had imploded into a cavernous pit.  Real tendrils of fear radiated through him, and a furious sense of injustice made his knuckles white and his fingers cramp from the grip he maintained on the steering wheel.  Normally when he was out in the field and in a risky situation, he’d end up finding what he needed to make an escape or at the very least to put a significant hitch in the bad guy’s plan.  It was something he’d come to take for granted, he realized, this bit of luck, that he always had something to work with.  This time, he hadn’t been asking for much – just a piece of debris, a block in the road, on an island ravaged by a natural disaster!  Something should have stood in their way.  The statistical probability of the road being blocked at some point in the twenty-minute drive – especially considering the situation in Puerto Rico – was incredibly high.  He’d counted on that blockage.

And while there had been a couple of branches scattered in their path, none were large enough to hold them up for long at all, and at no point had Mac been allowed out of the car.  In the back of his mind, he remembered what Matty had said to him when she had first taken over.  She didn’t want to be there when Mac’s luck ran out.  He’d been quick to assure her that it wasn’t luck, that he was good at what he did, but now he had his doubts.  If he wasn’t given anything to work with at all, how was he supposed to do what he was so good at?

Still, Angus MacGyver had never been one to give up, and he continued to keep his eyes peeled for anything at all he might be able to use to his advantage.  Even if he couldn’t escape here and now, he would find a way to survive and get back to his friends.  He always did.  

“Stop here.”

Mac did as he was told, putting the car in park and waiting for further instructions.  The gun was still trained on him, and he knew that none of his other captors would hesitate to put a bullet in him from behind if he made one move they didn’t like.  “Dean, grab the kid,” Booth snapped, and the youngest of the robbers, the one who had been gearing up to kill all of the hostages and who couldn’t be any older than Mac himself, got out of the car, went around to Mac’s door, pulled the hostage out of the seat and shoved him forward.  Mac forced himself not to fight back, because Dean’s gun was now pressed into the small of his back, and his voice was deadly as he ordered, “Move.”

The marina was fairly deserted, which would have been odd any other time, but it was midday and most people were either already out on the water or further inland, helping with cleanup and rebuilding.  The only person in sight was the young woman working boat rentals.  She had an open, kind face with eyes that had seen their fair share of suffering – it was a look Mac had seen in Carlos’s more vulnerable moments, and in the eyes of everyone he’d met while on the island.

“Hola,” she greeted, a bit flustered at the new arrivals.  “¿Te puedo ayudar?”  Mac thought that she probably didn’t see a lot of business nowadays.  Tourists were the ones who rented boats more often than not – the locals usually had their own – and tourism had plummeted since the hurricane.  Mac noticed that the bank robbers had hidden their weapons, other than the one at Mac’s back, and to the girl it must have looked like Mac and Dean were just walking close together, side by side.  Maybe she thought they were a couple.  Mac made sure his face was neutral, not wanting to give anything away and put this poor girl in danger.  If only the marina had been deserted, with no one else in the crosshairs!  

“Do I look like I speak Spanish?” Booth snapped impatiently.  

The girl blinked, eyes wide, taken aback by the rudeness.  “I – I’m sorry,” she stammered in heavily accented English.  Mac’s heart went out to her even as he felt his revulsion for his captors grow.  It literally would have expended the same amount of energy to treat the girl with an ounce of respect.  These men were assholes just because they could be. 

“We need a boat,” Booth ordered briskly.  “Now.”

“Bien – ah, okay.”  She looked scared that her accidental slip was going to get her yelled at again.  “Our skippers are not on site at the moment, and most of our boats are being repaired.  We do have one –”

“We’ll take it,” Booth growled, and the girl flinched back at the harshness of his tone.  Tears forming in her eyes, she glanced around briefly at the other men in the party, her eyes landing on Mac last.  He offered her a sympathetic half-smile, knowing that the girl – Mia, her name tag said – was probably having her worst day on the job yet.  At least she didn’t know the true colors of the difficult customers she was dealing with.  

As if worried Mac was trying to tip Mia off, Dean tightened his grip on Mac’s arm and rammed the barrel of the gun painfully into his back.  Mac didn’t react other than to break eye contact with their hostess, who abruptly got back to her task.  “Do you have a boating license that I can see?”  Her dark eyes plainly showed she was afraid of the answer – afraid of what would happen if they did not have the proper documentation and she had to tell them no.

“I don’t have a damn license,” Booth answered, impatience rising with his voice.  

“Lo siento – I’m sorry, you can’t rent a boat without a skipper if you don’t have a license.”  At the fury on her tormentors’ faces, her eyes darted desperately to Mac, as if she had sensed he wasn’t like the others and would step out and ask his friends to give it a rest.  Not wanting to risk her life, Mac felt guilt rise in him as he pointedly avoided her gaze.  Her voice thick with emotion, she regrouped and offered, “But I can call and have someone here within the hour to take you out.”

Booth lost his temper completely.  Slamming his fist down on the counter, he leaned over the cowering girl and hissed in a deadly tone that brooked no argument, “You will get us a boat now.”  Mia stood frozen in shock, and Booth glanced back over his shoulder at his three men and their hostage.  Collectively, they came to a silent agreement – obviously, the subtle approach wasn’t working, and they were running out of time.  With deft movement, so seamless it could have been rehearsed, Dean let go of Mac’s arm and shoved him into Booth, who twisted his greedy, filthy hand in Mac’s hair for the second time that day.  Mac grunted in pain as his head was yanked back and stilled his instinctive struggling as the sun-warmed barrel of Booth’s gun found the left carotid artery in Mac’s neck.  “If you don’t,” Booth added grimly, “I’m going to kill him right before your eyes.”  

Mia’s eyes darted to Mac’s once more and he saw the barely controlled terror just beneath the surface.  She hesitated, and the gun jabbed deeper into Mac’s neck as the safety clicked off, and Mac fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as his heart jumped into overdrive.  “You’ll be scrubbing his blood off this dock for the next year,” Booth promised, “and you’ll never get it off your pretty little hands.”

Mac thought for a terrifying moment that Mia was going to pass out or break down, as she swayed slightly on the spot, but then she steeled herself, an inner strength that Mac was proud to see flowing into her.  She straightened her spine, offered a small, scared smile that was probably meant to be reassuring at Mac, and nodded curtly.  “Okay,” she said in a thin voice, and it barely shook, though her hand did as she reached for a set of keys hanging on the wall behind her.  “Just… don’t hurt him, please.”

As she slowly moved away from the wooden counter and motioned for the men to follow her along the dock to their new vessel, Booth yanked Mac’s head back fiercely and whispered, “I knew you would come in handy in some way,” and then shoved Mac forward, finally releasing his hair – Mac’s scalp ached and his neck had already developed a painful stiffness from being twisted back in such an uncomfortable position. The gun moved to the back of Mac’s head.  The safety remained off.

Everything moved far too quickly after that.  It seemed that no time had passed until Mac was being forced onto the deck of a small craft barely big enough for the five of them.  Mac graciously offered to stay behind, and received a crack to the back of the head with the pistol butt in response.  At some point, one of the robbers – Ash, Mac thought his name was – had stepped in and tied Mac’s hands behind his back with sturdy nautical rope.  Mac hadn’t had a single opportunity to attempt escape throughout the whole process, as not only was Booth’s gun still at the base of his neck, but Pike’s own weapon was on the helpless Mia who stood on the dock, tears streaming down her face as she watched the men prepare to leave with their hostage.  Mac knew that if he even thought about doing something stupid, she would be killed without a second thought.

And then many things happened at once – a battered orange car swerved into the parking lot, the sound of screaming sirens not far behind.  Mac couldn’t help but grin when he saw who jumped out: his team, Riley, Bozer, and Jack – who had death in his eyes.  Mac had seen that look many times before.  Someone had threatened his partner.  Mac didn’t envy Booth and his goons once Jack Wyatt Dalton got his hands on them.

Jack already had his own gun drawn as he raced onto the dock.  His boots thunked hollowly against the boards as he sprinted for the boat, keen sights already on the bastard who had his paws on his kid.

But Booth had all the power here, with Mac in his clutches, and he knew it. And with the innocent civilian being held at gunpoint, he’d doubly covered his ass.  Mac’s hope at seeing his team faltered when he realized that Jack’s being here really didn’t change a thing.  It would just make this so much worse, because Jack would be forced to watch as Mac was taken, and when he could finally chase after them, it would probably be too late.  As if to solidify this knowledge, Mac felt Booth’s hand twine in his hair, again – what was it with this guy and Mac’s hair, anyway? – and the gun was back beneath his jaw, Mac could feel the artery rapidly pulsing against the unyielding metal.

“You make one more step, and Boy Wonder here dies,” Booth shouted right in Mac’s ear.  Mac locked eyes with Jack, who stuttered obediently to a stop, Riley and Bozer following suit.  Even now, Mac knew that his partner was desperately searching for any opening, any shot he could take to save his friend.

“I’d put that gun down, if I were you,” Ash called out.

Jack glared at him, unrelenting.  “Who invited Papa Smurf to the party?” he joked, but Mac clearly saw the anxiety in every line on his face.  

A shot rang out.  Mia screamed.  A smoking hole had appeared inches from her feet: The bullet had buried itself into the planks.  “He said,” Booth repeated, “put down your gun.”  He punctuated his words with a brutal yank of Mac’s hair.  “Next time, I put a bullet in your friend. No more warnings.”

Loathing poured off of Jack in waves, but he did as he was told and lowered the weapon, though he didn’t put it down.  The sirens drew nearer, and Mac knew his captors were going to have to make their move before the police arrived, or things would get even messier.  “Ash, start the damn boat,” Booth ordered.  

The man did as he was told, inserting the key, and the engine spluttered, coughed, and fell silent.  He tried again.  Nothing.

“What the hell, man?” Dean barked, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.  

“I’m trying!” Ash shot back, making another attempt to start the motor.  

For a split second, Mac felt Booth twist behind him, trying to get a look at what was going on, and in that moment, Pike was distracted as well.  Just one look away from their hostages was all that Mac and Jack needed – maybe the universe was looking out for them, after all.  While Booth was distracted, both his grip on Mac and on the gun momentarily slackened, and Mac inched over and made himself as small as possible to give Jack a better shot at the man behind him.  The gun was far too close to his face for Mac to lash out himself; now was a time to stand aside and let Jack do what he did best.

In the span of five seconds, Jack brought his gun back up and shot both Pike and Booth in quick succession.  He hit Pike first in the gun hand, and the man toppled over the side of the boat, howling in agony.  Booth’s bullet too had been perfectly timed and aimed – it hit him in the side of the head as he turned back around to deal with his hostage.  He dropped, the gun clattering from his hand, dead before he hit the ground.  It had been a tight shot, and quite the gamble considering the gun that had still been at Mac’s throat, but Jack had timed it perfectly, and Mac never doubted him once. 

***

The next half hour was a blur of police sirens – “‘Bout time you got here,” Jack griped testily – painful but welcome hugs from his friends, and a collective promise of painkillers, a four-way lecture, a hasty debrief, and much-needed rest, in that exact order, on their flight to their next op.  

Jack had been livid, insisting that Mac needed more than on-the-go treatment, but Matty was firm – this op couldn’t wait.  Her fierce eyes did soften when she got a good look at the state that her agent was in, though, and assured him that he was getting a thorough check by medical the second they got home.  Until then, she ordered, with no room for argument, he was to rest and recuperate, and so help her God, if he purposefully threw himself into this kind of mess again.... She didn’t actually finish her threat, which made it all the scarier, and Mac had promised to be good on the next mission.  (Nobody really believed him, though.)

Secretly, though, he was glad that he would get a chance to rest on the flight, because every single bruise, cut, ache, and pain called out, vying for his attention.  A cursory check by Jack and a frazzled EMT revealed that though no ribs were broken, he had severe bruising along his back, sides, and torso.  Booth had chipped a tooth when he’d kicked Mac in the mouth, and Mac did not look forward to spending some quality time with the dentist when he got home.  And there was a nasty, bloody welt on the back of his head from where he’d been pistol-whipped.  

Added to that, his entire body, from his scalp to the tips of his toes ached with a bone-deep weariness that came from the physical abuse and stress of his time as a hostage.  As Jack had reminded him on more than one occasion when Mac had tried to brush similar experiences off, just because it wasn’t his first rodeo, it didn’t make it any less traumatic for his mind or his body – he was still human, after all.  Now, Mac found himself reluctantly agreeing – emotionally, mentally, and physically, he felt in that moment every single thing that had been done to him from the second he’d snuck into that bank.

As usual, though, Mac filed away everything he was feeling to deal with – or even more appealingly, to not deal with – later.  

While Matty finalized the details of their flight, Mac tied up a few loose ends of his own.  First, he called Carlos and spoke to him for a few moments, reassuring his friend that he was really okay and getting the same reassurances in return.  Mac wanted to see Carlos and his family one more time before they took off, but Carlos was just now being released from the hospital, and the Phoenix team was on a very tight schedule.  He did promise to come back and visit soon, and was able to reveal the exciting news that Matty was sending another team in their place, to continue to help with rebuilding.

Next, Mac made his way over to Mia, who was sitting on the edge of an ambulance, her sandaled feet dangling off the side and a bottle of water cradled in her hands.  “Hola,” Mac greeted, and she offered him a small smile.  Mac realized that she was even younger than he’d thought – she couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen years old.  “I’m, uh, really sorry about everything,” he stammered, feeling that his words were thoroughly inadequate.

“You have nothing to apologize for!” she exclaimed, dark eyebrows furrowing over kind hazel eyes.  

Mac didn’t agree – as always, that incessant feeling that he could have done more reared its ugly head – but he changed the subject anyway, because Riley and Bozer were approaching, and he knew his time was running short.  “Quiero darte las gracias.” It was important to him that he thanked her in her own language, after the way Booth had treated it.  She deserved better.

She tilted her head, dark brown ponytail swinging with the motion, but a soft smile touched her lips at his fluent but accented Spanish.  “¿Para qué?”

Unable to call the exact words to mind in Spanish, courtesy, he knew, of the light concussion he almost certainly had, he switched back to English apologetically, but Mia didn’t seem to mind at all.  “That was a risky play,” he admitted, “giving them the keys to a boat that didn’t work.  But it was brilliant – and it bought my friend enough time to take control of the situation.  Great job thinking ahead.  You saved my life.”

A brilliant blush colored her cheeks at Mac’s praise.

***

Twenty minutes and a couple of painkillers later, Mac found himself curled up in his seat on the Phoenix jet waiting for the inevitable lecture to start.  He know it had been a stupid and dangerous risk, sneaking into the bank and making himself a hostage.  But he knew that his actions had saved lives, and he would make the same choice if anything like it happened again. 

Jack dropped down into the seat beside him.  “You look like hell, brother,” he observed.  Jack Dalton didn’t sugar coat anything.

“Yeah, well,” Mac admitted, too tired to put up his normal unaffected front.  “Feel like it too.”

The lines around Jack’s eyes deepened.  “The kids are already settling in for the flight,” he said.  “Get some sleep?”

“I thought you guys had a lecture all primed and ready,” Mac muttered, already feeling his eyelids dragging themselves down.  He was exhausted, from everything he’d been through, the pain, and the drugs.  

“Aaah,” Jack waved his hand dismissively.  “What’s the point of lecturin’ you if you’re too strung out to actually hear what we’re trying to drill into that big brain of yours?”

Mac quirked a half-smile.  “Or you could just skip the lecture all together.  You know that you would’ve done the exact same thing in my shoes.”

Jack shrugged.  “Maybe, but tryin’ to get you to look after yourself has become a kind of bonding thing for the rest of us.  And it’s fun seeing you squirm.”

Mac groaned.  “You know I never listen.”

A long-suffering sigh.  “And that’s why my hair’s going gray, hoss.”

Letting his eyes fall shut, Mac couldn’t help but squeeze in one last, murmured jab.  “No, it’s definitely an age thing.”

Mac didn’t hear Jack’s indigent retort, or the quiet cackling of Riley and Bozer from the seats behind.  

He was already asleep.

[fandom-necromancer]

Turn a blind eye

This was prompted by an amazing anon! If you are distrubed by the warnings this time, keep in mind it will end on a good note! I hope you enjoy! 

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: description of crime scenes (murder), serial killer, Gavin whump, paranoia, sleep deprivation, panic attack)

‘Put your phone away, Reed!’, Nines ordered, dropping new files on his desk.

Gavin flinched, looking up, then down on the pile. ‘No, not another one.’ ‘Yes, actually. Another one.’ Nines watched him and Gavin sighed, putting the phone away and rubbing his eyes. He opened the folder to another letter. He didn’t even have the energy to feel particularly distressed about it. He opened it with the android looking over his shoulder. You’d better turned a blind eye to my doings, Detectives. I proved before your actions against me have consequences.

Gavin just let the paper fall onto his desk and kneaded his forehead. ‘That’s all?’, Nines asked. ‘Well, we better keep going then. They know we are close.’ Gavin nodded numbly. Of course, they had to keep going. Of course, they had to stop whoever was behind all these murders. But… The threat was hitting home. Gavin couldn’t shake off the pictures of his bike catching fire right as he was about to start it, only Nines’ quick intervention saving him from being severely burned and hurt by the explosion of the tank only seconds later. The android had been able to brush it off and return to work, but Gavin couldn’t. He hadn’t slept properly for weeks and there had been little else but work for him.

It all had begun with a weirdly detailed murder scene. A woman killed by a cut throat in the bedroom covered in blue blood. The corresponding android was later found drenched in her blood in an alley behind a cyberlife workshop, but he hadn’t been killed there, the body was staged. Neither the murder weapon nor any trace of the murderer was found. Both android and human were connected by a growing relationship after the woman had divorced her husband. Jealousy was an easy motive, but the husband was earnestly shocked and said the feeling about the divorce was mutual and they ended everything on good terms. Not really evidence for his innocence, but he had a valid alibi, being on a work-related trip to Baltimore at the time the murder had taken place.

They hadn’t solved the case yet and were still waiting for the forensics’ report as they were called to another crime scene. Again, a human murdered by a cut throat, covered in the thirium of their partner and staged in the bedroom, while the blood-drenched android was found behind a Cyberlife store. The only new clue was that both cases had to be connected. Gavin had guessed the motive to be anti-android related and as the third murder was discovered it was more or less solidified by the message left behind. The wall over the bed was decorated with the internal wiring of the android spelling out Trash. The same word was found at the android, cut into his chest piece where his serial number would be.

This was the work of a serial killer. And the asshole was experimenting. Thankfully that meant he was slipping. The next scene held footprints of evaporated thirium for them. Nines was able to estimate height and weight from the size, the intensity of the thirium coating and the distance between each footprint. The message left behind was painted with their blood, allowing Nines to crop a partial fingerprint from where each letter ended. So, their murderer was a human of just a little below average size and weight. If the estimation was correct. It was little to go with, but what was even more unsettling were the words left behind this time: Gavin Reed over the bed of the human man and RK900 scratched into the chest of the android.

It had thrown them off guard and had caused Fowler to keep them under police protection. Their colleagues took turns guarding Gavin’s apartment complex, while Nines had agreed to stay at the precinct full time. It did little to help Gavin be comfortable with the fact a completely unknown serial killer knew their identities. He laid awake most nights jumping at every noise in the building and thought about how on earth the murderer had found out who was investigating their cases. Did they have connection to the police? Was one of his colleagues corrupt? Was the killer one of them? Had he just watched the crime scenes? Or had some newspaper simply printed their names while telling the story of Detroit’s newest serial killer?

Gavin was constantly on edge never feeling safe enough to sleep more than a few hours. Even at the precinct he started to feel watched. And it didn’t get better when more bodies turned up. Still haven’t found me? I’m right here. You look tired. Something keeping you up at night? Cyberlife’s best, huh? Watch your steps. What a dream team. I should kill you next. That had been when the bike had caught fire the next day. To say that Gavin was panicking was an understatement. Gavin was stressed beyond everything and it was hard to have a single rational thought when the killer somehow managed to send letters to the precinct without being caught.

At least Nines was unphased by all of this. Ever the analytical logical machine, the android worked away, reading reports from forensics and finding clue after clue. It were small hints, but they were making progress. They would get the killer in the long run, but they both knew the shorter that “long run” would be, the less people had to die. Gavin was so thankful for having Nines. The android had saved his life and was the only constant in this mess. At least when he was with the bot, he was safe. Unless he was… Unless he was the killer himself. Gavin frowned. This was his panic speaking. He shouldn’t think about that. But it made sense, didn’t it? He was finding all the little clues; he knew they were investigating the case and- No. No, Nines was safe. He had to be. There was no reason other than his sleep deprivation and stress getting to him.

‘Reed. Get your back into it!’ Gavin flinched at the sudden shout. Or had it been said at normal volume? He looked around and as everyone was quietly working around him, he guessed his senses had betrayed him. ‘W-what?’ ‘You have to pull your weight, too, Reed’, Nines reprimanded him. ‘Or do you want to let the killer murder more people?’ ‘No, of course not.’ ‘Then quit staring ahead and go over the forensics again. I think we might have missed something there.’ ‘Y-yeah.’

Gavin managed to read a few sentences in between as his eyes hurt from staring at the screen for too long and his mind betraying him to get caught up in paranoid thoughts again. ‘Reed, have you found anything yet?’ ‘Are you even reading the report?’ ‘You have to stop getting distracted all the time.’ He couldn’t work like this. He wouldn’t be any help. He wouldn’t stop the killer and they would murder more and more people. There was nothing he could do, nothing, nothing, nothing-

‘Detectives?’ ‘WHAT?!’, Gavin shouted, startling the ST300 from the reception as well as everyone else. ‘Err… You got another package. This time directed towards you, Detective Reed.’ Gavin sighed trying to relax or a least lessen the tension in his body. He took the package from her, noting that it had already been opened and searched. No surprise bombs. He looked inside and took the letter sitting on top of the Styrofoam filling. He absently noted that Nines was walking around the table to look over his shoulder again. Gavin opened the letter and read it.

You have a nice flat, Gavin. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped. A beautiful cat. She’s sweet, really. Though I must say you could have cleaned up before leaving the home. You know, I’m kind of bored. I thought I would meet you here but apparently you are at work. Always at work, huh? Guess I just have to come another day.

‘They are bluffing’, Nines commented, but Gavin had already reached back into the package and retrieved a frame. The picture showed him and Eli side by side on his boat on Lake Michigan during their vacation last summer. Gavin had the only existing copy as he had taken the picture himself. It was standing on his kitchen counter at home. ‘No’, Gavin simply uttered, feeling unbelievably sick. He put the frame down on the table. ‘No, they aren’t.’ Gavin rose up on shaky legs, holding onto the table. He was breathing heavily, bile rising in his throat. ‘I- I need to go. I need a break. A smoke. Phck. I have to-‘ He began stumbling out of his seat, past Nines and was already running to the back exit of the precinct, the go-to smoking spot of most officers. His excuse to Nines wasn’t too solid as he had forgotten his cigarettes in his drawer, but Gavin couldn’t care. Not when he barely made it out to throw up on the pavement. He heaved out what little he had had for breakfast and the smell alone kept him vomiting his guts out until there was nothing left to come. He was so done for.

-

Nines stood next to the detective’s desk, program in disarray. He hadn’t expected Reed’s reaction at all. The man had been slacking ever since the case got bad and now, he suddenly panicked and ran for a break? Just because the murderer was clearly bluffing? Or had he missed something? He revisited his memories of the past weeks and as realisation hit in, the stability of his software was near to non-existent. He had to make sure though. He had to see what Reed was up to and see for himself if he was right. If Gavin was truly that compromised by everything. It was hard to believe with the man always putting on a tough display. But he had made a decision: He would follow the Detective to his smoke break.

As he opened the door to the small outer platform, an awful smell hit his sensors. Then he saw Gavin sitting the farthest away from the puddle of vomit, face white and eyes wide. Immediately his stress levels were popping up to the android and that was the last evidence that tipped the scales to deviancy. Nines’ confines shattered around him, as he understood under how much pressure the man must have stood. The human everyone thought to be able to take on everything wasn’t as invincible as thought and Nines had failed to see the signs. Gavin hadn’t been slacking off, he had tried to conquer his panic by distraction. And he had taken all that away from him. He sighed, regret setting deep into his systems. He should have been there for his partner. He had always said he cared for the man, but how could he tell himself that now that he saw what he had done to Gavin? Well, he was free to do so now that he was deviant. He just hoped it wasn’t too late yet.

‘Gavin? Gavin, stand up. You need to get cleaned up and drink something. Come on.’ He took the man by the arm and helped him up. Reed was shivering and not only for the cold. Nines helped him back inside, sat him down on his chair again, putting the letter and the box away before fetching a bottle of water. He handed it wordlessly to the man and watched him drink most of it in one go. ‘I will tell Fowler to assign someone else to the case. It’s too much for only two people and you are in too much danger to continue. You almost died once already. Simple facts.’ He didn’t say what he really felt. He didn’t say he suddenly feared for his safety. What had been the concern of a machine now was true worry. He wouldn’t allow him to go back to this flat of his. A team of officers would get his cat, but Gavin would stay at the precinct. Or at a safehouse. Whatever was necessary. Nines wouldn’t say any of that to Gavin, it would be too much for now. But he would make sure Gavin was safe first. He had only just now realised how much he truly cared for the man. And he would be damned if he couldn’t help him through this.

He would make sure his partner was safe and sound. And then this serial killer would pay.