#death will be a reoccuring figure in the future for anyone that gets close with Rosie

[hereliesbitches--me]

Death

the living embodiment of the Void, the grim reaper, an entity of many shapes and faces.

Death is the equal and opposite to the creator God, and the father to all Moon entities. By this statement, he is also Rosie's creator who regularly peeks in to the state of the story in different unfamiliar entities. Death is always watching, always vying for a well done, clean ending to the life story of mortals, which is often difficult with Big G constantly adding "plot twists" and extending the lives of mortals.

While more of an NPC, death will be a character that will pop up more often in threads once you become closer to Rosie

Fun CharacterFacts:

the old reaper has cracks in his Skull, received while reaping powerful entities who did not want to be taken. While he respects the fight, he is inevitable and will always win in the end

The Scyth weapon he had is the storage place of reaped souls, to which he can transport or reassign souls. The length of his scythe has 13 grooves which represent the 13 dimensions, to which he can press and warp himself easily between realms for reaping purposes.

Personality facts: Death is not the warmest entity up front. He lacks true emotional understanding and perceives everything as a matter of fact. There is no place for social constructs or moral righteousness when Death comes to reap. But he's not wholeheartedly cold. He has a fondess for creatures that fight for survival, and has grown warm in regarding the Moons as his daughters. Especially Regarding Rosie's existence as an uncharted abnormality. He likes to collect vintage items through the dimensions and time -- he has a particular appreciation for classic rock and the alternative genre. MCR happens to be a favorite, he even has a shirt that was gifted to him

The bones are not interconnected, instead they are in fact held together by a tar-like substance that is manifested void solidified to act as a binder to give him that iconic skeletol look. Means you can technically pull his bone as far as you like and it will snap back in place like putty

Death is the embodiment of the oblivion, and everything about the multiverse actually occurs within his own body. The empty void lies within his ribs, voidborn are the first creatures to inhabit the oblivion are the equivalent of harmless skinmites to him, and yet that are one of the most dangerous creatures to anything that is living. The creation of 13 dimensional planes exist within oblivion to act like a viable biosphere for life to be planted by Big G Elohym and all their crafty creations. It acts like a protective barrier with voidborn desperately trying to tear and crawl into in order to feed their insatiable hunger

Death and God also have a complicated relationship in which God is best described as a manic out of ouch OC creator that adds trauma and major events to the story as a means of character development , while Death is the editor that tries to cleanly tie up story endings before Big G gets ahead of himself (I say he but can legit present in any shape that people want em to. He's a person shaped thing with a glowing face you cant see rocking the air moses 3000 sandals ) and goes overboard with a damage. Imagine Death's scroll like a shared google doc, hes in the middle of writing a proper character death in red ink, then suddenly blue ink manifests on the page and starts crossing out + deleting his work to overwrite what he has written down. It becomes aggressive note wars at the side panel of the scroll arguing with each other. Death screams in his crypt and the multiverse shivers in confusion. Big G laughs because Death just doesnt understand the masterpiece they have planned. Big G is not malicious, he has simply never had to live a mortal life and does not understand the extent of what suffering feels, only understands how it changes the course of a person's character through it. Like I said, manic creator

Death monitors the realm of the living in person, but also has it personified in his keep as a large garden. People can be plants, they can be insects, they can be the tiny animals that roam his greenhouse. The relationship of the living and their health is usually depicted in the wines vines entwine, take root, or how flowers wilt and how insects may burrow into other plants. Death is able to sift through his green houses to account for the state of the multiverse, even pruning the wilting flowers as a mercy as they head towards the end. Death is able to grow blooms out of himself, usually down his back and shoulders as a mean of making himself less imposing, but also because he likes that touch of life and color that is the opposite of everything he is

Death is an entity that is ever present in the lives of mortals in times of great suffering and mass death. You may see death in any different shapes, present in battlefields, hospitals, graveyards, refuge camps -- any place where great suffering has occurred. Death's preferred shape is a wiry eccentric older man out of time, but he can also borrow vessels of dying creatures and people as his means of wading through the world unnoticed. In doing so typically means the vessel has already expired and he has granted them a peaceful passing through himself in exchange for using their flesh as a disguise. When death takes his true form again, the meat body will decay and mummify in a matter of seconds, enlarging to make the shape of his robes while the bones reshape into his own original form. its p horrific to witness in person

[pxnk-velvet]

The Dancing Warrior: Water, Chapter 7

(Sokka x OC Reader)

It had been some time since Navani had joined her friends on this crazy journey. Growing to know more about each other, building trust, making good memories and not so good ones as well. But despite everything going on around her, Navani knew this is where she was meant to be. She felt in deep within her soul that she was destined to help the Avatar.

Just like in the legends and myths. She knew her dual bending was special and one of the rarest forms know to human kind. There had only been a hand full of dual benders before her time. There were multiple tales of how dual benders came to be. One being that when a mother and father had a deep connection, deep within themselves, and how they balanced each other out perfectly that it was shown through their creation of new life. Or when the planets were aligned just right, the universe would pick a soul so pure at heart, bestowing upon them the power of unity between two elements. Which only happens every couple thousand years. Another being that when the Avatar is faced with a near death situation but the time for the cycle to start anew isn’t right, producing a new life and soul to carry on a piece of the Avatar but not reincarnating entirely.

The only problem was that she didn’t know exactly how she was able to bend two elements. There were so many theories that it just hurt to think about it too much. Of course this had been a reoccurring thought throughout Navani’s whole life but more now then ever for some reason. At one point, she had tried meditating with Aang to try and figure out where her power came from. This and the Water Tribe boy were the only two things on her mind and she hated how easily distracted she had gotten. Tuning out the rest of the world and drifting mindlessly into whatever daydream she was having.

At the moment she was laying with her arms behind her head, starring up at the clouds, lost in her thoughts. Aang, Katara, and Sokka all sat around her in the little camp site they had set up by a river. She sighed, eyes on the blue sky. Blue like her mother’s eyes. The blue that matched her single eye and the eyes of Katara and Sokka. She turned her head to the side, looking at him. Thinking about the fact that she still hadn’t received the kiss he had asked her for.

She wondered what his lips felt like, tasted like. What his hands would feel like on her skin....

“Hellooo! Earth to Navani!” Sokka shouted, leaning right over her face, startling her.

She yelped, jerking to sit upward, smacking their heads together.

She groaned, holding her head, “Sokka!”

He chuckled, “Sorry.”

Then a big fish started floundering in the river, catching everyone’s attention.

Sokka leered at the fish jumping about, “He’s taunting us,” he ran over to grab the fishing rod, “You are so going to be dinner.”

Navani jumped up, “Not if I get him first!” She ran towards the water.

“Hey,” Sokka whined, stopping Navani in her tracks, “Where’s the fishing line?”

“Oh, I didn’t think you would need it Sokka.” Aang smiled, showing off his creation.

Navani stepped back towards the group as Sokka complained about the line being tangled.

“I made you a necklace, Katara. I thought since you lost your other one.” He cheesed again, handing over the necklace.

“Awe! Isn’t that sweet.” Navani cooed as Katara thanked him. Sokka made another snarky comment, heading back towards the river.

Then the fish made another interruption causing Sokka to throw the fishing rod at it and Navani to take off towards the water.

The two wrestled in the water, each trying to catch the fish while stopping the other from doing just that. At one point, Sokka had gotten hold of her leg, thinking it was the fish, holding it to his chest while her head was still under water. She struggled to come to the surface, so she bended Sokka back into the water. Laughing as he flew backwards.

However while she was laughing, Sokka had been able to catch the fish, making some remark about Aang being in love.

She snorted, “Look who’s talking. Yours the one who’s wrestling in the water with a girl!” Katara retorted. They all laughed even harder as the fish wiggled out of his grip, smacking him in the face with it’s tail, managing a successful escape. She decided to let the fish go, making her way out of the water with Sokka. She swiftly bended the water off of her clothes, aiding Sokka as well.

Then a tremendous roar came from further down the river. The group took off after it, stumbling upon a man faced with a platypus-bear. They all yelled suggestions at the man but they just flew over his head as he dodged every swing from the animal, mocking with with funny remarks. He had insisted he was completely fine and that everything was under control. Until Aang took things into his own hands.

“Thanks but everything was already under control.” The man said, standing swiftly with a smile, “Aunt Wu predicted I’d have a safe journey.”

Navani’s eyebrows came together, “Huh?”

“Aunt..who?” Aang asked.

“No,” the man laughed, “Aunt Wu. She’s the fortune teller from my village. Awful nice knowing your future.”

Navani scoffed, “Yeah, right.” She stood slack with her hands on her hips. Katara and Aang were fascinated while Sokka and Navani thought so other wise.

The man said his goodbyes, handing Aang a package on account that Aunt Wu said so. Aang quickly opened in, revealing a little orange umbrella. Then it started raining, “Well isn’t that just perfect.” Navani huffed as the rain seeped into her freshly dried clothes.

===

After a short walk, they had all ended up, sitting on the floor, waiting for Aunt Wu to see them. They had been greeted by a younger girl named Meng, who had an obvious liking towards Aang. Navani watched from afar at their little interaction, quite amused as she observed from beside Sokka.

“I can’t believe we’re here at the house of nonsense.” Sokka groaned, sitting back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Try to keep an open mind, okay?” Katara pleaded, “There are things in this world that just can’t be explained. Wouldn’t you like some sort of insight into your future?”

Things that just can’t be explained, Navani thought in her head....maybe, just maybe she could find out the truth as to why she could bend two elements. Opposites for that matter. And maybe knowing a bit about her future would hurt either.

Soon after another girl came out of a set of doors, gushing about how she was going to meet her true love and that he was going to give her some sort of rare flower. A little after Meng came over with some tea and snacks, nearly tripping as she handed Aang the platter. Navani chuckled lowly at the blush on the kids faces as Meng rushed away.

Sokka took the platter out of Aang’s hands, stuffing his face with the puffs. Navani leaned over to get a closer look, only for him to smile with a mouthful of puffs and offer her some from the bowl. She giggled, taking a puff and tossing it into her mouth.

“Welcome young travelers,” An older woman greeted, “Now, who’s next? Don’t be shy.”

“Me!” Navani jumped up all to excited, “Uh, I mean, I guess I’ll go.” She stuttered as her cheeks flushed, walking slowly behind to old woman into a separate, closed off room.

“Well my dear, you can sit right over here.” Aunt Wu instructed, gesturing towards a pillow on the floor.

Navani sat gingerly, taking in the space around her. It was very....interesting to say the least. Aunt Wu rustled around for a little bit before sitting in front of the young girl.

“I don’t mean to be rude but,” Navani began, wringing out her fingers nervously, “How do I know if anyone of this is real?”

Aunt Wu gave a warm smile, “Well, my dear, your future is constantly changing. With every little decision you make. If you choose to believe, then what I tell you has a higher possibility of becoming your reality.” She reached for the young girl’s had, flipping it to gently run her fingers over her open palm.

After a moment, Aunt Wu looked up with wide eyes, “My goodness dear. You’re in for quite a ride.”

[][][]

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[timelesshonesttrailer]

The Lincoln Quandary

 What if Lincoln was never meant to die? What if he lived, but through time travel shenanigans he ended up dying during one of the timelines? But the Time Team wasn’t able to save him in the next timeline, or the one after. Then, eventually, everyone’s memories get overwritten. Now we all believe that the fixed point in history is Lincoln has to die…

 If we’re dealing with a closed loop, then this question is asked and answered. It happened that way and it will always happen that way.

 But Timeless is a Causal Loop and therefore literally anything goes. The whole point of this kind of loop is to go back and make changes and try to make things better (or worse, it’s a matter of perspective). The only issue is that once you close the loop, you will have the memories of the previous timeline.

 This is the end of the loop… so what about the beginning and the middle?

We can reasonably infer that since pre-pilot Lucy goes back and gives Flynn the journal, what we see in the series is not Timeline Zero (i.e. the first timeline before the first person goes back in time, ever). We also know that Anthony and Emma tested the Lifeboat and Mothership and went back on several occasions. Timeline Zero would be the timeline Anthony first tested the Lifeboat as Rufus mentioned in Stranded.

 Now, since Lucy goes back and starts her Causal Loop in 2014, any trips Anthony and/or Emma made after this point become a part of Lucy’s Causal Loop. And each time Lucy restarted her Loop, Anthony would create even more new timelines. This is because each time he and Emma went back, they changed something, it may be insignificant, but it’s still a change and it counts as a new timeline.

 Below is an illustration of how this happens. It does assume that Lucy goes back with the journal first, instead of Flynn stealing the Mothership first, but the idea is still the same regardless.

You can, technically, create a loop inside of a loop, and that may or may not be the case here. We don’t know enough of all of Anthony and Emma’s missions to know for sure. If Emma actually went to 1872 after Lucy arrived in 2014, then it could be its own Causal Loop inside of Lucy’s Causal Loop.

The important part to remember is that yes, a lot of this is Rinse and Repeat, but it doesn’t have to be. There can be loops where trips were skipped, where extra trips were added, or where North Korea isn’t the end of the loop. The fluctuation in trips can be due to all sorts of factors such as Emma’s “rescue” and Jessica’s involvement... and having crappy writers who don’t understand their own show.

 All that matters is that Lucy goes back to 2014 to restart the Causal Loop. When that happens, all the events that occur afterwards get to ‘reoccur’ which means more changes to the timeline.

 This is how the Lincoln Quandary happens. With all these resets and changes and new timelines, all it takes is for the last person who remembers how it was ‘supposed’ to happen to be in their current timeline when a significant change to the timeline occurs, and there you go. Lincoln “always died.”

 We can also apply this to the characters, such as Jessica. We know it wasn’t always Flynn who killed her because that is impossible since it’s a Causal Loop (not a Closed Loop). Though it is possible that in one of the loops he was involved somehow. In the “Miracle Loop,” as I’m calling it, he is actually responsible for Jess’ death. But, more likely, Rittenhouse had something to do with Jess’ original death.

 Imagine this: The team was giving Rittenhouse hell, so they go back and give the order to murder Jess. Maybe they want to hold that over Wyatt, or perhaps they think it will make him self destruct before he joins the team. For an unknown number of timelines (from none to hundreds), Wyatt knows that Jess was never supposed to die, that it was RH’s fault. Then enough resets occur where Wyatt is in his own current time and therefore forgets this. So now he thinks she always died, and Rittenhouse knows they killed Jess on orders, but no one is quite sure why until 2016.

 Then Emma figures it out, that in a past timeline they tried “Plan A” which didn’t work. So what if they recruit Jess instead? They make sure she doesn’t die in 2012 so she can be a sleeper in 2018. Granted, since Miracle of Christmas went off the rails and was completely illogical, we can’t really apply much of what we saw to actual reality. But you can cherry pick which parts you want to keep and as long as they work together under the timeline rules, then run with it.

 I’ve heard the theory that Wyatt originally killed Jess. The evidence being that strangling is an intimate act, plus Rittenhouse actively asked her to get out of the car to save her when we’ve been told that’s why she died in the first place. So maybe Wyatt did kill her, then eventually forgot that he had done it because of all the resets.

You can pretty much allow for any theory to have occurred in some iteration of the timeline. The only obstacle is that you have to get there following the time travel rules. This sounds daunting, but it’s actually very freeing and full of options. We literally have no idea how many times Lucy has gone back and restarted the loop. 

Mason mentions that in 2014 there was a powersurge that wiped out a lot of data. He was lying about Emma’s pilot logs, but was he lying just about those? This is significant because 2014 is also the same year Lucy goes back to give Flynn the journal. Is this a coincidence? Did it happen before, during, or after Lucy’s trip? Is Lucy responsible? And if so, what was on those records? What information could have been lost to remind people what the real facts are?

Every ‘fact’ as we know it is in question. Hell, we don’t even know if Lucy started the loop in the first place.

 What if it was Amy? She sees what her Mother and Lucy (who could be a bad guy in this timeline) are doing. She writes the original journal. She knows she can’t do this alone and finds Flynn, a man with the skills and the motive. So she goes back to 2014, gives him the journal. Flynn doesn’t hit the Hindenburg in this timeline or the next few. Reset after Reset occurs until now it’s Lucy, being supported by Amy, who starts to write the journal instead and making the loop.

Or, Flynn stole the Mothership first, wrote the first journal and gave it to himself? Or recruited someone to deliver it for him, someone he trusted, like Stiv or Karl? Maybe it was Lorena? Maybe she lived and a timeline change happened when she was in the past where Flynn was the one to live? Enough resets and she doesn’t make it through and now it’s believed she always died.

 Yes, someone can take over the loop. All that is required is that the time machine goes back to the same point to do generally the same thing.

 If you want to keep going back far enough (or forward enough), assume millions of new timelines, then nothing is off limits. 

You could literally have a Time Team made up of anyone you want it to. From supporting characters like BamBam and Noah, to evil characters who may have once been good (Emma perhaps?), to original characters who are either doomed or blessed depending on how their own story changes in the timeline resets.

Your college Garcyatt fic is technically canon.  

Now… to make matters even more confusing: What if someone from the future, say 2056, created a new Causal Loop that either encompasses or overlaps Lucy’s Casual Loop?

 I’m gonna need a bigger graph…

[whentommymetalfie]

Track of time -chapter one 

A/N: Rather loosely based on these two break-up requests. I’m suffering from a severe case of editing brain, so I won’t ramble on here. I hope you’ll enjoy it! there’ll be two more chapters, I’m hoping to have the next one out within a few days.

Pairings: Alfie/Tommy, a bit of Jessie/Ada on the side 

Summary: Tommy and Alfie hit a rough patch after a disagreement about their future. Tommy handles it about as badly as can be expected. Finn tries to help. 

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, self hatred, abandonment issues 

Esme is pregnant. John announces it proudly after a night at the Garrison, when they sit in the kitchen and endure Alfie’s insistences on making tea. This is a reoccurring event after a night of drinking, and it’s all really just an excuse to coax Tommy into eating something. Arthur hollers loudly at John’s announcement, reaching over the table to ruffle his hair up.

“There we go, about time eh, Johnny boy!”

“Congratulations, mate.” Alfie pours tea into a cup and slaps John’s shoulder fondly. “Not that this household needed anymore chaos. Plenty of that already. But I reckon this is the pleasant sort.”  

John is drunk enough to begin rambling about the whole thing: what Esme wants to name the baby. What he wants to name the baby… Before this baby is born, there’s a good chance they’ll have gotten into at least three fights nearly ending in divorce by the sound of it.

Tommy finds himself watching Alfie. That fond expression settling on his face as he listens to John go on and on about all things child-related. For some indiscernible reason, he feels a knot of worry tighten in his stomach. But he gives John a stiff hug with far too many hard pats on the back, tells him he’s happy for him and pushes that feeling away. With the whiskey dulling his senses, it’s not too hard to do, and when Alfie pulls him close, leaning down to whisper in his ear that they should go upstairs, it’s easy to forget it completely.

---

Though as most things forgotten, it eventually makes itself known again in the most unpleasant way possible.

A few nights down the line, Alfie is nestled between Tommy’s thighs, trailing kisses down his neck as his warm palms stroke his sides. Tommy rakes his fingers through his hair, reveling in the feeling of the secure weight on top of him.

The tell-tale sound of a bedframe banging against a wall in the other room makes them both let out a quiet laugh as their eyes meet. Apparently John and Esme are ahead of them tonight.

“It’s a fucking miracle, really, that it’s taken this long for that pregnancy to happen,” Alfie chuckles and glances at the wall. “All things considered.” He shakes his head before getting back to more important matters, pressing kisses against Tommy’s collarbone. Tommy closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh. Hopefully they’ll be rivaling those noises soon enough…

“Well, we’re lucky that way,” he whispers and pulls him closer. Slides his hands down Alfie’s back. Presses a kiss right next to his ear. “You know how much I like when you finish inside of me.” That sentiment makes Alfie growl and Tommy wraps both legs around his hips to pull him closer. “So… it’s practical, then, that you can’t knock me up.”

Stilling his movements, Alfie raises himself up on his elbows and looks down at him. Thoughtful, suddenly. Tommy lets his hands rest lightly on his waist, meeting his gaze steadily. There was a time when he barely could keep eye contact for a short moment in the bedroom. Now, he can just rest in this. Alfie runs a thumb gently across his forehead, cradling his head between his hands.

“Too bad, really,” he says, voice oddly soft.

Tommy blinks up at him, and Alfie must sense his confusion. “Well, what I meant is that I’d like- I’d like to have a child someday. With you. In the sense that we’d be raising it together.”

Tommy feels his knees go weak suddenly, and he drops his legs back down onto the mattress. Another laugh escapes him, a harsh outlet of air.

“You can’t be serious?”

A wrinkle appears between Alfie’s eyebrows.

“Well, this might’ve been a bad time to bring it up but… yeah. I do. Is that so fucking strange?” He sounds unexpectedly accusatory and Tommy rolls his eyes. Must be some fucking joke, all this… But the look in Alfie’s eyes and the growing lump at the pit of his stomach tell him differently. His mouth feels dry when he speaks.

“Sure. Because this lifestyle seems entirely appropriate for a child.”

“Well, in the future, things might be different,” Alfie says, the creases in his forehead becoming deeper as he sits up between Tommy’s legs. “I mean, we won’t always be living in fucking Birmingham. Figure at some point we’d like to move to somewhere slightly less… dingy and lethal.”

Tommy pushes himself up to lean against the headboard of the bed, pulling one of the blankets up to his waist. Swallows down the nausea.  

“Oh, really? Well, this is news to me. Why don’t you fill me in on this plan of yours?”

Alfie sits back on his heels, scratching his beard.  

“Just thought that somewhere along the line we’d, you know, move to a house somewhere,” he says. “I mean, business will pretty much start running itself at some point. Don’t need to constantly be there to oversee shit. Could hire someone.” The tone is casual, as if he just came up with this ridiculous idea. Even though it clearly must’ve been on his mind for a while. “And… well, I know you wanted to work with horses when you were younger. Perhaps do something along those lines?”

Tommy laughs despite nothing funny having been said. And a flash of hurt crosses Alfie’s face.

“Where is all this coming from?” Tommy asks, fingers twisting harder into the fabric of the blanket

Alfie clenches his jaw.

“Maybe getting shot gives you some fucking perspective?”  

“You’ve been shot before.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But this was the first time I had to watch the man I love get fucking beaten halfway to death right before it,” Alfie says sharply. “Without being able to do shit. And then with the fucking aftermath. That whole bloody ordeal. When you were just spiraling.” He looks away from Tommy for a moment. Out the window at the grimy buildings outside. “And maybe I’ve fucking realised, right, that there’ll come a day when I’ll be fed up with all of it.”  

Tommy’s heart drops, joins that lump at the pit of his stomach

“With what?”

“This… this fucking life, alright?” Alfie gestures vaguely around the room. The peeling wallpaper and worn furniture. “How long do you think we can keep this up, eh? It’s one close call after another, and then one day, it won’t be a close call. And either I’ll be the first to go, which really, truly, would be the more merciful option. Since the other is having to sit on some dingy warehouse floor with you in my arms while you’re fucking bleeding out. Or maybe I won’t even get to do that, eh? Maybe I’ll just find you dead in some alleyway…”

Tommy sets his eyes on Alfie. Pins him with his gaze and fills it with as much ice as he can muster.

“This is who I am, Alfie,” he says and it feels like he’s signing his own fucking death warrant. “All of this. This is all I can give you. And you fucking knew that going in.”

“It’s what youdo, Tommy. For fucks sake. Not who you are,” Alfie snaps, raising his voice. “And all I’m saying is… there’s more to life, right? Is it too much to ask for you to just fucking consider it?”

The silence that follows the question is stifling.  

What is there to consider?

No, this is the problem, isn’t it? Alfie thinks there’s more to him than this and that’s why he’s stayed. But there isn’t. This is all he has to give and it’s not enough. It’s not enough and he’s always known and now finally Alfie realises it too- It’s never enough for anyone and now Alfie will leave like all the others and-

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood in an attempt to ground himself. “I don’t want that kind of life. And I never will.”

Just like that, all the hard lines melt from Alfie’s face. His gaze shifts to his lap and he adds in a much softer tone:  “Nah, nah, not like that… you don’t have to decide now. Just want you to think about it, is all. And the thing about kids… We can start smaller. Just a house, maybe? Maybe you could give that some thought.”

A blurry memory resurfaces from the back of Tommy’s mind… of Alfie asking this once before: When Tommy was dozing off in that tub of cold water with fever burning in his veins. Right then, it sounded so peaceful; like everything he could’ve ever wanted, but never would’ve dared to dream he could actually have. But his brain was fucking burning and he wasn’t thinking clear, because there is no way he could ever have that kind of life. Do anything other than this.

Birmingham’s dingy streets are ingrained in his bones, it’s the only place where he fits in. He’s known it all his life. Thought Alfie knew that too.

But if that life -that peaceful, fucking life that seems to come straight out of some rosy dream and is so utterly impossible- if that life is what Alfie wants… Alfie deserves everything. And if Tommy can’t give that to him then there’s only one way for this conversation to end.

The silence in the room has become deafening as he’s drowned in his own thoughts and Alfie has waited for an answer. Tommy can’t bring himself to look at him when he finally speaks

“There’s nothing to think about.”

Alfie sits silently at the opposite side of the bed. Then the mattress shifts and Tommy glances up to see him walk over to the chair where his clothes have been disposed of.

He completely forgets how to breathe.

It’s all crumbling around him, falling apart –like a tunnel, rock after rock until there’s nothing left. Can’t stop it, because once you’ve pulled out that first rock, all the others just follow

“Alfie-“ he bites his tongue the second the name slips off it, but Alfie doesn’t slow his movements, pulling his trousers on and fishing up his undershirt from the floor. He doesn’t look at Tommy when he speaks.

“I need some time to think about this.”

The fear twists in his stomach like a snake.

Alfie pulls his shirt on. Tommy desperately wants to reach for him.

“So, that’s it, you’re just going to leave? You don’t get your way and- and suddenly you’re just leaving?”

Fuck he sounds pathetic- pathetic and needy and no wonder Alfie doesn’t want you.  

Alfie stops with the shirt buttoned halfway up.

“Honestly, Tommy, I’m tired. Alright?” he says, arms falling heavily to his sides. And he does sound tired, right then. “Some days, I’m so fucking tired of all of this. It’s like my fucking bones are made out of lead. And, the thought that this will be it… I don’t fucking know if I can do that.” Alfie heaves a sigh that seems to push all the air from his body. “So yeah, I need to think, don’t I? Without you there, too, because you do these…” he twirls his fingers by his temple. “Things to me. My head just fucking stops working when I’m with you, see, because you look at me with those eyes of yours and I fucking forget all about what’s right and proper.”

Leave- He’s going to leave just like all the others and you’ll be alone-

Grasping onto the sheets until his knuckles whiten, Tommy watches as Alfie pulls his jacket on.

“That life you want, it’s a fucking delusion. And it’s never going to happen. Not with me,” he grits out, struggling to get any words past the tightness in his throat. “So if that’s what you want then…”

Alfie stops his movements to look at him.

“Then what?”

The lump in his throat blocks all his words and Tommy just stares down at the blanket. A quiet sigh comes from Alfie. He grips the sheets harder and listens to the sound of swishing fabric as he pulls another item of clothing on. His coat. Boot soles knock against the floor.  

Finally the room goes completely silent. Except for the ringing in his ears. He can imagine Alfie standing there on the floor, hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll call you, alright?”

It’s all Alfie says.

Then he’s gone.

Tommy stares at the closed door.

See,the voice is almost triumphant. See, of course this would happen. You ruin everything. Only a matter of time before you ruined this too.

That snake that was coiled in his guts has crawled up into his chest instead, blocking his airways and making impossible to breathe. And his heart is beating so fucking fast.

Air- he needs air- needs to get out of this room before the walls close in on him.

The street outside is empty.

So is the spot where Alfie’s car stood parked.

Tommy lights a cigarette.

Maybe Alfie will come back?

He’ll change his mind. His temper is like that sometimes: boils up quickly but simmers down just as fast, and maybe if Tommy just waits right here for him, he’ll come back-

He seats himself on the steps leading up to the house.

And waits.

----

“That is a terrible book and I can’t believe you actually enjoy it!”

Jessie sounds honestly offended, and Ada can’t help laughing at the look of utter bafflement on her face.

“Well, I like Emma’s character development. And the way she meddles in everyone’s business- I can’t believe you don’t see the humour in it.” Ada bumps her shoulder against Jessie’s, but is quick to latch onto her arm when she nearly stumbles off the sidewalk.

Jessie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. The first few streaks of morning light catches in her hair.

“You’re lucky you’ve got other qualities than your terrible taste in books,” she teases and takes Ada’s hand –most likely to warm up her own freezing fingers. Ada certainly doesn’t mind. She squeezes it tightly. “I honestly stopped reading after just a hundred pages-“

“You haven’t even read-“ Ada’s exclamation is cut off by a yawn that she fails to cover up. “That’s it,” she says to a smirking Jessie when she recovers. “The next time we’re up all night doing something, it’ll be reading that book. Nothing else.”

“Do you mean you’re withholding sex until I finish it?”

“No, but I am withholding spending all night in a pub and listening to you argue with Freddie about ‘the true origins of market economy’.”

Now, it’s Jessie’s turn to bump her shoulder against Ada’s. “You love it.”

Ada smiles. Squeezes her hand again. “I do.”

They make the turn out on Watery Lane, and Ada decides that her street isn’t all that awful looking in these quiet moments right before dawn, when it’s empty, quiet, and the grey light washes out all the grimy bricks.

Only, she discovers much to her surprise, the street isn’t quite empty today…

“Tommy?”

Her brother remains motionless on the steps up to their house, the only movement being the slight tremor to his shoulders. Ada lengthens her steps, but doesn’t let go of Jessie’s hand. As they come closer, she notices the cigarette stubs littering the pavement. Must be at least a packet, judging by the amount…

“Tommy, what are you doing out here?”

Her question goes unanswered. Tommy doesn’t even look up. And the alarms go off in her head. Letting go of Jessie’s hand, she crouches down before him.

When she places a hand on his knee Tommy finally reacts. A pair of wide, bloodshot eyes lined with dark circles meet hers. His lip is bleeding, contrasting starkly against his pale skin.

When there’s no comment on Jessie’s presence, or even a disapproving look, Ada begins to truly worry.

“Tommy, hey, talk to me.” She squeezes his knee. “How long have you been sitting out here?”

No answer.

“Has something happened?”

Not even a blink. Tommy just gazes emptily at her.

“I’ll go and fetch Alfie,” she states and straightens up.

“Not here,” Tommy says, voice raspy from disuse.

Ada crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s not here? Where is he then?”

“He left.”

“What?”

“He left,” Tommy repeats, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I waited for him but he didn’t come back. I thought…” He trails off again, going back to staring blankly at the ground. Ada swallows down her heart to get it back in her chest where it belongs, without much success.

She looks to Jessie, and the steady gaze she receives in return serves to ground her slightly.

“Let’s go inside, Tommy,” she says and hooks a hand under his arm, gently tugging him upwards. “You’re freezing. We can wait inside.”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, raking the nail of his right thumb over the back of his hand, reopening a scratch there.

“He’s not coming back.”

To this, Ada doesn’t know what to say. Because all that fills her head is how she’ll fucking kill Alfie Solomons if he’s done something to hurt Tommy...

Tommy sits there silently for another moment, then the glazed look in his eyes fades, and he blinks. He gets to his feet, shrugging off the hand she wraps around his arm to steady him when he sways precariously. He brushes past her, shoves his trembling hands into the pockets of his coat, and begins walking unsteadily down the street.

Ada watches his retreating back, debating whether she should run after him or not.

“Do you want to go after him?”

Jessie’s hand on her arms snaps her out of the thoughts.

She shakes her head slowly. “No. No point in doing that. Not when he’s like this. Alfie-“

Alfie could help.

But Alfie isn’t here.

Why the fuck isn’t he here?

[synthient]

Ever since I finished reading The Cards with Teeth and Death T—the two manga arcs that the first episode of the anime is based on—I’ve been mulling something over.

How could you do Kaiba’s introduction right?

Because that first anime episode, “The Heart of the Cards,” is pretty inarguably a mess. It’s rushed, it’s nonsensical, it’s got a mountain of plot holes and fridge logic, it feels a little like some kind of bizarro world disconnected from the rest of the series…

But if anything, The Cards with Teeth and Death T feel even more disconnected. They’re from a point in the manga where Takahashi really didn’t have a clear idea of where the story was going, what genre and tone he was aiming for, or who any of these characters were supposed to be, and it shows. Death T in particular is almost impossible to reconcile with Kaiba’s later characterization without a crapton of handwaving (and I can’t speak for anyone else, but I personally found the magical personality-altering coma explanation pretty unsatisfying).

So what I’ve been trying to figure out is, if some hypothetical future reboot had the chance to do the anime over again, what would be the best way to make this part of the story work?

I think it’d need to do three things:

1.      Split “The Heart of the Cards” up into two episodes.

2.      Add back in the second half of The Cards with Teeth.

3.      Acknowledge that Yami fucked up.

(more below the readmore that may or may not work on mobile)

The biggest flaw of “The Heart of the Cards” is that it tried to cram two manga arcs (that take place weeks apart) into one twenty-minute episode. The abridged series version is barely even an exaggeration—this thing goes from zero to sixty hilariously fast. So the first obvious fix would be to split it back up into its composite parts: one episode for the elements from The Cards with Teeth, and a separate, later episode for the elements from Death T.

Aside from moving too quickly, however, I actually think the anime writers had the right idea: adapt the parts of Season 0 that are essential to the rest of the plot, but cut the bits of early-installment weirdness that don’t fit anymore. And I definitely think they made the right call in cutting the Amusement Park of Doooom segment of Death T (the world of Yugioh is a better place without Tristan’s nephew in it, and Kaiba is a much easier character to write if you’re not constantly trying to explain that time he became the villain from Saw). The real problem is that they cut the second half of The Cards with Teeth. If you take a close look, the root of almost all the plot holes in “The Heart of the Cards” is the removal of Yami and Kaiba’s first duel.

It doesn’t make any sense for Yugi’s grandpa to “somehow become severely injured by playing a children’s card game,” because Kaiba never had a reason to recreate the Experience of Death penalty game because it was never used against him. It doesn’t make any sense for Kaiba to rip the fourth Blue Eyes instead of keeping it in a nice glass case somewhere, because he’s not mad at it for betraying him before. It doesn��t make any sense for him to challenge some kid he barely knows to a card game out of nowhere and with nothing to gain, because he’s not trying to get revenge against the person who tortured him.

And that’s another element that the anime cut and the manga never adequately dealt with: Yami fucked up. Big time. The punishment he gave Kaiba at the end of their first duel was disproportionate and horrible, and there’s really no way of getting around that. He made a teenager hallucinate about being mauled to death by monsters. In hyper-realistic detail. All night long. That’s one of the most horrifying penalty games he gives to anyone, including violent criminals and murderers, and Kaiba gets it for stealing a trading card.  

And if Yami was trying to teach him An Important Lesson about Not Doing Bad Things or something, it had the exact opposite effect. Shockingly, torturing an already-abused-and-traumatized teenager made things worse, not better, and Death T happened as a direct result of Kaiba’s desire to get rid of his reoccurring nightmares by turning Yami’s own weapon against him.

In the manga continuity, Yami does eventually decide penalty games are wrong and stop dealing them out...but only because Pegasus tells him that the Millennium Items are evil, and the only thing Yami knows about himself at that point is that he came from the Millennium Puzzle and he doesn’t want to prove Pegasus right. But wouldn’t it be more powerful if he came to that realization on his own, without Pegasus having to spell it out for him? And wouldn’t his experience with Kaiba be the perfect opportunity for him to have that epiphany?

So let’s say we’re watching that hypothetical reboot. There’s already been a Cards with Teeth episode, and a few more episodes in between, and now we’ve reached Kaiba’s second appearance. At first it plays out pretty much like the original “The Heart of the Cards” (no combination torture chamber/theme park here, we skip right to the card games), just with the added context of that first duel. But at some point during the rematch, Yami tells Kaiba that he should have learned his lesson the first time. He explains that that’s the point of penalty games: to deal out justice and discourage repeat offenses.

And Kaiba laughs in his face.

Because he knows all about lessons taught through pain, and he already has all the lessons he needs.

(Yeahhh, the parallels between Yami and Gozaburo are, uh. Something.)

The seeds of doubt are sown. When Yami imagines the cards receding away from him, it’s not just that he’s afraid of losing—he’s afraid of himself. Kaiba has forced him question his morality and his methods, and now he’s scared that he’s not the good guy after all.

And at the end of the duel, when Kaiba’s just standing there, waiting to get what a loser deserves, Yami doesn’t go for the manga version of the Mind Crush. He doesn’t put him in a coma. He doesn’t shatter this already-broken kid and him and leave him to pick up the pieces. He goes for the anime version, the one that (I’ve theorized) lifts the fear and anger off Kaiba’s shoulders long enough for him to stop and breathe. If pain didn’t work, then maybe empathy will.

And in this reboot, that’s the last time he ever uses a penalty game.

[firstpuffin]

Multiple topics: pronouns and creative techniques

So rather than straining to stretch a single topic over roughly 1000 words, I figured I’d write about a few subjects instead. These will all be on a similar topic, that being writing. I’m going to start simply with why I want an English unisex third-person pronoun and my problem with those that have already been proposed.

  Then I’m going to discuss a few techniques, for a lack of a better word, used in writing and other mediums: pastiche, parody and satire. Now I’m sure most people know what parody and satire are, or at least have an idea about them, but I know that I am not alone in that I only recently learned about pastiche in 2018; it’s not as common as the other two.

 So pronouns, you know what these are and if you don’t (no shame in that, I had to recently learn about them from scratch, just in case I missed something), they are him, her, they, me etc. If it interests you then I will be talking predominantly about third-person singular pronouns but there is no need to actually remember that.

  So I’m sure you get that I am talking about he and she here, and you know that we English speakers can use “they” if we don’t want to specify sex or gender (which is a rabbit-hole I don’t want to go down, but as writing is clearer when speaking of biological sex I’m going to refer to that) but that can be clunky given that they is more commonly used as a plural. If, for example, you are speaking of an individual in a group and don’t want to specify sex for reasons such as retaining a certain amount of mystery, then “they” can be either the individual or the entire group and the sentence may require a certain amount of twists that a contortionist would envy.

  For future reference, double brackets such as -(( and ))- denote an excerpt of my own fiction writing; I use it in personal notes to separate notes from, say, dialogue and I’ll use it here for my examples.

((The secret society held secrecy as their greatest tenet as befitted the term secret society. Accordingly, every meeting was attended solely by people in black, face concealing robes and voice changers that worked to hide both identity and sex. Unfortunately, not every member appreciated this and many took liberties such as adding frills to the hood or others exposing their hairy masculine chests lest, heaven forbid, someone confuse them with a lady.

As the Supreme Leader looked over them, they decided quite firmly that they wouldn’t trust them to zip up their own trousers. In fact, they considered ordering the men to wear button-up trousers, just to lower the chance of unfortunate absences. Finally, they were joined on the stage and they called for silence. They were met by innumerable faceless faces and at least nobody knew who anybody else was. Well, they knew of course.

The Supreme Leader looked at those on the stage with them, nodded imperceptibly and reached inside their robe. They stepped forward. Alone at the front of the stage but still supported by those at their back, they addressed their audience.))

  So that’s nearly 200 words of my own writing that I hope gets across how tough it can be not using he or she. Now normally I would give characters names, or at least identify them using their physical traits such as “Frills” or “Hairy Chest” and that would be their nickname until their actual name was revealed. The above piece was meant to be an extreme example but I have struggled with this in the past. A hooded character who I deliberately want to be a mystery was a recent one but I felt that with characters assuming they are male, referring to them as “them” would be too obvious. In the end I just used the male pronouns and whatever happens, happens.

  Need I even bring up the dehumanising issues of calling someone “it”?

  To bring up previous attempts at inventing an appropriate word, there have been quite a lot thrown out there to address this problem, usually by proponents of transgender or sexless acceptance. I’m gonna skim over this controversial topic for a couple of reasons: 1, I don’t wanna distract from what I am talking about and 2, while I am hardly conservative my opinions on this are worth an entry all by themselves. A third reason is also one of the reasons why I think that there has been limited success in spreading these propositions, that is the controversial nature of there being anything other than two sexes and that sex and gender are the same thing. I don’t want to derail what it is that I am actually talking about with these arguments.

  So, people don’t want to think of there being people who are anything other than male or female and so oppose this reason for a unisex pronoun, but what other reasons are there? Well a number of the suggestions are clunky. Ne, ve, xe… how the hell do you even say these? That is immediately going to put people off, but most of the possible pronunciations are uncomfortable to say. Sure, new words often are, but V and X are not super common in the English language anyway and will intimidate readers. If I say “eir” then I’m gonna feel like I’m putting on heirs. “Per”? Perself? Nope. I just don’t like that one.

  It’s tough creating new pronouns and borrowing them may not be any easier. I had no success looking at Latin and then I turned to Greek (as English has a lot of Greek words) and found what I think was “tous”, which seems to their equivalent of our “they”. I could be wrong. I’ve always found it hard to find Greek language learning or dictionaries that don’t use Greek symbols (which I can’t read) so I think that’s how it’s spelt and I suspect it’s pronounced “two”, but I could be wrong. And it’s not exactly intuitive.

  So next I tried looking at French. We English have a loot~ of French words in our vernacular so what’s one more? But the French use masculine and feminine words so which one do we choose? We could use “tu” or “vous”, both of which seem to mean “you” but I would personally say that sounds too much like “you”.

  To lean into a language that interests me personally, Japanese appears to refer to people using gender specific words but can also use “ano hito” which literally means “that person”. Would this one work? My biggest problem with that is that hito sounds like a name to me and would feel weird.

  Finally I tried looking into history. I knew that “thee” and “thou” died out because they were impolite or informal variants and being English, we stuck to the polite “you”, so I looked into the third-person pronouns. Unfortunately they just developed into what we already use today.

  So what should we do? Keep looking at other languages until we find one we like and steal it? That would be very English. Making one up would be difficult as in this age we are less forgiving than in Shakespeare’s time (apparently he invented 2000 new words and people just went with it) and people these days can’t embrace anything until they know the agenda behind it.

 I’m gonna leave you hanging and move onto my next section of satire, parody and pastiche.

  Parody is pretty straightforward. It pokes fun at something but not necessarily with ill-intent. A parody can be completely absent of malice while pointing out issues with the original, or taking it to a comical extreme. An example of this could be Death from the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett. Pratchett is currently my favourite author and anyone will be hard-pressed to take this position from him. He uses parody and satire in a manner completely unique to him. The Discworld series is so full of examples that it practically bursts at the seams and his take on how humanity anthropomorphises everything is a reoccurring theme.

  He frequently directs this at religions but it is Death who captured my heart. The scythe wielding black cloaked skeleton known the world over as Death is a main supporting character in many of the books, appearing as a lovable goofball. He isn’t there to make jabs at people for giving nature human form, he is a comical representation of the fact that people do so. Death isn’t the only anthropomorphic being in the series, the Hogfather is his play on Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairies have an entire organisation backing them.

  Shakespeare makes a number of “appearances” and his Discworld equivalent (a dwarf of all things) has the “Disc theatre” made in his honour. Many of Pratchett’s books are based around famous stories and the only reason why I hesitate to call “The Masquerade” a pastiche is because all of his books are so absurdly witty. I don’t know if that counts.

  Satire on the other hand is absolutely poking fun at what it imitates, although not always humorously. Often ruthless and containing sarcasm and irony in heavy and sometimes cruel doses, satire intends on changing things by ridiculing its target. I hesitate to use Pratchett as an example again, but he can be ruthless in his criticisms of more-or-less anything. Parody and satire are closely related and sometimes it’s not easy to know what the author intends, but my personal rule-of-thumb is that if it’s just funny then it’s parody, if it is making a statement then it is satire.

  And then there is pastiche. Pastiche is a creative types’ get out of jail free card. Yes it can be abused, but it is incredibly reassuring to know about. See, one thing that motivates me to write is seeing good ideas wasted. The webshow (I think it’s a webshow? Not sure of the definition though) RWBY is a key example: as a young adult story (think teens) that has a lot of potential in that it covers things such as entering a new school, making friends and dealing with all the things that comes with being a teenager, plus the low-fantasy excitement of superpowers and monsters. This sort of content can be invaluable to readers, particularly those entering a new school or such-like. Unfortunately, the show suffers from poor dialogue (clichés abound), poor story structure and- let’s kindly call it “distracting” voice acting. This compelled me to write something along the same lines but with my own original ideas.

  Let’s be clear, pastiche is seriously imitating an existing work, style or period. It’s not meant to ridicule the original and honestly I’m not sure where the boundaries are. I watch RWBY and am like “I wanna do this, but better” and go on to create my own world, unique characters and abilities, creatures etc. I watch The Flash tv show and say “I wanna do this, but better” and start writing rules of time-travel, rules that The Flash dearly requires because it doesn’t have any! Me and a friend are working on a pastiche of the Discworld series with a sci-fi element instead of fantasy.

  Naturally there is a limit: my work is completely different to RWBY but if I were to make the lead a cheerful black haired girl who skips years to join her blonde sister in school and joins a team of four to fight monsters then that is straight up copying. It’s plagiarism which is bad (I’m not making that joke, okay?). There is some overlap, but it also coincidentally overlaps with Harry Potter and Twilight and literally any young adult novel if you nit-pick enough.

  Pastiche is done out of respect or out of a compulsion to do better (I used to think I wasn’t competitive, now I’m not so sure) or any number of things, but the main difference is that it isn’t poking fun at anything.

 So that is a brief and hopefully clear overview of a number of items that I had wanted to talk about. This ended up being longer than expected but honestly, I really enjoyed writing it and I do hope someone learns from this or is encouraged to think deeper about the topics I’ve raised.

[what-is-sibling-test]

from 'RittenhouseTL' for all things Timeless https://ift.tt/2sRJgjM via Istudy world

missmary1488: The Journal https://ift.tt/2LMOUe2 Another one of those scenes I...

The Journal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892773

Another one of those scenes I want to know more about. Still need to writing but I hope that you enjoy.

Missmary1114

Summary:

This is my thoughts on the Journal that Future Lucy wrote and gave to Flynn. Hope you enjoy :)

Work Text:

“We need to plan this Luce, we only get one shot to do this. Are you willing to take the gamble?” Wyatt asked. “We need to do this Wyatt. Right now we can’t let Rhittenhouse continue. So much has changed… we need to fight back. Jiya and Rufus have done the correct calculations. This will work” Lucy replied.

“Are you so sure” Wyatt asked. “We have been told before you can’t go to a time that you previously existed” he replied. “Wyatt, we need to do something. What more do we have to lose than what we have lost already?” Lucy replied.

These past few years the constant trips to fight Rhittenhouse had made it near impossible to have a normal life. Everytime there was a moments rest it seemed that the team were jumping again. “Let’s end this once and for all” Lucy replied.

As they prepared for the upcoming trip Lucy found the journal her mother gave her after her trip to meet Charles Lindbergh. “How is it I was prepared to never write in a journal and now it is the thing that may save us?” Lucy asked. “I know Luce, that seems like another time” Wyatt replied. “What should I say? We have been on so many trips how do we choose which ones will change the timeline?” Lucy asked. “Just think Luce, what events have the biggest effect on Rhittenhouse?” Wyatt asked.

After thought Lucy began to write down on a sheet of paper the events she thinks may change the tide. As she begins to write in the journal she grabs momentos from her travels to add to the journal to ensure that it appears as closely authentic as possible. “Luce, since you will be giving this to someone who will interact with my past self, can we add something in there about me?” Wyatt asked. “What should I write?” she asked. “About Jessica, help me get over the grief” he replied. Wyatt recalled the past 10 years he had spent endlessly trying to find Jessica’s killer. He never wanted to put that pain on anyone. “I can add it, what should I write?” she asked.

They spent the remainder of the night writing the chapter that had taken him so long to get past. “This should help” he replied. “It’s a bit harsh Wyatt” she replied. “Yes but it’s what I need to hear” Wyatt replied.

When the morning light peaked through the windows of the bunker Wyatt checked the bed beside him and saw Rufus was asleep. He left his room and walked down the cooridor toward the kitchen. At the table Lucy was sleeping where she spent the night apparently trying to finish the journal.

Wyatt picked her up from the chair and carried her into her room. He laid Lucy on her bed and picked up the blankets from her feet and laid the blanket across her to keep her warm. He kneeled down beside the bed and brushed hair away from her face. If only he had not taken so long to get over Jessica. She would have wanted him to be happy. To move on. When he met Lucy he knew she was different. He wanted to know if there were more and there were many times where they were together but Jessica always flooded back to his mind. Stolen kisses and moments of passion. All would come back to the ghost that had haunted him and he was never able to make the last step to make things official. Maybe this could change things. Maybe he could move on.

He closed the door to her room and walked back to the kitchen. “Is she okay” Jiya asked. “Yeah she will be okay, she had a late night writing. Its hard to say when we will jump again so she wanted to try and get it finished last night. I am going to let her sleep for a few hours. We never get to sleep anymore” he replied. “She tosses and turns all night” Jiya replied. Wyatt looked at Jiya with a look of concern. She must still be having nightmares he thought. They all did but Lucy’s reoccurring episodes were memories from being apart of Rhittenhouse. What did they do to her? She was broken when she came back. When she finally did come back she was changed. She still got the twinkle in her eyes when she met her idols but there was always something lost. She never full returned after those 6 weeks. “I will make sure to keep an eye on her” Jiya replied.

Lucy awoke in her room unsure of how she got there. She changed clothes and decided to go to the kitchen. As she walked through the hallway she saw Wyatt at the stove cooking. “Good Afternoon” Wyatt replied. “How did I get to bed” Lucy replied. “I brought you to bed, you needed your sleep Luce. We need to prepare to bring the journal to this Garcia” Wyatt replied.

As they got everything ready Lucy changed to prepare for this jump. She couldn’t look like she had been fighting. She decided to be as dressed up as she could living in a bunker these past 5 years. As she dressed Wyatt knocked on the door. “Almost Ready?” he asked. “Yes, give me just a second” she replied.

As she walked out of the room Wyatts face went blank. He hadn’t seen her like this in years. She looked relaxed and refreshed. He stared a second longer than he thought and Lucy looked at him with concern. “Does this look okay?” she asked. “It’s perfect Luce” he replied.

As they climbed into the lifeboat Rufus walked ahead. “So we are sure we want to give the Dangerous man a map to take down Rhittenhouse and possibly all history?” Rufus replied. “Do we really have a choice at this point?” Lucy asked. “Then I guess thats a yes” he replied sarcastically. “Let’s go Rufus” Wyatt replied. As Rufus went through the flight check he glanced back as Lucy. “Are we sure?” Rufus asked. “Yes, let’s go” Lucy replied.

The lifeboat jolted back and forth until it came to a stop. They were there. She knew his family had just died and he was in a bar hiding in Sao Paulo, Brazil. As she walked in she saw him sitting in the corner. Wyatt walked in a few minutes after her and took a table on the other side of the room with Rufus. “So are we just supposed to wait for her” Rufus asked. Wyatt glanced at Lucy as she slowly walked to the figure and stood a few minutes before sitting at the barstool next to him. “Yes Rufus, we just wait” Wyatt replied.

___________________________________

“I’ll have a whiskey” Lucy asked the bartender. The bartender waved and walked away. “Hello” she replied. “What do you want?” Flynn asked. “I know who you are Mr Flynn” she replied. Flynn turned to face her with a look of shock on his face. “How do you know my name?” he asked. “I know a lot about you Garcia. I know you were an NSA operative. I know you are here as you are being framed for your wife and daughter’s deaths” she replied. “How do you know all of this?” he asked.

“Do you mind if I call you Flynn?” she asked. “Will it matter?” he asked. “I guess not” she replied. “I am from the future Flynn. I know who killed your family. Rhittenhouse am I right?” she asked. Recognition sparked on his face. “How do you know about Rhittenhouse? Are you Rhittenhouse?” he asked and started to stagger out of his seat. Lucy took a step back. “No I am not Rhittenhouse. In fact I am actually trying to defeat Rhittenhouse and I need your help” she replied. “How can I help?” Flynn asked. Lucy reached into her purse and pulled out a leather bound journal with the initials LP on the front in gold. “This will help you” she replied. “It is important that you stick to the information in this journal” she replied. “And what if I stray?” he asked. “I can’t promise that you will get your family back if you stray” she replied. Flynn glanced down at the journal and looked back up to her.

“For what it is worth I think it is horrible what they have done to you and your family. You will get through this” she replied. She began to walk away. “Wait, wait…” he said as he started to get up from his seat and chase after her. “What is your name?” He asked? “Lucy… Lucy Preston” she replied.

She grabbed her drink from the bar drank it down quickly. She put money down on the counter, knodded at the bartender and walked away.

_______________________________________________________

Wyatt was watching the conversation between Lucy and man in the corner. When he noticed that the man started to stagger toward her he had his hand on his gun at the ready. Within a few seconds the man sat down calm of what he had seen. As Lucy started to walk away from the man Wyatt began to stand up. “Are we done?” Rufus asked. “It looks like it, come on let’s get out of here.” Wyatt replied. The two left the bar within seconds as they saw that Lucy was still talking.

“What is taking her so long?” Wyatt asked. “Why jealous there Wyatt?” Rufus asked. “No I am not jealous” Wyatt replied. “She only needed to drop off a journal… that was it.” he asserted. Within seconds Lucy walked outside and slowly walked up to Wyatt and Rufus. “Did it work?” Rufus asked? “Yes I think it did but only time will tell” Lucy replied.

As Rufus walked ahead of Wyatt and Lucy, Wyatt decided he wasn’t going to wait anymore. “So I have a question” Wyatt asked. “Okay what is that?” she replied. “What do you think about us?” he asked. Lucy stopped and glanced at Wyatt. “What about us?” she asked. “What do you think about us being together?” he asked. “I thought we were together” Lucy replied. “Something about kisses in the bunker and late nights all around I kind of thought we were together” she replied. She looks at him quizical. “Very true. I guess I am saying what if we became official” he asked. “Is this because of Flynn?” Lucy replied. “No, I genuinely want us to be together. Really together like same room, comforting each other… and I’m pretty sure Rufus and Jiya would have no issues with the change of arrangements” he replied. “Are you sure?” she replied. “Luce, we just gave a complete stranger your journal to help make a better future” he replied. “All I want to do is spend what remaining time I have with you. I don’t know what the future holds but I want to do this with you.” he replied. “So how do we begin” she asked. “Just take my hand and we will figure out the rest as we go” he replied.

She took his hand and the walked slowly through the music filled streets of Sao Paulo. When they made it to the lifeboat they looked back. This was it. No going back now. They had just charted an unknown course. Rufus was in the life boat getting ready to take off. He slowly pulled her in for a quick kiss. “We can do this Luce” he replied. “Together” she replied. “Together” he replied. They got into their seats unsure what the future held. Wyatt knew but one thing was for certain, he was going to marry this woman. He wasn’t sure when or how but with everything they had been through he knew it was fate. He felt this deeply and this time he was going to let her get away.