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aggie-postemon · 2 months ago

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The Greater War

Twelve years after the start of the Great War (and ten years since it ended), Alek sits on the throne of Austria. He's got Dylan to thank for it, but even he's not entirely sure why his best friend brought him a country.

Come along for whispered secrets; shouted secrets; courtly intrigue; and, of course, a long-secret romance, revealed at last.

Chapter Three - Counsel and the Council

AO3 | FFN

By the time Alek returned to his chambers for the evening — leaving Dylan curled up in his armchair with Bovril, one hand in the egg crate to feel for the temperature — Alek had almost convinced himself that he was wrong. Dylan had been barely fifteen when he had boarded the Leviathan. Fifteen (or, god forbid, even fourteen) was younger than most people married. This was especially true among commoners, who had no fragile political alliances that early marriage might cement. Still, Dylan's secret was bound up in this concept of a wife. Bound up in his family, who certainly seemed to have marriage on the brain. "Jaspert's not married," Dylan said angrily to his mother one morning. "And he's older than me. Why aren't you on his case?" Jaspert took a long sip of tea, a silent plea to leave him out of the conversation. "Don't worry, Darren," Mrs. Sharp said, flexing to that incorrect name again. "I am on his case. Unfortunately, the village lasses have all turned down my inquiries with extreme prejudice." "Of course they did," Dylan said darkly. That retort seemed to be too much for Jaspert to handle. He put his teacup down sharply, something hard in his expression. "I dunno," Jaspert said. "Think they might be holding out for the dashing Sharp brother from that mover footage. You were supposed to keep a low profile, remember?" Dylan sputtered. "That was twelve years ago, ye great bumrag!" "Ye could've quietly waited out the war with me on the Minotaur, but no, ye needed to stay aloft in a storm, get carted God knows how many miles, and end up on the most famous airship of all time. Then crash in the Alps, meet a blasted Prince Charming of all things. And if that wasn't enough! "You had to be directly involved with destabilizing the Ottoman Empire with a revolution, and oversee your prince become a king. All that's not even mentioning the Mexican revolutionaries who took that footage!" Jaspert was breathing hard, now. It seemed the elder Sharp brother might have had that on his chest for a long while. More reasonably, Mrs. Sharp said, "Three revolutions was a bit much, dear. Governments are allowed to change hands without the input of one very young Scotsman." "Alek was already technically next in line for Austria," Dylan said. "That's hardly throwing a revolution, making sure he lived to take Austria on." Both Mrs. Sharp and Jaspert looked at Dylan like they had their own suspicions about the death of Alek's grand-uncle. So, Alek wasn't the only one. "What? His letter from the Pope was completely legitimate!" "With no one alive to corroborate it, of course," Mrs. Sharp said, eagle-eyed. "I'm sure everyone else who stood to inherit accepted his claim with no ruffled feathers at all." Alek looked down at his hands. Dylan could have had a perfectly ordinary life as a Scottish Airman, if he'd not met Alek.

Except. "If I hadn't dragged him into politics , Dr. Barlow would have." Stabilizing and destabilizing governments would have been Dylan's day job, then. "Not if he'd sent out the panic flag instead of choosing to ride out a storm on a Huxley on his first day," Jaspert said stonily. "Blisters, Jaspert," Dylan said softly. "I thought we'd got through this." "Blisters, Jaspert," Jaspert said, pitching his voice high. "You don't even try anymore, do you? And he still hasn't figured it out." "Oh fuck you," Dylan said. "He's right here." "It won't matter," Jaspert said. "I could fucking spell it out and he'd still be oblivious. We were over this, Darren, back before you gave him another ten years of your life, when he was newly on the throne. Back when I thought he'd know eventually. Know and do right by you." Dylan's expression shuttered completely. "That's never what this was, Jaspert. I'm here because he's my friend, because Austria needs him, and because I damn well want to be. And I am tired of people telling me that I should want something different, that I should want more. If you can't stomach my life here, Jaspert Sharp? You should just go home." "Fuck flying, then." Jaspert said. "I guess you really did just want to be a soldier. His." "Yes! Alek's solider," Dylan hissed, leaning across the table into Jaspert's personal space for emphasis. "That is my job. That is what I signed up for when I left the Air Service!" Jaspert stood from his chair, then. He looked to Alek. "Excuse me, Your Majesty," he said, suddenly all politeness. "This has been a lovely meal, but I think a need to take a walk." "Of course," Alek said. "Thank you for dining with us." Alek was bewildered again. He was spending too much time bewildered, lately. Jaspert Sharp stalked from the room. The door slammed behind him. "He called you the wrong name," Alek said, deciding to address one of his many questions. "Your mother does, sometimes. I've always assumed Darren must be an uncle, or something. I've never heard Jaspert say it, though." "Glaikit wee shite," Mrs. Sharp said, burying her face in one hand. "Fuck me," said Dylan, more simply. "Now that," Mrs. Sharp said, "Is a bridge too far, young man. No fucking until you're married." "I'm twenty-seven!" Dylan said, nearly screeching. "So?" Mrs. Sharp said. "I'm all for a certain amount of swearing among frustrated adults, but I think we all know you mean that one a little too literally." Dylan pushed his plate away, then theatrically slammed his head on the hardwood table. Mrs. Sharp gave a disapproving little hum. "Don't be silly. Think how disappointed Dr. Barlow would be if you damaged that fabricator's brain of yours." Dylan looked to Alek for help. Oh no. Alek was staying out of this one. Mrs. Sharp then looked to Alek for help. "We all know you could get married more or less the moment you wanted to, Dylan. Right, Alek?" Alek floundered for a long moment. "Any woman would be lucky to have you, Dylan." God's wounds, why was that such an awful and awkward sentence to say? Was Alek so reliant on his friend that he resented a theoretical wife Dylan didn't even have yet? He must have said it well enough, though, because Mrs. Sharp beamed at him. "I hate you all," Dylan said.

"Yes, well," said Mrs. Sharp. "That's what mothers and best friends are for." As breakfast broke up, Alek reflected that Jaspert was right. The Sharps had clearly been trying to spell something out for Alek, despite obvious resistance from Dylan, and Alek did, indeed, end the meal oblivious. That it was perhaps undignified for a king to be spoken of that way did not actually occur to him. Alek wondered if his own mother might ever have gotten so forward with Alek if she had lived to see him become a man. She'd be worse, he decided. The lady-in-waiting who'd captured a prince would absolutely be worse. But she'd be subtler about it. Alek smiled at the imagined sight of his mother, Sophie Chotek in all her glory, hassling him about picking a bride. It ached. It would always ache. But it was a good ache, today.

~~~

After that disastrous breakfast, Alek spent more of his waking hours at Dylan's side than was probably productive for either of them, but it was luxurious, being in his friend's presence after time spent apart. Also, Alek couldn't quite stop himself from obsessively watching Dylan's every move, trying not to think too hard on anything at all. The quality time was a good excuse. Dylan could tell, though, and that created tension.

The tension was made worse by the fact that Jaspert was clearly avoiding both of them. Alek made it two days before he tracked down Mrs. Sharp. "Jaspert," he said. "Is he okay?" Mrs. Sharp was in the greenhouse. She set down the baby loris she was teaching the alphabet. "He's fine," she assured. "He's just protective of Dylan, and feeling a bit like a failure." "Because he's not as accomplished as Dylan?" Alek could handle jealousy, but despite Jaspert's words at breakfast, the tone hadn't spoken of jealousy. "Not at all," Mrs. Sharp said. "Jaspert's earned his flowers and he's right where he wants to be. He feels like a failure because I tasked him with being Dylan's protector, and Jaspert managed to lose him the very first day." "I know Dylan was a little young to join the service," Alek said. "But did he really need protection that badly?" "Well, he managed not to die without it," Mrs. Sharp said. "I wasn't sure he would, when he left." "And why was Jaspert even qualified?" Alek asked. "He's not much older than Dylan, and he was very young when he enlisted." "He enlisted behind my back," Mrs. Sharp said. "I lost my husband to the sky. I did not want to lose my children. But Jaspert was officially the head of the household. There was nothing I could do to stop him." "But you could have stopped Dylan?" Mrs. Sharp turned to face Alek a little more squarely, tugged at the end of her graying braid.

"Not without killing him by inches," she said. "He was dying in Glasgow. Finally, despite my feelings on the matter, despite the fact that he was too young, and despite. Well. Everything else, I had to let him try. I thought he had a better chance of coming back to me alive, whole, if he had Jaspert there to watch his back. And I knew Dylan would watch Jaspert's back in turn. Honestly, I thought he'd be caught right away, laughed straight off the proving ground. He'd come home, miserable, but at least he would have known he tried." "Because he was a year too young?" Mrs. Sharp gave Alek a wry smile. "Let's go with that." "So because of his other secret, then," Alek said. "You've figured out that he has a secret, then?" Mrs. Sharp said. "You're less of a numpty than we thought." "You had the right of it, I'm afraid," Alek said. "I overheard a conversation between him and Count Volger the night before he left for London. They didn't say what it was, or even that he had one. It's just that they were clearly talking around a truth I didn't know." "And did you ask the Count?" Mrs. Sharp asked, eyes glittering. "I spoke to him," Alek said. "But he said, and I agree, that I should hear it from Dylan whenever he's ready. So I don't know what it is. I said I'd try not to guess, so I'm also trying not to think on it too deeply." Alek shrugged. "Doesn't stop me from thinking about it constantly." "Oh, Alek," Mrs. Sharp said, before pulling him into a hug. "You sweet boy. You must know he isn't keeping it from you to hurt you." Ten years ago, twelve years ago, Alek would not have felt so sure. Today, he submitted to Mrs. Sharp's embrace and mumbled into her shoulder, "I know." He did know. "I promised Volger I would try to take it well, when and if he tells me." "He will," Mrs. Sharp promised, pulling away to look at him, a hand on each of his shoulders. "Keeping up the act gets harder every year. Mostly because he hates hiding anything from you." "I've never been able to hide anything from him, not for long." "Believe it or not, except for this one tiny detail, Darren feels the same way." And now Alek knew that had to be intentional. He picked up a loris, just to do something with his hands. "Why do you call him that?" Mrs. Sharp practically smirked at him. "I believe, young monarch, that you are overdue to find that out. A little more patience is all I ask." Alek stared at her, dumbfounded. Darren wasn't just an odd substitution with some uncle or cousin. "By God, that's his name." Mrs. Sharp tilted her head. "I'm almost certain you're spelling it wrong in your head. It's Scottish Deryn. Not English Darren. But explaining it would give the game away. And I think your Volger is right, you should hear it from him. He should have the opportunity to tell you." "Understood," Alek said. "I'll talk to Jaspert," Mrs. Sharp said. "I think these developments will make him feel better." "Good," Alek said, and was kind of surprised to find he meant it. He thought Jaspert had come a little too near to hurting Dylan's feelings at the breakfast where everything had gone to Hell. With that, Alek made his excuses. He had work to do, a council to contend with. As he picked his way back inside his father's castle, he realized that Dylan almost definitely did not have a wife. Not if he'd been dying by inches under his mother's watchful eye, a fourteen-year-old in Glasgow. A wife wouldn't have gotten him laughed off the proving grounds, either. Alek breathed in deeply, settling into a prevailing sense of relief.

~~~

When Alek walked into his next council meeting, he was whistling.

Dylan - Darren? some Scottish variety of Darren? - was already there. He was draped in one of the official council room's hard-backed chairs, an arm thrown carelessly behind him, one knee to his chest.

The Austrian noblemen already looked furious with him.

The ragtag assemblage of merchants and farmers and factory laborers that Dylan had picked up over the years looked like they were desperately trying not to laugh.

Dylan, of course, had brought the crate of eggs. They could almost certainly be left alone for an hour at this stage in their development, but they rattled the dyed-in-the-wool Clankers in the room, and Dylan loved rattling dyed-in-the-wool-Clankers. Everyone needs hobbies.

"Why must you persist in breeding these abominations against God?" asked one of the nobles. He was talking to Dylan, but he'd obviously waited until Alek was in the room to say it. Alek's nobles were more then a little afraid of Dylan.

Dylan ignored the question in favor of cooing at the egg box, shifting one of the heaters, a smile in the corner of his mouth.

"They're a symbol of Clanker-Darwinist cooperation," Alek answered firmly. "They give Austria an air of neutrality we cannot afford to lose."

"That," Dylan said. "Also, look at them. They're cute."

Distinctly, the noble wrinkled his nose at Dylan, but he only responded to Alek. "They make you look like a Darwinist, that's hardly neutral."

How this was true when Alek also devoted not insignificant tax dollars to Master Klopp's project in Prague — a school of mechanics for both nobles and commoners — Alek was not sure.

But it was clearly one man's opinion, so it was not impossible that others might share it.

Dylan, however, looked frosty. "Would you call either Japan or America Darwinist? Their unique blends of technology protected them both during the Great War, kept them out of things for longer then the rest of us."

"Austria is hardly America," the nobleman spat, America a curse in his mouth

"True," Dylan said. "We lost territory in the Treaty of Versailles."

Alek cleared his throat, suddenly sure that this disagreement would come to blows if he didn't intervene. "I'd appreciate a little more civility," he said. The nobleman looked triumphant. "From both of you, Duke, Mr. Sharp."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Austrian nobles said Alek's titles like insults, back when he was but the son of a lady-in-waiting. Many still did.

Alas, even as King of Austria, Alek was the son of a lady-in-waiting. At the end of things, he was Sophie's son before anything else. Sophie's son and Dylan's friend.

"Now," Alek said. "In the interest of civility, we need to talk about some of these tax requests. I understand that expenses are going up, but that is also true for the common folk. We cannot make them bear that burden alone. And that is why I called all of you here today, to attempt to broker a compromise between all the social classes that leaves everyone with enough money."

"They want a tax increase?" one of the farmers said, a note of panic in his voice. "Your Majesty, the farmers don't have it!"

"Right," Alek said. "Again that's why I wanted everyone here. So we can talk about the rates that work for everyone." Nobody looked happy, but honestly, that was Alek-and-Dylan's specialty.

...Alek had dragged them both to Austria, and honestly, one of these days an assassination attempt was going to actually work. Alek thought, rather unpleasantly, that he was just like his father.

At the end of the meeting, when Alek had stopped his nobles from bleeding the farmers dry, but had left the merchants and laborers perhaps a little less happy, Alek saw one of the laborers pass Dylan a surreptitious note.

That laborer, Alek knew, was a union organizer, with connections across German-speaking Europe.

Moreover, and Alek wasn't sure how formal this was, he was one of Dylan's primary information gatherers. He had access to a startling number of contacts, and he reported on all of them to Dylan.

Alek did understand that it was Dylan to whom this man had pledged his loyalty, and Alek honestly approved. He had the distinct impression, sometimes, that it was Dylan who ruled Austria. Alek was only there to keep the nobility from kicking up a fuss about it.

Dylan clapped a hand on the laborer's shoulder, slipped the note into his breast pocket, sewn a little low in his jacket.

"How is your wife and daughter?" Dylan asked, and Alek wasn't sure if it was out of genuine interest or just to disguise the exchange. Alek would have thought the exchange was blatant to anyone with eyes. Over the years, however, he had learned that he watched Dylan more closely than anyone else did.

The laborer glowed. His daughter, it turned out, had enrolled at Klopp's school. That had been one of Dylan's odd little insistences, that Klopp's school be open to women as well as men.

Dylan beamed at this news, and Alek knew that it was both. That's why Dylan was so effective - he genuinely cared, and he used that to disguise the fact that he'd developed a spy network under the counsel's nose.

Dylan made his way through the room, exchanging pleasantries with everyone, and receiving notes from a farmer and a member of minor nobility. Also, from one of Konopiste's staff, who were always welcome to sit in on these meetings, though few ever did.

Alek mingled. Making something akin to friends out of his councilmen was more than just a nicety - it kept him alive.

Unfortunately, Alek was not as good at making friends as Dylan. As soon as it was politically appropriate, he left the room, headed to the private council room where he debriefed with Dylan and Volger alone.

When Dylan and Volger joined him, Dylan's eyes were cold. "I'll be staying in your chambers tonight," he said. "Ma can watch the eggs."

"Oh?" Volger said, back in that silky tone.

"Come off it, Count," Dylan said, flapping an impatient hand. "I've been saying I don't like the collective tone in Prague for months, now."

"Ah," Volger said.

"You think there's going to be an attempt?" Alek said worriedly.

Dylan fished a pile of notes from his breast pocket, more than even Alek had seen exchange hands. "I've got reports from the union fellow, from members of nobility, and from a member of the castle staff who overheard an exchange. There's going to be an attempt. The question is when."

"Do you know who?" Alek said.

Dylan grimaced. "Yes, but I'm not sure how deep it goes or how many allies he has. And Alek, I need you to act normal."

Yes, Alek was a terrible actor. "Right," he said. "You know I trust you. I was just curious."

An odd current passed between them then, because Alek did trust Dylan, but this was the first time he'd needed to since discovering that there were secrets between them. He didn't like it, but the trust was still there.

That night, Dylan prepared Alek's meal. He was a surprisingly good cook of simple fare, but Alek knew he hated doing it. Most of the time. Alek trusted the castle staff, but cooking seemed to comfort Dylan, when they both knew that Alek's parents had been taken by poison, right along with their taster. The poison had been too slow-acting to show immediate effects.

"I sent Ma to town in disguise to buy ingredients," Dylan said. "Just in case."

That sounded a little excessive to Alek, but, "Thank you, Dylan."

"She wanted to cook, too, when I explained the situation, but you know."

"I know," Alek said. Dylan's own assassination attempts over the years had given Alek the impulse to do everything with his own hands, see everything with his own eyes, until he could really believe that Dylan was safe.

Alek ate a plate of bangers and mash, with, he understood, exactly the wrong kind of sausage. He himself wasn't enough of a connoisseur to know the difference.

"There's also sauerkraut." Dylan said, producing a jar of it from nowhere. "Ma bullied the cook into giving her the recipe, and she's been fermenting this jar in her room, so it should be safe. You do need a vegetable."

Alek gave it a hesitant taste. "I think I love your mother," he said.

"She loves you too, you know. That's why she asked for the sauerkraut recipe to begin with."

Alek wouldn't say that sauerkraut was a favorite food of his, but the attempt at kindness was so endearing that he decided that Mrs. Sharp's sauerkraut specifically was going onto his favorites list, now and forever. She'd included the juniper berries and caraway seeds and everything.

He heaped a large forkful onto his plate, decided he loved the tang of it in contrast to the blander British fare. "I'll be sure to thank her," Alek said. "For both the sauerkraut and the market run."

That night, they made a show of going into their separate chambers, in plain view of any number of castle staff. Barely an hour passed before Dylan slipped in through Alek's window. Genuinely, Alek had no damn idea how Dylan did that. The walls were sheer, the balconies were well separated.

There was a flurry of activity in the deepening dusk as Dylan checked the room. The sun set. Lamps were blown out.

"Sleep," Dylan said, sitting in one of Alek's armchairs, facing the door in total darkness.

It was like a spell. Alek slept, and did not wake until he heard a strangled scream, and a body hitting the floor.

He sat up. Dylan had not left the armchair. A woman — a new kitchen hire, if Alek remembered rightly — gurgled on the flagstone, one of Dylan's knives in her neck.

At first, Alek thought Dylan had made some horrible, awful mistake, but as he slipped from his bed covers to take a closer look, he saw that the woman's fingers were twitching around the handle of a knife of her own.

There was a knock at the door. Alek jerked to look at it. "It's me," came Volger's voice. "I'm coming in, stay your hand, Mr. Sharp."

Light spilled briefly into the room from the hallway. Volger wasted no time in shutting the door behind him, dark eyes going straight to the body. "My God," he said. He looked at Dylan. "You know who organized this?"

"Yes," Dylan said. "He will have quietly retired to the countryside by morning."

"Good," said Volger. "Good. You take care of that. I'll clean up in here."

Alek could see the war in Dylan's expression. He did not want to let Alek out of his sight, but he also wanted to see the job finished for himself. For a long moment, Dylan studied Volger's face. "Don't let him out of your sight. Even if that means cleaning up together."

Volger frowned. Neither Volger nor Dylan liked to let Alek's hands get dirty.

"I can help," Alek said, because Volger and Dylan were his men, and Alek would never ask his men to do something he would not do himself. "Dylan? Whomever he is, bring him down. Only cowards hide behind women."

Dylan nodded, placed a hand on the door to the balcony. "I will. But Alek? Women are full well capable of being monsters. She wasn't tricked or manipulated into this. She wanted you dead. Don't doubt that."

"Mr. Sharp," Volger said. "This is not the time for a battle of the sexes."

"Just think about it," Dylan said. "And keep your blasted eyes open. I think this is all we can expect for the night, but it's not impossible a fail-safe escaped my network."

"Of course," Volger said.

"I'll be careful," Alek promised.

Dylan nodded tightly, passed through the balcony doors, then hoisted himself over the balcony railing and out of sight.

Alek looked at the dead woman on his bedroom floor. "God's wounds."

Volger set to rolling her up in the ruined carpet — an older one, set out for this exact purpose. "God's wounds indeed."

Alek felt they might be talking about different things.

#dalek leviathan #leviathan series #leviathan fanfiction #leviathan trilogy #deryn sharp #alek von hohenburg #jaspert sharp #ma sharp

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whomst-the-hell · 3 months ago

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just finished obx4 (yikes lol) so heres my thoughts: the entire jj plotline died in the water nd it dragged the rest of the story with it (THIS IS THE FAULT OF THE WRITERS NOT THE ACTOR. I KNOW THEY KILLED HIM OFF BECAUSE THE ACTOR WANTED TO LEAVE. THAT IS COMPLETELY WITHIN HIS RIGHTS, AND IT WAS THE WRITERS’ JOB TO DEAL WITH IT. CLEARLY THEY DIDNT. STOP BEING WEIRD)

ok anyway my thoughts on the show: i was so fucking excited. i love pirates, they said edward teach i was saying yippee hooray and other things of that nature. but this season was not about treasure it was about jj and a lazy soap opera ass plot twist. chandler groff singlehandedly made the show worse. if the barbary pirates had been the primary villains, focus could have stayed on what should have been the A plot (the treasure hunt) but for some fucking reason they decided to introduce a second tangentially related guy and make him the main villain by retconning JJs whole deal. this snowballed into literally every other character (JJs arc was incredibly lame and underwhelming, kiara didnt do anything the whole season, pope and cleo were off on their own basically the whole time and also OOC af, and john b and sarah’s plotline was only better than JJs because the bar was in hell, the barbary pirates were largely redundant and forgettable (did they even have names??) and rafe seemed like he was kinda just. there for some reason??)

like ok sure. jj is a fan favourite character, and so far the A plots (treasure hunts) have mostly focused on, in order, john b, sarah, and pope. so you want s4 to focus on jj. logical. at the end of the season you’re going to have to write jj out of the show, because for whatever reason the actor is quitting. bit of a wrench, but if you’re any good at your job you should be able to do it. if i had to make barbary pirates personally relevant to jj maybank, i would have just made his mum one of them. like she has no prior lore AT ALL. you can do the gutpunch thing, because you could have so easily made out that jj romanticised his mum in some way, fantasised about her coming to save him, thought of her as the better parent, etc, and then it turns out, no, both your parents suck, its smugglers and pirates and salt lifers all the way back. he spirals, he loses sight of himself, he crashes the fuck out to warpigs with red and green lighting (cool as fuck) and then when push comes to shove he sacrifices himself for his friends (instead of having a useless redundant death after all the action was done anyway) and shows that he is better than where he came from. i even think having jj be the one to die could be thematic because, for a lot of viewers including me, the first taste of real brutality in the show was the scene with luke and jj in the car in s1. having jj be the one to die could have been sort of meaningful because (if you hadnt shot yourself in the fucking foot with a bullshit secret father reveal) jj is the most emblematic of “pogues” like literally in the intro monologue john b says he’s a proper salt lifer, hes fucking proper white trash poverty, so of course the brutality hits him first, brutality always hits them first, thats the point, thats the tragedy at the heart of it all

i just feel like if he had to die you should have done something with it?

#obx #is this. legible?

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uwoninternet · 1 year ago

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Death's annoyer. (GN reader)

____[💀]____

Summary: you are death, there is no easy way to describe your nature, your entire existence revolves around the passing of the living and making sure it gets done. Sure, when you get bored or in one of your merciful moods, you slack a little and a life gets some more time to kill before...you end It, no, don't make that joke....or for them to get help and no, you were also not talking about the QiQi incident, what are zombies?

It's a lonesome...life? But it's calm and you like It well enough, now, If that f*cking Outlander just stopped with his magical reviving fried eggs your work would be way easier.

Pairing: (SLIGHTLY ) Aether x reader

(Is more of a self discovery trip that was inspired by rage and curiosity Aether causes you, but you're also dense to the fact people don't Go around calling strangers handsome Knight for s*its and giggles.)

Warnings: violence ( burns, broken bones are aluded, poping ears) and death are discussed in this oneshot.

Spoilers: for Mondstadt, Liyue Archons Quest.

Soooo.....Have you guys heard CG5 music, "DEATH"? Is about DreamWorks newest concept of death incarnate of a Wolf in the new pussy in bots movie, that I know everyone knows, because ,god, so many thirst and shipping. Which, I absolutely love even If I don't exactly get It, I just like to see everyone having fun in their fandoms. 😅

You are a reaper and this is just basically you slowly losing your mind with the reviving mechanics of geishin. You are chill in the start and is slowly going down the unhinged hill, because this is my mood now so gather around for my TED talk.

*cof* *cof*....

Local reaper goes human mode and touches grass.

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DAY 1.

Dvalin was poisoned, a pity, such majestic beast commanded like a plaything in a weird game of power. You undestand the -what was her title again? - outlander stuck in your home, Khaenri'ah was...a loaded time, EVEN for you and you were death in its purest form! Your whole thing was guiding the living in the best way possible and still, If you used any form other than being a thing of raw energy to do the reaping ,your stomachs would roll in itself.

However, you didn't play a part, life does its thing and you do yours, If They brought powerful beings into existence and they decide to end others, your job were comforting the...losing side. The little guy, and - If karma works. - reap the power in the root when They no longer play their part in life's game, the cycle that always end with you. Hey! You didn't always got to laugh and irony would always get a chuckle out of you, for how much life's spectacle confuses you and you prefer to avoid It, They could construct clever plot twists.

DAY 30.

Another Outlander.

Twin to that princess - you finally caught on how she calls herself! -, and just as full of surprises of all other outlanders, seriously! Can't Teyvat get a nice and chill visitor just enjoying some vacation?

This one seems more benevolent, at least, fitting the role of hero perfectly: shine and long hair, soft spoken yet fierce and ready to jump into action when needed, dashing even If he's marked by lasting scars, he even got the companion who kept his things for him! Still, his sister was also like that at the start.... though her companion has way bigger and...rugged looking than his fairy like child/eons old kid.

He was helping Dvalin in the end and that was enough for you, you always had a soft spot for that big softie, its enourmous heart made of meat, but could fool anyone into thinking It was gold instead. If They could look past the humongous part of his... everything, especially the teeth and and claws. Such protective dragon, It saddened you to see him being played like a fiddle and be turned against the very thing It wanted so desperately to protect - that was an irony in itself, one that didn't make you laugh.

DAY 40.

Okay, what the f*ck?!

Blondie was sent flying down in Dvalin's den, you are sure! You Saw!

It was kinda dumb, poor thing had been thrown like a ragdool to the thousand winds to devour and sure, you were kinda of slacking again, but! You could justify It!

Such lovely fight!

Like a scene out off a children's book when the knight and their friends are losing but win in the last second with the power of friendship! You know, without the dying part.

Just! No one seemed to notice the flying blond Guy going straight to his end! Not even a teeny tiny twitch or a shout of "NO!" like every other dramatic death you reaped, no no no no ... Red, overworked, fairy and drunkard didn't need to, because blondie just...POP!

BACK INTO EXISTENCE! COMPLETE FINE INSTEAD OF TURNING PANCAKE SHAPE. WTF!?!

HOW?!

DAY 45.

It was been five days, five days of following blond hero, supposed to be dead blond hero. Being sincere, you were luck to be able to hold a shadow form, that existed purely of energy, because It would be creepy as Celestia for any other form you could copy to insistenly follow them, no matter how mesmorizing "honorary Knight" could be...or How against the law of everything you are he could bend, f*uck!

Eyes in the game!

Did he have some hidden power? Some odd, ancient, powerful item??

You hope to Celestia and back It was just a one time thing...

Well, he was still in Mondstadt, you had some more time to spare for this topic, right?

....right?

50 DAYS.

Okay! Okay... Everything was going way to fast!

Princess and hero fighting against each other, twins of opposing sides, could It be a ying and yang thing? With a mystery of who is who!

The hero was extremely quiet, emitting a sadness not even your untangible form could not feel too, but f*uck this! He is going to Liyue and you still haven't discovered which thing he uses to avoid you!

A hilichurl go a little crazy with a shield and takes him to a lovely yet extremely painful little walk? Thats Fine! He can eat an egg and everything is fine!

A teammate of his is burnt off by an abyssmal mage? EGG!

A slime pushes him a little too far while he is too close to the far end of a cliff? He can use his paraglide, but If he isn't fast enough, WHO CARES?! IT'S NOT LIKE HE CAN DIE! HE EATS A F*CKING EGG!

Maybe...maybe It was the egg?

60 DAYS.

You've been following him and his companion, not blinking, not resting, not breathing nor looking away, a shadow shadowing a hero like his on shadow. Wow, too many shadows being thrown around, BUT, while boring, you finally have seen.

He didn't seen to choose a especific bird, any seemed to do the job just fine as long as It laid eggs, still, you follow and keep a sharp eye for the most robust and lively bird he picks from. The one you don't feel the pull yet, solely a child of life enjoying the ripe of Its youth, and absolutely ready to lay equally lively children, that...ok, you just needed to test! One egg would be enough! It could keep its offspring after you solved this mystery.

---

Time has come, he picked the eggs of a beautiful and lovely dove, big and chubby and ,most important, healthy.

After reflecting for a long time while following the hero, you've decided to pick It for adoption, carry It as your own little companion If you will! And you would also pick your human form so you may care for It to the best of your abilities.

After waiting till the hero crossed Liyue's borders, under your watchful gaze, till he's just a blonde faraway point, you turn. Your shadows slowly form a body, human, something that resembles life and still, resounding an aurea that stinks of death. Fragile, extremely fragile body, which you so forgetful forgot.

Cries, pleads and shouts fills your ears, images of the ill, the hurt and the desperate fills your eyes, your skin feels every tear and stab and bruise of those waiting for you. Everything it's too much!

The dead screams!

Pleads for time and the end of It, begs for the clock to stop and rush at the same time, for another chance of life, but for the mercy to let the pain end. "DAYS! Too many days!" - They screech.

Your ears pop, the pain so great your knees tremble and bend, your stomach spasms and, EVEN as empty as It is at the moment, you vomit. Burning sensation rises up your throat, a cought tries to open passage for air for your lungs and It causes you to choke in spit and the acid of your gut. Everything, EVERYTHING ,hurts, just like all the souls you left hanging while in your obssessive Quest for the truth and with just a painful ringing to keep you company,you faint.

----

65 DAYS.

Sooo....you came to the conclusion that holding an obssession wasn't ideal, thus you decided your shadow form should be kept away for now. It's been too long, too long since you used any other "Alive" shape, you obviously didn't notice How long with how powerful and distant from life's essence It were.

Which brings you to your current problem, it's been so long since you were really interested in anything and the moment something caught your eyes...you forgot about the souls that rely on you. They considered luck to be left alone for some moments, time to work on things before passing for real, but soon the pain of a spirit losing itself came for them...and you were the reason

Forget It, you could rely in your human body, be in touch with life's creations and do your f*cking job right! Even If It was overwhelmed easily and got hungry, tired and dirty fast.

Also...catching the dove was harder than you thought.

What? You could be responsible...and you felt kinda lonely not having the omnipotence of your previuosly form...

80 DAYS.

TIM! Your big Dove's name! ❤️

It took some days, but you finally got It to warm up to you! Sure, making Tim move here and there to keep up with your work and the journey of the hero wasn't easy, It didn't like much, but you give It everything It wants to make It comfortable. You even dressed for the winter so your skin won't touch theirs, not corrupting its life.

That also made a Celestia of an experiment, who knew the human body could faint because of the heat? And that Liyue's heat is a nighmare?

But It is also cool diving in the ocean, It is fun hiking in the rocks, It is delicious to taste the cuisine and experience the freshness from drinking the juices of different fruits, it's awesome letting the less bitter souls give you bits of advice about places and things you should do because They had loved to do when the could and actually getting to do It! Overall, passing as a human isn't going that bad... Though the weather could be a little kinder.

90 DAYS.

Tim is taking its sweet time to lay another egg, it's kinda boring, but you mean...Liyue had a false body fall from the sky and the fatui were getting a little too comfortable with going around killing people these days in the region, everyone was freaking out, so It may have stressed It. You also didn't make It any easier by observing Tim like a hawk, poor thing must think you want to eat it.

....Ooops.

----

It made you kinda anxious, but Tim needs its privacy to do its things and you aren't feeling the pull for It yet, so you decide its safe to let It be while you go fetch a soul in Huaguang Stone Forest. Beautiful place, its a pity it's so diffucult to reach any of Its peaks in a human body, still work calls and you can't exactly afford to let them waiting for long, so your obssession turned journey of discovered has to have some exceptions of when you can enter in touch with your powers. Although...

Your body dissolves in energy, losing the human form and gently making its bones into some type of jelly before bending them, slowly organs reform, hair puffies before fusing in sections to gain new color and designs, making Itself into feathers, your eyesight expands and languidly, oh so calmly, you aren't a human, but a hawk. Its techinically a loophole in the rules you set for your trip, keeping a corporal body that's also in touch with life's creations while being way faster than going by human feet.

Oohhhh, you are so smart!

You shake your new body, ruffling your wings to see how big the were and to get the feeling of It, you haven't flew in so long using wings! You fling yourself to the sky to get altitude, higher and higher, the wind blows and the rays of moonlight that passes the clouds shines like the purest of silver in this cloudy night.

When you almost reach the clouds, you drop.

It feels exciting! The closest thing you think you can compare to what humans call being alive - and you actually got to meet with life and feel their energy!

With a sharp and loud screech, you start your way to Huaguang Stone Forest for real.

**💀**

It took some time - and what beautiful time It took, such marvelous sights! -, but you reach your goal and roll to the ground when you land, your newly body doing the closest sound It can to a snicker even If the sound isn't actually hawk like. Your laugh echos in a weird melody of species with the goop sound your organs and bones do as They shift, rearrange.

After many minutes go by, a human lay where the strange hawk stod, gasping in laughter with an undoubtedly humane tone. Maybe with some snorts close to that of a pig, but human like altogether in the end.

You left your winter clothes behind, Tim had been sleeping in them and you haven't had the need to touch It so you didn't feel the need to bring with you...also, a hawk can't exactly fly with clothes hanging in its body - not human clothes, at least.

So...stolen clothes would do!

You slowly stand up, the grass your naked skin touched losing its vibrance, yet It is still alive, having the shell of meat in human form do work in keeping you aura at bay. Even If It still has influence in weaker beings or strong ones, If for exposure in prolonged time. You hope you won't have to engage in combat for clothes...

As If nature Itself heard you, multiple bodies appear in your path. Knocked out, you aren't that tone deaf to steal from the dead...at least, not while they are still around, but from life?! Ooohhhh!! It's fair game! If you don't leave them naked, humans don't like naked for what your experience has to say...

You walk around the sleeping, It feels like shopping! Maybe you should invest in a pouch for the shine rocks or golden coins humans use for trade to keep with you, maybe you ...sho-should you leave something for what you take? Is this some type of shopping?

Hugh....humans and their social rules! Why do they have so many?!

... whatever, picking the fatui's coat that appealed more to you, you focus on following the stench of the dead. Which...is a strangely convenient coincidence that the trail of knocked out people also lead to the same way.

Is your new child a fighter?! This trip was getting more and more entertaining by the second! Can they tell their tales to you??

Maybe They liked to travel! Seeing Liyue trouthg the eyes of a human was nothing like experiencing trouthg an overpowered shadow form, you couldn't wait to see other regions! But your trip kept you close to the blond who seemed to atract problems, so you had to settle in Liyue and tales by mouth to mouth would have to suffice for now.

With a spring in your step, you jump fatui and treasure hoarders alike, all in the arms of sleep trouthg a good beating. Maybe your child is a wanderer. Maybe They were in a rough patch in their life and turned to the treasure hoarders. Maybe They were vigilantes!

Countless 'maybe's fly trouthg your head, many 'what if's forming would be scenarios. Which would have made you pass your goal If not for angry screams resounding the hollow trees, a smile form in your lips, "peek a boo, I found you" you whisper gently.

Your steps don't make any sound, and in teory It would be 'whatever', as young humans put It, but the back that greeted you were very much alive and talking to a not so much alive ghost. A ghost who is starting to look very angry, very fast.

"no ~ no ~ no!!! ~ This is unfair!! ~ I'm the adventurer!"

"Not so much anymore, hehe, but you can still explore the afterlife!" - the girl(?), long pigtails individual, said amiably. Twisting and turning a red, fiery looking polearm this and that way in a distracted manner.

"do you think you're funny?! ~ do you think you're better because you could take that low lifes dow?!"

"Maybe a little bit" - pigtails say with a shrug, which wow! That lithe and small person could cause a havoc! And either They are obvious or have some guts in them!

Your child is looking more and more furious by the second! Red smoke distorcing the figure their soul is trying hold, closest It can to their previous shell. One day and a half isn't enough to let them completely lose It, but still...at least you now know their anger seems to be the thing keeping them stuck at the mortal plane.

"i Will show you funny ~"

The second They shift, you jump from behind the trees. That phrase is never a good sign...

"Wait, wait, come back, my child!" - you extend your arms to the fading spirit, yet its all in vain as they don't even acknowledge you.

Which isn't the case to pigtails...

"Oh! Hello, there stranger!" - pigtails cheerfully says before taking a defensive stand, keeping you behind her as a protector would. "Haven't you ever heard of stranger danger, silly?"

"Well, have you, young lad?" - you put your hands in your waist, now that you're closer you feel the stronger pull of youth coming from pigtails. They are definitely a briliant being,the pryo inside them ravages like a beast and yet, the smell of your natural perfume clings to them. Death is a part of their nature...however, life shines through them? What the Celestial f*ck?...

"fast comeback, but oh! So unoriginal, odd stranger, I'm not the one looking like a step away from passing beyond the veil, you better take better care of your healthy," - she spares a second to lightly pat your cheek while giving you a big smile, almost makes you feel like you are the youngester here. - "Or not! But before going down remember to appoint wangshu funeral parlor for the service!" - she winks before looking ahead once again. Straightening her back and readjusting her hold on the spear.

Wangshu funeral parlor?...OH!! How could you forget your little helpers of Liyue? There isn't many people that admire your job like that family do!Ah! This must be the 77° now, Tao or something, carrying your message of harmony....wait a minute....wait a damn minute!

"Hey! What are you insinuating?! I'm stronger and healthier than you!" - looking a step away from passing?! Your human body is fine!

She is silent for a second, before slowly turning her head.

She surveys your apparence, head to toe, though It feels almost like she is just doing this to entertain you... "Sure" - a pitiful smile graces her face.

...

The audacity of this girl!! Uhhhgg!!

The earth quakes, loud sounds of machinery clicking and clacking, starting an engine that should've settled long ago. Also completelly silencing your 'Uhg!', which, 'wow, okay' , couldn't It come when you weren't expressing How infuriating this girl was in a very human like manner?! If you can't use the human sounds to express yourself in their grunting language than why did you even learn in the first place?!

The robot rises and in heavy footsteps approaches you two. So the soul is a fighter after all, If only It didn't want to fight you...

Before you can sight in exasperation, Tao dissapear in a flash of pyro butterflies, going direct to the thing's head. Being sincere, you would be more annoyed at the way people interrupt you in one of the few chances you have to show how much you learnt of the grunting art If not for how fierce the butterflies attack the giant, before the teen appears to give it some taste of her spear.

Haha, you have seen butterflies drink the blood of corpses, but this was another level! You can only stare!

This girl had some spunk! Or...anger issues, but whatever! This was a great fight and If she won, your job would be done! A wounded pride can do wonders to one of your children when trowning tantrums about not wanting to join you.

You sit back, a smile tugs your lips, that is until she purposely stops. Just stops, staring the robot as If a giant fist isn't heading straight to her stomach!

And straight into It goes, you can't even approache before she is flung to your feet! You swear you hear a sick clack of breaking bones.

The giant jumps and, as impressive as It is to see that the sack of heavy machinery can actually jump and pretty high at that, you know is planning to use your skulls as landing marks. You are death, but you aren't a masochist!

You catch the girl by the armpits and drags her back. The thing lands - right in front of you two. -, dust rises. Okay, this is It, this naughty child has had it's fun, but is time to settle down now.

You embrace the girl with one of your arms - is time to protect her as she tried to do to you, also show you aren't at death's door! That doesn't even make sense, what door? And How would you be at your own door knocking?! - and raises an arm to the things leg. Touching it's knee, you feel it's essence being sucked into your palm, you look at it's eye - red laser pointing diretcly at your chest, the missils almost ready to fly no doubt- , still you try to put some comfort through your eyes to your child, "Is time to go-

A hellfire explodes in your arm, ironically, is not the arm touching the robot, no, is the one holding the girl. A ghost, butterflies, all engulfed in pryo, embers so high and bright and so, so hot!You let go, your body flings Itself away. Letting go of both the mechanical body as the human you were holding.

And yet, for as far as you went in your desperation and pain, an enourmous fist comes crashing into your side - the one who isn't on fire, as If the peeling skin isn't enough. Stars explodes behind your eyes, burning pain erupts everywhere - even your brain seems to be boiling. Hearing a girlish shout as the last thing echoing in your ears, you once again faint to an extreme amount of pain since your first day of being human. How long did you last since then?

At least, this time, your ears didn't pop ...

____ [💀] ____

Well, this is It for now. The idea started with something, but It just ran wild to where It wanted to go. Please, warn me If something is odd...english isn't my first language and If someone wants to be a beta reader It would be cool too.

Anyway, I am a very slow writer, my determination goes all over the place and my inspiration often decides to take vacations on me, so...enjoy the thing I could squeeze out of the juices my brain been marinating. I hope you guys like! Next chapter I'm sure we will be meeting Qiqi and Baizhu!

Good day my lovelies, remember to drink water, Granny loves y'll!!

#geishin impact platonic #geishin impact x reader #geishin impact Aether x reader #death reader #i swear i had a plan originally #the idea just went wild and decided to ignore #you are literally in love with being alive #geishin x you #geishin impact x you

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wirewitchviolet · 2 years ago

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The Entire Plot of Final Fantasy 14, with all the expansions, and some serious analysis of how good it actually is. (Part 4 - Post-Heavensward)

At this point my schedule for posting these is mainly limited by how rare the windows are where Tumblr will let me hit the “new post” button. Hopefully the congestion clears up soon.

Last time, we got through the end of Heavensward. A story about awful fantasy-catholic blueblooded aristocrats letting their own people starve to death while pursing a genocidal war against some real chill dragons that technically has you helping the terrible people for most of it, but at least you get to kill the pope. Which of course means now Ishgard is going to stop being a horrible place full of terrible bigots, right?

Post-Heavensward

Oh no of course not! The main structural thread of this interim of free patch content is you having to babysit this uneasy peace you mostly established and make sure none of these terrible people mess it up. Or, you know, the big dragon who was the primary aggressor in this thousands-of-years-long war who went ahead and possessed the guy who killed him because for real Estinien what did you think was going to happen when you held both eyes at the same time? Honestly.

There’s a whole bit with someone commissioning a giant version of this mural from Ysayle’s little underground dragon church of the original actual Shiva and Hraesvelgr falling in love to hang outside the gates of the city which I swear is all framed perfectly for all kinds of video edit jokes, possessed Estinein flying in and really starting crap. At one point while having kind of a party someone slips something into the protagonist’s drink before getting a riot started and hey, Warrior of Light, this is the second time that’s happened, maybe lay off wine in the future. Church loyalists don’t like that you killed the pope and exposed their whole everything as a lie, some people still hate dragons, someone tries to assassinate Aymeric, things get pretty damn awful and it largely comes to a head with some jerk flinging a small child off her roof who only survives because one of your chillest of dragon pals just happened to be heading over to maybe have a chat. Ends up being a real good PR moment for team dragon when she catches the kid.

As is usual with this stuff there’s a lot of plot threads running in parallel as we had episodic updates when this first all came out, but this particular topic doesn’t stretch on too much longer, culminating of course with possessed Estinein who has the eyes fused to his armor looking kinda like Nightmare from Soul Calibur and when you fight him he’s flipping between this and a full on dragon form.

Hraesvelgr shows up to help with this mess because seriously, Hraesvelgr is a solid pal. We get some dragon on dragon fighting that doesn’t go super well for the big H, but turns out that’s because his ace in the hole is letting you borrow his eye that was already out and loose and all. So you have your big satisfying one on one (well, 8 on 1, but the plot always pretends those other party members don’t exist) boss fight, then you and Alphinaud tackle him so you can just pry those freaking eyes off his armor and toss them into the massive imposing ravine you’re fighting over. They’re stuck in there pretty good though, and the only way you get them out is with the help of the ghost of Ysayle showing up. Whole band’s back together! Hauchefant’s ghost is here helping too, but I’m sorry, he just did not leave the impression on me the writers figured he would.

Estinein is fine, of course. Again, he’s all tied in with the Dragoon job quests. In fact, when you’re stuck in the boss arena with him in dragon form waiting on party recruitment, you can totally slip out, head to the next town over, advance some Dragoon quest stuff and spar with him a bit before the main event. Stuff like that amuses me. Anyway, this whole confrontation honestly is a very good scene. Someone should really take notes at how much better all this works when you have nice unambiguously good characters not only fighting some evil jerk but actively trying to save people they care about than wannabe Game of Thrones morally grey political stuff and shadowy robed figures with ambiguous goals whispering in people’s ears. And apparently someone is. My understanding is there was a big shift in the writing staff after this expansion and the grimdark folks kinda take a back seat while the woman who wrote the real standouts of the Rogue’s Guild and Dark Knight quest lines got tapped to write the better half of the next expansion and basically everyone for The Good One.

Estinein also finally takes off his busted blood-drenched edgy armor after this, and probably takes like his first bath ever, happy that his militant badass role is no longer needed and he has friends who take care of him. Which is nice but I can’t get over how wrong he looks without the helmet. I know he’s an elf but this semi-femme look is just weird for the guy always pulling the giant eyes out at meetings.

The next major story hook we have going on, which again is pretty intertwined with this one, is that all the less friendly monster folk kinda went and took advantage of your back being turned and started summoning their gods again. Canonically this is like the fourth or fifth time you’ve had to deal with this in some cases, because there is generally some plot justification for having the hard mode versions of those fights crop up (as opposed to the hard mode versions of non-summoned-god boss fights, which are rationalized by there being this bad hanging around who comes up with extra embellished versions of your exploits and then those go into the boss fight a la carte menu).

Hey, didn’t you used to have a whole party of friends whose whole deal was keeping tabs on exactly this sort of thing? Really is high time to get that band together too. Alphinaud has been with you the whole time, getting like half the dialog in the expansion. Y’shtola you dragged out of teleport limbo earlier. Urianger just never left your original base of operations because books are hard to move, you just haven’t checked in (past starting optional boss refight questlines) because who wants to spend time with Urianger? Papalymo and Yda are missing, but we get cutaways now and then showing them hanging out behind enemy lines doing resistance stuff. That still leaves Minfilia and Thancred. Thancred you know made it out because his scuzzy barfly pseudo-spy instincts kicked in and he got out from The Incident early but he’s been way off the grid. To help track him down, you get a little assistance from Matoya eventually, but also from that friend Minfilia’s been trying to invite to join the party since a half-audible phonecall near the climax of the base game, who’s been waylaid since by stuff like the empire full on destroying the island she was living on, Krile. Yes like, from FF5 Krile, has a grandfather named Galuf and everything... and wait where the hell is this line from? This has to be an edit, right?

Aside from being a walking FF5 reference, a big nerd all your nerd friends know from nerd school, and the owner of this custom-made catgirl hoodie, Krile is on that list of Lalafel I can count on one hand who aren’t Just The Worst. Another is Rauban’s adopted son who I think gets introduced around here somewhere. Anyway her and Matoya work out where Thancred’s been hiding. He also headed way up north you just never bumped into him, and he’s had eyes on this odd situation where while in particular the bug hivemind is getting their god up and running again and you show up to do your thing, this other goup of people come out of nowhere and killsteal him.

They introduce themselves as the Warriors of Darkness. Their whole deal is that they WERE the world-saving heroes of an alternate universe, but they claim they saved it a bit too hard, setting off an apocalypse where the whole balance of light and darkness tipped way too hard towards light and now this wave of holy radiance is just gradually glassing their whole world. They came here because one of those Ascian losers taught them the whole die and have your soul head off somewhere else trick, and put it into their heads that they can avert this apocalypse by coming here and scoring enough points for team darkness to screw your world over or kill your plot immunity crystal goddess or some such, but first they need to grind some god refights to power up and presumably recharge their personal metaphysical Zelda crystal chamber progression rooms, like you had to do during Heavensward and maybe spilling into Stormblood? I don’t recall when they all come back online.

The other thing with these guys is you’ve kinda seen them before, sort of, presumably, if you let the whole intro play out in the base game. There’s the whole bit where we see that end of 1.0 apocalyptic scene play out, then these five teleporting into the woods somewhere. The implication was clearly supposed to be that this is a party of 1.0 characters showing up unscathed afterwards but... no we are totally retconning it. This is a group of dimension hoppers party crashing. Actual 1.0 survivors had to start over at level 1 with no gear and nothing to show for it but those 1.0 veteran neck tattoos I’ve seen in the wild all of one time.

This gets real confusing real quick though, because the intro movies for every expansion have a pre-rendered stand-in for your character who looks more or less exactly like the guy in the middle. Also I’m pretty sure what you look like if you just mash through character creation without changing anything from its default postion. Also that central primary actually-took-the-Warrior-job Warrior of Darkness in particular kind of is canonically your sort-of-twin/counterpart from another dimension and I figure the only reason he isn’t actually just straight up given a copy of your character model is he has a ton of voiced lines and they’d sound weird coming from whatever you actually look like. Still super confusing though that when you first see this guy in the intro you incorrectly figure that’s you, and then in all the other intros when you do see you, you might think you’re seeing this guy now that you’ve met him. It’s also weird that they all summon chocobos in hindsight, but whatever we’re retconning an old cutscene now and that oddity only becomes odd in the expansion where we see where these people came from, still several years off.

So, they suck, and go around doing their thing while you’re dealing with other things. Thancred swoops in to help you out when you first meet them, and then later since he’s keeping tabs swoops in when they happen across Allisae when she’s just minding her own business/still waiting for you to find a party for that Bahamut raid already and take her down with a poisoned arrow that almost kills her. Trying to recall if that’s one of the several times when someone mistakes her for Alphinaud or vice versa. There’s definitely one of those the first time she meets Estinein which is pretty great.

There’s also a whole bit where we get cutaways to the Warriors of Darkness having planning sessions with a mysterious shadowy figure that is just so very clearly Urianger. Like that’s a really distinctive beard and also literally not one other person in the entire world talks like that. It doesn’t turn out that Urianger is secretly evil though, just... really curious about their whole backstory and all the interesting cosmology it brings in and stuff. Plus you know, they are trying to save their world from an apocalypse, that’s worth trying to help with, just not with the plan they’re going for. But also like, hey, Urianger, you’re hanging out having chats with an Ascian, that’s never a good plan.

Allisae tags along after getting pretty plainly pulled into this mess, and she’s honestly a pretty cool no nonsense hothead type which balances out all these academic nerds some. She’s around when you meet this tiny little kobold kid freaked out because the local priest is going to sacrifice his parents to summon Titan again, and you show up uh... between the part where he killed this kid’s parents and the summoning bit. The kid’s pretty traumatized by this, and in begging for his parents back, kinda ends up, you know, summoning Titan. Who does not bring his parents back. That is explicitly a thing gods can’t do (at least if you don’t want soulless zombie-like husks of people, they can swing that). But only hackney writing can truly bring back the dead. Interesting side note here, you have to fight Titan again, but it’s not a new fight? It’s just, like, “to proceed with the story please bring up medium difficulty Titan and knock that out real quick.” Weirdest thing. Anyway at the end of this we just have this SUPER traumatized to the point of catatonia kobold kid and Allisae is super invested in his eventual recovery and it’s kind of the defining moment for her character and pays off nicely later.

There’s a lot of lore dumping associated with all this and honestly none of it fits in super well with what’s previously been established about cyclical apocalypses and it all gets retconned pretty hard again the next time it’s relevant and that revison is way better world building than “wow those evil manipulative Ascians sure are trying to make this party of noble* heroes do evil stuff to plunge the whole world into darkness” business.

* I am just never going to be able to let the whole deadly poison in an arrow fired at a random civilian thing go. There’s really no justifying that and it directly conflicts with everything they try to do with these characters later.

Anyway turns out Minfilia’s dead. Kinda. It’s complicated. To work out what’s up with her you have to go bother poor Matoya again and check out the upside down tower in her closet I accidentally mentioned too early. Which arbitrarily ends by the way with a fight against Calcabrina, that really memorable creepy doll fight from FF4. Sadly you can’t skip the big boss by killing all 6 little dolls at once here. So, your personal goddess Hydaelyn has been having connectivity issues for a while (again, this is why you needed an immunization booster in the form of a soul pact with Midgardsomnr, who still pops up to chat here and there and also manifested a cooler mount form for Azys Lla touring). So... when Minfilia was kind of just adrift in the lifestream there with Y’shtola, she kinda went “hey can I like hollow out your body to use as a mouthpiece for talking to the protagonist? It’d really help me out” and not having any sort of actual personality Minfilia agreed. She’s kinda still in there but, yeah. Also like I already assumed, just because this game is so very diligent about hammering home that all religions and gods are inherently false and parasitic, that we’re eventually leading up to a big “and that absolutely includes Hydaelyn” moment, and this here really feels like tipping their hand towards that but... somehow not one single character in the whole game sees this as a red flag or has any problem with it.

Eventually you have your big ol’ showdown with these Warrior of Darkness jerks, and its kind of a neat one showing off a lot of new mechanical concepts that will be commonplace soon, and it’s a big ol’ party vs. party thing where you fight their whole team and the Scions pull their weight for a change helping out. Allisae (who’s never really been formally on the team but is definitely A Party Member from here on out) kinda surprises everyone by announcing she’s sick of being all passive in the background with her little caster book that matches Alphinaud’s and whips out a big ol’ glowing crystal sword she’s gonna try tanking with for a change. After this she decides that’s not really for her and goes for a lighter one once the Red Mage class gets introduced.

So you beat these jerks up and send’em packing back to their home dimension, but you do feel bad for them, so Minfilia/the voice of god goes along with them to see about maybe helping out there. You know, again, we wasted a perfectly good Moonbryda to avoid killing Minfilia off earlier and then we go right and turn around and pull that trigger anyway, basically. And now we’ve just got one and a half major plot developments left and I kinda want to save the one that really sets up the next expansion for last, after I get into the sidequest stuff.

The half though is that somewhere in the middle of all this a real big preposterously tough weirdo samurai washes up by Urianger’s place, having just come over from Doma by just taking a damn rowboat over. Possibly going the long way around the world, too. I just generally enjoy this broad character archetype.

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And yeah it’s weird he’s British in the English dub. It’s weird that everyone’s British. Well everyone but Gaius I guess. When we get to the third expansion people start having accents from other parts of the UK at least for a little variety, but it’s weird. Anyway Gosetsu here is a cool new friend but he’s mostly here to let Yugiri know we’re kinda getting the resistance band going again over in Doma after things were rough enough for a bunch of people to have to immigrate over here and get involved in ninja job quests. Can’t foreshadow things much harder than that.

Time for side stuff though. First off, hey, with all these flying islands we have in this expansion, we really should have some cool friendly air pirates. The sort you’d see in Skies of Arcadia, or various Ghibli films. So we do! They’re fun! And we get involved with them as they’re dealing with this big scary floating doom ship that survived a past apocalypse with some evil guys looking for ancient relics. Typical stuff from those wacky Allag- oh! Hey for like the first and only significant time it’s NOT the Allagan empire! We’re dealing with fallout from one of the OTHER world ending apocalypses and dead civilizations! This isn’t just out of the blue or anything. This stuff does come up a bit in the slew of optional dungeons that opened up after the base game, and in various class/job questlines, particularly like all the spellcaster ones.

Way back when we had three big civilizations of nerds all at once and at war with each other. We’ve got Ampador (white mages), Mhach (black mages), and Nym (scholars). And the big war they had went down in history books as the War of the Magi... because damn if the writers for this game don’t bend over backwards to work in every reference and every maybe-this-is-even-the-same-world-centuries-later deal with every old Final Fantasy game, but especially the SNES ones, and ESPECIALLY FF6. Surviving details are sketchy but basically Nym got taken out with a plague that turned everyone into tonberries, and the other two really went at it until a point where thanks to black mages spamming fire ice and lightning, and white mages spamming wind and earth, the whole world’s elemental alignment got skewed because the only people who ever cast water spells are ninja, and this caused a global flood. Really that’s what this wiki just told me.

The Mhachi got out by building a big flying arc powered by bound demons, including the queen of demons, which is just an absolutely ridiculous and irresponsibly dangerous thing to do and yes I am 100% just setting up a callback joke for when I explain what happens in later expansions. Also the demons are specifically bound in giant coffins, as is the Mhachi style, so... we have this gigantic airship made of coffins looking all Event Horizon and having this general manta rays and mind flayers aesthetic going on. I actually genuinely like that this setting has such a convoluted history with multiple fallen empires just kinda tucked away in the background so we can pull stuff like this out now and then and appreciate the shared themes and aesthetics stuff from various eras has. That’s some solid nerdy world-building I’d like to see more people tackle. I’d also kinda like to see more of it here because for real this is the only time it’s ever not the Allagans.

Helping you deal with all this and giving you ancient history backstory is this weird little familiar that’s survived since Mhachi times whose name is, can you guess the reference we’re dropping? Cait Sith. He looks... odd. Anyway, this is our big alliance raid trilogy for the expansion. Noteworthy cameo bosses include Doomgaze from FF6, who has a bunch of hard to read full party kill attacks and is a lot of fun to learn and then watch other people die to constantly, and Diabolos, who you’re actually fighting for a second time if you did an optional dungeon. Plus a bunch of reasonably original vaguely Gaelic and/or fishy demons.

Anyway speaking of weird little artificially created cute familiars, remember our dumb friend Hildibrand? You pull him out of a snow drift and have some fresh wacky shenanigans with him. This time as you pull him out, you also pull out this adorable as all hell little clockwork Black Mage called Gigi because that’s the sound your little head gears make when your memory isn’t working right, and we didn’t want to just directly go with Vivi. Hildy and his assistant Nashu argue about Gigi’s gender but totally just decide to collectively do the adoptive parents thing. At first they’re living in the gazebo of the noble family you’re still sort of crashing with (and we absolutely get some oldschool RPG nerd gazebo jokes) but eventually they decide if they’re really going to be a proper family they need a gazebo of their own, and settle for a vacant house in Idyllshire, that sort-of-a-town in the ruins of Sharlayan set up by cool goblin pals. Gigi decides their new residence needs a proper family crest too, and creates one.

Gigi is freaking adorable. Oh and Hildy’s dad also shows up during his, at one point using his renowned artisan skills to craft Gigi a new super buff muscle guy body to be a Proper Manderville Man which is pretty great while it lasts. Other little clockwork black mages/vikings/cool little guys with void faces exist incidentally, they’re called mammets and aren’t quite relics of a lost civilization, but were created early enough in the history of the current civilization that people are kinda 50/50 on still having the knowledge to fix them. Gigi is special though having this whole time reversing power that leads to various shenigans and some angsting about not being able to fix everything and a big heroic sacrifice moment leading to a powered down state, after which Gigi goes on your list of little summonable minions along with chicken-Enkidu and a bunch of other random things, to hang out and hopefully remember stuff. Oh and Hildy gets launched like half a world away again because someone points out that if Gigi is his child that makes his incongruously hot and violence-prone mom a grandmother and she cannot deal with that.

Briardien the other inspector from the last batch of Hildy stuff also pops up again, with his own longng line of really just cutscene sidequests and... I’m gonna be real with you. It is some boring Harry-Potter-ask magic school crap and my eyes glazed over as soon as it started and I just kinda blindly mashed through it all to get the little glasses-adjust emote at the end and get those exclamation points off my screen. It’s lame, he’s lame, doing a Harry Potter sort of thing is lame, I don’t care, and I’m glad he never shows up again.

But then we’ve got the "normal” raid set. Seeing chunks of this are literally what got me to take a chance on this game to begin with (well that and it’s totally free up to the end of this post you’re reading), and kept me going through the absolute slog to get to this point. Freaking Alexander as this combination city/god/confusing timefolding thing/set of a dozen or so little mini-dungeons/bossfights with really great music and where you fight a combination of goblin mad scientsts and smaller city-like robots that live inside the big one, some of whom transform.

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It is just a blast playing through this bit. You’ve got all kinds of steampunky little sections where everyone has to split up and dive down big tubes and ride ultraspeedy ultra-thin conveyor belts that careen all through this big city, there’s this wacky mad scientist fight where people have to jump into pools of mystery goo that transforms them into gorillas so they can punch aside big cartoony bombs, the transformer in that bit I just linked where halfway through the fight you have to run over and jump on as it turns into a jet and just nukes the whole arena, then do a timed button press to hop off safely, and of course the specific thing someone showed me that hooked me in is the bit where you fight a set of five robots, then they fight Voltron, with a remix of an earlier track from the area in the style of a 60s tokusatsu theme.

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The plot associated with this is neat too. Alexander is just kinda there, in this big frozen time bubble, barely shifting now and then to get a little bit of itself out and giving you a new entry point. Cid and friends are checking it out, because showing up to check out the cool new techy raid dungeon is their entire deal and a repeated thing. Turns out it just sort of appeared out of nowhere a few years ago, vaporized this one woman’s boyfriend, and vanished, with just a book about it and a cat left behind. One of the local goblins found the book, studied it, decided that Alexander is just the coolest thing, and summoned it the way FF14 people do to be the new utopian home of his people. Cid is horrified by this and says something along the lines of “what kind of a monster takes something as pure and beautiful as a giant robot and goes and makes a god out of it?” So you head through, cool goblin techno getting louder and more distinct as you approach the center, have a big confrontation, time travel mode gets turned on, you all get a good view as you jump back a few years, watch this guy get vaporized, and the head goblin’s cat decide he sucks and hop off with his notebook, realize there’s all sorts of time loop shenanigans as you make friends with his adorable cat.

And of course partway through all this there’s a bit about dead boyfriend gal talking about her people’s creation myths also mentioning what sure seems like Alexander popping up at some point and dumping out her Adam and Eve equivalents, so yeah, that’s where things end up for her and her less-dead-than-suspected boyfriend once all the timeloop business wraps up and you have the proper fight against Alexander, on top of Alexander, with Alexander looming in the background because time and space are all kinda going screwy on you. I swear when people say they like Heavensward what they really mean is they like this Alexander stuff you get access to after it.

Eventually though once you’re done playing with time traveling robots, air pirate demons, building a city for moogles and dragons, helping bugs reject their abusive parents, and leading dance squads for owl people, it is time to get back to that main story progression. Ishgard eventually gets it together enough to come join your alliance, and you’ve finally got the whole continent united to deal with that evil empire. The one that’s been occupying your immediate neighbor for two decades. With all the refugees. Isn’t it, uh, about time you get around to striking back and doing some liberating there? A lot of people sure think it is. This is what Papalymo and Yda have been busy with. That whole coup leading into this expansion was tied into false promises of pushing back there. For some reason though, the collected heads of state aren’t quite willing to push the button there yet though. I guess they want to intercept a fresh attack wave before they counter? That’s the go to plan in strategy games. Maybe deal with the recent summoning wave some?

In any case it really gets under the skin of the local terrorist scene as headed up by Ilberd, that guy who cut Rauban’s arm off, and they decide it’s time to force everyone’s hand by stealing a bunch of military uniforms from everyone else and assaulting the nearest imperial stronghold themselves. I am fully in support of this plan, honestly, people are really dragging their feet too much. Unfortuantely the Empire has, you know, lots of guns and death robots and while they’re too blindsided to get the real heavy ordinance out, Ilberd stole uniforms from EVERYONE, and has this whole Watchmen plan going which involves his own assault squad getting pretty well slaughtered even as you and your actual armies rush in to help, because all of them getting desperate and panicky and him busting out a big ol’ bit of aether storage in the form of one of Nidhogg’s eyes he climbed down to get from the big hole you tossed it down let’s him do a big ol’ large scale summoning. You suck Ilberd. Could have just forced a war all regular.

It seems like the new summon is coming in all extra huge and Bahamut looking, and Papalymo, having recently borrowed what’s left of Louisoix’s staff (oh yeah, there was a whole thing with Ascians wanting that because it has some ancient super good aether channeling rock built in, this came up with the Moonbryda stuff I think), decides to recreate that whole save world from giant god dragon thing from the ol’ intro, despite the fact that he knows it kills the caster, and the fact that like, you’re right there. You kill gods, it’s your whole thing, you could take it. Yda’s pretty upset with this plan because those two are pretty close and goes all “if you’re dying here so am I.” Thancred just goes “no you’re freaking not” and drags her off. Hey, finally everyone’s getting some real characterization here. Anyway Papalymo’s dead. I guess that’s kinda tragic. He’s certainly been around the whole time. If I’m honest he was never really well established though? He’s a healer, he fusses over people like C-3PO. I guess he’s on that short list of Lalafel I don’t hate. But the most interesting thing about him is a bit we only just find out here now that he’s dead.

Yda is also dead. Has been for some time. Apparently since some time in 1.0, even. The original Yda was a monk with serious self-esteem issues with her face and/or a desire to hide her traditional Ala Migan face tattoos, and therefore always wore a mask, so when she died in some big attack, her younger sister Lyse just had to steal her mask and pretend to be her for uh... basically as long as anyone present has known her aside from Papalymo. The big reveal is that like most of the Scions, she has these fancy neck tattoos everyone in 1.0′s Scions equivalent had, but the real Yda died after getting those, and these were an illusion Papalymo was creating. I feel like this would land a lot better if the real Yda died more recently, like, oh, when things went bad in Ul’dah? But even then she hadn’t really been established as much of a character. Just a little bit of a bimbo, kicks people, hangs with the short healer. But it’s pretty significant to her, so she’s ditching the mask, going back to using her real name, and really keen on being basically the main character for the next expansion like Alphinaud was for this one since the whole fallen fortress/giant god summon thing did totally force everyone’s hand.

Oh but first that there god is still there, just kinda temporarily bound, and we don’t have a moon handy to lock it up in. Which of course means it’s time for you to kill it right? Well... normally it would be, but Cid and Nero are kinda “on again” just now and Nero found this cool robot buried underground and mostly worked out the manual and he just really really pretty please wants to see a big cool CGI fest cutscene where a big Godzilla-ish spacey dragon fights a weird vaguely Gamera like robot. This is objectively a horrible idea, for the record. You totally can and do just go punch that dragon to death like every other god, and Nero’s robot kinda goes on to cause a real problem in the next post-expansion, and then again like, time of writing, the Ultimate difficulty fight with it has only been beaten once by people who were exposed as flagrantly cheating. That’s all on you Nero, so I hope you enjoy your pointlessly indulgent cutscene.

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Are you happy now Nero? Are you? You know I STILL haven’t finished FF5 thanks to Omega. Gotta go and add that to this game too huh, well I hope you’re happy. I guess big dragons and robots fighting in cutscenes is a series tradition though, and it’ kind of neat to get a preview of what some bosses’ deals are going to be WELL in advance of when you get to fight them. For now they’re both down for the count, we get a shot of the Domans heading home, the main villain for the next expansion seeing and appreciating that splashy fight because that’s the sort of thing he’s into, and for the 4th time, we have a very long credits roll, marking the end of what you can play without putting up any cash. Which is admittedly a solid chunk of game, only most of which is super boring and tedious!

So yeah, again, I honestly straight up do not like Heavensward. Too much time hanging out with just the absolute worst people, even if you do get to personally kill kind of a lot of them, and none of the dungeons or boss fights are particularly interesting either (Bismark would be if it had teeth). Post-Heavensward though? Pretty solid overall. We really start fleshing out the main cast, and have some really just bonkers side quests with a lot of creative energy and memorable moments. As of here though I would still say no FF14 is a terrible game with a bad plot but has some really neat optional content once you’re an expansion deep. And I would have to stop here since again, this is where the free version ends, and while I got here just around the end of when the free-trial availability’s hammering of the servers forced them to shut down new character registration and I could invite some friends in, they all bounced off before even the first dungeon. People I know who’d been in it a while though went and gifted me the other expansions and several months of time cards though, so next post I’ll be talking about the second expansion. Is that where things finally get good? Eh kinda. They get pretty OK at least. It does weird me out that things get much more enjoyable right at the point you need to put money in though.

Speaking of money I am still like one bad day away from being homeless, and I have a Patreon. You don’t have to give ME money to learn what’s in these next 3 expansions, but I’d sure appreciate it if you did.

Next time, Stormblood... which I swear will be a shorter write-up. But then I always think that.

#final fantasy 14 #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #estinein like immedately grabs those eyes again because he's an idiot by the way

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cruger2984 · 1 year ago

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THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT GREGORY OF NAREK Feast Day: February 27

In the year 451, the Armenian Church separated from the Church of Rome over disagreements on doctrine from the Council of Chalcedon. Though the Armenian Church remained an apostolic Church, being founded by the Apostles, it became separated from the pope. Its Sacraments and life of prayer continued, but the division also continued. In recent decades, greater attempts at unification have been made, and this saint is the most recent attempt by the Roman Church to more fully unite with the Eastern Church of Armenia.

By the tenth century, the Kingdom of Armenia was celebrated for its faith, many churches, literature, art, and architecture. It was a relatively peaceful time. In the year 951, a boy named Gregory was born near Lake Van, the largest lake in the Kingdom of Armenia, modern-day Turkey. His mother died when he was young. His father was the ruling prince of the Andzevatsiq province and also an Armenian bishop and scholar. His father was vocally supportive of some of the teachings of the Council of Chalcedon and believed that the head of the Armenian Church, called the Catholicos, enjoyed only the rank of bishop. This did not sit well with the Catholicos, who later excommunicated Gregory’s father from the Armenian Church.

After their mother's death, Gregory and his older brother were sent to live at the Monastery of Narek, under the guardianship of their maternal great-uncle Abbot Anania, the monastery’s founder. At about the age of twenty-six, Gregory was ordained a priest for the monastery and remained there for the rest of his life, teaching theology in the monastery’s school.

The loss of his mother early in life led Gregory to a deep devotion to our Blessed Mother. He would later write: "This spiritual, heavenly mother of light cared for me as a son more than an earthly, breathing, physical mother could."

Shortly after his ordination to the priesthood, Gregory wrote a commentary on the Song of Songs. He also wrote commentary on the Book of Job, numerous chants, homilies, and speeches that sang the praises of holy men. Toward the end of his life, he wrote his most famous work, The Book of Lamentations, or, as it is commonly known today, The Book of Narek.

Gregory's father had taught him to remain in a state of continuous dialogue with God, ever attentive to His divine presence. The Book of Narek seems to flow from Gregory's ongoing dialogue. The book is a compilation of ninety-five prayers.

Each prayer begins with the phrase: "Speaking with God from the depths of the heart."

The prayers then go on to express the deepest love of God by a soul that seems troubled, and even tormented at times. The torment, however, is not despair, but an interior expression of hope from a soul who is in touch with his fallen humanity and sin, while at the same time keenly aware of God's mercy. His prayers reflect the psalms and are similar to Saint Augustine's Confessions.

Gregory states that these prayers were written 'by the finger of God' and that Gregory saw God, as he says, 'with my own eyes'. In one of the final prayers, Gregory states, 'although I shall die in the way of all mortals, may I be deemed to live through the continued existence of this book…This book will cry out in my place, with my voice, as if it were me'.

He believed his book was written not only for himself, his monks, or the Armenian people, but for all people, for the entire world.

Less than a century after Gregory's death, the Kingdom of Armenia was invaded by the Byzantines, then by the Turks.

In the centuries that followed, these once-flourishing people suffered greatly under foreign domination. This suffering culminated in the twentieth century during the Armenian genocide when the Turks murdered an estimated 1–1.8 million Armenians.

Throughout those centuries of great suffering and oppression, Gregory's book of prayers became the daily prayers of the Armenian people. Everyone had a printed copy; many people even slept with a copy under their pillow.

In 2015, when the pope declared Gregory a Doctor of the Church, and in 2021 when Saint Gregory was placed on the liturgical calendar for the Roman Church, his book of prayers suddenly became prayers for the entire world. They are prayers that need to be prayed by all people today so that the world will humble itself before God and become acutely aware of its sin and need for God's mercy.

#random stuff #catholic #catholic saints #gregory of narek #gregorio de narek #doctor of the church

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ramrodd · 2 years ago

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The Embarrassing Gospel of Mark

COMMENTARY:

Dr. Tabor is truly a refugee from the anti-war movement As I say, he was ]wrong about Vietnam and he is totally in the ozone regarding all things Gospel

Listening to this dialogue is like reading Ayn Rand's essays about anuthing: every sentence is piled so hig with the bullshit on top of her Fascist sophistry, it is difficult to complet the entire essay.

I've registered for this course as a template for establishing Cornelius as the author of the report.

For example, at timestamp 5:00 and following, Dr. Tabor makes the claim that Peter's confession of Jesus as Messiah (Mark 8:29)is a false confession inspired by The Satan , and cites Jesus's rebuke "Get thee behind me, Satan" as evidence.

Dr. Tabor has misrepresented the text: he has left out, everything between Mark 8:s”30 to Mark 8:33 wheb Jesus' description of the fate that awaits him and Peter's rebuke, which is what Jesus is responding to. As I have pointed out in other commentaries to MythVision,, Jesus is a means to an end for everybody around him and this is one example of that circumstance. Jesus response "“Get behind me, Satan!” he said. “You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concern" is an an allusion to his temptation by Satan in the Wiilderness, the details of which Cornelius does not provide. Dr. Tabor has created a "false confession" by cherry picking the context an example of the dishonest scholarship characteristic of his entire oeuvre..

This is a good time to introduce elements of process theology pertinent to the interpretation of the bible, The Temptation in the Wilderness is a continuation of the dialogue between The Satan and God in the Book of Job

The Book of Job is the first book of the narrative of the Bible and the only book literally composed, word by word, by The One., It is a cosmic farce with God as the buffoon. The Satan successfully tricks God twice by engaging his, God's, vanity to torment Job, The story opens at a party for all the heavenly hosts and The Satan shows up from his role of wandering The World. God brags about waht a wonderful deity He is, just look at how Job worships His Divine Eminence, to which THe Satan replies, of course he does because you give him anything he wants. and he bets God that, if he took it away, Job would curse God. S

So, The Staan is given leave to torment Job not just once, but twice to satisfy God's vanity. And when Job complains about it, God jumps in his shit for being impertient "Did you measure Laviathan?" And, when Job is thrust into utter despair while still worshiping God, God realizes he fucked up. And the narrative of the Bible proceeds from that point to the Cooss, where Jesus becomes God's atonement to Job for God's injustice born of vanity. And in the dialogue between The Satan and Jesus, The Satan bets that Jesus will have to reed the multitudes, create a new religion and Performa a death defying stunt to accomplish His mission while Jesus bets that He will be able to appeal, intellectually , like Paul, to transform Israel into a nation of righteous servant leaders. His life being forfeit Fails.

And that's the basis of Jesus rebuke of Peter in Mark 8:33. That's the perspective of process theology and the Liberation Gospel of Jesus, George Washington and Pope Frances that calls out Dr. Tabor's interpretation as crap.

#youtube

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xenodile · 4 years ago

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tfw you just wanted to move to Limsa and maybe do some adventuring here and there to make money and help your community but instead you get caught up in the dealings of a secret society that kills gods so now the entire world’s politics are apparently your business and then just when you’re settling in the Nazi kill squad breaks into your clubhouse and murders like two dozen people and kidnap the nice secretary girl and in the process of rescuing her you’re made out to be a figurehead in the war effort which you were going to assist in anyway but this new pressure isn’t exactly what you wanted, and even after you win the war politics won’t leave you alone so you get framed for regicide and have to go into hiding as all your friends do the same so you go to Catholic Elf France and meet a very nice man that you totally hit it off with but once again get dragged into Fucking Politics and Another War but this time with dragons and though you manage to end the war and help establish peace your new elf boyfriend gets murdered saving your life by the Pope’s boyband and he has the gall to smile as he dies in your arms like that isn’t going to scar you for the rest of your life, and just when it feels like things are calming down again you find out parallel dimensions are real and they are invading your world to kill you because it’s the only way to save their own world and so you have to murder a man that looks exactly like you that’s gone through the same things as you but MORE because it’s the only way to protect your home and loved ones but HE’S only doing this to save his home and loved ones and before you can even finish processing all of this the douchebag that framed you for regicide summons The Turbo Murder Dragon and one of your friends has to burn out his own soul in order to put a lid on it, and worse yet the Nazis saw it and have decided now’s a good time to start Yet Another War, so you are once again dragged into being the figurehead of a war against foreign fascists with all the unwelcome responsibility and pressure that comes with that, only this time there’s a crackhead blonde twunk with a sword running around that wants to kick your ass specifically and he’s strong enough that you can’t beat him in a straight fight, so you run half-way around the world to train and recruit more allies so that you stand even a spitting chance against him, and by then he’s full on obsessed with you in a creepy way, but whatever you put him and The Turbo Murder Dragon down, but then More Goddamn Politics happen and his stupid simp ruins any chance at peace though honestly it’s ridiculous that these people ever thought you could negotiate peace with The Fucking Nazis, but hey you’re just an adventurer what do you know so here comes ANOTHER FUCKING WAR and before you can even get dressed for it your friends start dropping like flies with no apparent cause until you’re the only one left and you have no idea whether the people you love who’ve been your only constants through all of this are going to live or die and then whoosie fucking do you get yoinked through space and time to the alternate dimension where your lookalike came from and HIS job of saving HIS world is now on you because turns out if his world is destroyed YOURS will also be so now you’ve got the ravaged remains of THIS planet viewing you as their savior and the onus is on you specifically to fight an unstoppable army of killer angels that turn people into more killer angels, all the while finding out that everything you thought you knew about metaphysics is a lie and that the goddess that’s empowered you to do all this is Just Another Primal like the supposed Evil God the Bad Guys have been working for, while Bad Guy In Chief basically spells out that he has only ever wanted to save his world and the people he loves, and you’re having to once again deal with the knowledge that you cannot protect your home and your family without killing people who only want the same, and everything you and your friends have done have been the machinations of these two competing false deities, that every conflict you’ve been a part of has been a move in their chess game, so when you kill Bad Guy In Chief you’re left the knowledge that you’ve dealt the final blow in a genocide but the alternative was the death of everything and everyone you’ve ever loved, so the most you can do is remember them and honor their memory, but now that FUCKING TWUNK is back from the dead and kickstarting ANOTHER FUCKING WAR because he is THAT fucking obsessed with fighting you, a war only possible because of the now dead Bad Guy In Chief BECAUSE of the Fake Evil God VS Fake Goddess Conflict that was forced on you and you’re really, REALLY sick to fucking death of these people involving you and the people you love in these perils and selfish conflicts when you’re nobody special, you’re just the person that happened to be in the right place all those years ago, yet you’ve had to go through all of this hardship because of these false gods vying for control and you’re ready to kill them, the moon, and everything that stands in front of you because one way or another you are going to make it fucking stop for good this time.

#Long Post #SORRY FOR THE LACK OF PARAGRAPHS IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE JOKE #THE JOKE BEING THAT WOL IS FUCKING TIRED #David plays FFXIV #FFXIV spoilers

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hmspogue · 4 years ago

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Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that.

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me.

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused.

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions?

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught.

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you.

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike.

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong.

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what?

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting.

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time.

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah.

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident).

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft.

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug.

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first.

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me.

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years ago

Text

As It Should Be | Chapter 11: It All Falls Apart

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: It’s gameday in Colombia. The entire mission could have been boiled down to one single moment: Sunday, 09:00. Each minute that passed sent you careening towards tragedy.

Rating: M

WC: ~7.1k

Warnings: Guns, canon typical violence, swearing, character death, graphic description of injury (gore-ish), threats of death

A/N: It’s here! Day of the mission and the title really says it all. I don’t have much in the way of notes up top here other than buckle up!

Seriously, so much thanks goes to mi esposa, @danniburgh for beta-ing, she's been there with me from the beginning and who has known this was coming for months. Also a huge thanks to DA for helping me stay sane and for being so freaking encouraging. Love y'all so much!

Vocab: SITREP: Situation Report, HUD: Heads-Up Display

09:00

The air was pushed from your lungs with a grunt as a blast flung you into the industrial railing of the staircase. You slumped down to the mid-flight landing, gasping for breath as you tried to orientate yourself and steel your mind against the pain in your ribs; it scorched your nerve endings, jagged and hot like lightning.

Goddammit!

Sudden realization and panic arced through you, overriding your pain and giving you the clarity you needed to piece everything together. A charge attached to a pressurized container must have gone off. There was nothing you could do about it now, but there’d be hell to pay for Vodka when you got out of this. Assuming he got out of it, too.

Your vision was blurry; you were still struggling to focus your eyes in the aftermath. The sound of gunfire sent you scrambling to find better cover on the woefully open staircase, your heart thundering in your chest.

Everything had gone to hell, falling apart in the blink of an eye, and all you could do now was salvage what you could and try to make it out alive.

The plans had been simple enough; not easy but simple; Tequila was going to act as a distraction while Frankie and Pope came in like a pincer from either side. From there, Tequila would move to secure the exit while Frankie and Pope cleared the house. They were banking on taking advantage of the panic and confusion while the guards scrambled to protect Duke and Isabella.

Meanwhile, you, Jack, and Vodka would set up small batches of explosives on the manufacturing machinery. The Weisels had warned you that due to the nature of their product, there would be no actual work taking place during your tour. Product would remain on the floor but in airtight containers. It worked better in your favor that way, anyway. You wouldn't have to worry about any Agent Red contaminating the air when you rendered the plant inoperable.

Simple, but not easy.

The entire mission could have been boiled down to one single moment: Sunday, 09:00.

Each minute that passed sent you careening towards tragedy.

Earlier…

05:00

Frankie and Pope rose with grim determination. Frankie swiped his hair to the right with a quick brush of his fingers, then planted his hat firmly on his head while Pope laced up his boots. Tequila was almost shocked at the change in the two men. Over the last few days, despite the mission hanging over them, he had seen them both open up a bit more and share more stories about some of the jobs Pope had bid on and contacted Frankie for.

This morning, however, Tequila was met with the distant, stony faces of men who had killed before, and who were getting ready to do so again. Frankie’s eyes were dark and sharp but lacking their usual spark of life; it had vanished, shadowed by the death that would come later that morning.

They were both quiet, but while Santiago seemed to be steeling himself for what was to come, Tequila felt a curling tension from Frankie, something simmering underneath his skin, just waiting to come out and despite himself, it unnerved Tequila just the slightest bit. This was not the man who sat across from him, laughing at stories and teasing Bourbon. This wasn’t the broken man who struggled to come to grips with being back in Colombia. No, as Tequila took in the methodical way Frankie moved and the hard set of his jaw, Tequila realized this wasn’t the same man at all.

The trip was quiet as Tequila drove them to the shipping container for the last time, so that they could gather their gear and get into position for the op. They geared up with quiet efficiency; Frankie inspected a gun occasionally, then packed more gear and ammo into his backpack. They each did their own personal inventory check, patting down their pockets and looking over their backpacks one more time before loading up the truck and heading off towards the jungle.

The same palpable nervous tension that had been hanging low over their heads now consumed them as Frankie drove their truck through the picturesque wandering roads and hillside. Frankie and Santiago were drawn thin, the tension tugging, pulling the rubber band of their composure taut, and Tequila’s concern for them swirled in the air, mixing with the tang of their stress. He had all the confidence that they had successfully completed several ops and could see this one through but he worried about the rubber band snapping and one of them doing something they'd later regret or worse still, go off the deep end, letting it consume them, blind them and then they'd end up injured. He wasn't kidding when he said earlier that you and Jack would kill him if anything happened to Frankie or Santiago.

A dull roar descended on the windshield as Frankie parked the truck in the same spot they used before when they did their recon. The pitter patter of the rain as it fell made the frown that already darkened Frankie's face deepen further. Of course, it had to rain that morning.

The rain would make things slightly more difficult for them, drawing most of the guards inside rather than spread thin as they patrolled the perimeter of the compound. With a grunt, they got out of the car, then Frankie covered it with some of the surrounding underbrush before joining Pope and Tequila as they checked their comms.

"Alright, Fish, Tequila, we've been over this; we get into position and we go at 09:00 sharp unless Hawk, Jack or Vodka give us a signal otherwise." Pope took a breath, adjusting his hold on his rifle as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. "If shit hits the fan, we meet here, or if the transport is gone, we meet at the RV Point. Got it?"

Frankie and Tequila nodded, the rain dampening the ground beneath them as they turned and headed towards their respective locations. The rain felt good on Frankie's skin, like the cool kiss of baptism, cleansing him for the coming blood that would be spilled and seep into the Earth. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the growing tension as he moved lithely through the thick of the trees.

When he finally reached position, Frankie forced himself to take a deep breath. He’d spent years trekking through terrain just like this. Years spent pushing his worries, his emotions, himself, down for the sake of the mission, and he’d spent years more trying to claw his way back to the surface. The last time he’d been in Colombia, he’d lost it. He’d fought so hard to keep a level head, but each bullet fired had punched a hole in his armor until he was left angry and raw. Frankie took another deep breath. <Catfish here, I’m in position>. He sighed, waiting for the others to give their SITREP. This time, he was determined not to lose himself again.

Frankie glanced at his watch, 08:30. Only 30 more minutes.

08:00

Jack drove the rental Statesman had gotten for the three of you, tapping his fingers along to the upbeat song playing on the satellite radio. You were riding shotgun, checking your purse for the compact, adhesive explosive charges and detonators you and Vodka would be planting during your tour, while Vodka fidgeted in the back seat. From his nervous behavior and the way he was acting, you would have thought he was a junior agent on one of his first field assignments, and not a senior agent with countless missions under his belt.

“You good back there, Vodka?” You asked, doing your best to restrain the annoyance in your voice at the way his bouncing knee was hitting the back of your seat. “Your briefcase all set?”

“Yeah, of course, Bourbon.” Vodka sighed and leaned back, thankfully taking his knee out of range of your seat. “There’s just a lot of moving parts here.” A grunt from you was all the response he got.

You finished checking over everything, then turned to Jack and wove your fingers together with his free hand.

“Well,” you gave Jack’s fingers a light squeeze, then rested your head on the headrest. “If everything goes to plan, we’ll be in the jet and on our way back to HQ in three hours tops.”

08:30

The three of you finally came up on a large tract of land encased in a perimeter fence you had no doubt was complete with state-of-the-art security sensors in addition to the armed patrol you saw circling the exterior. Jack rolled to a stop in front of a call box outside of the gated entry and the face of a gruff-looking man illuminated the screen attached to the call box.

"State your business."

Jack rolled his window down, then nodded to the man and greeted him cheerily. "Jack Daniels an' company from Statesman here t' see Steven and Emily."

There was a brief pause, then the man nodded, “Confirmed. Welcome, Mr. Daniels. Please pull forward and follow the road to the main entrance. Mr. and Mrs. Weisel will meet you there.”

Jack smiled and tipped his Stetson, then pulled forward as the gates opened. The winding gravel road guided them to a giant rectangular building with a large heavy-looking door; the Weisels stood in front of it waving eagerly. Jack shut down the engine, then exited the car. You and Vodka followed suit, then greeted your hosts with smiles.

“Good morning Steven, Emily.” You nodded to both of them and shook their hands. “This is quite the facility you have here.”

Steven chuckled and puffed his chest out with pride. “Ah, yes, well, you’ll find that the interior is even more impressive.” Emily smiled and squeezed Steven’s arm, then turned. The both of them walked up the small flight of stone steps and Steven opened the door, ushering Emily, you, Jack, and Vodka inside before following.

Emily entered first, looking back at you as she did; her gracious hostess’ smile plastered on her face. “Given the… delicate nature of our product, as Steven mentioned earlier, we’ve shut down manufacturing while you’re here.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and gooseflesh traveled up your arms at the drastic change in temperature inside the building. “Sorry if it’s a bit cold,” Though her back was to you, it was as if she had seen you shudder and she continued. “We keep it cooler inside the plant. While it can last in temperatures up to around 100°F, we prefer to operate at a lower temperature to keep the product from spoiling.”

You cocked your head and frowned, then glanced at Jack before turning your attention back to Emily. “Is product stability a concern during distribution?” You asked, even though you were already familiar with how well Agent Red stood against heat. Ginger and her team had done extensive testing on Agent Red prior to the mission. Statesman wasn’t going to allow you, Jack and Vodka to blow up the compound without making sure you weren’t going to accidentally dose anyone within range of the wind.

“Not at all,” Steven spoke up from the back as he made his way to Emily’s side. “We transport in pressurized canisters or in temperature controlled vehicles so there is no loss of product.”

As the Weisels led you down a hallway and onto the production floor, Jack picked up his pace, allowing you to slip next to Vodka. “Remember, Vodka,” you murmured under your breath, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. “Keep away from the pressurized containers. We want those to go last. Detonating them earlier could bring this building down while we’re still in it.”

“Of course,” Vodka nodded. “I’m not one of your junior agents, Bourbon.” There was an edge to his voice even as he kept himself to a whisper and you fought hard not to glare at him for his petulance; instead you kept up appearances for your cover’s sake and slid back to Jack’s side.

Steven and Emily continued on, explaining the production process of Agent Red at a high level as they guided you through the plant. Every so often, you or Vodka would pause under the guise of examining the machinery, and attach a charge to any surface you could. They led you up one of the two curved flights of stairs, then down the industrial catwalk to their office.

“This,” Steven stopped in front of the giant bay window and gestured out towards the production floor. “Is our pride and joy.” He turned to face you, Jack, and Vodka; a confident grin playing at his lips. “Revenue has been skyrocketing. In fact, we can guarantee we’ll hit the high end of the projected profits we included in the agreement we drafted.” Emily took her cue and strode to the filing cabinets behind Steven’s desk, then began combing through them.

Steven poured drinks for all five of you, then sat down as Emily brought over the folio containing the agreement and placed it in the middle of the coffee table. Jack opened it, then sat back as he paged through its contents.

Your phone rang. Right on time. Frowning apologetically, you stood up. “I-I’m sorry. I have to take this.” You said, gesturing to your phone with a sigh. “It’s our corporate general counsel,” your hand found Jack’s shoulder, and you gave him a small squeeze. “They must have a few more clarifying questions for Mr. Meyers and I. We’ll just take this down the hall.” Vodka stood up, directing a small, apologetic smile towards the Weisels, then followed you to the office door. “We shouldn’t be more than a few minutes!”

<Hey Ginger,> you answered once you were far enough away. Vodka tapped your elbow when you reached a fork on the catwalk.

“Be right back,” he whispered. “I need to double check a few of the charges.”

You nodded, then turned your attention back to Ginger as she greeted you. <Hey Bourbon, I’ve patched in Team Beta; is your team in position?>

<Okay everyone, I’ll be on comms and doing my best to keep an eye on things from here.> Ginger took a deep breath at her desk, back at Statesman HQ. This was it. <You’re clear to go. Good luck out there, everyone.>

08:55

“Your lovely assistant and financial consultant seem to be taking a while, Jack.” Steven drummed his fingers against the side of his whiskey glass and cocked his head, eyeing Jack suspiciously.

Jack smiled, looking unperturbed, as he leaned back in his armchair. He needed to lower their suspicions, and the best way to do that was to appear as though Steven’s concern was unwarranted. “It’s both blessin’ an’ a curse that we have such a thorough legal team.” He took a drink from his glass then set it back down on the table and shrugged as if to say his hands were tied in the matter. “Besides, those two are more curious than cats an’ about jus’ as easy t’ herd too.” Jack chuckled and shook his head affectionately. “Likely they jus’ stopped a moment in awe of the view of the production floor from up here. Don’t you worry now.” He drawled, waving his hand dismissively as he sat up, then tapped the agreement and smiled confidently. “They’ll be back along here shortly an’ well get that paperwork signed an’ ready t’ go.”

Steven nodded and smiled thinly, not quite convinced, and Emily shifted nervously in her seat.

Jack set his glass down, then paused, an uneasy feeling in his bones. Just then, a percussive blast sent glass from the windows flying inwards. Emily screamed as shards rained down on them, and Jack dove out of his chair to avoid the chandelier that swung dangerously above them.

Another blast went off, sending the chandelier crashing into the coffee table, and Jack covered his face with his elbow as more glass flew. Jack coughed as the dust settled and he cautiously rose to his feet, taking in the room as he did. His mind was racing. Something had gone horribly wrong; you and Vodka weren’t supposed to blow the charges until you were at least back in the office with him.

“What in th–” Jack’s voice got caught in his throat and he coughed drily, “–the hell was that?” he finished, coughing a few more times, relying on his Statesman glasses to pinpoint Steven and Emily’s heat signatures through the dust and debris. “Steven! Emily!” Only one heat signature came up on his HUD. “Y’all okay over there?”

Jack switched views on his glasses as the dust cleared and Steven came into view, laying over Emily. Shit. Ideally, they had hoped to bring the Weisels in to flip them and use them to dismantle the remnants of the cartel, but Steven sure as hell wouldn’t feel cooperative now.

Steven stood up and turned around to face Jack, gun raised and poised at Jack’s head. “You fucking set us up, Jack!” The gun shook in Steven’s trembling grasp as his voice cracked. “A-and n-now E-Emily’s dead!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a minute now!” Jack put his hands out and ducked slightly in an effort to calm Steven and appear less of a threat. If push came to shove, he knew he could draw his gun faster than Steven would pull the trigger.

Steven's eyes moved to a spot just over Jack's shoulder and his brow furrowed in confusion. Two muscular arms wrapped around Jack, pinning his arms to his sides. Jack growled low in his throat as he threw a shoulder back to break the unknown assailant’s hold. A snarl twisted his lips and his fingers found the hilt of the knife at his side, then he slashed backwards, aiming to plant his Bowie in the person’s stomach, but then he felt a sharp impact on his shoulder blade that sent him stumbling forward. Jack’s eyes widened as he staggered and he met Steven’s hard gaze. He could still beat Steven to the draw. He dropped his knife and grasped at the grip of his Colt.

Gunfire echoed throughout the plant.

09:00

Goddammit!

Everything had gone to hell, falling apart in the blink of an eye, and all you could do now was salvage what you could and try to make it out alive.

You took a breath, reloading your pistol from behind your measly cover. The magazine slid home inside the grip of your pistol with a click and then ice water washed over you as dread echoed deep in your stomach: Jack hadn’t called in his position. <Whiskey? What’s your SITREP?> The responding silence dug a deeper pit of worry in your belly. After a quick steadying breath, you launched yourself to another point of cover; it wasn’t any better than your previous spot, but it would let you get a better look at Jack’s last known location.

Chancing a glance around your cover, you peered over towards the Weisels’ office at the end of the hall and the dread twisted in your stomach, piercing you like a dagger. An unmistakable pool of blood seeped from a source just out of view.

<Jack?> You called again on comms, dropping his callsign in your concern. <Jack, come in!>

The panicked edge in your voice made Frankie’s heart stutter. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and left the cover of the trees, making his way to the stone wall that encased the perimeter of the compound.

The white-hot fire of adrenaline and icy cold of dread warred in your veins, making everything move entirely too fast and too slow at the same time. You kept low as you left your cover and scrambled over to the doorway of the office; a choked out strangled sob left your throat as you sank to your knees.

There was Jack, laying in a pool of his own blood seeping from a shot to his head. <Oh g- oh god! No! Jack!>

Frankie halted his advance, rifle poised in hand as he stared blankly at Santiago on the other side of the compound. Pins and needles skittered under the surface of his skin, leaving an uncomfortable warmth in their wake only for the cascading rain to cool him, making him shudder.

Your hands were shaky as you reached out to touch Jack, stopping just shy of his cheeks; the remnants of fear and anguish marking his face. <J-Jack? No, no, no, no, Jack!> His eyes were open wide and unseeing, none of the usual warmth, affection or love sparkled back at you and another sob wracked your chest.

<W-Whiskey’s d-down!> You cried out, <J-Jack’s been shot! In-In the head...>

Frankie’s shoulders fell and something jagged and hard caught in his throat as his eyes fluttered closed; wishing to whatever power out there that this was a dream, a sick, terrible nightmare. A single tear rolled down his cheek, your cries of anguish shattering that fleeting hope. More tears followed, mixing with the raindrops that curled under the brim of his hat, carving little rivers through the dirt and paint caked onto his skin. His anguish morphing into something simmering and hot.

<Gotta… find… the gel…> The foreign, broken sound of your voice made you wince. Your thoughts were racing as you reached for Jack’s Stetson laying a few feet away and tore the adhesive off the gel pack. <N-no… Fuck!... Shitshitshit!> You hadn’t realized you were speaking out loud, far too engulfed in absolute horror when you realized a bullet had gone through Jack’s Stetson, nicking the alpha gel stored there.

Tears blurred your vision as you wrapped the alpha gel around Jack’s head; stomach churning at the small fleshy crater your fingers brushed at the back of his head as you did.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a gunshot wound, wasn’t the first time you’d seen someone lifeless before you or had someone else’s blood slicked your fingers. It wasn’t even the first time Jack’s blood smeared your fingertips, but never this much, never like this.

Never this bad.

Never someone like him.

The alpha gel would save him, it had before, and it would again.

More blue and orange fluid leaked, mixing with the blood on your fingers as you engaged the gel pack and you found yourself silently praying it would be enough, at least until you could reach Tequila. <Tequila… need your alpha gel… at the RV point.>

You were still talking over the comms, but Frankie only caught bits and pieces before his mind was completely overtaken by white noise and snow. He staggered, bracing himself with his shoulder against the stone wall of the compound.

A guard rounded the corner, a startled shout leaving him as he raised his pistol, sight trained on Frankie’s chest. Gunfire rang out across the compound and Frankie blinked as the guard crumpled. He turned slightly to see Santiago facing him, gun pointed at where the man had stood, and then more guards started pouring out of the building.

Bullets whirred by, sending bits of stone and debris flying. On instinct, Frankie pushed himself further into the stone wall, vaguely aware of a warm stinging sensation along his jaw and distantly, he realized the last bit of debris had cut him. He was aware of the bullets flying, the shouts, the chaos, Pope, Tequila and Ginger over comms, but it was like it was all happening to someone else.

Jack was gone… dead. And just like that, everything had fallen apart. He'd seen countless people snuffed out by one single bullet through their gray matter; hell, he'd contributed plenty to that number. In his years spent in the field, he'd never seen anything that could reverse death. There was no surviving a headshot; there was no hope.

In that instant, Frankie felt the entire world crumbling beneath him. His heart was in freefall as he slid down the stone wall, shattering with the rest of his restraint as he hit the cold, wet ground. The familiar eerie calm he had been fighting to keep down broke free, sharpening the blur in his vision and mind. Years of training and instinct took over; the rage of his loss effortlessly brushed aside the reservations his humanity clung to.

He didn’t care about being too quick on the trigger here.

Another guard rounded the corner and this time Frankie didn’t hesitate in raising his rifle and dropping him with a shot to the head.

<Tequila, take the rear entrance. Pope, cover me. I’m pushing forward.> Frankie’s voice was gruff and cold in Santiago’s ear. He’d heard that tone the last time they were in Colombia, and an uneasy feeling started to build in his chest. <Copy, Fish. Moving now.> Pope popped out from his cover and pressed forward with Frankie.

The initial shock of seeing Jack lifeless had faded into numbness as you assessed the room. Emily’s body lay on the ground, cold, and covered in crushed cinder block and glass, but Steven was nowhere to be seen, and Vodka hadn’t checked in either. You grimaced. Vodka had gone down to check on the charges and while putting one near the pressurized containers was his error, if he was anywhere near the blast, there likely wasn’t much left of him. It didn’t matter right now though; you needed to move, and you needed to bring Jack with you.

You got to work undoing the leather holsters Jack wore and slid them on, adjusting them to better fit you, then you pocketed Jack’s mangled Statesman aviators. Voices echoed from down the catwalk and stairway, guards were coming. The best way to take care of them would be to detonate the rest of the charges but you had no idea what that would do to the structural integrity of the building and running out in a hail of bullets with Jack on your back was never part of the plan.

You took a deep breath. You’d hauled the guys out before on missions gone wrong, and you could do it again now. The voices were getting louder as you quickly tied Jack’s wrists together with his lasso; then you laid down with your back perpendicular to Jack’s chest, wrapped your left hand under his thigh, and gripped his jeans tightly before you rolled to your side, bracing yourself with your left elbow and knee. It was your first time doing a “ranger roll” since you’d left Delta Force.

You panted from the exertion, then took a moment to steady your breath. Your right foot was already planted and your right arm was slotted between Jack’s legs. A strange, wet, sticky sensation coming from your left arm made you crane your neck and look down. Jack’s head was resting against your bicep, leaving remnants of a mixture of blood and alpha gel to drip like molasses down your arm. Something wet and sticky was soaking your shirt After grabbing your pistol in your right hand, you stood up with a grunt. Christ, it had been a long time since you’d done this.

Realistically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long carrying Jack like this, but you just needed to get to a vehicle so you could meet the guys at the RV Zone. You peeked out into the corridor and saw guards armed with rifles headed your way. Shit… well, now or never. You grabbed the detonator from your pocket, then squeezed the button. The charges went off on the production floor, incinerating the Agent Red that was stored there in its raw form in a cacophony of red, orange, and black acrid smoke.

The explosions drew the attention of the guards away from you and the office for just a fraction of a second, but it was all you needed. You stepped out into the corridor, raised your pistol, then fired at the guards. The first three went down without a shot being returned, but the fourth one fired their rifle as the third crumpled. You turned back behind your cover. Jack’s weight made you top heavy and threw you into the wall a little harder than you had calculated; had it not been for the wall, you would have toppled over.

The pinging of gunfire blew divots in the metal and splinters of wood in every which direction. Your advantage was that they could only advance three at a time through the catwalk, and eventually they would need to reload. The moment came a few seconds later, and you stepped out again, emptying your clip before tossing your pistol, then drawing one of Jack’s Colts and finishing off the rest of the guards.

You adjusted Jack’s weight, then looked to your left for any additional guards before hurrying past the bodies strewn across the catwalk. Normally, you would have preferred to double tap them, but you didn’t want to waste any more ammo than you had to.

You let out a deep sigh of relief once you cleared the stairs and made your way to the main entrance, knowing that most of the guards and staff would be preoccupied with putting out the fires from the explosions.

The rental car was still sitting where Jack had parked; and after making sure you were in the clear, you made a dash for it. You opened the back driver’s side door and tossed Jack inside, frowning as you noted a considerable amount of the alpha gel had leaked out, then hopped into the driver’s seat. The keys were still in the ignition and you turned them frantically. The perimeter guards had caught on and started firing on the car as you peeled out of the compound.

<Ginger!> You called out, hoping she was monitoring your comm channel. <Ginger, I’m in the rental car with Jack. We’re en route to the RV point.>

<Bourbon?!> Ginger’s voice was frantic with relief. <Oh thank God you made it out.> She breathed out as she pulled up the rental car’s GPS to track your route. <Is Vodka with you?>

There was silence for a moment as you glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to put as much distance between you and the compound as possible before they started following you. <No… I…> A small twinge of guilt fluttered in your chest at the thought of leaving him behind. <He never called in with his status, but he said he was going to check on the charges when they went off. I’d be surprised if he made it, Ginger.>

You heard her swallow and you could almost see the soft, sympathetic frown that was undoubtedly twisting her usual cheery demeanor. <Bourbon, it’s not your fault. You had to get out, and you’re lucky you did with Jack.> Ginger tapped away at her keyboard for a moment, then the typing died out and she let out a frustrated sigh. <It looks like the camera we had him plant in his tie cut out. I’ll need to take some time to comb through the footage and clean it up.>

The leather of the steering wheel creaked under the force of your grip, white knuckling it as you stepped on the accelerator. You’d need to ditch the car and find another one to throw off any pursuers.

<H-hey, Ginger… I-I need to know what the odds are for Jack.> You chanced a look back at Jack. He was a mess of orange and blue murky fluids, and you were worried that more had leaked out than was being used to protect the delicate tissue and brain matter. <A lot of the gel leaked out a-and… I just need you to tell me-tell me if Tequila’s gel is going to work.> You drew in a shuddering breath that you knew Ginger heard. <I need to know what he’s going to be like if-when... > Your voice cracked, a betrayal of your body as it tried to shove your words past the impossible constriction in your throat. <When he wakes up. Will he be ok?>

Ginger wanted nothing more than to tell you everything would be fine, but she knew you’d want the truth. <I-I don’t know, Bourbon. It’s hard to tell without seeing him and this is the second time...> She bit her lip and pulled up past cases to see if there was any sort of precedent, fidgeting with her pen as she scrolled through the data. <Tequila’s gel pack should help but even if the nanites can repair everything, it’s impossible to know what he’ll remember… or which Jack we’ll get when he wakes up.>

Your lips pursed in a tight line and you thought back on how Jack had been not even a year ago when you had to knock him out to save him, and the world, from himself. You hoped this time things would be different, but that was for later. Right now, you just needed to focus on getting to the RV point and then getting Jack home.

Absent-mindedly, you checked the rearview mirror again and saw two cars quickly approaching. <Alright, Ginger, I’ll call you back in a few. Looks like I picked up a tail that I’ve gotta shake loose.> You disconnected the call before she could answer. Out of habit, you cracked your neck causing some of the alpha gel and blood that had leaked onto your shoulder to cling to your cheek. It sent a deep feeling of unease to your stomach.

You shook your head, dispelling your uncertainty. This would work. The alpha gel would work. Jack wasn’t lost to you and Frankie. You’d get him back and no matter who he was when he woke up, he’d still be the Jack you and Frankie loved. You glanced back at Jack one last time then drew one of his Colts before turning and shooting at the car behind you.

Frankie was the embodiment of wrath as he prowled through the compound. Their plan had gone out the window, but that was hardly a deterrent for them. Tequila watched in morbid amazement as the soft-spoken pilot moved from thug to thug in quick succession. The need to reload didn’t even slow the pair of former soldiers. Instead, Frankie snarled as he bashed a man’s nose in with the stock of his rifle, then pulled his SOG combat knife from its sheath at his hip, and slammed the blade just under the base of the man’s skull before twisting the knife, severing the brain stem. Santiago covered Frankie with just as much deadly precision while Frankie shoved the freshly made corpse off of his knife, sheathed it, then reloaded.

Tequila was no stranger to the bloody realities of combat and killing, but he realized that this was the curling tension he had sensed in Frankie earlier; the man who could kill with brutal efficiency and leave bodies in his wake was now uninhibited, set free by grief and rage. Tequila blinked back to the present.

<Alright boys, I’m gonna circle ‘round an’ try t’ cut them off at the rear.> He called out over comms, then started his advance towards the rear exit. Hopefully, he’d still be able to make it in time to cut off Isabella and Duke’s escape.

A gruff affirmation came in response from Frankie as he made his way towards the main door. <Copy that Tequila, we’ll clear the house and flush them out.> Pope said as he took up position opposite Frankie, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before they yanked the door open and walked into a storm of lead.

“FUCK!” Frankie growled when a bullet grazed his arm. He heard Pope hiss in pain as well, even over the sound of their responding gunfire. If Frankie stopped and thought about it, he’d realize how lucky they were to walk into that proverbial death trap and so far only come out with a couple of grazes, but he didn’t stop to think.

There was movement to Frankie’s left, towards the back of the house, and he squeezed the trigger on instinct. Pope followed suit. They heard a crash, the sound of shattered ceramics, followed by a series of hoarse, agonizing cries. Pope motioned for Frankie to advance and when he did, he found Duke with a bullet hole in his leg, pinned beneath the dead body of one of his guards; two others lay moaning in pain. Frankie kicked their guns out of reach, then pulled his pistol out and shot the injured guards. Duke yelped in horror as gray matter decorated the tile.

Pope shoved the body off of Duke and hoisted him up so that he was standing then put him in a loose headlock. “P-please, p-por favor, my leg. It hurts! Y-you guys sh-” Duke’s pathetic whimpering was cut off by Frankie’s snarl.

“I’m gonna kill you right fucking here!” Frankie’s body radiated tension as he stalked up to Duke and shoved the barrel of his rifle in the man’s face. “Y’hear me?!” His face was twisted in disgust and contempt for the man being held up by his friend. Frankie lowered his rifle, jabbing it into Duke’s stomach as he leaned in close. “We fucking let you live, got you and your sister out of here, and this is what you fucking do?”

Duke whimpered and Pope licked his lips in anticipation, his gaze never left Frankie’s. He knew Duke was worth more to them alive than dead, but this was worse than Tom dying; Frankie was out for blood now, and there was hardly a thing in the world that would stop him.

“¿Sabes que, Duke?” [You know what, Duke?] A dangerous flame flickered to life in Frankie’s eyes and he cocked his head. “Tus socios mataron a alguien que era… muy importante para mí.” [Your partners killed someone... very important to me.] Frankie took a step back, slung his rifle back and drew his pistol then jerked his head to the side, motioning for Pope to move as he took aim between Duke’s eyes. “Y ahora… ahora me voy a vengar.” [And now... now I'm going to get my vengeance.]

Before Pope could move, Tequila jumped in, shouting. “Whoa, Fish! Hold on there!” Tequila swallowed thickly when he received no response, his eyes darting from Frankie to Duke to Pope. “We need him, Frankie. Isabella escaped, he’s our best lead.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he gnashed his teeth and snarled out, “Fuck!” He lowered his pistol, holstered it, then turned to Tequila, wild-eyed.

“C’mon, we need t’ get outta here.” Tequila’s voice was sympathetic but still firm. “Bourbon is on her way to the RV point with Jack an’ if we get there, there’s a chance we can save him.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Frankie did a double take, then narrowed his eyes and even Santiago whirled around to face Tequila. “Jack’s dead. He was shot in the fucking head, Tequila.” Frankie spat, the words tearing his heart further to shreds. He couldn’t afford to hope, and not for something as outlandish as what Tequila had just said.

Tequila pulled his hat off and quickly showed Frankie the alpha gel stored there before putting it back on his head. “Statesman developed this in case of a head shot. It protects the brain so they can repair it in the lab.” He started walking out towards the rear entrance he’d entered the building from, knowing Frankie and Pope would follow with Duke in tow. “Whoever shot Jack, hit the gel pack too, but Ginger seems to think we can use mine an’ it outta work for him ‘til we get back.”

Frankie shook his head, dumbstruck and trying to clear his thoughts to focus on their next steps; that treacherous flame of hope burning hot in his chest. Instead of dragging Duke all the way to their truck, Frankie hot-wired one of the trucks parked at the compound.

“¡Vamos, Pope!” He shouted and Pope shoved Duke in the back then got in next to him, while Tequila took shotgun, then Frankie sped off. Frankie gripped the steering wheel tightly, his bloodlust and desire for vengeance still not sated. “I’ll tell you right now, if we get to the RV point and Halcón isn’t there, I’m fucking killing him and anyone else who gets in our way.”

Tequila nodded and clung to the grab handle, “She’ll be there.”

Duke cried out in the backseat and Frankie’s gaze flicked up to the mirror, his eyes narrowing. “Shut him up, Pope.”

“I’m… trying.” Pope grunted in response as he tugged his first aid kit out of his backpack. “Hey!” He barked at Duke. “It’s through and through but I need to stop the bleeding… hold still!” Duke thrashed around in the backseat but Santiago managed to dress the wound then sat back and put his first aid kit away.

Duke stayed quiet from then on save for a hiss under his breath when they went over a large divot in the road as Frankie sped towards the rendezvous point. Santiago glanced behind them, making sure they weren’t being followed, not that they’d left anyone there to follow them. He looked over to Frankie, his brother-in-arms, and thought back to how he’d cut through everyone who had stood in their path.

Frankie was practically feral; not that Pope could blame him, but it made him worry. He’d follow his friend through the deepest pits of hell in a heartbeat, and he knew Frankie would do the same for him; the problem wasn’t the going, though, that came easy, the hard part was coming back.

A/N: So the character death is a technicality. Even if they can get Jack back using the alpha gel, he did, in essence, die.

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and Comments are much appreciated!

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x you #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x f!reader #Agent Whiskey x you #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x you #Francisco Morales x reader #Catfish Morales x you

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kiingocreative · 3 years ago

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Evan Hansen was depressed, suicidal, and had a broken arm…

Here's why you still hate him.

Dear Evan Hansen premiered this week. And much to no one’s surprise, it was met with scathing criticisms, ridicule, and downright vitriol. I have scoured the internet and have been unable to find an entirely, or even remotely positive review of this movie. It currently holds a 31% on rotten tomatoes and I have a feeling that number will continue to fall as it continues to play in theaters across the country.

Many have hypothesized as to why the movie seemed to strike a bitter chord. Was it the ill-placed, and frankly far too lengthy musical numbers? The almost always cookie cutter dialogue? Ben Platt’s desperate attempt at playing a character ten years his junior? Maybe. Probably. And Absolutely!

In all honesty all these reasons are viable suspects to movie murder. But one reason stands out and above the rest. And it needs to be sad. Evan Hansen is simply an egomaniacal, self-serving, sociopathic douche pickle of a human. And I mean that in the best possible way.

Dear Evan Hansen attempts to employ one of the hardest protagonists’ archetypes, the anti-hero. This archetype sets apart from the rest because it takes a person that has little or no character traits we’d normally associate with a hero and attempts to make them likeable or sympathetic enough that we still want to watch them along their journey, and maybe even find ourselves rooting for their victory. Let’s consider Olivia Pope from Shonda Rhimes’ Scandal. She fixes elections, destroys families, even has an affair with married men, and yet we love her. We want to watch her. And we want to root for her. Or Maleficent. This character curses a baby to spite a jilting love. And yet, when the king (her former love) falls to his brutal death and she gets back her wings, we celebrate her victory.

Like myself, many audience members found themselves sticking up their noses and wagging their fingers at Evan as he moves through his anti-hero’s journey. And without spoiling anything, we found ourselves disapproving of his actions, and worse hoping his journey would not meet a happy end. Everything he does leaves us with the sting of judgement. And even his one final (and only) act of valor isn’t enough to redeem him. I won’t spoil the ending, just know it won’t pay off the way it should.

So, what makes us root for Olivia & Maleficent yet, not for Evan? All protagonists fall in the same archetype, yet the formers will be revered by cinematic historians, and the last will probably become a footnote. Here’s why!

Evan lacks three essential characteristics that make an anti-hero likeable, relatable, and even at times admirable. His actions, motivations, and reasoning are almost always fatally flawed. Let’s now discuss how to begin with his actions.

Throughout this film, Evan Hansen makes a series of deliberate, and to my way of thinking deplorable actions. This is common with anti-heroes. They’re not “good people”. And they’re almost always doing things that might make us raise an eyebrow or two. Take Olivia Pope. Her job is to manage crises for her clients. Control situations and minimize exposure of wrongdoings by any means necessary. If you’re familiar with the seven-season series you’ll know this meant dealing with Russian mob bosses, foreign war lords, and even republicans. (Just kidding.) Yet, and still all the things she did usually had a selfless reason. Most of the time she was doing what she was doing to help someone. A family whose child was kidnapped or an abused wife seeking asylum for herself and her children, for example. Not only are her actions selfless, but we are made to believe she can only help her clients by doing these terrible things and dealing with these terrible people. This ties in with motivations and reasoning as well, but for now, let us keep them all separate.

Evan Hansen does terrible things for no reason but to further his own agenda of making friends. From faking friendships with suicide victims to worming his way into a grieving family’s lives, he makes choice after choice with almost no regard to how his actions will affect others. This might be fine if he lacked an understanding of what impact his actions may have, but he seems to know throughout the film. His understanding is evident by the way he continues to pile on lie after lie each time his back is against the wall, only finally coming clean when there are no more lies left to tell. This should serve as a cautionary tale to all writers. If your protagonist must be despicable, it must be for a good reason. Not, only to boost your social agenda.

Now, let’s talk of motivations. One thing that can make or break your protagonist are their motivations. Think of motivations as why characters do something. Motivations must be clear as they help establish empathy. Even if they don’t agree with their actions, and when dealing with anti-heroes we usually won’t, a relatable motivation will help them forgive a misstep or two. Think of Maleficent. Her initial action of cursing young Aurora is despicable, but we as an audience forgive her and root for her. Why? Because she tries to correct that action in a series of attempts at thwarting, and an ultimate goal of reversing her own curse. What motivated this change of heart? She fell in love with “Beasty”, her affectionate nickname for Aurora. Love is a great motivator. And one we can all identify with. The power of love, and more importantly the strength and endurance of prevailing love wins almost always.

Let’s now look at Evan Hansen’s motivations. While one could argue his motivations were as erratic as his mental state, I think it very clear what Evan’s motivation was. He wanted “friends”. Which is really to say he wanted to be adored, and beloved; popular. I don’t think Evan does one friendly thing throughout this film, so I tend to discount wanting friendship as a viable motivation for his misdeeds. But, when he realized he could abuse a misunderstanding to advance his agenda to become more popular at school, he takes it. And never seems to feel regret for the damage he causes.

Now, granted, Evan is a 17-year-old boy. And as such, prone to making mistakes. We all remember 17! But even his youth didn’t save him in the eyes of film critics. Because Evans' actions don’t seem to be that of a youthful and unintelligent boy. Quite the opposite. Evan slithers his way through this story protecting and defending this new image he has made for himself. He creates a chain of fake emails, devises (on the spot & in song) a complete and whole relationships between himself and Connor, the young man who committed suicide. He even expertly manipulates people who begin to suggest he might not be telling the truth. There is no clear motivation for this. The only thing we are sure of, is that Evan wants “friends”. And he’s willing to do whatever it takes, it seems, to get them.

I feel it appropriate to note that an argument could be made to suggest that these missteps were the fault of his social anxiety & mental illness. This is also a great time to pivot into the logic of Evan’s actions. The logos, as Aristotle might call them. The movie makes a point of stating pretty early on (the first scene actually) that Evan struggles with his mental health and thus takes medication. Three different medications to be exact. An argument could be made that his mental state or even the medication he was taking may have been the cause of his actions; that he was out of control. But, I don’t think it would be wise or factually sound to suggest that mental health or mental health medication would cause someone to do the things that Evan does. There is already enough of a stigma regarding mental health, we don’t need movies to suggest there is no hope for us. And yes, I said US!

No, it seems more logical to me that Evan did what he did because it served his own agenda. His motivation for what he did was that it got him what he wanted. A BIG NO! Villains serve their own agendas. And though the anti-hero may seem villainous or maybe even be a villain in another store (Joker; Maleficent) it’s only a façade. Anti-heroes are really sheep in wolves’ clothing. At their core, they often do have a heart of gold. Their actions, good or bad, must be serving something other than themselves. Or, at least primarily.

Every good anti-hero should have some level of selfishness. But imagine if Maleficent wanted to keep Beasty alive to be her devoted servant a motivation of love would not ring true. It would confuse and maybe even upset the audience that Maleficent might pretend to love her while also forcing her to work from sunup to sundown. Same with Olivia Pope. If she only stole the election that granted Fitz the presidency so that she could fast track a piece of legislation she would be proving herself to be manipulative and self-indulgent. She was doing it, again, because she LOVED Fitz. And we loved her for it! We’re all hopeless romantics. And it’s about time we start admitting it.

Let us now speak of reasoning. While it may be connected to motivations, I believe reasoning serves a different purpose. It suggests a rationale. A thought process. Why do characters think doing this will get them what they want? It is how we understand the mental state of the protagonist. It helps us calculate whether they are thinking clearly. Do their actions seem like something they would normally do? If yes, we accept them easily. If not, we find ourselves wondering about them. If it happens consistently enough though that wonder quickly turns to doubt, doubt to frustration, and ultimately frustration to indifference. My problem with Evan Hansen is there seems to be no reasoning at all. I can’t find a single solitary justification as to why he feels lying to these innocent people is something he MUST do. Characters, especially protagonists, are always doing what they must. When Mr. Incredible winces before he makes impact with that fast-moving train (Incredibles) it’s because he knows it’s going to hurt. Yet, he also knows if he doesn’t do it, something even worse is going to happen.

What was the “something worse” for Evan? What bad thing was he avoiding by not telling Connor’s parents he never really knew their son? That he and Connor, and only spoke to him once; the day he passed? And Connor signing his cast was a sarcastic act. I’m sure you can guess the answer. He would have gone back to being exactly like he was. And he couldn’t have that. When he gets that Call to Adventure, second stage of twelve in the hero’s journey, we learn all we need to know about him. That he will do anything to get what he wants.

Evan, without a doubt, is one of the most poorly drawn anti-heroes. His unlikability up there with Marie-Antoinette. Only, instead of being founded upon rumors of rumors, it’s founded on his deliberate actions, selfish motivations, and unclear reasoning. Evan Hansen seems more to be the villain of this story than the hero. Which begs the question I shall leave you with, was he the villain all along?

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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thatshithurted8 · 4 years ago

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Hurricane Season

Summary: Despite being awoken during the early hours of the morning JJ makes sure to comfort reader when she needs him most.

Prompt 32: “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” Requested by @somekindofsapphic

Warnings: Mention of hurricanes, storms and death.

Word Count: 1.9k

Every time a hurricane was predicted to make land fall in the Outer Banks you found yourself taking refuge at the Chateau with John B, JJ and your dog, Coast. Kiara and Pope would always help you guys prepare with getting food and boarding up the house, but they would always go back to their houses where they would embrace the storm with their parents.

JJ on the other hand despised going home so much that he wouldn’t want to be there even if it meant he was protected from a hurricane. Unlike Pope and Kiara’s parents though, JJ’s dad couldn’t give a flying fuck about JJ’s whereabouts and you all felt for him because of that. But that’s where your mom differed from the rest of your friends parents.

Your mom cared and loved you deeply, but she was a nurse at the local hospital so she had to be there when first responders got there after the storm. With that being said she knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes in specific.

So you found yourself engulfed in darkness on the pull out couch in John B’s living room, with Coast laying at your feet. You could hear the storm brewing outside, the wind actually just started to pick up within the past hour or so, waking you up from your already reckless slumber.

You listen as the wind gets louder and louder and the sound of the heavy rain hitting against the outside of the chateau becomes deafening.

You were already focused on controlling your breathing, but you could feel the panic wash over you. Like you, Coast was also awake and she sensed your discomfort so she gets up, stretches and lays down beside you.

Appreciatively you pet your brown furred dog and pull her closer to your side for comfort. Luckily enough for you Coast wasn’t scared of storms, in fact she wasn’t phased by them at all she just hated the fact that she couldn’t go outside to pee. If she was afraid of them you don’t know what you would do since you would have to comfort not only yourself, but her as well.

After a few minutes of distracting yourself with petting Coast the power goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You let out a whimper as you feel around for your phone on the side table. Once you find it you check the time and see that it was 4:03am. You wondered if JJ or John B were awake as well. Surely they’ve woken up to the loud storm outside.

You set your phone back down, not wanting to drain the battery considering you didn’t know when the next time you would have power. Coast nudges your hand with her snout, signalling that she wanted you to continue petting her. While you scratch Coast’s head a battle went on in yours.

You were debating on going to see if JJ was awake or not. Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you and you could feel the panic attack slowly taking over your body.

Taking deep breaths you try to convince yourself that you were okay and it’s not fair to JJ to intrude on his slumber just because you were scared. However, as much as you wanted your pep talk and convincing to work, it didn’t. Suddenly, something that sounded like a tree falling, crashes onto the ground outside, causing both you and Coast to jump in your spot.

“Fuck this.” You mutter to yourself, quickly getting up with Coast following behind you.

JJ stirs around in what used to be Big John’s bed when something outside falls down. Everyone knew that JJ Maybank was a heavy sleeper and could sleep through anything. Although as you open the door to the bedroom causing the wood to squeal against the hinges the blonde stirs around again and ultimately wakes up. It was like his body sensed that you were in his presence and he didn’t want to embarrass himself around you by drooling or something. After all, he has had a giant ass crush on you for as long as he could remember.

“JJ.” You call out whispering while walking slowly over to the bed with your hands out to find it.

“Mhmm?” JJ asks rubbing his eyes, trying to locate you in the dark room.

“I’m really scared can I sleep with you?” You ask however JJ only hears the part where you ask to sleep with him.

“What time is it?” He asks, ignoring your question.

“Four.”

He leans up on one arm and lifts his eyebrow. “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” He asks with a sly smile on his face.

You stand there biting the inside of your cheek as rain continues to pour down against the chateau. “Well since I’m scared wouldn’t that be part of the deal?”

“Wait what?” JJ asks sitting up, realizing he must’ve heard you wrong when you first came in.

“The storm is making me scared and anxious so can I sleep with you?” JJ didn’t even realize that Hurricane Agatha has started her wrath against the Outer Banks until you mentioned it.

For most guys a girl coming into their room at four in the morning because they were scared would make them groan and fall back to sleep. But for JJ he could feel his cheeks flushing at the idea of you coming to him for comfort. Even though he didn’t want you to be scared or upset he couldn’t stop his heart beat from increasing at your simple question. It also made him feel good that someone was coming to him for safety and security. He has always acted like your personal security blanket, always protecting you from things, but it made the butterflies in JJ’s stomach flutter every time you came to him.

Just as JJ was about to utter out a sleepy ‘yes, of course’ a loud rumble of thunder basically shakes the chateau causing you to jump into the bed with the blue eyed boy. He chuckles at your response to the loud noise and moves over a bit to give you more room before wrapping an arm around you.

Once JJ looked at your face though he realized it was no laughing matter. From what he could see in the darkly lit room you were scared.

“Hey it’s okay.” He says softly while bringing you close to his chest. In return you wrap your arms around his slender waist, finally allowing yourself to let your emotions out.

Coast jumps onto the bed to see if you were okay as you start to whimper and cry into JJ’s chest. “Shhh it’s going to be okay. It’s just some bad weather and everything will fine soon.” JJ coos, resting his large hand on the back of your head and rubbing his thumb softly against your hair.

JJ knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes. At times he’s almost certain you have a phobia of them. It made sense for them to make you scared though, after all they were linked to the first traumatic event you’ve ever experienced.

In 2011 hurricane Irene made land fall in OBX and the destruction was devastating. However, the destruction you saw outside wasn’t as close to the destruction hurricane Irene caused to your life. You remember vividly watching your dad leave your small house in the cut, blowing kisses to you and your mom standing on the porch before he left for work. He was a first responder and that was the last time you ever saw him alive. One storm derailed your entire life even at a young age.

Your parents were already struggling financially to begin with, since the only source of income your family received was from your dad. Your mom was in school to become a surgeon and you guys were drowning in student debt because of it. However, it was going to be all worth it when your mom finally got her dream job, but that never happened. Once your dad died your mom dropped out of school and settled to be a nurse instead, which was still a good job however, it was still a horrible time in your life.

As your panic attack takes full strength hiccups and coughs fall out of your mouth. It felt like the dark room was shrinking as your chest contracted and windpipe tightened. “I can’t breathe.” You gasp out while you push yourself away from the boy that loved you more than life itself. Your hand reached up towards your throat and you start to scratch at the delicate skin as if to make a hole so you could finally breathe.

JJ has been your closest friend since you could remember and he knows you like the back of his hand. With that being said he’s been there with you for countless of panic attacks.

The blonde quickly sits up, disturbing Coast who just laid down at the end of the bed. He grabs your hand with his and brings it down to your side as he hovered over top of you. Your chest continued to heave up and down with tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N look at me.” JJ says concerned, starring down into your red eyes. You listen to what your best friend had to say and made eye contact with him, but your panic attack continued.

“Take a deep breath. Follow me.” He says taking a deep breath through his nose then letting it out of his mouth. You repeat what JJ does to the best of your ability, causing JJ to nod his head in encouragement. Not long after, your panic attack finally subsided and you were reeling from trauma you just faced physically and mentally.

JJ moves the hair that was sticking to your face and drying tears before placing the blanket over top of you and lying down himself. “Thank you J.” You softly mumble out.

“I’m always here for you.” The blonde simply says then places a kiss on the back of your head. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer when he hears the wind outside to continue to whip and whirl, but you were too scared and mentally drained to react to the sounds you hated.

After a few moments of neither of you saying anything JJ decides to speak up, not knowing if you were awake or not. “Y/N?”

“Yea J?”

“I know storms and hurricanes bring back bad memories for you, but have you ever thought about it in a different perspective?”

“What do you mean?” You ask pulling yourself closer to JJ’s chest when you hear a loud crack come from outside. Another tree just became another victim of hurricane Agatha.

“Like what if when ever there’s storms and they get bad just try to think that it’s your dad saying hi to you or blowing kisses to you from where ever he is.”

JJ wasn’t the type of person to talk about deep and personal stuff, but when it came to you he was an open book and vice versa for you. Although, since JJ was so used to being closed off in that sense he didn’t give the best advice, but what he just said was perfect.

You’ve never thought about storms in that light, you would only associate them with negative experiences and emotions, but JJ’s simple sentence gave a whole new meaning and positive light to them. Of course his statement wasn’t going to get rid of your fear of storms, but it was a start.

And in that moment you were so grateful for the blonde and blue eyed boy, more than he would ever know.

Question of the day: Whats your biggest fear?

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yoditorian · 4 years ago

Text

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie.

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better.

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly.

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself.

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again.

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees.

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest.

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt.

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen.

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes.

It has to be his choice.

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go.

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it.

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way.

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them.

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning.

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night.

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t.

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered.

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths.

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call.

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector.

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder.

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.”

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him,

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.”

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back.

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you.

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move.

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for.

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes.

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine.

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs.

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek.

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink.

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

#this is the most personal thing i've ever written i am Afraid #yikes okay #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #liz does words #sfw

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