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neonacity · 3 years ago

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HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 4: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal. There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here.

TW: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2 / CHAPTER 3 /

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Hi. Can I have one iced americano, no sugar, with an espresso shot, please?"

My hands froze and hovered momentarily on the drink I was preparing as I heard a male voice say that from the counter. I didn't turn around to check who it was, but my boss—who is currently helping me man the cafe today—was quick enough to dash the pit-pattering of my chest. He hooked the order slip on the board in front of me and my eyes immediately raised to read the name there.

"One to-go, americano for Youngho."

I sighed internally. Whether it be from relief or disappointment though, I don't really know. A part of me wanted to be in denial of my emotions, but I realized you can only go so far if the person you are trying to fool is just yourself.

It's been almost three months since that night that I last saw Jaemin. I wish I didn't know the exact number of days that passed since then, but I do and I couldn't help it. Every little detail of what happened was still marked fresh in my mind, especially the feeling of hollowness that exploded in my chest when I woke up that morning to see them gone.

If not for the chip on the edge of the table left by Jeno as he tried to hold a half delirious Haechan down that night, I could have easily brushed off everything as a fleeting dream. But it isn't. It is a nightmare, at least in my part.

He really meant it when he said he would leave me alone.

There were no calls, no messages, no visits, nothing. It was like he didn't exist at all, the past year spent with him nothing but an imagined illusion.

We were back to being strangers again, exactly like how he wants to. If you think about it, it's selfless of him to do this, but I hate it. I hate it with everything I have.

Why? Because now I have to live through the feeling that I'm the only one suffering from all of that has happened. I couldn't watch the news anymore without thinking about him. For heaven's sake, I couldn't even get an iced coffee order without freezing like a statue because I remember him. I hate it. I hate every single moment without him, as much as I didn't want to admit it.

I placed the plastic cover over the finished drink with a soft sigh before turning to hand it over to the customer. At least I can still manage to put out my well-practiced, service smile.

"Iced Americano for Youngho," I called out into the receiving area as I slipped a straw on the cup sleeve. A tall man looked up and walked over to me to receive it.

"Thank you for coming to Brick and Beans. I hope you visit us again soon," I said in autopilot, my words so well-rehearsed that I didn't even have to think through while delivering them. The customer smiled at me before giving me a wink.

"I sure will. Thanks for this, sweet cheeks." He turned and left the shop, leaving me slightly confused.

My attention was then called by my boss who had just finished wiping down the counter. The man—who really has been more of a father figure than an employer for me—gave me a warm smile and motioned me over.

"Can we talk? I have something to tell you."

I briefly glanced at the clock. It isn't my break time yet, but the store is empty so I guess it will be fine. I shrugged.

"Sure."

"Grab a cake for you and me while you're at it," he nodded towards the pastry fridge before walking towards the nearest empty table. I wordlessly took two slices of basque cheesecake, his favorite, before following him. The man has a mean sweet tooth and we both know it.

He was silent for a little bit as he took the fork to take a bite of his treat. I waited patiently for him to speak, hands politely folded over my lap.

"I'm going to sell the cafe."

I blinked and stared. I wasn't expecting that at all.

"You're… what?"

He sighed and leaned back against his seat. He looked a little sad over what he just said but he managed to offer me a small smile.

"I'm getting older. You know how much I love this place because I started it with my late wife, but I really can't continue to manage it anymore. My children, unfortunately, do not have any plans of continuing the business. And they've been asking me to retire, too."

I nodded slowly, taking the news bit by bit.

"Do you already have a buyer, ahjussi?"

"I do. It is kind of strange, actually. Someone offered to buy off the franchise at such a perfect time. And for a very good price, too."

That made me smile. I've had this job ever since I started college so it makes me a little sad that it's going to have a new owner, but I really am happy for him. I just hope whoever buys it off takes care of it really well. The old man loves this place to bits.

I felt him take a hold of my hands from across the table. I looked up and was met with a fatherly smile.

"Don't worry. You won't lose your job. The new owners said that they aren't planning to change anything here and I told them that they had to take you with them."

That made me almost want to burst into tears. I squeezed his hand back in return.

"Ahjussi... You didn't have to do that. I can always look for another job." Who am I kidding? I know it will be hard for me to land another sideline especially with all the financial hiccups I am already dealing with so this is really sending me over to the edge of tears.

"Nonsense. You are part of this business. You've done so much for this place so you deserve this. Don't worry, they said yes to my condition."

I gave his hands another squeeze and he answered back with a fatherly pat.

"Thank you…"

"You're welcome. Just promise me, when you become a doctor, you'll give me free checkups, okay?"

"No, I won't. Because you will always be healthy and won't need my help at all," I said with a wrinkle of my nose.

That sent the two of us laughing.

"When will the new owners take over?"

"By the end of the month," my eyes rounded with surprise and he nodded in understanding. "I know, I know. It really happened too fast. I can't turn down the offer though. To be honest it was way beyond what the business is worth."

I sighed. "Well… as long as you are sure about them."

"I am. For now, I'll be here for a bit with you. I just need to enjoy my last days here. So just don't mind your old man, okay?"

I grinned.

"Only if you promise to give me a free cake every day you are here."

He reached out to ruffle my hair.

"Deal."

----

It was a slow day at the cafe so my boss decided to turn down the jazz music that usually floats from the speakers in lieu of the television volume. It was an odd hour in the afternoon and I found myself smiling as I watched him flip the channels over to look for a good show to watch while I dried some mugs. Just then, the overhead bell on the door dinged, welcoming with it a pair of uni-looking kids.

My boss looked over, but I was quick to jump to action instead. "I'll take care of it," I mouthed to him, to which he gave me a smile before turning his attention back to what he was doing.

"Hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. What can I offer you today?"

"We'll have one dirty chai latte and one irish coffee over ice. Make it to go. "

The couple offered their names and I nodded as I punched their orders on my POS. "Would you like some pastries to go with that?"

"No, that's all."

"Got it, you can wait over there to the side. I'll have your drinks with you shortly," I said with a smile. The girl pulled the boy over into the receiving area to continue their conversation.

"So what I'm saying is, we gotta go. Tonight is going to be epic. The bets will be high for sure. We can get some mean cash if we put it in the right car."

The other gave a soft snort and started drumming his fingers against the wood of the counter. I let their conversation act as white noise while I worked behind the bar.

"I don't know. You're not even sure who is going to be there."

"Jeno is in the line-up. That at least is confirmed."

I dropped the metal scooper I was using on the floor with a resounding clang.

The three others in the room looked over to me as I hurriedly picked it up with shaking hands. I gave all parties a sheepish look before turning on my back to continue what I was doing.

This time, I was full-on listening.

"If Jeno's going to be there, then it is a goner. There's no chance for others. It'll be full-on suicide," the boy said thoughtfully. The girl, however, shrugged in reply.

"They said the others might come, too. You know, to make the run a little bit more balanced," she offered.

"You mean the seven?"

"The Four, at least."

"Oh shit."

"Uh-huh. So I'm telling you, we gotta be there man. If we can't bet then fine, but we have to see it. It’s been ages since they actually went on lane."

I didn't really know how I managed to finish what I was doing, not with how hard my heart was beating in my chest. I'm not sure how many Jeno's there are in this part of town, but I am sure as hell that there is only one who is a member of a seven-piece 'group.'

"Here's your order," I said thinly as I pushed the finished drinks over to them by the counter. The boy offered his card and I took it quickly, all the while thinking of what I should do next. The few seconds of me typing away at the terminal was the longest quarter minute of my life.

"Here's your receipt. Thank you for coming and see us again," I said, my voice a little weaker than usual. The couple gave a quick bow before turning to leave, drinks in hand.

There are two ways this could go. I could let them out of that door and have my only possible chance of getting in contact with any of the boys leave with them. Or I could call after them and…

I whipped around to call out to my boss, my figure already halfway out from the bar.

"Ahjussi, I'll be back in five minutes, sorry. I promise I'll be quick!"

He had barely looked up when I started running out the door.

-----

"Excuse me!"

The duo looked back at me, then at each other in confusion as I tried my best to hurry up to them without landing on my face. God, why do they walk so fast? They were just a few seconds ahead when they left the shop! Thankfully, they stopped at my call, giving me a chance to skid before them as I tried to catch my breath.

"Um… Is there a problem? We paid, right?" The boy asked me with an odd look. I waved my hand before finally trying to answer.

"Yes. I uh—"

Well, I obviously didn't plan this out clearly. How do I say this now without sounding like a lunatic?

"I heard your conversation earlier. You were talking about Jeno."

The pair exchanged glances again, this time tinged with suspicion. It was the girl who answered this time.

"Yes, we were. What about it?"

"I… I just want—to maybe know where he is? You were talking about tonight's—"

"The drag race?"

I stopped for half a heartbeat before nodding.

"Yeah. The race. I wanted to come, too, but I don't really know the address."

The boy cocked his brow at me in blatant suspicion. It took all of me to pull out all the basics I learned from drama class back in high school to remain calm before his withering glare.

"You know Jeno but don't know the address? That doesn't make any sense," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If you've been in one before you should have been included in the text blast."

Oh shit.

I could feel my palms growing cold from nervousness. Still, I tried pushing on.

"W-well, I was invited before by one of them. But then things fell apart and I started not getting any of the...texts anymore," I said, not having the slightest idea of what I am saying myself. What's ironic though was that what I just blurted out was sort of a half-truth, too.

Apparently—and miraculously—it also made sense by the look of understanding that dawned on their faces.

"I see…" the girl trailed off. She cleared her throat and looked at her friend before glancing at me again.

"Look, I can give you the address, but promise me that you never got it from me when someone asks, okay?" She asked. The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Are you crazy? She was already shadow banned!"

She shushed him and waved her hand off to shut him up. "Look, this is a girl thing. Don't mess with it. Just go ahead to the car, I'll take care of it."

He scoffed but stalked off towards the direction of the parking lot.

She turned towards me again and pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket. I watched as she unlocked the screen before showing it to me.

"Do you have your phone with ya? Here, take a photo of this address."

I swear I could almost kiss her. I scrambled to get my phone from my back pocket and didn't waste another second to take a snap of her screen.

"Thank you so much."

She nodded in understanding before locking her phone again and shoving it into her pocket. "Hey, a girl's gotta stand up for another. Who was it? Was it Haechan?"

"Um…"

She didn't wait for me to finish.

"Really, whoever it is among them, I can't really blame you. They're all cute, but they do need to be taken down a notch when it comes to girls. Those boys," she tsked. "Dangerous."

Oh…

Oh. She thought I was an ex-fling who wanted to teach one of them a lesson by crashing the race. I let that sink in before a frown settled on my features.

Well, aren't you one? The devil on my shoulder cackled at me sardonically.

"Glad to have helped though. But remember, you didn't get it from me, okay?"

With a wink, she strutted off, leaving me staring at her retreating form.

----

I told myself I simply wanted to see him again.

I reminded myself that for the hundredth time tonight as I parked my car on a free space by a gravel road, my eyes roaming the darkness beyond. The place looked deserted, and I had to do one last check if I really put in the right coordinates on my map before finally turning off my engine. The road beyond was wide but uncemented and to its left is a half unfinished building with metal banisters reaching out to the sky like skeletal arms. I swallowed. Every little thing about the space beyond screams danger.

Which probably means I am in the right place.

I reached out to zip up my jacket and pulled the hoodie over my head before getting out of my car. My sneakers crunched on the gravel as I made my way towards a low wall circling the building beyond.

Just try and take a look. You don't have to talk to him. You can keep your distance.

I repeated that in my head again and again as I approached what I assume to be the entrance. A part of me still wants to berate myself for doing this but I am too far gone to try and play the denial game again. I want, no, I need to see Jaemin's world.

The moment I passed through a crack on the wall, it felt like I stepped into a different world. It opened up into an even wider area, the shadows of a multi-lane road behind the abandoned building beyond. Milling around is a throng of people, some smoking, others sipping on red cups on their hands. Some cars were parked against the wall I just passed, their headlights on with music booming out of their rolled down windows.

I tried to swallow the lump on my throat as I looked around. Already, I felt out of place in the crowd, but I steeled myself to push on, my hands digging deeper into the pockets of my jacket.

"Hey."

I looked up to see a boy around my age wave at me. He was also holding a red cup and what looked like a bundle of paper. My eyes widened as that came into focus when he got closer.

Money.

Wads and wads of cash.

"You put your bets already?" He asked as he stuffed the bills into a small belt bag hidden beneath his oversized shirt. He pulled his phone out then, unlocked the screen, and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

"Uh…"

He gave me an odd look.

"Who are you betting on?" He asked again.

I gave the first name I could only think of.

"Ja-Jaemin," I stuttered.

That earned me a low whistle from him as he typed away at his phone, probably to record my choice of 'player.' "I don't know, man. Dude seems pretty out of it lately, but whatever floats your boat." He stuck out his hand to me then, and it took me a few seconds to realize what he was asking for.

"Oh," I scrambled to grab my purse. I was in the middle of pulling my card from my wallet when I saw his face. Slowly, I put it back to reach out for bills instead.

"Cash only."

I sheepishly handed him the last few hundreds I have. He took them, expertly flipping through each bill to count them off.

"First time, eh?"

I nodded.

I watched as he slipped the money into his already overflowing belt bag, thinking that he would leave after that. Instead he nudged his head towards the direction of the building and motioned me along.

"Come on then. At least try and get a good look at your first race."

I blinked in confusion but ran after him as he started walking away.

We stopped at the front row of the half ring of people that had already gathered in front of the abandoned rafters. Just then, a huge spotlight shone over the road behind it, driving everyone to erupt in cheers. Parked in a single line at the foot of the road are five cars, headlights opening one by one.

"Jaemin's the yellow one," the boy nodded towards the one occupying the third lane. I stared. I know next to nothing about cars, but I know enough to be sure that none of the ones in front of me now are something you can buy from your run-of-the-mill auto dealer. Lowered, with shining reams, and a low motor hum that reverberated to where I was standing, I could only briefly compute in my head how much each of those customized rides must have cost.

I heard the boy beside me snort amusedly. "Your first race and you get to see this. I'm telling you, this happens once in a blue moon," he said with a smirk. I didn't say anything, my gaze never leaving the yellow car.

Slowly though, I noticed the crowd's noise die down dramatically the same time that a petite form walked out from the building. The woman stopped in the middle of the road and raised her hand into the night sky, a small pistol in her grasp.

Everyone has gone so quiet now that you could almost hear a needle dropping. Just then, the resounding bang of a gunshot pierced the air. Few other large spotlights turned on simultaneously, revealing the snaking road ahead that was disguised under the darkness earlier. I gasped. The roaring sound of engines blared beyond and with a new uproar from the crowd, the cars were speeding ahead, leaving trails of light in their wake.

My heart was beating so hard against my chest as I tried my best to follow the speeding cars ahead. I was only able to comprehend the real expanse of the road the moment each ride took over its lanes—the place looked more like an abandoned air dock field more than anything else. I was barely aware of my nails digging on the palms of my hands as my eyes switched from Jaemin’s car and the others, particularly on the deep red one that he was currently toe in toe with. The space between the two were a hair’s breadth away and I could almost swear their sides would collide any second.

That went on until a curve on the road appeared. It was the last turn before the finish line and the crowd turned wilder as the nose of each car tried its best to take the lead. I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath until the last second when the yellow one took over the inner space of the road before swerving successfully ahead.

Everyone around me erupted in cheers. I gave my own gasp, hands covering my lips before joining the rest.

Jaemin’s yellow lambo parked on the finish line, the rest of the race participants trailing behind. I watched as his door opened, revealing his beautiful wide grin and tousled hair. He was glowing, cheeks flushed from the adrenaline. I was so caught up in the image that I barely noticed Jeno appearing from the red car, followed by Renjun, Mark, and Haechan from the other rides.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I watched with a smile as they huddled over Jaemin, playfully pushing and cajoling him for his win. They looked happy, carefree.

But it seems like they aren’t the only ones who were out there in the road. My gaze moved back to Jaemin's car when I saw his passenger seat open. As if in slow motion, a girl got out of it, wearing the same wide smile the others have. The group hooted at her as she joined their huddle.

That’s when I felt as if time has stopped.

The smile on my face slowly faded as I watched Jaemin wrap his arms around her before pulling her into a tight hug.

---

A/N: Hey guys! This is going to be the second to the last chapter of Jaemin’s side story! I originally wanted to finish it in one go, but I thought it would be nice to release the epilogue on Nana’s birthday! So yes, that’ll be out on the 13th, lol. Thank you so much to those who have continued reading this side fic! <3

Chapter 5 (END)

Taglist: @negincho, @springdaybreaks,

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

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see? - [Reid x Reader] - Chapter 4

masterlist

previous chapter // series index

Summary: Spencer’s entire world has shifted, but before he can dwell on any of it, he and the rest of the team must race against the clock to find the unsubs newest victim.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst (for now)

Word Count: 3.7k for Chapter 4

Content Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Mentions of drug addiction. Angst

A/n: This chapter is the last planned one from Spencer’s POV. This is sort of another cliffhanger...but I’ll try to have chapter 5 out as soon as I can. Thank you for reading!

-- The Price We Pay --

(Spencer’s POV)

The most terrible moments in my life never happened slowly. I couldn’t be sure if that’s because of how my brain processed them or that’s just how they happened.

My hours with Tobias seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. My father all but ran out of my life. The light left Maeve’s eyes in a fraction of a second.

This was different.

I heard Hotch's question; I saw the pain ripple across his face when Garcia gave a muffled reply.

“Penelope,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “I know you know where she is. I think she’s…she’s in danger, Penelope. Please.”

Hotch doesn't say please. Hotch doesn't beg. I knew that, of course, I knew that. I had known the man for over 10 years now.

That is why his behavior didn't make sense.

Looking back, I think this moment happened so slowly because my brain refused to process the gravity of this moment. It was trying to protect me.

Why would Hotch ask about Y/n right now? I knew Garcia must have helped her go into hiding…but why were we talking about it now?

Despite my brain lagging, my body knew something was wrong. My lungs seized. I heard Rossi say something. His voice was coming from the right…but I couldn't hear him. It's like I was underwater; everything was muffled.

My body was going into shock, but I couldn’t understand why.

“Reid. Reid.” I felt a hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly, trying to anchor me to the moment. “Spencer, come on, kid. Focus.”

He never calls me Spencer, I thought, turning my head to the left to meet the wide brown eyes of my friend. “Derek? What…You’re still driving back.”

“We were a block away.” He turned me more towards him, his left hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, applying just enough pressure to make me focus. “I know this is hard, Kid. But we need you.”

Realistically it had only been minutes since Hotch picked up his phone, but it had felt like hours. And everyone in this room had already pieced together a puzzle I was still struggling to see.

I blinked. Then I blinked again. “Y/n doesn’t have a family." When I turned my gaze to Hotch, I saw my unit chief, my boss, my friend tense for a second before he lifted his head, meeting my gaze head-on. "You…You created the Nightingale system after Haley died. It's emergency family relocation. She's…she wasn't close enough with any of her family to use it."

All of the pieces of the puzzle were there, right there in front of me, but I couldn't snap them together.

Hotch didn't say anything for a moment; he just looked at me. Then he lowered the phone from his ear, clicking a button before the sound of clicking keys filled the room. "You're on speaker, Garcia."

"Sir?" she questioned, her voice nasally and thick with congestion. But even though that, just that one word was dripping with sadness and unease.

"You need to hurry, Penelope. We think the unsub may already have her."

She gave a choked sob before the clicking of her computer keys got faster.

But this doesn’t make sense. “The unsub only takes pregnant women,” I rasped. “He’s…he’s after…but he’s not after any pregnant women…he’s after…”

My mind seemed to wake up with that thought, adrenaline finally running through my system and becoming useful.

Pregnancy, on average, lasts for 280 days. Our unsub wanted heavily pregnant women…he wanted women that were about to go into labor.

Images of the night I was outside her apartment flashed in my mind. The only night I had ever had with her…279 days ago.

The thought of her being with someone else pained me, but I grasped onto the idea with both hands, holding on tightly.

“She’s not…she doesn’t fit the victimology. She….she wouldn't be far enough along. Not unless…" My words hung in the air, my tongue-tied in my mouth, refusing to finish them.

Because if the unsub had her…she would have been pregnant when she left.

My world was slowly shifting into focus at the same moment I felt JJ’s hand on my upper arm.

“Spence,” JJ whispered.

“Did you know?” I choked out. “Did all of you know?”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth before he shook his head. “Nah, kid. I didn’t know.”

But my eyes weren't on either of the people at my sides; my eyes were across the room. My eyes were locked on the man I had always trusted with my life. The man who was the best father I had ever known.

“No one knew besides Garcia and myself,” he said firmly. “I ordered her not to tell anyone else. If you have any issues, you can take them up with me.”

“If I have any issues?” I hissed, my teeth snapping together. It wasn’t until I felt wetness on my cheeks that I realized I was crying. “You…She’s pregnant.”

All of the tension seemed to leave his face, leaving him looking as battered as I felt. “We’ll do this later, Spencer.”

He never called me Spencer. “Is…is the baby…mine?” I had to ask, but everyone in the room already knew.

The man I thought was my friend nodded. “Yes.”

“Hotch!” JJ shrieked. “What were you thinking?! What was Y/n thinking?!”

Any emotion in his eyes hardened at her tone, his shoulders squared. The familiar coldness I saw when he faced down monsters and madmen took over his face. He didn’t look like my friend, like the man I had always admired. He wasn’t Hotch, he wasn’t Aaron; he was Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. And he was giving that look…to me.

“I did this because she asked me to. She showed up at my house in the middle of the fucking night because of a fight she had with you. She was…She is like family to me, and she was terrified. Because she went to tell the man she loved that she was pregnant, and he was cruel to her. He said he wished she was dead."

I didn’t flinch under his words; I knew what I had done.

“How could she trust you after that? She didn’t even know you had a problem, Reid.”

My addiction was always the elephant in the room. It didn't matter that I had struggled with it for the better part of 10 years; the team still refused to speak about it out loud.

Until now.

“You should have told me,” was all I could say.

Hotch didn’t budge. “You should have been a man worth telling.”

I flinched then; it was like he shot me. I think it would have hurt less if he had shot me.

Rossi stepped forward, placing a hand on our unit chief’s shoulder. “We don’t have time for this. If he does have our girl, we have to find her. We have to find…them.”

“Garcia,” Hotch barked out.

"I've got it! Her address is 20 Royal Oak Road. But I don't know if she'll be there. I hacked into her computer, and she had…she had a doctor's appointment scheduled for tonight."

I wanted to ask why she would have a doctors’ appointment scheduled for tonight…but I knew why. “Who is her doctor?”

“Reid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry-“

“Who is her doctor, Garcia?”

“His name is Dr. Johnson. He’s affiliated with St. Mercy’s hospital.”

Hotch grabbed his jacket, already heading for the door. “Rossi, you and Kate go to the abduction site. See if they have any sort of surveillance, witnesses. Anything. JJ, you’re with me at her home. Morgan, I need you to get to the hospital. Spencer-“

I didn’t hear what he told me. I was already out the door.

I had climbed into Morgan’s SUV without thought, settling in my seat a moment before he jumped behind the wheel.

My friend didn’t say anything while we made the 5-minute drive to St. Mercy’s hospital. He said nothing while we both ran inside the hospital’s entrance. The first time he spoke was to the nursing staff, flashing his badge and asking them to pull Dr. Johnson away from whatever patient he was with.

I’m not sure what Derek said, I’m not sure how he was able to convey to them how urgent the matter was, but the doctor was in front of us moments later. He was an older man with thinning white hair and tanned weathered skin.

“Sir, I’m SSA Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about one of your patients.”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about any of my patients without-“

“I understand that sir, but these are extenuating circumstances. We believe she may be in danger. You heard about the murder in Eugene yesterday?”

All color drained from the man’s face. “You think the person who did that has one of my patients?”

“Yes, we do,” Derek said firmly. He was always so good at this part. He could talk his way into everything. I couldn’t help but wonder what that must be like. “She’s very heavily pregnant, possibly…possibly with a boy.”

“I have several patients that are in their last trimester but…” he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

“We have reason to believe that Y/n Y/l/n might be in danger. Her records indicate she had an appointment here with you tonight.”

Dr. Johnson frowned. “I don’t have a patient by that name. I…” he trailed off, his gaze shifting over to me. “I have a Y/n Reid.”

Ever since my confrontation with Hotch, I had been existing in a detached state. Maybe it was my mind’s way of keeping me safe. But hearing her name… “She goes by Reid?” The corners of my lips twitched involuntarily despite the pain radiating from my chest. Of course, she did. It would be the last name I would ever look for.

“I’m afraid I really can’t give out any more information –“

“How far along is she?” I interrupted.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

Every single bit of calm and control I had inside of me seem to snap all at once. I took a step forward, my hands balled into fists at my sides. “Listen,” I seethed, my voice like iron. “Not only am I a federal agent, but I am also the fucking father. I want to know when she’s due!”

Dr. Johnson was quite a bit shorter than I was; and while I had never felt like a particularly intimidating person, he seemed to shrink back under my focus. "She's…she's set to be induced tomorrow morning. I have my patients come in the night before. I wanted…I wanted her to be induced earlier but…" He adjusted the glasses on his nose. "She's just so stubborn. She thought she'd go into labor on her own. But I can’t let her go over 42 weeks. She’ll be 41 weeks and 6 days tomorrow. But she never checked in for the appointment.”

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan breathed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing rapidly.

“Do…do you know the sex of the baby?” I asked, still trying to hold on to a hope that we were wrong; somehow, despite all of the evidence, we had all been so wrong about this.

“I do. She…Ms. Reid doesn’t know. She wanted it to be a surprise.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Do you…do you want to know?”

“NO, he doesn’t.” I turned to look at Morgan, my eyes struggling to focus. “You’ll find out in the delivery room, kid. We’re going to find her. We’re going to find them.”

It seemed like a ridiculous thing to stress, but it brought me some small sort of comfort while my friend led me out of the hospital to the SUV.

Morgan had called Hotch to confirm what we all already knew. Y/n had disappeared to Bend, Oregon, and she was in the final days of her pregnancy. Rossi and Kate found a car registered to Y/n Reid abandoned in a grocery store parking lot. There was an infant car seat and two bags in the back seat. One bag contained baby items…the other were the sorts of things a mother might need in the hospital.

We were all to meet Hotch and JJ at Y/n's apartment, and Hotch had asked that I come along in the hopes that I would see something everyone else had missed.

Because I had known her better than anyone.

“Kid,” Morgan said softly, breaking the silence inside the car. “We’ll find her…we’ll find them.”

I found myself nodding in agreement automatically. It felt like the right sort of reaction to have. My friend was worried about me, and sometimes you just do things because it’s better for the other person.

I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how Y/n felt that night. The night she left.

"Her phone is still on," I found myself saying. Morgan didn't respond, but I saw him glance over at me out of the corner of his eye. "The same phone she had before she left. I don't know why she never disconnected it. Sometimes…" I broke off, emotion suddenly clogging my throat, threatening to strangle me. "Sometimes, I call it just to hear her voice. I know she won't pick up. But the…the message is still her voice. I always leave a message. I don't know if she ever checks them. But I always leave one…just…just in case." My hand came up to wipe angrily at my cheeks, embarrassed both by my confession and the emotions I couldn't seem to hold in.

“She’ll hear the messages, Reid.”

I gave him another automatic nod.

It turns out Y/n didn’t live too far from the police station. Her home was in an apartment complex on the south end of town, on the third floor. I couldn’t the number of steps from the elevator to her blue front door. Twenty-three.

The instant I stepped inside, it felt wrong; everything felt wrong. The living room was basic and utilitarian. Impersonal. Nothing like Y/n. She was the sort of person who always felt like home.

This didn’t feel like anybody’s home.

I followed Morgan through the house, taking note of how clean and orderly everything was. Y/n had never been messy, but her apartment at home was filled to the brim with objects and things that made her smile.

"There are no pictures on the walls, nothing personal,” Morgan noted, giving voice to my own thoughts. “Hotch?” he called.

“We’re in here,” his voice replied, leading us down a small hallway.

On the right side of the hallway, there was another door that had been thrown open, and we found the other member of my team standing inside.

The room was painted a pale grey with white curtains hanging across the only window. There was a small, darker grey crib against the biggest wall and a rocking chair in the corner.

Something about the sight of that rocking chair was a punch to the stomach because I could see her in it so clearly. Her eyes soft while she moved the chair back and forth, holding a tiny bundle in her arms.

How long had I wanted to be a father? How many times had I dreamed of starting a family with Y/n…only to lose it all now?

“Spence,” JJ said, stepping towards me.

I couldn't look at her; I ignored her because I couldn’t do anything else. “The doctor said she didn’t know the gender of the baby. But I don’t think she would have painted the room pink or blue. She was never that sort of person.”

My eyes ran over the rest of the room. There was a small chest of drawers against another wall with some sort of platform on top of it. A changing table, I thought absentmindedly. There were pictures of stars hung on the walls, small boxes of diapers stacked neatly in the closet.

By the time I made my way over to the rocking chair, I could barely see anything. My torture by Tobias had cost me so much already; my addiction had robbed so much from me. But now I was standing in my child's nursery, and I was having trouble remembering any pain that had ever felt worse than this.

There was a small table beside the chair with a small lamp placed in the middle, but my eyes were fixed on the book pearched on the edge of the table. My fingers wrapped around the spine of the book, lifting it with shaking hands. The cover was white with a tiny bunny rabbit on the corner.

“Kid,” I heard Morgan say softly from behind me.

I couldn’t stop myself from flipping open the book, even though I knew it would bring me nothing but pain.

'The Story of You' was written on the first page in swirling script, right above a sonogram picture. My eyes moved over the outline of a face that I knew I would love for the rest of my life,;my fingers moved over the glossy paper, tracing the outline of my child's features.

A strangled sound left my throat when I read the words underneath the photo, my eyes squeezing tight.

“Spencer?” Rossi asked, coming up to my side. “What is it?”

I couldn’t open my eyes, but I tried to clear my throat, willing myself to speak. “The doctor said she didn’t know the baby’s sex…but…but I think she did anyway.”

Because underneath the photo, I saw her familiar handwriting.

Knowing the name of a child that wasn't even born yet wouldn't help me find her; it wasn't relevant to the case, but I couldn't move past it.

“Isaac Benjamin Reid.”

I couldn’t be sure how long the silence lasted before Rossi asked if that name had any significance to y/n.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said softly. “It’s…it has significance to me. Isaac Asimov is my father’s favorite author. I hadn’t read any of his works since my dad left…but one day on the jet, Y/n got me talking about it. The next day I found a copy of I, Robot on my desk at work. She didn’t say anything, but I knew it was her.”

It was always her.

“And Benjamin?” Hotch prodded.

I let out a heavy exhale. “Ben Walker is my NA sponsor. He has been for over 8 years.” It wasn’t lost on me that none of my team knew about Ben. I never talked about that part of my life; I hadn’t even told Y/n he was my sponsor. I had no idea how she knew about him, but there was no doubt in my mind that’s why she’s selected this name.

“This doesn’t make sense,” JJ muttered, causing me to finally look up at her. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes sense. You said that she didn’t know the baby’s sex.”

"That's what the doctor said," I clarified before closing the book softly. "I guess she just had a feeling."

My friend nodded. “Of course. But how did the unsub know? Garcia has been digging for over an hour. Y/n was…she was hiding, Reid. She worked from home. She doesn’t have a social media presence. Garcia can’t even find any indication that she has friends.”

“So, how did the unsub find her?” Hotch finished. “How did the unsub know she existed? Let alone that she was pregnant with a boy.”

Kate stepped into the room, her eyes moving over everything. "Alright. We need to revisit each victim. Then we need to determine if he came here for y/n or if he just found her. If she's over 40 weeks, I'm sure it's obvious that she's pregnant."

JJ moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, her eyes moving over the street. “But how did he know it was a boy? How did he know any of the victims were pregnant with boys?”

The ringing of Hotch’s phone cut through the air. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Sir, I’ve been trying to hack not the security systems of the buildings around the supermarket. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’m trying to find any vehicle that seems evil.”

“Did you find anything?”

"Kevin and I have been running license plates against the state of Oregon's DMV. There's a bank two blocks away from the grocery store. Their security footage captured a black sedan driving by about 15 minutes after Y/n's debit card was used at the grocery store."

Rossi spoke next. “Is there any reason to suspect that car?”

“The plates belong to a different car, a red Volvo. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Hotch nodded. “It’s our best lead. Can you track the car through traffic cameras?”

“Doing it now, sir.”

We all started moving towards the door before Hotch gave another order. "Send us the most recent locations, then every single location afterward as soon as you get it. We'll split up and try to canvas the area. Y/n could go into labor at any moment. He couldn't have gone far."

Hotch didn't bother telling me to stay behind this time, but I felt his eyes on me when I got into one of the SUVs. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was his knowledge that I wouldn't listen to him anyway.

It didn’t matter.

Morgan set off at a breakneck speed, his door barely closing before we started moving. His posture was tense, and his eyes were moving over the landscape rapidly.

“She’s gonna be okay, Spencer.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know that Derek.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “She’s not just a pregnant woman. She’s a profiler. She’s one of the best profilers I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how this son of a bitch found her, but Garcia created her background. There is no fucking way he knew who she is. He doesn’t know he took an FBI agent.”

The thought should have brought me comfort, but it didn't. It just tore an even bigger hole in my chest. Y/n had left because of me. She had gone into hiding because she was afraid of me. She had a new identity that had potentially made her vulnerable…made my son vulnerable because of me.

Morgan was right; we had to find her.

Because I didn’t think I would be able to survive her paying for my mistakes.

------

Permeant Taglist : @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool @andiebeaword @imjusthereformggcontent @rainsong01 @violentvulgarvolatile @mys2425 @al3xmnd @imfalling-inlove @cielo1984 @shadyladyperfection @kissingvalentino @goofygubler14 @levylovegood @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @criminalmindzjunkie @addie5264 @hopefulfangirl24 @vellichor01 @ellegreenawayapologist @mcntsee @eevee0722 @peacedolantwins2 @ashwarren32 @goldencherrymooon @pumpkin-reads @mood---board @gublersbooblers @lesbian-emilyprentiss @badkittybang @quxxnxfhxll @jessayln-jpeg

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #dr spencer reid fics #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds angst #Spencer Reid angst #reid angst #see? series

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thecagedsong · 3 years ago

Text

Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Chapter 13: Tunnels

When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for? Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

#Forgotten Light #Bracken #Kendra Sorenson #Brackendra #I love this chapter so much you have no idea #Thanks for being patient #The hyperfixation choses you #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years ago

Text

Dear Heart - Chapter 10

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow @primusk If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: First of all, sorry this update took so long! I’ve got a new OC to introduce here and I wanted to get her right. I hope you guys enjoy Juliet as much as I do :) Thank you again to @mercurygray for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): None for this one :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 here we go!!!

Haguenau, with its slushy streets and unpredictable explosions, was a welcome reprieve from the hellish woods of the Bois Jacques. The improvements were small, but they had roofs over their heads, food in their bellies, and rumor had it that later there would be showers. Unfortunately, danger still lingered close by - right across the river.

Melanie slipped and slid all the way to the company CP to check on Lipton. She was keeping an eye on his pneumonia so he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Dick had objected to this at first, but she assured him she could manage. Lip was too valuable to leave the company now, and Dick couldn’t argue with that.

When she arrived, she saw Webster - clean and fresh from the replacement depot. She nearly did a double take when she spotted him. Holland felt like years ago now. Though he looked much the same as he did then - a handsome young Harvard man.

“Oh! Hello, David,” she said pleasantly. “Glad you could join us.”

“Thank you,” he returned earnestly, for he knew she was the only person who said that without any sarcasm behind it. “How are you, Melanie?”

“Oh, just fine,” she said. “How’s the leg?”

“Good, thanks,” he replied.

Melanie had tended to him herself. It was a flesh wound, so she didn’t need a doctor. Just disinfectant, stitches, and a bandage, and he was good as new. She offered to cover for him if he wanted to get back to the line, but he refused. Now that she had seen combat first hand, she couldn’t say she blamed him.

She turned her attention back to Lipton. “Now, Lip, can I ask you to set those papers down at least long enough for me to take your temperature?”

Lip nodded and let the papers in his hand fall into his lap. Luz pulled up a chair for her. She thanked him and took a seat while the thermometer did its work. She leaned closer to feel Lip’s forehead, which was still burning up.

The temperature climbed and she frowned. “Still a fever. How’s the cough?”

“It’s okay,” he said, but then lost himself in another fit.

While she waited, another new face entered the room. A lieutenant she did not recognize. He introduced himself as Jones, and explained he was looking for Captain Speirs. As if summoned by the mention of him, the new Easy CO appeared. Melanie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Speirs yet. There was no denying he was successful, but there was something frightening about him. He was so...intense. And she’d heard the rumors about what he did on D-Day, though she didn’t know if she believed them. Even having spent more time around him, she couldn’t make up her mind about whether he was capable of it or not.

Lip began to introduce Jones, but Speirs cut across him. “Listen, for Christ’s sakes, will you go back in the back and sack out? Lieutenant, tell him he needs to be in bed.”

One thing Melanie appreciated about Speirs was his indifference to her presence in regard to her gender. Ever the practical leader, he seemed to just appreciate that she was there. Man or woman, if there was help, he took it. She did wish he would call her Melanie, but that sort of familiarity took time.

“I can’t order him around, Captain, but I do agree with you,” she said, casting a stern look at Lip.

“I will, sir,” Lip said to Speirs. “I was just trying to make myself useful, sir.”

“You can do that by listening to the nurse,” Speirs replied.

“And you won’t be useful to anybody unless you get better,” she added. “Do try and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said tiredly.

“Very good,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll come back by and check on you later.”

With Lip seen to, Melanie headed back to her billet. Now that they weren’t cut off, she had a stack of letters from her mother to sort through. She had only made it through about half of them so far, and though their contents steered more and more toward questions about her and Dick, she was eager to hear the news from home. She also had a few letters from her friend Rose, so when her mother’s letters got to be too much, she had something to fall back on.

When the first letter from her unread stack from Lilian began with a question about Dick and his intentions, Melanie gave up. She could never make her mother understand what was between her and Dick, and so there was no use trying to explain it. She picked up Rose’s letter and began to read. She made a face at its contents.

“Bad news?”

Melanie looked up to see Dick in the doorway. For a fleeting second, she took absurd notice of the bit of scruff on his face and admired it. He looked rather devil-may-care. So much so that for a moment she forgot her distress entirely. She shook her head to clear it, set the letter down, and nodded sadly.

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “My friend, Rose...her husband is missing somewhere in the Pacific.”

“This is your high school friend?” he asked.

Melanie so rarely spoke about her loved ones back home, but she had mentioned Rose more than once. Rose was married to Patrick, a Marine. They had a little boy, Jonathan, and Melanie was his godmother. She nodded again.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, how awful…Poor Rose…”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dick said, trying to sound convincing. “Could be captured.” That was certainly wishful thinking. He’d heard that the Japanese rarely, if ever, took prisoners. But he wouldn’t poison Melanie’s mind with that information.

She didn’t reply for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the letter, deep in thought. Then she sat back against her chair and sighed. Almost dreamily. His brow furrowed as he watched her. She turned her face to look out the window, and the light illuminated the bruises that still faintly clung to her skin.

“This might sound like a horrible thing to say,” she said. "But you know, I sort of envy her. Husband, baby. Everything is...decided, it’s there. I know deep down that it worries her, having Patrick gone, but I...I envy that she had those things to lose." She looked at Dick. "Does that make sense?"

He knew exactly what she meant. Dick listened to the way some of the other men talked about their wives, and he did sometimes feel a little jealous that they had someone who was so counting on their return. True, it made the stakes higher - his frequent reasoning for not admitting his feelings to Melanie - but there was a certain beauty about that risk.

“It makes sense,” he told her. “And I think it’s only human. She may envy you that you get to be part of the action, while she has to stay behind. Or that you don’t have something so heavy to worry about.”

Melanie considered arguing this. If anything happened to Dick, she’d be devastated. But of course, that was not something she could say. And besides, he was not her husband. Losing him would not put her in the same position as Rose socially. She would only have comparable heartbreak. She decided to change the subject, distraught at the very idea.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a patrol tonight. Sink wants you and Roe on standby in case of any casualties.”

“A patrol?” she questioned.

He nodded, his own displeasure at the idea clear in the slight downturn of his mouth. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but unfortunately, they both knew it was no good.

He explained the basics. Fifteen men from Easy Company would cross the river and try to capture a few Germans they knew to be residing in one of the buildings near the shore. Hopefully, they would have information to help the Allies push further into Germany. Melanie didn’t think the risk was worth it, but she didn’t have to say so. She knew Dick felt the same. But orders were orders.

“Alright, I’ll try and have some things prepared,” she said with a sigh. If she had time, she might have gone to Colonel Sink to ask him about this patrol and if it was really necessary, but it seemed decided. “Would you like me to come to the briefing?”

“Up to you,” he said. “I was just going to tell you to get some sleep while you can. Patrol sets off at 0100 hours.”

She expected him to go then, but he lingered, looking at her as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. She searched his face for what it might be.

“Is there anything else, Dick?” she asked.

There was, but he wouldn’t say it. Truthfully, he felt he related to Rose. After almost losing Melanie to a crumbling building, and wondering what she’d been through before those five days in the woods (which he still wondered), fearing that whatever it was had cost him his closeness to her, he realized he had done a lot more worrying about her lately. He was at the relative safety of battalion, while she had taken a position much closer to danger. The tables had certainly turned since D-Day.

He shook his head. “No, that’s it. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave, but was blocked by the appearance of a striking blonde woman. He stopped just before colliding with her, his surprise evident on his face.

“Crikey, sorry!” she gasped. She was English, based on the accent. “My fault!”

Melanie’s brow furrowed with confusion as Dick shuffled out of the way of the newcomer and her face came into view. She was beautiful with thick, wavy blonde hair, eyes the color of rain, and an enchanting smile. She clearly wasn’t military since she was in civilian clothes. Her presence was all charm and warmth, from the second she entered the room.

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said, extending her hand. “You’ll have to excuse the sweat, I walked all the way through town. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to get a cab out here.”

Melanie and Dick both chuckled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Melanie Davis, and this is Captain Dick Winters.”

“I see I’ve made it to the right place,” Juliet said. “I’m a reporter with the London Pursuit, and Colonel Sink said I can bunk with you while I cover the regiment.”

Melanie blinked, surprised by Colonel Sink allowing a war correspondent - especially one who was both female and English.

“Most of my colleagues went to cover our own lads, but I thought I’d see what the Yanks are up to,” Juliet continued. “I hate to be unoriginal.”

Melanie and Dick exchanged an amused glance as Juliet stepped further into the room and set her bags down.

“I promise you’ll be glad of the company,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” Melanie asked, curious.

“Well, there can’t be too many other women out here,” Juliet said. “With all the whistles I got on my way here, I’m quite certain we stand out.”

Melanie smiled again, feeling seen. Though the men knew better than to whistle at her. She thought it was out of respect for Colonel Sink, but really most of the men understood Melanie to be Dick’s girl, whether Dick and Melanie were aware of it or not.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Dick said, then he turned to put his hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course,” Melanie replied, her gaze lingering on him just a moment longer. Her eyes flicked down to the stubble on his chin again for one last look at it.

“Nice to meet you, Juliet,” he said, and then he was gone.

Juliet glanced between where Dick disappeared and Melanie’s face. “You two seem rather smitten, is he your boyfriend?”

Melanie flushed. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Would you like him to be?” Juliet asked.

The pink in Melanie’s cheeks deepened. “Well - I mean, I care for him, but -”

“What’s the matter?” Juliet pressed. “Family doesn’t approve?”

“We’ve never met each other’s families, so -”

“Oh, is he married?”

“No, he’s -”

Juliet’s nose wrinkled as she interrupted again. “Does he want you to do unusual things in the bedroom?”

The color drained from Melanie’s face and her eyes went wide as an owl’s. “No!”

“These are just routine questions,” Juliet said.

“Are they?” Melanie wondered, shocked.

“Of course,” Juliet answered, appearing completely earnest. Until she burst out laughing, which put Melanie at ease. “I’m joking, Melanie. We only just met, I’d never ask what your boyfriend likes in the bedroom. Unless of course you need to talk about it, in which case, I’m all ears.”

Melanie blinked. She hadn’t met many reporters so she wondered if they were all as fast-paced as Juliet, whose mind seemed to run a hundred miles a second. She felt like she should be offended by the remarks, but she wasn’t. She found it all a bit silly. Which she appreciated after the news from Rose and the impending patrol. Juliet was like sunshine in this bleak and gray winter. She retrieved a cigarette from the box in her pocket, struck a match, and lit it, taking a long drag, and looking very graceful in Melanie’s opinion.

“Dick and I are strictly platonic,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer for a confidant.”

“Anytime,” Juliet said with a puff of smoke around the word. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Me too,” Melanie agreed.

“Seriously, I don’t have any friends,” Juliet said. “People hate reporters.”

Melanie softened. Juliet was not teasing now, she was being honest. Melanie saw it in her eyes, the loneliness.

“I assure you, I have no such prejudice,” Melanie said. “Now, what can I do to help you settle in?”

Juliet had packed light, which was to be expected. But she had brought along her typewriter, which Melanie was surprised Juliet was able to carry at all. It was heavier than lead, and would have had Melanie tipping over if she tried to travel with it. As they got Juliet set up, they got to know each other more. Melanie did enjoy being in the company of a woman again, and the friendship she felt reminded her of her time with Renee and Anna, who she missed a great deal. Juliet explained that she had met some of the 101st before while they were in Aldbourne, which was part of what drew her to covering their unit now.

“You didn’t make any friends?” Melanie asked. “I’ve found our boys to be rather friendly, especially with beautiful women.”

Juliet smiled. “Oh, they were perfectly kind. But it is hard to keep up once they’ve shipped out.”

“I understand,” Melanie said. “Why, my friend back home - her husband is in the Pacific and she gets so impatient for his letters. Of course now, he…” she trailed off, reminded once more of Patrick’s danger and Rose’s heartache.

“Was he killed?” Juliet asked.

Melanie shook her head. “Missing.”

“Crikey, I don’t know which is worse,” Juliet said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s not the only bad news,” Melanie confessed, and explained about the patrol. Juliet listened carefully, brow knitting over her eyes as she took it in.

“It’s quite risky,” she remarked. “From what I’ve read, the war’s supposedly almost over.”

Melanie bit back a scoff. “Not quite. I wish it were, though. These men have been through enough.”

“You have too, I expect,” Juliet said. “Were you with them in Bastogne?”

“I was for the last week or so,” Melanie told her. “And I barely made it through that little.”

Melanie shuddered to recall those days. Not only because of the grueling nature of the battle, but also her distance from Dick. Things were beginning to get back to normal between them, but she could feel that he was still curious. She appreciated that he wouldn’t push her, but it made her feel guilty to keep something from him.

“I’d love to get your story, if you’re up to sharing,” Juliet said. “I’m sure you’ve got a unique perspective.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not,” Melanie told her. “If anyone’s voice deserves to be heard, it’s the men who were out there for weeks.”

Juliet shrugged. “I understand. I hope you know your voice matters too, though.” When Melanie didn’t reply, she continued. “Besides, I’m more interested in this patrol you mentioned. D’you think I’d be allowed at the briefing at least?”

Melanie pondered this, grateful for the change of subject. “We can certainly ask Dick. Or Easy’s CO, since that company will be executing the operation.”

“Great! When can I meet him?” Juliet wondered.

Melanie admired Juliet’s eagerness. “I’ll be going by the company CP this afternoon to check up on Sergeant Lipton. Come with me, and I’m sure we can find out.”

“Perfect!”

The girls set out for something to eat. And Juliet was constantly making Melanie laugh. Not because Juliet was necessarily trying to be funny, but her remarks were unusual and amusing. Melanie felt like she’d been sent a sweet blessing - she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much. This winter had been the hardest of her life, and not only because of the weather. So much had happened to her. But now she felt like spring was right around the corner.

Neither Dick nor Speirs were at the CP when Melanie and Juliet stopped by, and Lipton was about the same as far as his illness went. Melanie introduced her new friend, and Lip was welcoming to her. Melanie once again stressed his need for rest, and he promised her he would sleep within the hour.

“I think Winters and Speirs are out by the river,” he told them. “They’re checking things out for the patrol.”

“Thank you, Lip,” Melanie replied. “We’ll go find them.”

She turned to go, but quickly realized that Juliet was not following her. The reporter was glued to her spot, and some of the color had drained from her face. She looked...rather frightened.

“Did you say...Speirs?” she asked Lipton.

He nodded. “Yeah. Captain Speirs has been our CO since Foy.”

She swallowed. Melanie’s brow furrowed. She guessed that perhaps Speirs was one of the people from the regiment Juliet met in Aldbourne, but judging by her face, it would not be a glad reunion. Juliet looked as if she were braced for impact. Melanie grew concerned.

“I understand if you’re a little afraid of Speirs,” she said. “He’s -”

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of nothin’ except spiders, which is completely normal,” Juliet interjected, somehow both defensive and joking. She took a breath. “Okay...okay, you may see some things…”

Melanie immediately formed a hundred questions about that, but Juliet marched out of the building and into the street. Evidently, there would be no explanation of what Melanie might see upon finding Speirs. Melanie eagerly followed Juliet outside. She tried to strike up conversation again, but Juliet remained silent. Her eyes looked straight ahead, and yet, they were unfocused. Melanie gave up trying to talk before they finally reached the river bank, where Dick did in fact stand with Speirs, looking out at the water and the enemy on the other side. Melanie cleared her throat, and both men turned their heads.

As soon as Speirs’ eyes landed on Juliet, the already thin air suddenly became colder and sparser. Melanie cast Dick a sideways glance and saw on his face that he felt it too. The tension was like a dam about to break. Juliet shifted uncomfortably under Speirs’ icy glare.

“Hi, Ron,” she said quietly. “You look - you look good. I know you probably don’t think so, since - well, you know. Not that you were ever terribly concerned about things like that - I mean, that’s not to say you aren’t nice looking - I was just - you know what? I’m gonna stop now. You look well. War suits you.”

Juliet bit her lip, clearly regretting the last remark, but she didn’t try to correct herself again. Speirs did not reply. He only stared at her, his gaze alone seeming to order her away. Melanie stepped closer to Dick, for a shiver had gone up her spine. Beats passed in strained silence.

“I wrote to you,” Juliet went on. “Several letters. Did you -”

“I didn’t read them,” he cut across her. His tone and expression were alarmingly blank.

She swallowed the sting of it. “That’s alright. I understand completely.” He continued to look at her in stony silence so she changed the subject again. “So, you’re a captain, now, are you? That’s nice! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he said hollowly.

“You deserve it,” she said. “Really.”

Speirs did not answer that. He only scowled.

Dick leaned over to whisper in Melanie’s ear. “What is going on?”

“No idea,” she breathed back. “They’ve got some sort of history, but I don’t know what.”

Dick only nodded and looked back at Juliet, who was becoming more and more despondent by the second. He decided to rescue her.

“Did you two need something?” he asked, so the group could hear.

“Juliet was wondering if she could be present at the briefing in order to cover the patrol tonight,” Melanie said, eyes darting between Speirs and Dick.

“No,” Speirs said shortly.

“Please don’t make this personal, Ron,” Juliet sighed. “My editor is really counting on me getting a story out here, and -”

“Well, she fucked up, Jules, she trusted you!” he snapped.

Juliet blinked, taken aback and wounded by the biting reply. Melanie got the distinct feeling Speirs was not talking about the story when it came to a breach of trust. Her mind was swirling with questions now. How did Juliet and Speirs know each other? What had happened to make him hate her so much? And could it be fixed?

Speirs took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. He looked at Juliet again. “Your mother, is she feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Juliet said with a nod. “Yeah, much better.”

“Good,” he replied.

With that, he walked off. Melanie was completely bewildered. Speirs seemed like he was about ready to spit at Juliet, but then he asked about her mother? It was all so odd and complex. Dick watched Speirs’ disappearing form.

Melanie had a horrifying thought as she watched Speirs depart and Juliet’s expression sink. When two people miscommunicated, and things shifted between them, the relationship could easily come to a devastating and tragic end. Melanie examined the change in her and Dick’s relationship since Terry assaulted her. If she couldn’t find the courage to share with him, would they become like Juliet and Speirs? All hurt feelings and unsaid intentions? What would happen to them if she gave into her fears and didn’t trust him with her heart?

#band of brothers #dick winters #dick winters x ofc #melanie jo davis #dear heart series #hbo war #hbo war fic #band of brothers fic

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

Text

Hope you enjoy the next lot of twists and turns coming up! :D

Charter 11: Past Prologue

Edinburgh, 2021

“I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything here…“ Ryan scanned the dressing room. It was a very neutral area. Barton was not the sort of person to make himself comfortable anywhere, particularly if it was just for the duration of a speech. “Not like he was here any length of time…“ Ryan’s eyes fell on the only item that wasn’t part of the furnishings. “Unless…“

“Forgot his jacket.“ Graham grinned and picked up the coat that had been flung over the side of an armchair. She reached into the pockets and quickly found what he was looking for: “Wallet.“ He announced, pleased with himself and opened it.

“Anything interesting?“ Ryan asked, looking over his grandfather’s shoulder, just as a business card fell out.

“Card…“ Graham picked it up and read: “Anastasis Project. Rings any bells?“ He turned it in his hand while Ryan gave a shrug. There was nothing else on the card apart from the name.

“Let’s meet up with the others.“ Ryan said, and they took the wallet and the coat with them.

“You didn’t follow him?“ Graham asked surprised when they found the rest of the team waiting outside.

“We’ve attached a transponder to his car but he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to see his contacts, quite the contrary, he’s going to be staying away and laying low.“ Jack explained.

“He’s certainly provided some kind of financial support, even if he’s not directly involved.“ Kate’s voice sounded in their ear-pieces.

“Let’s see where the money goes.“ Martha said and Ryan asked:

“Is there anything referring to an Anastasis Project in his portfolio?“ There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Meanwhile, they passed around the wallet and the business card.

“Not as such… but it seems like one of his research funds is supporting such a project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke at last. “Freelance. No direct ties.“

“Of course, so he can’t be made responsible for it.“ Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Do we have the address to an office or anything like that?“ Jack asked.

“There is a registered address, yes, probably fake though…“ Kate supplied, sounding doubtful.

“Still worth checking out.“ Ryan shrugged. It was better than returning to base with nothing. Whether they would have admitted it or not, being back in action made them realise how much they had missed it. Maybe they just weren’t made for the quiet life.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd century

“You lied to me.“ The Doctor growled at the Master. She took a couple of steps back, bringing some distance between herself and the two men. Her mind was reeling. She should have known better, she had been through it so many times. A little part of her had believed the Master would at least value the idea of a family enough to forgo a blatant lie. She had seen it when Missy had given her condolences upon learning of River’s death. The Master had always respected her relationship with River. It should have extended to their child. Or so she had hoped. Hope was so hard to resist. But in the end, the Master never failed to disappoint her.

“I did no such thing, I had no idea.“ The Master retorted and his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. He watched his doppelgänger, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on. They were identical, that was for sure but there was something unfamiliar about him too. His delight at the novelty of it had passed, now he required answers.

“Oh I see what’s happening, you're getting the wrong end of the stick here.“ The other Master grinned, clapping his hands joyfully. “See, I didn’t expect you to bring him.“ He carried on, gesturing to the Master. “I didn’t expect you, either, Doctor. Not this version of you. Last I saw you, you were so much younger… What happened to your little human friends? I really hope they died. Painfully. Not that he’s any better, mind, but I really hated those two… that mouthy med-tech and the do-gooder linguist… I should really have killed them when I had the chance…“ He carried on, and the Doctor couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. That part of her life had been lifetimes ago. Five lifetimes to be exact.

“What are you talking about?“ She asked, bewildered. She had met the Master so many times since then, when he had been posed as Harold Saxon, when he had been Missy…

“Oh, Doctor, do I have to spell it out for you? Is old age finally getting to you?“ He chuckled patronisingly, and the Doctor looked at the Master she had arrived with, wondering if he might have answers. He looked just as confused as she felt. “You don’t really think I’m the Master, do you? The Master!“ The other man cackled like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“Then who are you?“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. She hated feeling stupid.

“Your greatest enemy, of course.“ He took a dramatic bow which only served to infuriate the Master next to her more. His eyes flashed dangerously as recognition appeared to dawn on him.

“How did this happen?“ The Master took a threatening step towards the other man.

“What are you talking about?“ The Doctor frowned. Perhaps she had been wrong. There was something familiar about the other Master but the more she heard him speak, the less she believed her initial assessment. Something was very wrong here.

“I should have made sure you were dead last time around.“ The Master spat, baring his teeth at the other man whilst clearly contemplating how he would accomplish the feat again.

“Ah recognition at last. If that imbecile can figure it out, surely you can, Doctor. Has it really been so long for you that you don’t remember me anymore?“ The other Master smirked at the Doctor. “The fun we’ve had.“ He giggled, his voice changing slightly. “Gallifrey? The Crucible of Souls? Artron’s Tomb? You were there for that one, too.“ He winked at the Master.

“Spit it out already!“ The Doctor snapped as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Oh dear, you don’t have the same presence I used to have.“ The man’s voice changed and suddenly sounded an awful lot more familiar to the Doctor. “I’m frightfully hurt, old chum.“ His voice changed again, laughing and then he barked: “Can we just kill her already.“

“No.“ Colour drained from the Doctor’s face. They should be dead. She was sure of it.

“So what are you doing impersonating me?“ The Master cut in, having had enough of the exchange.

“Impersonating you? I think you’ll find I’ve had this face much longer than you! I wear it better too.“ The other man grinned. “Also, I don’t do impersonations anymore, not since… well, the Nine?“ He looked at the Doctor ravelling in the look of shock on her face. “Remember that, Doctor? I impersonated you and then you impersonated me, and that was just embarrassing.“ He laughed as the Doctor just shook her head incredulously.

“You’re lying. The Twelve died on Gallifrey.“ She was sure of it. The Twelve had died in an explosion, their body had never been recovered.

“Yes. I was there. I am the Thirteen.“ The Thirteen smirked, satisfied that finally, the penny seemed to have dropped.

“You can’t be, you are a future version of him.“ She pointed to the Master. Her experiences with the Eleven and the Twelve had been lifetimes ago. Thousands of years of her own life, before the Time War, there was no way he was here now. “I don’t know why I trusted you.“ She snapped at the Master next to her.

“Now that’s something you should never do.“ The Thirteen agreed, enjoying watching them bicker. They would be far easier to deal with if they weren’t working together.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you.“ The Master snarled at the Thirteen. “Believe what you will, Doctor, but do you not think you might be getting a little distracted from why we’re really here?“ His dark eyes darted around the room. They weren’t alone anymore. Soldiers were lining at the edges of the room, slowly advancing towards them. It was a trap. “Even if that is a future version of me, which I can assure you, it’s not…“

“The very thought…“ The Thirteen chuckled.

“Do you not have something to ask of the nice man here?“ The Master urged and the Doctor overcame her disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The Master had a point. They were here for a very good reason. Regardless of whether this man was the Thirteen, the Master or Rassilon himself, her question remained the same.

“Where is my son?“ The Doctor fixed her eyes on the Thirteen, her voice turning low and threatening. Enough of the games.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?“ The Thirteen feigned shock and grasped his chest. “Did you lose someone precious to you?“

“Whoever you are, you know something.“ The Doctor took a threatening step towards him.

“Well, he’s not here if that’s what you’re asking.“ The Thirteen gave a dismissive wave. “In fact, Doctor, I hadn’t really planned for this detour.“ He gestured around the room. “But it does get one thing out of the way…“

“What’s that?“ The Doctor shot back.

“You.“ the Thirteen grinned, and as if on cue the soldiers pointed their guns at her and the Master.

“Thanks for bringing her here, really, couldn’t have calculated it better myself.“ The Thirteen gave the Master a grin. “And just to be perfectly clear, Doctor, that we’re not the same person? I’ll have him killed, too.“ He glanced back to the Doctor who was looking around. The TARDIS was not far behind them. Was there time to turn and run? But if they ran, they wouldn’t find out what he knew.

“I will tear you limb from limb this time around.“ The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled killing the Eleven. It was a bit of a blur, too many of his past selves had been present, but he recalled the deed well enough to be sure it happened. This time, he would make sure he couldn’t regenerate.

“What was it you said last time we met about compassion?“ The Thirteen looked to the Master. “I distinctly remember your lady version saying you weren’t without it… Well, I am. Which is why I will win and you will lose.“ He smirked.

“Still think that’s me?“ The Master looked to the Doctor who was at a loss for words.

“I…“

“Any clever ideas, Doctor?“ The Master stepped closer to the Doctor as the guards advanced further.

“The Doctor and the Master, sitting in a trap, K I L L I N G.“ The Thirteen sang. “No, doesn’t really work.“ He huffed. “Open fire on my mark.“ He called his men.

“OI!“ A female voice called out and suddenly an explosion rocked them, and the hangar filled with smoke.

——

Demon’s Run, Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“Here we go…“ River mumbled, connecting one last cable, as the force field turned off. “You'll be a good boy now, okay?“ She mumbled and pressed a kiss to her son’s head. This wasn’t exactly the right environment for a newborn but she didn’t have a choice.

There was an explosion somewhere, and alarms started wailing.

“Sounds like it’s the right time to get out of here.“ River soothed her son as he started crying because of the noise. She held him close as she walked down the corridor. She had to find a way off this space station. Her best bet would be the hangar bay.

“Professor Song!“ A voice called behind her suddenly and River whipped around as it was familiar and welcome.

“Madame Vastra!“ River exclaimed as she spotted the lizard woman who was just climbing out of a maintenance hatch.

“You’re… alive…“ Vastra marvelled at seeing her like this. Not just a consciousness trapped on a data stick but alive and whole and with her son in her arms. The relief and joy Vastra felt in that moment overshadowed all past anguish up until this point.

“Courtesy of my captors.“ River answered with a smirk as she stepped closer while Vastra helped another woman out of the tight hatch who River hadn’t met before. She could only presume she was a friend at the obvious relief on her face, too.

“Are you okay? Both of you?“ The girl asked, straightening herself up next to Vastra, and River nodded. Perhaps getting off this rock wouldn’t be so difficult after all, now that the cavalry had arrived.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we tried…“ Vastra felt the overwhelming urge to make her apologies. She reached out and touched the little boy’s head, hoping to convey her deep regret for having failed to protect him.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, shall we chat later? And get out of here first?“ River gave her an encouraging smile. She didn’t blame her, how could she? Without knowing any details of what had happened, she knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax would have done their utmost to keep her child safe. If they had failed to do so it could only have been through overwhelming odds. And now they had come to their rescue. They were the most loyal of friends. “I imagine we will have company soon. I may have tripped some alarms when I broke out of my cell.“ River pointed out the flashing lights and sirens while she tried to calm her son down.

“This way. We have a ship.“ Vastra nodded in agreement, and they rushed down the corridor. They had no time to lose.

“Now, now, Melody, can’t leave you alone for two minutes.“ They came to an abrupt halt as Madame Kovarian, backed by numerous soldiers, appeared at the top of the corridor they were heading towards.

“Yaz, take the long way around, take her to our ship!“ Vastra pulled her sword from its sheath and grabbed a blaster with the other. “Now!“

“But what about…“ Yaz started protesting.

“I will buy you some time, go!“ Vastra insisted, staring down the guards that were advancing towards them.

“Vastra!“ River grabbed her friend’s arm. They had to get out of here, they had to run, but they should be doing it together. She could risk her son getting injured. As much as River wanted to fight and finally, finally put an end to Madame Kovarian, her mother's instincts gripped her more tightly. She had to keep her son safe.

“It’s okay, you two go and don’t look back! I will find Jenny and Strax, we will make our own way. NOW GO!“ Vastra insisted with steely determination.

“I will find a way to come back for you!“ River promised hastily.

“GO!“ Vastra snapped and Yaz grabbed River’s arm. There was no arguing with Vastra.

“Thank you.“ River breathed and allowed herself to be pulled along.

——

London, 2021

“Dead end.“ Jack huffed, looking around. They found themselves in front of an empty plot with nothing but a post box in a dodgy area of town. They hadn’t all been able to go. Edinburgh to London was quite the track so they had decided to split up. Mickey, Martha and Gwen had returned to the Torchwood hub while Jack had taken Ryan and Graham for a ride with his vortex manipulator. Three was the limit, despite various modifications. “Thought it might happen. Nothing but a company shell…“ Jack carried on as they walked onto the abandoned plot. There was a bit of rubble and grass but nothing much. It was wedged between two warehouses.

“But then why have the card?“ Ryan mused, turning it in his hand.

“Why indeed.“ A voice sounded and suddenly the three men found themselves surrounded by four thugs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What the…“ Jack reached for his gun but before he could do so, they each had one pointed at their heads.

“See, we might not be able to make you disappear easily but that doesn’t mean we make you disappear another way. You can be useful after all. We need some new subjects.“ One of the men grinned, and the Torchwood agents realised they had fallen into a trap.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd Century

It was utter chaos but the Doctor quickly figured out what was happening when he heard a familiar voice yelling:

“DIE ALIEN SCUM!“

“Strax?!“ The Doctor yelled through the smoke, ducking a laser blast, one of the few things visible in the smoke.

“Not to worry, Doctor, we’re here!“ Jenny called back and they found each other quickly, following the other’s voice.

“How did you get here?“ The Doctor asked surprised and delighted at once.

“Could ask you the same thing!“ Jenny retorted looking around not to get caught out. For the time being, Strax appeared to be doing an excellent job of dealing with the soldiers.

“We thought this might be where they’ve taken my son.“ The Doctor answered quickly.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely where they took your wife.“ Jenny replied quickly and pulled the Doctor behind a crate. She fired at two soldiers that emerged from the smoke dangerously close to them.

“My wife? River is here?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief. She was in shock, her words barely registered. How could River possibly be here?

“Her consciousness anyway. Some Timelord who calls himself the Thirteen stole it from the Library. We followed him here.“ Jenny carried on to explain.

“So it is him…“ The Doctor mumbled, trying to get things straight in her head.

“Told you, didn’t I, he’s not me!“ The Master found them behind the crate and took cover as well.

“Then why have you got the same face?“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“I don’t know, Doctor, do I, do you think I’m thrilled he’s running around giving me a bad name?“ The Master bit back just as angrily.

“You do that all by yourself, usually.“ She snapped back.

“And you are…“ Jenny was at a loss for a moment.

“The Master.“ The Doctor answered before he could.

“Right… well, this Thirteen fellow…“ Jenny decided not to comment for the time being. There had to be a good reason for why the Master was here, seemingly with the Doctor.

“Looks exactly like him, you can’t miss him. And we have to find him, I want some answers! And River…“ The Doctor looked out from behind the crate, most of the hangar was still shrouded in smoke.

“We will find her. Vastra and Yaz are looking for her as well. We will get both of them back.“ Jenny explained hastily.

“Touching reunion and all but perhaps we might deal with the more pressing issue at hand? The bomb will go off at any moment.“ The Master announced and instructed: “Everybody get down.“

“What?“ The Doctor looked back at him incredulous. She straightened up a little to glance over the top of the crate but the Master pulled her down.

“Duck!“ He snapped, just as an explosion shook the hangar deck. He had clearly been busy in the moments before rejoining them.

“What the…“ The Doctor shoved him off and stood quickly, assessing the damage. “Why did you do that?“ She shook her head in disbelief at the destruction in front of her. Half the hangar had blown up, emergency force fields had jumped into place where the hull had ripped away.

“How about a ‘thank you Master’?“ The Master scrambled to his feet and brushed off his suit. “I just laid waste to your enemies. It was fun too.“ He grinned.

“Excellent maneuverer, Sir.“ Strax came up behind them, and Jenny let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him. He could very well have been caught up in the Master’s explosion.

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.“ The Master huffed.

“It wasn’t necessary!“ The Doctor snapped, scanning the room. Most of the enemy soldiers were dead, some of the wounded tried to pull themselves up but they seemed to have lost the appetite for fighting. The Doctor quickly realised why: they were leaderless. “Where is he? Where is the Thirteen?“ She looked around, panicked. They couldn’t have lost him.

“Oh I hope I incinerated him… stealing my face, how dare he…“ The Master mumbled and the Doctor turned on her heels.

“I need him for answers!“ She snapped.

“Perhaps I can oblige.“ A voice called from the other end of the hangar and as they all looked around, they recognised Vastra and with her, being shoved along, Madame Kovarian.

“Vastra!“ Jenny called in relief and rushed over to her wife.

“Madame Kovarian…“ The Doctor’s response was more measured as she narrowed her eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me, a new face.“ Kovarian gave the Doctor a once-over and groaned in annoyance. It was bad enough to have her men bested by a lizard woman, this was adding insult to injury. The Doctor came to meet them halfway as Jenny flung herself around her wife’s neck.

“I should have known you were involved.“ The Doctor clenched her jaw, trying her best not to let her feelings overwhelm her. Instead, she decided to focus on the important questions: “Where is River? Where are you keeping her consciousness?“

“She escaped in our shuttle.“ Vastra cut in, letting go of Jenny at last.

“What?“ The Doctor looked at her confused.

“They’re gone, they got away. And it’s not just her consciousness either, they brought her body back, too.“ Vastra explained more patiently. She smiled contently, River would be safe now.

“Really?“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. A wide grin spread across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She tried not to let herself get swept away in the excitement, keep a level head until she had actually seen River and made sure that she was okay. But she trusted Vastra and she would never doubt her. River was alive. The reality of it still had to sink in.

“Yaz took her back to our shuttle while I was dealing with them.“ Vastra continued. “And your son, too, Doctor.“ She added more softly.

“He’s here, too?“ Tears of joy jumped to the Doctor’s eyes.

“Oh Doctor, you just keep falling for the same trick, don’t you.“ Kovarian cut in, a cruel smile creeping onto her features.

——

Dorium’s Shuttle, 52nd Century

River collapsed against the bulkhead, cradling her son to her chest. Her hearts were racing in her chest, she tried to catch her breath. They had done it.

“Dorium…“ She gasped a greeting but managed a small smile, despite her exhaustion.

“Nice to see you in one piece, Professor, and in the flesh too, pardon the pun.“ Dorium mirrored her fond expression. He had been sat waiting, unable to do anything to help and it was a relief to see they were being successful.

“We can’t stay, Dorium, Vastra said to go, they will find their own way later.“ Yaz explained as she joined them on the bridge. “We need to get the Professor and her child to safety.“

“Certainly.“ Dorium agreed. “Where to, Professor?“

“Luna University, all my things are there.“ River answered after brief consideration and Yaz nodded, working the controls with Dorium’s help. As soon as the air corridor had detached from Demon’s Run and wheeled in, they set off with a jerk, putting distance between the space station and themselves.

“Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, looking at River who had settled in a chair with her child.

“Getting there…“ River sighed. “I’m sorry, I barely caught your name?“

“Yasmin Khan, friends call me Yaz.“ Yaz answered with a smile, watching her rock her son.

“You’re a friend of the Doctor’s?“ River deduced and she nodded.

“And you’re her wife. And mother to her child.“ Yaz smiled.

“Her?“ River raised her eyebrows, surprised. “My, things have changed… how long have I been in that Library for?“ She shook her head to herself.

“Miss Khan, if you could be so kind and jump us into hyper speed, there is only so much a head can do.“ Dorium said. “I will be very glad if I never have to see Demon’s Run ever again.“

“Likewise.“ River chuckled and Yaz turned back to the controls:

“My pleasure.“

It happened as the stars blurred outside and River screamed. The connection severed. Her son disappeared from her arms, dissolving into a white substance, dripping onto the floor. A flesh avatar.

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argumentl · 4 years ago

Text

The Freedom of Expression Ep 16 - UFO expert's recommendation as the Japan Air Self Defense Force sets up Space Operations Squadron.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this week's installment of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome.

J: You looked at us the opposite way then.

K: I did (laughs)

J: I don't mind though.

K: Hahaha.

J: Im sorry to be so pedantic.

K: No, i thought the same myself.

J: I just wondered whether you'd forgotten our names, or whether you were a bit tired.

T: He's probably tired.

J: I was a bit concerned *laughs*

K: You got me.

J: I just noticed it, so..

K: How have you been recently?

J: Well, how? hmm, well..

K: Its still around the middle of April now, as we record this, right? The shops are starting to open again. We are still in...what was it, a state of emergency..

J: It hasn't been lifted in Tokyo.

K: But the stores are slowly starting to operate again if you look around. Ramen places are really busy and such. But, how has it been for you guys?

J: Well, ive been cooking for myself as much as possible. Buying stuff from the grocers, and making salad and stuff every day. I don't have a frying pan though.

T: You don't have a frying pan??

J: No.

K: Do you have a microwave?

J: I do have a microwave. But a frying pan...well, recently, i bought some eggs, and tried to make fried eggs, but i had to cook them in a steel pan.*T laughing a lot* And when I tried to scrape them out, the yolk got destroyed. *K laughs* It was chaos.

T: How have you survived this far in life?

J: No, I mean I usually eat out, so this is a first for me at 52 years old, this self catering lifestyle.

T: I have a special pan for cooking eggs, its designed especially for eggs (tamagoyaki).

J: Really?

K: Oh, that square type?

T: Yeah, yeah.

K: Ehh!

J: Really?

T: I keep it really clean, and make sure I don't use it for anything other than eggs.

K: Oh, so do you cook a lot?

T: I do, yeah.

J: Kaoru, can you cook?

K: Do I look like I can? *laughs*

J: You don't, you don't. *everyone laughs loudly* You don't at all, sorry.

K: I can manage fried vegetables and stuff like that.

J: Oh, well, you are probably better than me then.

K: But honestly, I havn't cooked anything in years.

T: *To J* If you say he's better than you, that puts you at a super low level! *K laughs*

J: Well, now you mention it, maybe we are about the same level.

K: A long time ago, when I first came to Tokyo, I made curry once.

J, T: Oohh?!

K: Yeah..And with curry, if you let it sit for one night, its supposed to taste better the next day.

J: Yeah, the flavour deepens.

K: When I checked on it the next day, it had grown mould. *the others laugh a lot*

T: How?

K: I don't know.

J: What did you put in it?

K: Just the normal stuff...curry cubes and stuff.

T: It grew mould after a day...?

K: It did, yeah.

J: Ehhh? By the way, did you eat any of it on the day you made it?

K: No, because I thought it would taste better after leaving it for a day. Also, it was actually kind of watery. Maybe I got the measurements wrong. So I thought if I leave it for a day, it would thicken up, but it grew mould.

J: *laughing* Wow. If you cooked it properly, it wouldn't grow mould unless there was something wrong with it though, would it?

T: Yeah, exactly.

J: Thats incredible.

T: Yeah, were you living somewhere funny?

K: Haha, the place?

J: Lets do this sometime. Lets have a curry party with Kaoru making the curry.

T: Oh, yeah.

K: Um, in my blog magazine TheTheDay, I appealed for ideas of what people want me to do, and people said they want me to cook.

J, T: Ehhh.

J: Will you do it? Get your revenge?

K: Revenge? *laughs*

J: Curry revenge. We'd have to have a doctor on stand-by though. *K laughs* We'd end up with curry poisoning. Everyone who ate it would collapse one by one.

K: It would be dangerous.

J: It would, it would.

K: Okay, so today...Tasai san.

T: Yes, so..uh..finally we've reached this era! Finally!

J: What is it? What happened?

T: Well, uh, on May 18th, for the first time, the Japan Air Self Defense Force (JASDF) started a specialist division to monitor regions in space, the Space Operations Squadron.

J: At last!

T: Its like Space Battleship Yamato, its as if that kind of old sci-fi is finally becoming real in this current Reiwa era. Well, actually, its not really like Yamato. What they are really doing is keeping an eye on space junk, and watching for any suspicious looking man-made satellites. To begin with they will ????*1, and by 2026, they say they want to put thier own satellites into orbit too. Its true that America, Russia, and China are leaders in this field, but its like Japan has also started to think about self defence in terms of space too.

J: I see. This is quite serious news then, isn't it.

T: Well, Tokyo sports always has a different take.

J, K: *laugh*

J: Of course.

T: So, in response to the inauguration of this devision, a UFO expert had one thing he wanted to say, which was...well, there is the 'scramble', yes? A kind of emergency take-off, if for example, missles are heading towards domestic land, or if mysterious sightings*2 happen, there is stuff like this. And in 2018, the JASDF actually had 999 scrambles, where they saw something they thought was dangerous, and had to take off immediately. So, of those, 638 cases involved Chinese vessels, 340 cases involved Russian, and 18 cases were classed as 'other'. This UFO expert thinks these might be UFOs, so with the creation of this new devision, he says they could check to see if they actually are UFOs.

J: By the way, what is the Japanese government's stance on the existence of UFOs? It seems like America already thinks they exist, and are taking some action, right?

K: There is a lot of???*4

J: Yeh, on the news. I havn't watched it properly, but what do they think again?

T: ????

K:????

J????*5

T: The Japanese government hasn't clearly confimed whether or not they think UFOs are real or not.

J: Hmm, Kaoru what do you think? Do UFOs exist or don't they?

K: Well, I want them to exist. I like reading about them.

J: Well, its fun isn't it?

T: While I've been working at Tokyo Sports, we've had quite a few reports on photos people have taken of UFOs. Um, you know Hyper media creator Takashiro Tsuyoshi..?

J: Ahh, Takashiro san.

T: When he reported...where was it Australia, Byron Bay..or something. He went there for a festival, and he showed me a photo of a UFO that he took while he was there. And there really was a kind of triangle shaped UFO looking thing on it. And when he showed it to an expert, they said after about 2 seconds, 'Ah, yes, this is a UFO', without even checking properly. *the others laugh*.

J: You'd want them to analyze it a bit more

K: It seems too easy, right? Like, ah, yeh yeh.

T: Yeh, thats a UFO..

J: Saying its a UFO that quickly...

T: According to this expert, if you see a UFO, a big change will happen in your life....and then straight after that he ????*6 and stuff like that happened...Also, the former actress, who turned to that religious cult..

J: Oh, the Happy Science cult.

T: Yeh, Sengen Yoshiko. She captured footage of a UFO in Toyama, and showed it to me, so I kind of think they are real.

J: Have either of you ever seen a UFO yourselves?

K: I've seen things where I've thought, what is that?!. Like...*imitates zig zag movement in the sky*

T: There is something isn't there.

J: There are things that move like that, aren't there. They are different from shooting stars, and airplanes couldn't move in that way. I've wondered what they are.

K: And when you try to catch it on your smartphone or something, you can't, can you?

T: I just remembered! I did catch a UFO on my smartphone. I went to Mexico once to do a story.

K: Didn't you mention that before?

T: Oh, maybe I did, on the radio. Well, when i was in Mexico, what is it..when the sun takes a long time..

J: The summer solstice?

T: Yeh, on that day, we climed to the top of a big rock, and held hands with all the local people. At that time we took loads of photos of the sky, and when we checked later, they showed a UFO.

J,K: Ehh?

T: Yeh, and I don't know the first thing about it. Im in the club of people who've photographed a UFO.

J: A UFO was close to you....Isn't this the right time for him to come out? That guy?

Kami:.....

K: He's not coming.

Kami: Um..

J: He's here, he's here.

Kami: We're talking about UFOs right? When I saw that the JASDF had started a space army, I was excited. And when I wondered what they would get up to, it said they would be picking up space junk..

T: *laughs*

Kami: Its like when we lost at the world cup, and picked up all the garbage, then went home. So I was a bit shocked at what was written.

K: But thats just the starting point, right?

T: Yeah, starting with the little things, moving steadily.

J: But, hey, while they say that, they might be carrying out some bigger project behind the scenes.

K: Well, yeah.

T: Thats right.

J: Kami, what do you think about UFOs?

Kami: I've never seen one.

J: Oh, you havn't?

K: But from your perspective, do UFOs exist?

Kami: Do they exist?...Im not sure.

K:.*laughs*

J: He's not very articulate, is he? This is different from when he was talking about mahjong!

K: *laughs*

J: He never stopped when he was talking about mahjong. Losing 30,000 and such. Coming into Tasai san's conversation that much..He's changed completey since last time. A poor response, Kami. Hey, but what is it?...Can't gods transcend space-time?

Kami: Im not sure.

J: Wait, you're not sure?

Kami: Space-time? Well, I can't talk about it, cause I'll get into trouble if I do.

J: Ah, if you tell us?

K: *laughs*

T: Is this a new organisation?

K: An organisation, right?

J: Gods have them too.

K: They probably have unions, right?

Kami: Yes, yes. *K laughs*

T: Someone more powerful than Kami will be onto him.

K: Yeah, he'll be stopped.

Kami: But the gods know this, theres nothing faster than light, right?

J, T: Ahh

Kami: Did you know that?

J: Yes, I did.

Kami: Yeah, thats it. Theres nothing faster than light, yeh. Thats the thing. Do you know who decided that? It was a god.

J: Ohh.

T, K: Eh?

Kami: Not me, one of my distant relatives.

J: Distant relatives? *laughs* One of the gods in the group?

K: It wasn't himself, but..

Kami: Yes, thats it.

J: Hang on, wait a minute, so in terms of what we are talking about, Kami, what did YOU create? Gods make many different things I think.

Kami: I make parts in a factory. *J, K laugh*.

T: What? The old guy in a backstreet workshop?

K: *laughs* He's the type who can descend to earth very easily, right?

J: He really is one of the commoners.*laughs* Its funny.

Kami: Its because Im an ally of the common people.

K: Well, yeh, it seems like he often goes to Chinese restaurants..

J: Right.

T: And he likes Mahjong

K: Yeh, he likes Mahjong.

J: He's kinda just like my Dad.

K: *laughs*

J: Ah, but UFOs, right?

K: It would be good if they develop this.

T: There might be things like space wars in the future, in reality. With America and such. If they are competing for supremacy in space.

K: Ah, yeh, fighting for supremacy.

T: Right?

J: But Japan is a little late getting started, in relation to that.

K: Oh yeh, its impossible.

J: Right? We wouldn't ever take supremacy.

T: Well Japan can already be seen from anywhere by spy satellites, they'd get all our info.

J: Well, thats it. That kind of thing is going on at the same time.

K: Well, thats just how it is.

J: Thats how it is, right?

T: Thanks for listening.

J: This was a spaced themed chat.

K: Please look forward to next week, thank you very much. Please subscribe.

J,T, Kami: Please do.

*1,3,4,5 Couldn't catch these bits.

*2 mysterious sightings...or something like it.

*6 Sounded like, 'he got divorced', but i couldn't distinguish it clearly enough.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #薫 #kaoru

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howlingmoonrise · 4 years ago

Text

Thoughts on Petshop of Horrors: Wandering Ark volumes 1 & 2

(also on dreamwidth)

HOW did I manage to miss the translation of my long-awaited Papa D PSOH series?? I've been stalking it ever since I found the announcement and somehow the fact that @ruthlessnightsscans already put out the first two volumes completely went past my head.

Obviously I had to read it right away, sleep be damned.

this is the edited version of my brain thoughts after i managed to get two sleeps and calm down a bit or it would be a lot more incoherent

The art: the initial pages really remind me of the old art! Unfortunately it goes back to the roundness prevalent since the Shin series (which has only become even rounder with time) not long after. That art style is also a lot less dynamic than the original, I find. It's a bit of a problem on scenes that are supposed to have some tension caused by movement. This is nothing new since, like I said, Sensei has been using this art style since a good while ago. I really miss the original art though. It had a major nostalgia punch to it and a lot more feeling as well.

-- First chapter: "I am on a journey with no destination in mind" just say you're on vacation and go off I guess.

Papa is... weirdly easy-going. I want to say it's because he's not yet mad with grief and his son being taken away and so on, but the glimpses we saw at his time in university definitely didn't paint him this soft. There's no edge to him, on this volume or the next.

Regarding the story itself, I can't say I loved it but it’s not the worst out of all of them (there are four in total between these two volumes, and a third volume is on the way). I liked Koushun's character, but Seiyou annoyed me, especially when he presumed to know what she wanted (or perhaps he didn't presume, but decided for her what was better anyway) - something like I Shall Revive This Species So Breed In My Name Okay Bye. Note also that while Koushun was willing enough to marry (thinking she was marrying someone else but that's another point entirely), the groom himself came in chains. And then Seiyou... locks them in together? Great. Just great. Very conducive to a loving mood indeed, locking a woman with a potentially dangerous stranger who might cause her harm and telling them both to fuck (note. the. chains. you don’t put chains on someone you think is harmless; they never put any on Koushun even when she attacked Seiyou). I was afraid for her when it cut to another scene here, with the last we saw of her being pushed against a wall and being told by the groom that it seemed that he would have to make a child with her. "Rather than hate each other, I want to break that curse"? Seiyou, sweetie, that is NOT the way to make them not hate you. ((The reveal that Koushou is some sort of creature - very PSOH-y - does not help, since putting two wild animals together without them being used to each other is perhaps even more likely to them killing/harming one another.))

MAJOR little mermaid vibes on Koushun standing over a sleeping Seiyou with a knife.

There are quite some parallels with the D species on this tale of bloodshed and revenge. The Ds could stand to learn from this, though historically they don't. "Even if you kill the third prince, the Kagetsu people are already gone. They won't return." Papa himself says that 'winning on the last available tile' is a waste of time, which really resonates with his research into reviving lost species and the issues of his own kind. A reference to the health of descendants when no new blood is introduced is also made here, which might or might not point to our D depending on where in time this Papa is from.

Second chapter: it's... frankly, super choppy. The story is all over the place. On the author's note, Akino herself says that it's a challenge to put the whole life of that empress in 57 pages, and I have to agree. Either it should have been cut to the REALLY relevant parts and worked on them some more, or be discarded in its entirety. It's too rushed. The whole first part was unnecessary: it could have started with her already working at the palace or being chosen as a concubine, and then made references to her previous life in her thoughts instead of wasting several pages on it when that backstory won't be going anywhere (except for some references to Hakubun whom she sees on that other actor - who dies like, two or three pages later, so that's that on that). I do like Ranji herself as a character: she's clever and quick to pick up on things. Her life is just a series of tragedies one after the other, unfortunately.

Papa D is some sort of benevolent helper in this chapter for some reason - this pattern repeats somewhat on the next chapters, but on this one there isn't really anything to gain for him at all, other than perhaps his dubious acquaintance with one of the concubines/future empress, which wouldn't really hold much weight since he met her ?once? apart from near her death.

And then, somehow, the initial Papa D in this chapter was actually Sofu?

Sofu???? I'm calling bullshit. As far as we know - going back to Sofu's own series and flashbacks on the original PSOH, even - Sofu never had a hairstyle of that length, and out of our three known Ds (new!D excluded) he's the one least likely to help a human just because. The ark is also said to travel through space and time, so I'm saying that's Papa D and that's it. Fun aside: on this chapter, Papa says he's the "third generation", meaning that on this series he's probably the youngest existing D (and by inference our D does not exist yet).

Also, some issues with in-story continuity here: when the last emperor dies Ranji still looks fairly young and the emperor-to-be is three years old, a couple pages later she looks a lot more aged but the new emperor is still three years old. To be honest, I think the story would have been tied off much better if A-chan had some connection with Hakubun or the eunuch instead of each having their very brief, individual emotional connections to her - which, in turn, doesn't really make them memorable. The "wishes" thing was interesting, really called back to the old PSOH tradition with the mystical pets and bittersweet be-careful-what-you-wish-for endings.

Third chapter: I think, overall, this was probably the one I liked the best. Can't really bring myself to call it my favourite though, since none of them even begin to compare to the original PSOH chapters. I cackled at the "jawline is too sharp" dialogues and thoughts: with this art style EVERYONE has the same round jaw as every other character, and it's the furthest thing from "sharp" possible.

With this series it really seems like Sensei is giving more focus to trying to tell historically-accurate stories rather than focusing on the stories themselves, as there is a huge amount of superfluous historical information to be found in these volumes.

The empress Elizabeth reminds me of Sofu, in truth. She won't "mind" affairs and the like (read: she will hate it but ignore them) as long as it works towards her ends. Her taking away the newly-born child is a huge parallel to Sofu regarding both Papa and D, and D and new!D. Child-snatching FTW! That being said, I actually kind of liked her, ruthless as she was: the whole reason why Sophie made it as far as crown princess was because Elizabeth valued her hard work. You don't get to hold an empire together without having a steel spine and a cunning mind (or people to do the work for you I guess, but here it doesn’t seem to be the case).

I hate that Sophie had to change even her name and religion to fit her new reality, accurate as it is to history. That sort of thing always messes me up (throwback to the Nazi/teddy bear chapter of the original PSOH series, where there was also a name/religion change for the sake of survival). Not a reflection on the author in any way, I just hate that this is something people had to go through. As something I hated that kinda does reflect on the author, though, was the ugly = terrible association with Pyotr and the maid. Sophie/Catherine is initially said to not be beautiful but she's not depicted in the same way those two are at all.

Papa's benevolence is thankfully offset this chapter by the fact that he does have something to gain here. For some reason Ds doing things merely for the goodness of their hearts kind of rubs me the wrong way unless it's D during or post-Leon.

Most PSOH victims clients: oh a pretty person! WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S AN ANIMAL Sophie/Catherine: a dog you say? sounds kinda hot ngl

Gotta respect how she just jumps straight into the dog affairs. The take-back of the empire was also nicely executed, and I'm always here for ladies in traditionally male clothing.

Fourth chapter:

This is linked semi-directly to the third chapter by virtue of the amber room Papa D craved. Marks also the second time that Papa takes a human on board of the ark.

D, circa end of original PSOH, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he watches Leon plummet towards the earth: Humans have not earned the right to board this ark. Papa D: I'm gonna go for a joyride and take along this human and this human and this human and this human and--

Papa really gives Doctor Who vibes on the ark matter. Travelling through space and time, occasionally taking human companions? The one for this chapter - who I'm guessing might be a cameo from one of Sensei's other series, since I didn't recognize him and there was no backstory for him on the chapter - even has era-appropriate wardrobe changes (at least assuming it's the same person and not just someone who looks similar scratch that they have eyes of different colours so I guess Papa has been giving rides to delivery men now), the second of which leaving me very ??? as to WHEN he is from.

That last Look(TM) reminds me a of Leon Orcot, between the long ponytail and the clothes resembling the ones Leon wore on the last chapter of Shin PSOH (in PSOH time, that would have happened approximately 15 years after the end of the original series, meaning that Papa was already long dead then. Unless Leon's style was just stuck in time, which is also very possible).

It might or might not have endeared him to me for that exact reason. What can I say? I'm a sucker for Leon Orcot, and apparently also for characters that visually remind me of him. ANYWAY.

Why another Nazi-era chapter??? Sensei plz. One was already enough on the original PSOH - it wasn't anywhere near my favourites back then, either - and the fact that this one mostly followed a Nazi colonel didn't help either. Here we witness them tearing down the amber room, "reclaiming" art from all over the world, a father's heartbreaking sacrifice to “save” his daughter’s dog, and Papa D coming to meet the Nazi dude. One would expect the Ds to avoid genocidal racists given the fate of their own species, but apparently the Nazis were relevant enough for not one but TWO Ds to interact with them. Oh well. Either way, I really don't like how Papa appears to not care one way or another - when the D for the original series interacted with people he didn't like, his mask was really fairly obvious (at least for the reader). Perhaps Papa simply has a better mask. Perhaps those nuances were lost to time and round art styles. Perhaps Papa or Sensei just don't give two shits. Guess we'll never know.

EVERYONE seems to comment on the flavour of Papa's tea: it's 4 out of 4 so far for these two volumes, and in this chapter in particular it seems as if it's laced with some kind of truth serum - it seems to be Papa's version of D's (and possibly Sofu's?) incense from the original PSOH. A reference to the original PSOH's Nazi chapter is also made here, with Papa mentioning that Sofu was on friendly terms with Eva Braun: this implicates that in this time they were in closer contact (not surprising since Sofu probably hasn't stolen his still-non-existent kid yet).

The colonel seems to value art over human life - surprise surprise! - so he kills his own comrades to keep the art "safe". A stomach-turning moment comes where they find human golden teeth being kept as treasure, which Papa mentions remelting to turn into golden nuggets. Why, Papa/Sensei, why? It's in poor taste, even if you're testing the colonel the way D did with some of his clients on original PSOH.

At the very least an eerie moment comes next where Papa explains that dead creatures can be revived using DNA. "Even dead people?" Cue Papa's all-seeing stare directly into the reader's eyes (and presumably the colonel's as well) with a backdrop of an inverted black-and-white multitude of graves as he says that future is not very far. Colonel almost shits his pants, with reason when you consider the amount of people the Nazis killed off that would presumably come after them. This almost forgives the teeth comment, and it's probably the first moment in these two volumes when we see some genuine emotion on Papa's face (on this page and the next), creepy and maniac as it might be.

Colonel dude has spent the whole chapter justifying everything under "orders of the fuhrer" so far. Then comes the moment that Papa calls him out by saying that the orders were to burn his sweet dear art so that it wouldn't fall into enemy's hands, and it's here that we see how much of an hypocrite the colonel is when he doesn't want to follow those orders. Suddenly it's "treasures of mankind" (even though he's been stealing them left and right) and the fuhrer is "a fool" (even though he's been using his orders and his "greatness" as justification for everything).

Suddenly, Papa's companion! Who the heck is that! Shoots him! This is someone whose family was killed by the colonel (directly or under his orders) or so he says; he's gripping a piece of art we don't get to see, which is presumably the reason for those deaths. Now in the future! A guy who looks a bit like that other man who shot the colonel, but who I'm not 100% sure if it is or is not the same person because the round art style makes everyone look alike Someone who is definitely not the same guy because his eye colour is different (and who's dressed in a sporty outfit with a long ponytail, which I've mentioned kinda reminds me of Leon) looks for the amber in the place the art was stored, alongside Papa. He flies on the ark (all these humans on the ark, Sofu would have a conniption!) and reminds me of Leon once more while being shouty and holding on to the main mast for dear life.

The sacrificial father mini-plot also gets resolved with the dog returning (but not the father himself) along with a picture with that family. Which is presumably the picture the other dude who shot the colonel was holding, which begs the question: how is he related to them? He doesn't look like any of them, but he did say the colonel killed his family while (presumably) holding that same picture, so hmmm. Maybe he's the dog, colour-scheme aside? But apart from the father, the rest of the family seems to have survived, so it's kind of a strange thing to say since that sort of wording usually means more than one person. Even if he is the dog (my money is on that option), it's not exactly obvious to a reader who's not looking very closely. Some loose ends there, or at least ends that don't really look like they're tied together at all.

"No matter how long winter is, spring will come." Fairly hopeful final words there, Papa D. These echo similar ones spoken by D at the end of Shin PSOH, after running from Leon once more ("someday, the season for returning will come"): perhaps both these Ds are not as pessimistic as to their future, at least at this point? Poor Papa definitely had a change of heart between his series and the ending of original PSOH, unfortunately.

General thoughts: Sensei hasn't quite managed to replicate the feeling of the original PSOH just yet. The storytelling feels a bit shallow and rushed, though the pacing improved from the first volume to the second. There's also very little focus on Papa himself for some reason: he's more of a background character on his own series except for the fourth chapter, which is a very strange narrative choice. In part this might also be because he doesn’t have a permanent companion to discuss/argue with like in previous iterations of the PSOH series. I wonder if the third volume will continue on this trend? I wish it’d delve a bit more into Papa, but either way it’s still nice to get some more PSOH content.

I've heard Vesca will make an appearance next volume, I'm so excited!! Out of Shin PSOH, my favourite chapters were Leon's (surprise surprise!) and the ones with Papa and Vesca on their university days. Papa definitely seemed a lot sharper there, which I miss here - I feel like Sensei has been smoothing out all their edges like with the art style lmao, and in turn it makes them feel a bit lacking since the Ds are not meant to be bland and forgiving and easy-going, at least as per their original portrayal. I've also seen sneak-peaks of Leon and D from author notes of the next volume so I can't wait at the chance to weep at the slightest panel of my son Leon.

A final shoutout to RNS for continuing the PSOH translations! I really can't thank them enough!!

#PetShop of Horrors #pet shop of horrors #psoh #hyouhaku no hakobune hen #papa d #wandering ark #psoh wandering ark #psoh ark adrift #petshop of horrors hyouhaku #howl rambles a lot

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shanie-the-toyaddict · 3 years ago

Note

1, 9, 15, 17, 21, 25, 26, 29, 33, 41, 46, 48, 54, 59, 68, 73, 81, 96, 98

😊

Oh my word! That's a lot!

Ok, here goes.

Behind cut for length

1. Name - I prefer Shanie but my parents call me “Mis”. Well, my mom calls me “Mis” my father calls me “Pooch” which I despise. Just stick with Shanie.

9. What did you study - I changed majors midway through college. I started out as an art major focusing on computer animation. That didn’t work out at ALL. Turns out I sucked ass at computer animation. Too much math involved. So I switched to a major in teaching with minors in history and popular culture. Unfortunately I failed at that too and, while I did graduate, it was with a degree in “Planned Program” which is a polite way of saying “General Ed”. I did earn my two minors though, so I guess that’s something!

15. Relationship Status - Single. Very Very Single. I haven’t had a single date in about 10 years. By the looks of it, I’m going to stay single.

17. Do you have a crush - Do celebrities count? If not then no. I don't even know anyone IRL to have crushes on. I legit have nobody in my IRL life outside of my parents and my case manager. Kind of hard to have a crush when you don't have any friends or even acquaintances.

21: How was your day - Well, today I got nothing accomplished. I did have a meeting with my case manager, so that was nice. It’s nice to have someone to talk to and infodump on (which she lets me). Outside of that I woke up, had breakfast, lunch, and dinner, had a nap, and went to Dairy Queen for ice cream on the way home. Unfortunately, DQ is on the far side of town and by the time I got home, it was melted. So it went in the fridge to eat later once it refreezes. Outside of that it was a pretty boring day.

25. Your fears - Whoo-ee. Ok. So coming in with the borderline I’d say my biggest fear is abandonment. That just comes with the territory. After that I have a huge fear of storms and waking up in a fire, both brought about by recurring nightmares. I also have a fear of flying (too much Air Crash Investigations) and I hate elevators. I’m not claustrophobic mind you, I just have a fear that they will fall on me. Anything over 3 stories and I’m having an anxiety attack. There are other, lesser fears but those are some of the big ones.

26. Your dreams - Well, in a literal sense, my dreams are wild, crazy adventures that I get most of my fanfics from. From a metaphorical standpoint I really don’t have any. I’ve given up on hoping for anything good in my life. I’m too busy trying to get from day to day to indulge in long term planning. I know it seems terrible, but it’s the truth.

29. Hobbies - Obviously action figures, that much is clear. I collect and customize them to display in my apartment. I also like making digital art (sometimes) and am starting to get into illustrations/artwork. However, I don’t have a tablet/pen for the computer so everything is done with the mouse and GIMP (which makes it difficult). I’m an avid collector of digital media. Some of my big ones are Doctor Who DVDs, Wrestling Entrance Themes, and Official Xena Photos (not the physical ones, jpeg scans). I used to be big into Wizard101 and, while I don’t really play anymore, I still like following the game on YT and on here.

33. Languages you speak – Only English, except it’s a very specific English. I usually speak what’s called the “Yinzer” dialect which is a dialect that is unique to the Pittsburgh region. That’s why you see me use the word “Yinz” a bunch. That’s our word for “You guys” or “Y’all”. However, while most of my speech is Yinzer, I have watched enough British TV in my lifetime to have picked up some Brit speech. It confuses the hell out of people when I use it because you’ll have me say things like “My apartment needs cleaned” and then follow it up thirty seconds later with, “I’m rubbish at cleaning.” My mother has picked up on this and sometimes calls me her “British Daughter” because of it.

41. Your Device Background – My phone’s lock screen is a picture of Shane in his Roman Centurion outfit from the one Royal Rumble photo shoot. My phone background is a checkered wallpaper with “SZ” on it for Sami Zayn. (That one might be getting changed if he stops being Sami.) And my computer background is just a night sky over the mountains. I rarely ever see my computer wallpaper so I don’t mind that it is a generic background.

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done – You know how Lucy breathes fire on Xena? I taught myself how to do that. That wasn’t bright to begin with but it was made so much worse that I was underage and couldn’t buy Bacardi and was using lamp oil instead. I was young and dumb.

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life – Funny thing, I’m a sucker for strange foods. There was a list going around that said “How many of these weird foods have you eaten” and I think I had eaten all but six of them and that was only because I didn’t have access to them. I’m proud to say that, since then, I’ve knocked Quail Egg off the list! Turns out the local Japanese restaurant served it. So that knocked it down to five. Still need to get ahold of some gator meat and haggis. I’d love to try Foie Gras but it’s just so damn unethical that I don’t know if I could bring myself to eat it. Pheasant is another one that I’d love to try but I can’t convince my parents to buy me one (and I’m far too poor to afford it myself). But, yeah. I love strange foods. I’ll pretty much try any food once if I know it’s safe to eat.

54. Any tattoos or piercings – Unless you count partially pierced ears then no. And my ears are only partially pierced because after I had them done they got infected so I tried to let them heal shut. They ended up not closing fully and now, if I’m not adverse to a bit of pain, I can still wear earrings occasionally.

59. Song you wouldn’t normally admit you like – Judas is my guilty pleasure song. I know Jericho is a douchebag and I have tried to hate the song but I can’t. I end up singing along every time.

68. Favorite Movie/Series - Hmm... well, my all time favorite movie is definitely “The Towering Inferno”, hands down. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve seen that. I’m a sucker for disaster movies and, in my opinion, that one is the cream of the crop. I actually like it better than “The Poseidon Adventure” simply because I think the movie is inferior to the book. That said, I’ve also read both of the books that “The Towering Inferno” is based on and I like the combined movie better than them. Favorite series, however, I don’t think I have one definitive favorite series. I’ve had favoriteS like Xena, Buffy, Sherlock, Doctor Who, etc, but I’ve never had one all time favorite.

73: Favorite Greek God – Oh geez. Hmmm... You know, I’m going to have to go with Hermes here, primarily because I have this theory that he is the god of the internet. I know there was no internet in ancient Greece but, frankly, Hermes is the god of commerce, communication, travelers, and thieves. While it’s true that Hephaestus is the god of technology and would probably be the god of computers, I fully believe that Hermes would be the patron of the interwebs.

81 Favorite Books – In all honesty, going to college for 8 years burned me out for reading and now I can barely bring myself to read a comic book. For this reason, most of my favorite books come from childhood. My all time favorite book as a kid was “Flight #116 Is Down” by Caroline B Cooney. It was a disaster story about plane crash in a young woman’s back yard. Somehow, everyone didn’t die – a fact which was called out in the final pages when a fireman says that the crash was extremely odd because “usually they’re all dead.” That book might be another reason I’m terrified of flying. Other favorite books of mine was the “Fear Street Saga Trilogy” (Not the Fear Street Series, the trilogy that served as the origin story). I also like the Hitchhikers Guide saga but when I found out that Douglas Adams died before he could finish the saga, I stopped reading after book 4 so that the story had a happy ending. Novelizations in general are a big thing for me too, I’ve read some really good ones over the years and it’s fascinating to see how they differ from the movies they’re based on.

96. Hero or Villain – Well, if my dreams are anything to go by, I’m a villain at heart. I know, weird right? You all think I’m such a nice person but really, I have a huge dark side to me IRL and, if I was in a world where superheroes were real and I had superpowers I would almost certainly use them for evil. Or, at the very least I would use them to force social change ala Dr. Horrible.

98. Shapeshifting or Controlling Time – SHAPESHIFTING! Oh my goodness shapeshifting! I would love that so much! First of all, I wouldn’t be this huge anymore. I could be as heavy or a skinny as I want. Also, I wouldn’t have to worry about looking old or losing my hair! Plus, can you imagine the cosplay potential!? Forget dressing as the 13th Doctor, I AM THE 13th DOCTOR! That would just be the best!

PHEW! That was a lot! Thanks so much for the ask! This was fun. I love ask games.

#ask games

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neonacity · 3 years ago

Text

HYACINTHE | Chapter 2: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

CHAPTER 1

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

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

"So you want to be a doctor?" Jaemin asked as he took a bite off the crust of his pepperoni and cheese pizza. He could have easily eaten it like any other person, but of course, he refuses to be normal and chooses to do even this his way.

I shrugged and tucked my legs under me with a sigh. We were currently sitting on an expansive field of grass overlooking a cluster of abandoned factories, the first place that Jaemin actually asked me to hangout with other than his regular visits in the cafe. It was a couple of minutes of drive away from the city—and is honestly kinda sketchy looking—but at twilight, the place transforms into a peaceful sea of green with the clear night sky watching over it.

"I'm trying to be a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact."

He turned and gazed at me quietly for a few seconds, his slice of pizza halfway into his mouth.

"Trying?"

"Yes. Getting into the medical field… It's tough. And expensive. I can take the endless studying, but the money… that can be so hard to get by sometimes."

"Why? How much is it?" He asked innocently, a small frown etched between his eyebrows. Jaemin wasn't lying when he said he doesn't know how to do friends. In fact, there's a lot of things he doesn't seem to know. Normal ones too, almost as if he lives in a bubble of his own. It has always intrigued me, how someone can be so out of touch with things, but of course I never took it against him.

"Hmm… really expensive. Usually students like me can get loans but that will have us strapped into long years of paying them off even after finishing our studies. I did get a partial scholarship though so that helps, but the day to day academic expenses are just expensive so you know…"

"Doesn't your job at the cafe cover that?"

"No way," I answered quickly with a short laugh. "Well, barely. But it isn't comfortable. If I want to get a side gig that can pay for everything, I might as well work at a strip club. Or find a sugar daddy," I answered off-handedly as I popped a french fry into my mouth.

"You don't want to go to strip clubs. They're dangerous."

I choked a little at how seriously he said that.

"Why do you sound like you know so much about them?" I grinned and teasingly wriggled my brows at him. He didn't answer, taking another bite of his pizza instead.

"Just… don't even think of doing that, okay?"

"Jaemin, do you really think I can pass off as a stripper? Relax. I know that's one job I'm underqualified for."

"Overqualified. You're too pretty to be one."

He said that so casually I didn't even know what hit me until he had moved on to another topic.

"You know if you need money, I can help."

I gave him an odd look, still reeling from that compliment he just gave.

"How?"

"I can give you money."

I blinked at him.

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing. I can just give you money."

I stared at him like he had grown another head.

"Why?"

He looked at me like I was asking such a common sense question.

"Because you need it."

"Jaemin, you're not my sugar daddy. Is this how you always offer help to your friends? Because I am seriously so concerned for you right now."

"Well, if you want, I can also be your sugar—"

I slapped his arm before he could even finish what he was trying to say.

"Ow! That is not very sugar baby-like of you."

"I'm going to wring your neck, I swear."

He flashed me his grin and dropped himself back on the grass, his arms behind his head. It was dark, but the moon threw just enough light on the curves of his face to compliment his features. His eyes twinkled back at the stars looking down on us and I forced myself to look away after realizing how much my heart started beating harder in my chest just by staring at him.

I don't know when I started feeling this way towards him, but it is for sure not the first time I noticed where my emotions were going. It is odd… how these things happen. One day everything was going well like normal, until all of a sudden there is a skipping of a pulse after a smile, a flushing of the cheeks when he laughs. Everything is normal, until one day, it's all just free fall.

Of course, I'm not stupid enough to do anything about it though. Jaemin has been nothing but a good friend, but the fact that I still know nothing about him is a big factor, at least for me. Lately, I felt like he was trying to open up more of his world to me—case in point, these quick escapes to this field—but there are still barriers there, walls that seem too steep to be broken down.

"I wanted to be a surgeon too…"

His voice was so quiet that I barely caught it when he spoke again. I looked back at him and caught the pensive look on his face, the same one he would always have whenever he thinks nobody is looking his way—that expression of longing that seems to overwhelm him every time he retreats into his own world.

"You can still be one though… it's not too late yet," I whispered as I leaned back so that I was laying beside him. I rolled to my side to face him better, my eyes scanning his moon-washed features.

He chuckled and briefly looked at me.

"I wish it could be that easy, but it's really complicated."

"Why?"

He rolled on his side as well so that we were facing each other. The stare he gave me was so intense, it felt like he was pouring his heart out to me, except he can't do it with words. I tried my hardest to meet his gaze, my own way of telling him that he can if he wanted to... That I am his safe space.

"Didn't we agree on not asking questions?" He asked in a soft whisper.

"I never agreed to such a thing."

"But you've been trying your best."

That made me purse my lips. My gaze moved away from his momentarily as I tried to weigh my words.

"Until when can I not ask questions…?"

"Until when can I ask you to do it without you leaving me…?"

Our eyes met again. In that exact moment, I knew we were both on the same page despite the unsaid words and the secrets.

"Until I can, Jaemin."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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

"Hi, hi! What's your specialty here?"

It took me about three seconds to register the boy currently beaming at me by the counter. I was going through some inventory so I had my back turned to the door for a little bit but I sure was expecting to hear the small bell by the entrance ding to alert me of new customers. I was about to open my mouth to answer when another boy strolled towards us, coming from the area where we have our pastries on display. There were… two of them I didn't notice?

"Yah, Chenle. They have cheese bread. Buy me some."

I softly cleared my throat and tried to plaster on my well-practiced service smile.

"Um… hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. Would you like to have a cold or hot drink? I can recommend our best-sellers for each."

"What does Jaemin-hyung usually order?"

My smile dropped and I stared at the duo in front of me. Who are these kids?

"I'm Jisung and this is Chenle. We're Jaemin-hyung's friends."

The taller of the two answered as he seemed to have picked up my confused expression. I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning the visitors. They look just a little bit younger than Jaemin, maybe about two to three years tops, as noticeable from their more careless, youthful air.

"Did… Jaemin recommend our place?"

The pair exchanged glances before they both broke into giggles.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What the hell are you two doing here?”

The three of us whipped our heads towards the source of the voice by the door. Standing there was Jaemin, his face tensed as he stared at the two boys in front of me. It’s obvious from the looks of his reaction that he did not, at all, recommend this place to his friends.

I was about to call out to him when the door pushed open behind him again to reveal two other boys.

“Yah… I told you to distract him, Jeno-hyung!” Chenle whined while Jisung pointed at his friend as if silently telling everyone that it was all his idea in the first place. The one I assume is called Jeno shrugged and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. He looked almost the same age as Jaemin but with a more muscular build that reminded me of some of the athletes at my uni.

“I tried. Haechan slipped. Go blame him.”

My gaze moved to the other one standing on Jaemin’s right at that moment. He is a little shorter than the other two boys crowding the door but there is something about him that seems wilder than the two. His eyes sparkled as they met mine and his lips twisted up into a slight smirk as he knocked back the lollipop he had into the other side of his mouth. He crossed the space between the entrance and the counter quickly with long quick strides and leaned his hand into Chenle’s shoulder to peer down on me.

“Ah, so that’s why this is your favorite place, Jaem. How selfish of you to keep it all to yourself~”

“Um…”

Jaemin finally moved to approach us quickly, his eyes moving between me and the three boys in front of my counter. The boy called Jeno wandered into the cafe, looking at the bags of beans and tea packs we have on display at the far side.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea they were coming,” he told me apologetically, his face strained. I couldn’t really understand why he was so worried but I gave him a smile to assure him that everything is fine.

“Hey, it’s okay. I have no customers anyway so I’m glad your friends came over.”

I have a feeling there is more to his anxiousness than I could understand.

“She’s right. We’re just here to have some coffee,” the boy, Haechan, said as he winked at me. “So what do you recommend, miss? I won’t have anything Jaemin loves to get, if it means having his death concoction.

That made me laugh a bit. Jaemin’s frown deepened.

“Well, we have really good Chia tea and some hot chocolate. Our cocoa is sourced from the Philippines so—”

“According to online reviews, their blueberry cheesecake is bomb,” said a new voice that followed the opening of the cafe door for the third time in the past ten minutes. All of us looked around to see a new visitor with black and blonde hair falling over his eyes. His thin frame was covered by a light jacket and he glanced up from his phone to talk to us as if he was right there with us from the beginning.

“Do you have it right now?”

“Uh… yes.”

“Seriously, who else did you crackheads invite?”

Jaemin turned to Haechan and the rest of the guys with an expression I couldn’t quite paint.

His answer came with the cafe door dinging open again.

“Yo, man. Am I late?”

Jaemin gave one look at the boy with blue hair, groaned, and cursed silently to himself.

-----------

“Go back there and hangout with your friends,” I nudged Jaemin slightly by the shoulders as he continued to fume silently beside me. I was finishing the orders of the group and he seemed to still be adamant in keeping his distance from them for as long as he can.

“I don’t hangout with assholes.”

I chuckled. He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Hey, language. Why are you so pressed, anyway? They just came by to visit. I’m glad I have customers.”

For a moment, I thought he was not going to give me any answers again. Jaemin simply stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest for a few full heartbeats.

“I don’t think I should get you any deeper into my life as it is,” he finally said quietly, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the humming of the espresso machine. I looked up at him, surprised by his words and the fact that he actually replied to my question.

“I suppose I cannot ask what that means…?”

He gave me a small tight smile. Just then, the microwave beeped to tell me that the food I was heating was ready. We both looked at it and Jaemin took the chance to push himself off the counter he was leaning on to grab a tray.

“I’ll take care of it. We’re making your job harder today, at least let me help serve those dorks.”

I nodded and wordlessly let him put some of the drinks on his tray. I did the finishing touches on the blueberry cheesecake the guy called Renjun ordered before loading it on mine.

When we both walked to the table that the rest of his friends chose, the boys had already busted the jenga game that we usually offer to our customers. Jisung, Chenle, and Haechan were in the middle of sabotaging each other with their pulls while Renjun and Mark—the last newcomer—were peering over Jeno’s shoulder who I assume was playing a game on his phone.

“Here are your orders. I added extra powdered sugar on your chiffon cake, Jisung,” I said with a smile as I arranged everything on their table. The youngest boy looked up at me with sparkling eyes as if I’ve given him the world. The others took their orders after giving their own variations of thank you.

“Thank you, noona,” Jisung said before turning to Haechan to “whisper” in his ear.

“I like her.”

“She can hear you as clear as day, Jisungie.”

“Well, if you need anything, just call out to me alright?” I said with a polite smile, already feeling a little bit more relaxed around the group. I’m sure Jaemin has his own reasons to feel anxious about his friends being here, but they all seem like your regular boys to me. I’ve always wondered what kinds of acquaintances he has and I’m glad to know these are the ones he has around.

“Wait, can’t you hang out for a while?” Haechan asked as I took the trays with me. Jaemin was quick to answer, throwing dagger glances at the other.

“She has work.”

“There are no customers.”

“You can go back if someone comes. You’re only serving us right now, anyway,” Renjun quipped as he took a bite of his cake. My eyes moved to Jaemin just in time to see his jaw tighten a little bit. He did look a little bit resigned though so I decided to compromise.

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes. I haven’t had my break yet,” I said with a slight smile. Mark patted Jeno’s thigh to give way for me to sit on the space where he had his leg up.

“So, are you and Jaemin-hyung dating? For how long now?” My ass haven’t even touched the seat yet when Chenle shot the question. I looked at him, completely taken aback.

“Chenle, you don’t just ask people that out of the blue,” Mark said, despite the small playful smirk that he tried so hard to hide. He turned to me apologetically then, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t go out often.”

I was too taken aback that I failed to notice how Jaemin didn’t even try to deny Chenle’s assumption. I glossed over it and chose to take another route instead.

“Do you guys all live together?” I asked with genuine interest. Jaemin did say that he doesn’t get a lot of chance to socialize but it seems like it applies to all his friends, too.

“We all live in the...same apartment, yes,” Jeno said carefully.

“Oh… roommates.”

“We grew up together, actually,” Renjun pointed at Jisung who had his upper lip covered with powdered sugar as he shoveled cake into his mouth. “Jaemin birthed him.”

“That’s right,” Jaemin said so seriously with a straight face beside me.

“So you’re also childhood friends.”

“I guess you could say that. Chenle and I both came from China but we grew up here.”

I nodded, already invested in knowing more.

“Are you studying? Or are you always here?” Haechan asked me as he deftly removed a block from the Jenga tower he had reassembled.

“Mm, yes. I’m on pre-med right now.”

Jeno gave a low whistle and lowered his phone a bit to look at me.

“You’re going to be a doctor?”

I smiled. “Hopefully a surgeon, yes.”

“So does that mean you’ll be stitching up wounds and getting bullets off flesh and things like that?” Chenle asked. I laughed at how specific the situations he gave were.

“I can actually do them right now, but yes. My father used to be a doctor too and I helped him around his clinic before he died so I know the basics.”

“I didn’t know about that…” Jaemin spoke up beside me in a quiet voice, breaking his silence.

“About what?”

“About your parents.”

I laughed. “You never asked.”

“So are you living alone?” Mark followed through.

“Right now, yes. I lost my parents a couple of years ago but I do have an auntie living right in the next city.”

“Man, so you’re working and studying at the same time. You’re tough.”

“Thank you, but it’s not really anything new to college students like me. How about you guys? Are you in college?”

The boys exchanged quick looks with each other.

“We’re all, uh, home schooled,” Renjun finally answered.

“Oh… I see. That makes a lot of sense.” Just then, my eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. I started slightly after realizing that my fifteen minutes of break is up.

“I have to go though, sorry. I’m alone right now so I have to work on multiple things,” I said apologetically as I picked myself up from my seat. I gave everyone a quick smile before retreating behind the counter.

I didn’t look back to see how Jaemin stared at me as I left and how he finally caught Mark who was staring at him in return.

The two boys didn’t have to speak to understand each other, but the younger one easily got what his captain clearly told him with his gentle gaze.

Be careful.

----

Chapter 3

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rise-above-the-grave · 4 years ago

Text

beware stained glass shards

for @dekusmynamecryingsmygame. you said angst was fine, so uhhhh have some mf-ing erasermic angst I guess. please note that a) I am brand new to this fandom and am still figuring out headcanons and characterizations. hopefully I didn’t screw anything up too bad in that regard...but if I did, please at least be gentle in your critique :’)... b) I wrote this in...about 4 hours, all completely after midnight. it’s not gonna be my best work :/ but I did my best! and I wanted to get this up asap so you could see and read it sooner rather than later.

tw for: canon-typical injuries, hospitals (and everything that goes along with hospitals like doctors, nurses, surgeries, etc.), some implied (it’s only implied!! and it’s super duper uber vague) nsfw stuff, and an off-screen (debatable; maybe-it-was, maybe-it-wasn’t) suicide attempt. (was it a suicide attempt or a villain attack? I don’t even know myself! - at least not yet. read it however you wanna read it. I purposefully leave it open for interpretation.)

and if you don’t wanna read it because of that even potential suicide attempt, lemme know and I’ll write you something else, Peachy... alkdsjflkjdsf unfortunately I have a bad case of “I didn’t think this through” after midnight, and I didn’t even think of that possibility until I was basically done writing it. at that point I was like “It’s 5:30 and I need to sleep, I might as well post this on the off chance they do want to read it...” if you don’t wanna read it tho lemme know and again, I’ll write ya something else tomorrow <3

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

He falls.

There is lightning, there is thunder, there is rain—and for an instant (a second, a heartbeat, a breath), he is a swallow, a sparrow, a falcon. He flies with invisible wings, the air is caught beneath him and above him and before him, the world spreads out into infinity below the raindrops hanging suspended in the air. The lightning gilds his dark hair in quicksilver, the thunder that follows an instant later shakes his bones, and the rain that drives him to the earth soaks his clothes into a second skin.

He falls, the asphalt of the alley that runs beneath the comet of his body rising nearer and nearer in a rapid sequence that he thinks, distantly, should be alarming.

I should be afraid, he thinks.

This is going to hurt, he thinks.

Hizashi—

And then there is pain, and there is fear, and there is darkness gilt by lightning, silence shrouded by thunder, blood watered by rain.

---

Yamada Hizashi is 22, desperate, and dangerous.

He is older than he thought he would ever be. When he was young, he had imagined himself living to the infinite age of 50. He would look at himself in the mirror hanging in the bathroom, fingers combing through hair he imagined going silver, palms smearing smooth skin he imagined going wrinkled and weather worn. He would pluck at the band t-shirts he’d wear under too-hot, too-heavy jackets with fidgety hands, wondering what he’d wear then.

I’m gonna be a hero! he’d told his moms, and when they laughed and hugged him and told him, You’re going to be the best hero there is!, he believed himself immortal, invincible, inevitable.

And he was. He was immortal, invincible, inevitable. He could be hurt, he could be beaten, he could be knocked down. But no matter what—no matter the pain, the struggle, the difficulty—he healed, and he fought until he was victorious, and he stood back up. No one could keep him down. No one could diminish him. No one could threaten his impenetrable view of the future.

And then—and then Oboro. And it had all crashed down around him, like so many shards of shattered stained glass.

With Oboro goes his heart. His future. His eternity. He is taught, with the sharpness of stone, with the heaviness of rubble, with the choking taste of dust, that death lurks in the most innocent of shadows, that pain waits in the wings of the theater, that certainty is a lodestone chained around your neck.

Nothing is certain. Not everything can heal. No one is invincible.

He stops thinking he’ll live to 50.

He stops thinking he’ll live past 20.

“Fuck you,” he spat, and Shouta flinched as if he’d been struck, the Happy birthday that had been on his lips dying a silent, painful death. “Fuck everything.” Without warning—without even fully processing what he intended to do; he just hurt, and he needed something, someone, to hurt with him—Hizashi threw his tumbler against the wall behind the bar. The shelf the tumbler hit broke, and a cascade of bottles and liquor crashed to the floor in so many shard of glass and fragments of dreams and spreading rivers of blood.

There was a shout, and then Hizashi felt Tensei’s and Nemuri’s hands on his shoulders, heard Shouta’s voice sounding unusually placating and apologetic as he spoke to the bartender who had rushed over.

“Get him out of here,” Shouta snapped a few seconds later, turning and looking straight at him with death in his eyes. For an instant, Hizashi almost felt guilty. Then Tensei and Nemuri were dragging him away from the counter, away from the gathering crowd, away from the bar.

“Idiot,” Tensei muttered as Hizashi listed against him in the alley behind the bar, all at once too drunk and too sober to function.

“Idiot,” Nemuri sighed, guiding him into the cab, buckling the seatbelt across his chest and waist and then letting him collapse against her shoulder.

“Idiot,” Shouta hissed at him as he undressed him and shoved him unkindly into bed.

He stops thinking he’ll live—and so he stops caring. He drinks too much. Eats too little. Throws himself into his work with a single-minded mania.

His relationship with Shouta suffers. They grate, like two broken ends of a once-whole bone, the nerve that is Oboro’s death still laid bare between them. Shouta can’t sleep without Hizashi in his bed; Hizashi can’t sleep unless he’s alone. Hizashi drinks to drown his memories, his emotions, his pain; Shouta tries to starve his out. They argue about it, until Shouta erases Hizashi’s quirk and Hizashi throws a punch—about Shouta’s energy pouches, about Hizashi’s whiskey. About the lights Hizashi wants to leave on at night. About the socks on the floor inside the door. About the uncapped toothpaste left by the bathroom sink. About the half-eaten takeout sitting in the fridge. About the nights Shouta will disappear without warning, without a trace. About—

Hizashi wonders if it is his fault the day Shouta walks out, slamming the door behind him.

Shouta doesn’t come back.

Hizashi drinks more. Eats less. Works harder. Does anything, anything to distract himself from the event horizon opening inside his chest.

I’ve lost my best friend, he thinks, curled up alone and unable to sleep in a bed that had once held two.

For the first time in years, he wishes someone was sleeping beside him.

It is dangerous. He knows this—knows the risks, knows that the rewards are negligible compared to the ruin it could bring him. His career is on the line. His future hangs by a thread.

Hizashi doesn’t care.

He isn’t going to live past 21 anyway.

Only a few of his partners know who he is. Those that do keep silent. It is never wise to paint a target on your back, and Hizashi makes it clear that he doesn’t want a relationship, isn’t looking for a connection—that there is no reason for them to think there is anything between them but drunken carnality.

He learns fast how to duck cameras—and how to attract them. He learns how to avoid reporters, except when he wants to talk. He learns how to sidetrack paparazzi with glamour shots. He finds he is good at this game of chess, of Russian Roulette, of cards built into fragile palaces. He is good with people, good with crowds, good with playing the symphony’s strings.

I’d make a damn good villain, he thinks one night before he drifts off to sleep, a cute blond whose name he can’t remember already asleep beside him.

And then he thinks of Shouta—of Eraserhead—and the guilt he’d swallowed eight months before, when Shouta had walked out and left nothing but empty shadows where he’d been, threatens to choke him. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he vomits, bile tasting of too-much alcohol and too-little food, of regret and shame.

What am I doing? he thinks, leaning his forehead against cool porcelain.

“Are you okay?” the cute blond asks. He stands in the door to the bathroom and looks down at Hizashi with concern in his pale eyes.

“Get out,” Hizashi says, not looking up.

“But—”

“Just—just go.” And then, softly, voice breaking halfway through the only syllable that matters, “Please.”

The cute blond leaves, and Hizashi is left totally, utterly alone.

---

“You’re listed as his emergency contact.”

Hizashi stares at the window overlooking the city and sees nothing but smears of too-bright light against a stormy night. Sees nothing but the unknown caller ID flashing up on his phone screen after its ringing had woken him. Sees nothing but the memory of Shouta’s face just before he’d turned away and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

What had they even been fighting about? Hizashi can’t remember.

“I’ll be right there,” Hizashi says, unsticking his throat just long enough to remember what he’s supposed to say.

The line clicks dead, and Hizashi stumbles blindly out of bed and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He throws on a jacket, a pair of boots, a set of headphones. Ties his hair up in a bun to keep it out of his face and, hopefully, dry once he pulls the hood of his jacket over his head.

The trip to the hospital is spent in a haze of emotion, fear, and dread. He can’t parse any of it, though. Can’t understand it, give voice to it, give structure to it. All he knows is that he is feeling, and that he is afraid, and that he is certain that the scythe has finally fallen once again—only once again it hasn’t come to reap his life.

The hospital is bright against the rain-swept night, clean and sharp and stinging. Hizashi feels bad about the mud he tracks in, feels bad about the water he drips on the floor, feels bad about the lingering scent of gel and hairspray that seems to hang around him no matter what shampoo he uses.

He tells them who he is, who he is here to see. The nurse helping him looks at Hizashi with a curious expression that he is too strung out to try to interpret, and then leads him down a maze of white corridors that he knows he will never remember. They stop outside a door in the ICU, and the woman rests a hand on his forearm and says something Hizashi does not hear. Then she opens the door, and Hizashi steps into the room.

Shouta is unconscious on a bed, surrounded by machines. His chest rises and falls with intubated breath, and two IVs are hooked into the backs of his hands. His eyes are closed beneath the purple and black bruising shadowing his face, and Hizashi can just see more bruising peering out above the bandages swathing his chest.

“How—” He chokes, unable to form the words that he needs to say.

“We don’t know,” the nurse says. “He was found in an alley by a couple of drunk college students. We think he fell.”

“Fell?” Hizashi repeats dumbly. “But he never falls.”

The nurse is silent. Whatever she is thinking, she does not share with Hizashi.

For that, Hizashi is grateful.

“Is he going to make it?”

“We don’t know,” the nurse admits. “He has to stabilize before we can use any healing on him. If he survives the night, his prognosis will be good—but it’s a big “if”.” She hesitates, then says, “It’s a good thing you came.”

Hizashi moves to sit in the chair pulled up to Shouta’s bedside and sinks into it. He does not see the nurse watch him with concern—does not hear her pager go off a few minutes later. He does not even notice when she disappears through the door, or when the door clicks shut behind her.

For a long time, Hizashi is silent. There is too much to say—too much he needs to say, too much he wants to say, too much he can’t say. The words sit heavy on his tongue, in his throat, behind his teeth. They are stones in his stomach, glass in his lungs, thorns in his heart.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

He laughs weakly.

“You always did have a way of leaving me speechless, Sho,” he says at last. His voice is a clap of thunder in the silence of the room.

Hizashi sighs and buries his face in his hands.

“Please wake up,” he whispers through his fingers. “There’s so much I have to tell you. So much you have to know. Like, you have to know that I—I’m sorry. For…for everything.”

He swallows. His throat constricts, and his breath comes in shaky gasps.

“I can’t lose you too,” he says to his palms, because looking at Shouta is too much. His voice is hoarse and barely audible and pleading. “Please, Sho…”

The machines beep. The vents rattle. Shouta’s false breath hisses.

And Shouta doesn’t wake, even when Hizashi begins to cry.

---

Hizashi is asleep when the doctor comes in, just after dawn. He startles awake at the sound of the door closing, blinking blearily and turning his head to stare at the tall, dark man. The doctor smiles at him, and goes to check on Shouta.

He had survived the night. That much, at least, is a relief.

“We still don’t know,” the doctor warns Hizashi. “But we can start to be hopeful.”

They take him away for another surgery. This time, they promise Hizashi, a healer will be involved.

Hizashi stands, stretches, and goes in search of food. He finds the cafeteria, and buys a meager breakfast that smells bad and tastes worse. When he looks at his phone, he sees that he has missed calls from both Tensei and Nemuri. He shuts it off and shoves his phone back into his pocket to deal with later.

He’s going to have to call his agency soon, too, but he has a few minutes until that call is critical.

He spends a quarter of an hour sitting at the hard, plastic table in the cafeteria, staring out of the window at the overcast morning and thinking. He thinks about what he is going to say if—when—Shouta wakes up. He thinks about what he is going to say to Nemuri and Tensei. He thinks about his choices, and about the certainty of death, and about the possibility of life.

He thinks about Oboro, and about Shouta, and about how he lost one and how he might lose the other.

Hizashi stands, shoving his chair back so hard it topples onto the floor with a bang. What few others are in the cafeteria stare at him with varying degrees of irritation and wariness, until he rights the chair and walks away with a casual wave of apology.

He calls Tensei.

Tenya is running around in the background, laughing maniacally, and Tensei is distracted during the call in spite of his concern. He promises to come by the hospital when he can, though, and tells Hizashi to call Nemuri. Hizashi promises he will, and hangs up.

Nemuri is unusually quiet as Hizashi tells her what he knows of what happened, and while he tells her that Shouta is back in surgery. When at last she speaks, she only says, “You were still his emergency contact.” It is not a question. It is barely an observation. More than anything, it is a revelation.

“I guess so,” Hizashi says, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he feeds a bill into one of the vending machines. His breakfast had been bland, and he wants sugar.

They talk for another few minutes about nothing in particular, and as Hizashi unwraps his candy bar and begins to eat, he is struck with the notion that Nemuri is just trying to distract him. He appreciates it. Before long, though, she hangs up with a quick goodbye, and a promise to come to the hospital after her last patrol.

Hizashi crumples the empty wrapper and tosses it into a trash bin, and wanders his way back toward Shouta’s room.

He calls his agency once he is seated by Shouta’s still-empty bed. He tells them there was a family emergency, and that he will not be able to patrol today. They are surprisingly accepting of his feeble excuses, and Hizashi wonders if someone else had already contacted them. Probably Tensei, he decides. That was always the kind of thing Tensei thought of.

His phone calls made, Hizashi settles uncomfortably into the hard, plastic chair to wait for Shouta to be brought back. He tries not to think. He mostly fails.

He thinks of Shouta. He thinks of Oboro. He thinks of invincibility, and of shattered stained glass, and of birthdays. He thinks of a broken shelf of liquor bottles. He thinks of screaming at Shouta in their apartment, so angry he’s lost control, and of Shouta silencing him with a red-eyed stare. He thinks of broken promises, and broken hopes, and broken dreams.

They bring Shouta back in sometime around noon. He is still unconscious, but he looks a little better than he had the night before. The bruising is lighter—more red and purple than black and purple—and he is breathing on his own. Some of his color has returned as well, though he was never anything but pale.

The nurses leave again, after telling Hizashi things he does not hear, his attention fixed on Shouta to the exclusion of all else. He wonders, vaguely, as he feels them leave the room, if they had figured that out, or if they had just finished telling him what they had to say.

The seconds drag into minutes as Hizashi waits, the minutes into hours. Hizashi sits, stiff and sore, in the chair by Shouta’s bedside, watching his chest move beneath the bandaging, watching his eyes flicker beneath his eyelids. He wonders what Shouta dreams of.

The doctor comes in again. Leaves again. Hizashi ignores him.

Nemuri comes, but does not stay long. She talks, and Hizashi listens with half an hear, saying nothing as she tells him about her day, about her night, about everything but her worry over Shouta. It’s there, though, lurking beneath every strained story, every forced laugh, every brittle word.

Nemuri is older than him and Shouta and Tensei—but, like Tensei, she had found them adrift in the wake of Oboro’s death, and like Tensei she had decided, “These are mine, now.” Hizashi is grateful for it most days.

It is only after Nemuri stands and presses a kiss to Hizashi’s cheek in farewell that he speaks.

“They think he fell,” Hizashi says, not looking anywhere but Shouta’s face. Nemuri freezes.

“But he never falls.”

“I know.”

“Do you think—”

“I don’t know what I think,” Hizashi says, short and sharp. “And neither do you.”

Nemuri hesitates. Then says simply, “Okay.” She leaves without another word.

---

Tensei visits for an hour, and when he leaves he promises to return later in the evening so that Hizashi can run home to shower and change clothes. Hizashi agrees without really knowing what he’s agreeing to.

Night has just well and truly fallen when Shouta’s eyes flicker, then open. He looks around, taking in the lights and the ceiling and walls—and then his eyes fall on Hizashi, and he freezes.

“Hey,” Hizashi says.

Shouta turns his eyes away and stares up at the ceiling.

“Uh,” Hizashi says, feeling suddenly awkward and tongue-tied. “Thanks for leaving me as your emergency contact.”

Shouta grunts. Hizashi wonders if he can even talk right now, or if it’s too painful.

“Look, Sho…” Hizashi grimaces. “Shouta,” he corrects.

Shouta looks at him again, eyes flicking over to his face. Hizashi rubs the back of his neck, and tries to figure out how to say what he wants to say.

“I know this is a bad time,” he says finally. “But I have to say this before the doctors come rushing in, and before you get up the strength to kick me out.” Shouta’s eyes narrow at him, but Hizashi isn’t looking at him anymore—is staring, instead, at the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “For…” He takes a deep breath. “For everything.”

Shouta looks back at the ceiling, and does not speak.

Hizashi calls the nurses. They come quickly, and Hizashi excuses himself from the room so that they can fuss over Shouta in peace. By the time they are done, Tensei is back, and Hizashi finds himself kicked out of the hospital until he has showered, changed, and eaten a full meal. He agrees to the terms grudgingly, but only because the memory of Shouta not even being willing to look at him is still fresh in his mind.

It haunts him as he showers, as he changes, as he walks to a small take-out restaurant a few blocks from his apartment and places his order. He wonders if he should even go back to the hospital, or if Shouta would prefer it to just be Tensei there.

He almost decides he would.

Tensei calls him just as he’s finishing his dinner, though.

“You on your way back?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Hizashi says, because he can’t quite bring himself to be selfless enough to say no.

---

Shouta is still awake when Hizashi walks into the room again. He looks at Hizashi when he opens the door and steps inside, then looks away again before he can close it. Tensei notices the silent exchange with a pensive look, but says nothing.

“Well,” he says, standing, “I have to go. I’m babysitting Tenya again tomorrow morning, and that little monster drains more out of me than twenty villains.” The soft smile on his lips belies the cutting words, though, and Hizashi knows that Tensei would give the world to his little brother if given the chance.

“Thanks,” Hizashi says, and claims the chair Tensei had just vacated.

Silence fills the room in the wake of Tensei’s departure, heavy and awkward and uncomfortable. Hizashi looks everywhere but at Shouta. Shouta stares at the ceiling.

“I…” Hizashi begins at last, entirely uncertain where he means to go with his next sentence but knowing he can’t bear the silence any longer.

A sigh cuts him off. Then, abruptly, in a ragged voice, Shouta says, “I’m sorry.”

Hizashi finally looks at him, startled. “For what?”

“For…everything,” Shouta says. “For walking out. For not being there for you. For ignoring you when you needed me.”

“Shouta, I…” Hizashi swallows hard. “I dug my own grave. I don’t expect you to dig me out. I never have.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Shouta whispers. “Our problem.”

Hizashi frowns. “What happened, Sho?” he asks suddenly. “How did you fall?”

“Someone pushed me,” Shouta says without hesitation. “I didn’t see them until it was too late.”

For the first time in seven years, Hizashi isn’t sure if Shouta is lying.

“Okay.” The word tastes like ash on Hizashi’s tongue, but there is nothing else he can say. Not now, anyway. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Shouta is silent again, but it is a different kind of silence. Hizashi waits, knowing he is preparing to say something. At last, after a few heavy moments of pregnant waiting, Shouta says, “Can we start over?”

Hizashi looks at him, surprised. “I’m not sure that’s going to be possible,” he tells Shouta.

“Maybe,” Shouta agrees. “But…try again, then.”

For the first time in over a day, Hizashi smiles. “Yeah,” he says. Then, again, “Yeah. I’d…like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Shouta nods, just a little, against the pillow behind his head. He closes his eyes.

“Will you be here?” he asks, voice already thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” Hizashi says, knowing what he’s asking. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Shouta nods again, eyes still closed, and in seconds his breathing evens out into a soft, sleepy cadence.

Hizashi settles back into his uncomfortable chair, preparing for another long night of half-conscious sleep. It’ll be worth it, though, he thinks. Anything is worth having my best friend back.

And for the first time since the stained glass of his invincibility shattered, Hizashi thinks that maybe, just maybe—if Shouta is at his side—he’ll see his 25th birthday. Maybe even his 30th.

Maybe even his 50th.

#erasermic #hizashi yamada #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #hizashi x shouta #suicide attempt tw #(or is it???? was it just a villain attack????? idk my dudes. idk)#hospital tw #canon-typical injury #*finger guns* anyway i know hizashi is super like. NOT flamboyant and Weird in this #but this fic is also literally about how his life is falling apart around him (with the implied meaning that this is hidden beneath his #hero persona - and is before he has his radio show i think? idk i haven't figured everything out yet)#but regardless i purposefully wanted to show a hizashi that wasn't him putting on any sort of act or persona #but was him in his rawest and most desperate emotions and thoughts and feelings #soooooooooooo he's p serious in this #*shrugs* i worry about characterization a LOT fam #pls don't be mean but also pls do tell me if i screwed up big time? i guess #just...pls be gentle. my heart is fragile #my disposition weak #if you've read this far into my tags bless you lmao #oh also if i need to tag anything else lemme knoooooooooooow because i'm really bad at tagging stuff #i've also never been in a fandom that has such THOROUGH tagging so usually i can skate by no problemo #but i have a feeling i'm missing some stuff i should have tagged. *shrug*#okay i'm posting it now before i lose my nerve and then going to SLEEP

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jesuiscalmedammit · 4 years ago

Text

Blackmail – (7) Goodbye || [Alejandro Gillick x reader x Matt Graver]

Out of nowhere someone grabbed your arm and began to pull you away from the staff member you were talking to. You soon noticed it was Matt and based on the look on his face whatever he wanted to talk about was serious. Steve had already mentioned the order they received about cutting ties with Alejandro so you assumed it would be about that.

Once you entered an empty room and he made sure no one was listening, Matt spoke up. “I talked to Alejandro and told him about the order. He’s on his own, I can’t protect him anymore.” He kept a short pause while he let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you want to talk to him? This would be your last chance before–”

“You’ll listen to my phone calls and monitor every message I send from now on, right?”

Matt nodded. “You’re his girlfriend so you might be able to lead us to him. Unless, of course,” he added before he stopped and gave you a meaningful look instead of finishing the sentence. “Give him a warning, Y/N. And say goodbye.”

You took the phone and the piece of paper with the number on it from him then sank to the floor to make the call. Just when you thought Matt would eventually stay there with you, he cleared his throat and left. It took quite long for Alejandro to answer the phone and you were beginning to think he would ignore it, after all, he and Matt had already discussed everything.

“Did you forge–”

“It’s me,” you interrupted him, biting on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying. “Matt told me what happened and he wanted me to talk to you one last time.”

You heard him draw in a deep breath on the other end of the line. “They will try to track me down through you as well,” he stated quietly. “I’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“Hey, don’t worry about this now. Just promise me you’ll stay safe. If anyone can get away from them it’s you,” you added, a smile appearing on your lips.

“I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

“Then we’ll find a way I can go after you.” Alejandro remained silent but you heard him let out a troubled sigh. “I’m serious. I don’t want to lose you. If it means I’ll have to stay under the radar for the rest of my life, so be it. I’m ready and it’s worth it.”

Once again silence followed your words and you began to wonder what it meant. Could it be that he didn’t want you to go after him? If so, why? Did he simply not want to put you in danger or could it mean that he didn’t love you enough? Then again, you reminded yourself, he had taken off his wedding ring for you. That was a huge thing.

“Alright, fine. Pay attention to every little detail, Y/N,” he told you eventually. “I won’t call you myself but you’ll know when I’m the one behind it.”

“Noted.” A short pause followed your words before you spoke up again, trying to fight back your tears. “Hey, be careful out there. And I love you.”

“I love you too.” You heard someone speak in the background before he went on. “Look, I have to go now, but I’ll contact you the moment I can, okay?”

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be waiting,” you said quietly.

He ended the call and for several minutes you stayed where you were, staring at a random spot ahead of you. Even though Alejandro promised to contact you, you knew it was a promise he couldn’t guarantee to keep. You had a really bad feeling about the whole thing and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get the idea out of your head.

“You okay?”

When you looked up, Steve flashed a small, understanding smile at you then sat down next to you. “What if he dies? What will I do if he dies, Steve?” you asked, feeling the tears already filling your eyes. “We were… I wanted to quit. I was planning to move to Colombia and start a new life with him. A life as normal as possible.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh and leaned the back of his head against the wall as he looked up at the ceiling of the hangar. They had no idea you were planning to do that. Of course, he and Matt both noticed how close the two of you were and even wondered over a beer where it could lead but neither of them expected this with Alejandro’s background. They both assumed it was a more casual relationship, after all, it was a well-known fact that he still lived his late wife. Well, the man was certainly good at keeping his secrets.

“Knowing him, he’s gonna be fine. And I have a feeling Matt will do everything he can to buy him some time without Cynthia noticing,” he assured you.

It wasn’t even a lie since he knew his boss well enough to see how upset he was about the situation. Matt and Alejandro were–in their own, unique way–good friends. This is probably why he let you call him to say goodbye, and also why he decided to keep you safe, no matter what happens in the following days.

Suddenly you handed him the phone and left. You needed space, just a few minutes to get away from everyone who was involved in this. They were effective, so unless Matt figured out a way to save Alejandro, he was doomed and you knew that. The thought of losing him was suffocating. You wished it wasn’t true, you wished you were only a pessimist. But at the bottom of your heart, you knew Alejandro would be dead in a matter of hours and there was nothing you could do about it.

And just as you thought, a few hours later one of the guys in the control room spoke up. “Signal was activated at 19:39, heading northeast of Reynosa.”

You looked at Steve, then you both turned to look at Matt. This was probably the first time you saw him having trouble keeping his emotions under control. All his movements screamed of anxiety and you weren’t the only ones who noticed it.

“I’m sending another team to finish this,” Cynthia told him.

But Matt only shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. ‘Cause if I don’t, he’ll probably come and kill you.”

With that he left the room and Steve began to follow him without thinking, putting his hand on the small of your back to make sure you weren’t staying behind either. You were glad he was so thoughtful because knowing that woman you were sure she would have made some comments about the situation. Comments you probably would have reacted to by making a scene in front of everyone.

While the team got ready to move out, you sat on the ground outside with your back resting against the metal wall of the hangar. When you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, you thought about your last day in Bogotá: the romantic dinner at the restaurant which was carefully hidden so only the locals would know of its existence, the best cup of coffee you had ever tasted on the way home and–Home. You let out a short, desperate laugh at the thought. You were already thinking about his apartment as home.

But it wasn’t your home. And based on how things were going it wasn’t about to become your home in the future either. That apartment was already gone, and its memory was nothing more but a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have anymore. Just when he decided to finally start a new life, they had to take him away from you. It wasn’t fair. Especially not the way it was happening.

“I’ll send you a text to let you know what happened, okay?”

You looked up and saw Matt standing there, looking down at you with an almost apologetic expression on his face. “Yeah, thanks,” you replied quietly.

The hours following their departure passed painfully slowly. You could have sworn you had seen Cynthia and Alicia checking on you every now and then but you weren’t sure and you didn’t even care to be honest. There was only one thing you truly cared about and that was your phone. The phone and the text Matt had promised to send you.

And then your phone finally beeped. It was a short message so you didn’t even have to unlock the device to read the whole thing.

“I’m sorry.”

This was all it said and it was more than enough for now. He was gone. He was really gone. While you had already known this was how this chase would end, the reality of losing Alejandro only began to crush you right then. You couldn’t even tell yourself he was safe and alive, hiding somewhere so the CIA wouldn’t find him. He was dead. But at least thanks to Matt you could say goodbye and you could also tell him you loved him. Not like that could make you feel any better.

At one point, before the team returned, you decided to leave. You had to get away from that hangar and the people inside, especially Cynthia. You needed something to help you forget but you knew in this situation alcohol itself wouldn’t cut it. You needed something else, something stronger. Well, so much for being clean, but what did you have to lose? Alejandro was gone and you weren’t planning to stick around so Matt or Cynthia would definitely make sure your medical license would be gone for good.

The least you could do was trying to forget. With your leather jacket and bag in hand, you began to walk out of the building but someone called after you. “Where are you going, doctor?”

You stopped, your back still to her as you took a deep breath. There's usually a filter between a person’s brain and mouth and you really needed to use it right now. Then again, you wanted to quit anyway. So why not telling Cynthia what you really thought about this situation?

“My boyfriend’s probably dead by now,” you told her eventually as you turned around to face her, deliberately making it sound like you didn’t know for sure. “I'm gonna get something to drink.”

She raised a finger and shook her head in response. “Not until they get back. Once you say they're all okay, you can go.”

“I quit. Find someone else to patch them up if they need it.”

note: Oh, boy, it took me a little too long, huh? And get ready for the Matt x reader chapters... until Alejandro shows up again that is.

taglist: @lainternettuale @lennonlane @anbanananna @moonchild-stuff

#sicario #sicario soldado #sicario 2 #sicario day of the soldado #sicario imagine #sicario 2 imagine #sicario soldado imagine #sicario day of the soldado imagine #fic: Blackmail #alejandro gillick imagine #alejandro gillick #alejandro gillick x reader #matt graver #matt graver imagine #matt graver x reader #steve forsing

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tempestaurora · 4 years ago

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Your tags under the Peggy post. I’m shaking!!! Please punch marvel in the face and let us have that movie!!! That’s the most perfect fix it idea ever!!!!

can i actually just run through my avengers movie idea for a sec? because it’s been one of my repeated day dreams since april 2019.

alright: so it’s set maybe six months, maybe a year after avengers: endgame. unfortunately, tony and nat are dead. this cannot change, unless we get some kind of magic going, and i’m not knowledgeable about marvel magic enough to get a fix. so.

we start on an avengers: age of ultron-like fight scene, where the remaining avengers - literally whoever is left, plus spider-man, maybe bucky if he’s feeling it - are kicking some butt. maybe aim or modok or something, its irrelevant. they clean up, head home, and perhaps swing by the new compound. it’s smaller than the last one, still in the same kind of location. there’s clearly work still being done to fix it up.

steve is perhaps out on the grass, reading a book. maybe he’s in a wheelchair, because he’s old now. they say hello, head inside, maybe someone stays out to talk to him. now, a new character/avenger could totally bring it up - in my head, i like to imagine jessica drew or riri williams, or one of the young avengers maybe. alternatively, perhaps there’s just boxes all over the foyer.

“what the hell is this?” sam might ask, after tripping over one. he had not been looking where he was going.

“oh! my delivery!” perhaps bruce replies, as he is the last remaining Science Guy (not including rhodey, who is Weapon Science Guy) in the avengers. “after shield-gate and the decryption of those files, a lot of old shield stuff got declassified.”

“and it’s here?”

“well shield’s still kind of... gone, i guess. where’s a safer place for it than here? ooh, the report on who killed jfk!”

bucky, across the room: “want a spoiler?”

the plot goes on; perhaps there are more aim or modok or something bases to be taken down. or a criminal gang. idk. they’re a side plot, who will perhaps become important in the final act, but for now, bruce starts reading through his files, until:

“barnes! you might be interested in this. it’s the original ssr paperwork about dr. erskine’s serum.”

“the one steve’s got?”

“the very same.” they flip through a few pages, and bruce slows. “this doesn’t make sense.”

“hm?”

“the serum. it’s self-sustaining. self-vitalising.”

“in english?”

“steve’s cells are reproductive. when they die, more take their place. it’s how he combats illness; his cells flip over so fast that the sick ones don’t have a chance to catch on. but...”

“but what?”

“if this is accurate--which, it is. i’ve looked at his bloodwork myself! if this is right, it means that steve’s ageing should be slower than a regular human’s. perhaps by three times, even.”

“and what does that mean?” bucky is frowning now.

bruce looks from him, and then moves to the window, where steve is out on the grass, reading a book. “it means that he shouldn’t look like that.”

“banner?”

bruce turns around. “he lived one life in the other timeline, right? lived his life with peggy carter and then came right home.”

“yeah? yes.”

“then... that’s not steve. it can’t be.”

there’s dramatic music, bruce and bucky’s worried faces. steve takes a sip of a fruity drink from a straw.

they bring in some kind of scientist they know; maybe cho, idk, and they go over his bloodwork in secret. slowly, more people are let in on the secret, like sam, who bucky tells because he’s on the team, he guesses, but he’s only got like one friend. perhaps there’s still that other danger going on, but they really need to get to the bottom of this -

if that’s not steve, who the hell is it? and if that’s someone else, then where the hell is steve rogers?

scott lang and hope van dyne get called in to help build another quantum machine - they don’t have one anymore after steve returned the stones. a time machine is a bit too dangerous, even for them. old steve is around quite often - he likes the quiet, he has a room in the compound, no friends his own (new) age.

but something slips. he’s watching. he may look old, but his hearing’s still good. his vision’s still spectacular. he’s not steve rogers. he’s something else. they cannot comprehend his knowledge.

for much of the plot, we aren’t sure if they’re right, that he’s not steve. he’s acting like steve. he has steve’s memories, his voice, his mannerisms. maybe some people are sceptical - like peter, perhaps, on a weekend visit to train, psyched about the quantum realm idea, but really guys? because old steve has called me queens since the funeral. he can even recite those dumb psas he made. maybe peter talks too much, too loud, and the fake steve rogers knows the jig is up. they’re going to access the quantum realm and find the original steve - this is his final chance.

“you know,” old steve says, heaving himself to his feet, “your friends are right. i’m not steve rogers.” he starts growing bigger, and possibility gelatinous. i imagine it like the young avengers’ mother - some inter-dimensional being, who becomes sinewy, creeping tendrils of flesh and matter; massive in size with a harpy kind of roar. everyone rushes out to see this gigantic mound of flesh--

“what the hell is that, parker??!!”

“uhhh that’s not-steve. he’s acting very not steve today.”

the fight begins, and it becomes clear that whatever this is took steve’s place. stole him, kept him hidden somewhere, and now they’ve gotta get him back. they separate into teams; fighting the monster and racing to the quantum realm. at first, no one has their suits - perhaps they tag team it, or get new suits, or maybe peter has edith on him, and he calls down another iron spider, and she informs him that there’s a falcon x/captain america suit or something; a nanobot suit for sam. something very cool for the suit up, you know?

meanwhile, bucky and bruce are at the quantum machine; perhaps parts of the monster have detached themselves and fight them, too. perhaps the monster calls down its brethren and glowing green lights appear, monsters crawling out from other worlds. bucky gets suited up, and bruce sends him back--

there’s a battle--and bucky flying through time--and fighting--and bucky getting smaller and smaller--and chaos--and bucky landing in the night on a street in 1949.

he gets it pretty fast. it understands why steve might want to stay here. it’s the kind of life they dreamed for themselves after the war. a quiet suburban street; the city off in the distance. the lights are on in plenty of houses, bright yellow. he knows almost automatically which one to look at.

he peers through the front window, and there they are: peggy carter and steve rogers. he looks exactly as he did the last time bucky saw him young. they’re smiling. they’re dancing. perhaps not well - bucky was always the better dancer of the two. he’s about to raise his fist and knock on the window, but then peggy and steve stop, look around, and two small children, one blonde, one brunette, come rushing in. they laugh, picking them up and spinning them around, part of the dance. bucky stares.

there’s a massive fight in the compound, maybe doctor strange is there? idk. maybe he could feel the walls of the dimension cracking open to let these monsters through. thor is there, he deserves to be. captain marvel perhaps, too. but the more they knock down, the more grow back.

perhaps bucky walks through the neighbourhood, visits his family. he knows that no matter how long he spends in this place, it will only be a minute in the real world. so he goes home. he gets on a bus, then a train, hops the turnstile and finds his old house. he’s come home from war. his family cries. he cries. he holds his mother. his father calls his sisters and they rush through the night to greet him. he can’t leave in the night, he can’t. so he sleeps there until morning. returns to steve’s house and watches from a distance as they do the school run.

peggy kisses him goodbye and leaves for work. steve watches her go. but he is still perceptive as ever; he sees bucky, heads over. they hug. they talk. bucky breaks the news to him: this isn’t real. this is made up. a simulation, specifically to keep you here. something else has taken over your life.

steve doesn’t believe it - maybe they fight, i’m not sure. maybe bucky gets angry and even spits out the words “are they even searching for me yet? have you even told them what i’m going through right now? it’s 1949 - i remember this year as the year my handler got pretty trigger happy with waterboarding.”

we go between the fight at the compound and the 40s a few times, as bucky spends the day stewing and steve spends the day looking thoughtful and sending meaningful looks out the window to where bucky had been standing, but no longer was. as it grows dark again, early evening, the children return home from school, peggy comes back from work, steve starts cooking dinner.

he looks out the window and sees bucky out on the front path, watching the yellow-lit kitchen. he goes outside, asks if he wants to come in.

“no,” bucky replies. “if i go in, i’ll never leave.”

“is that such a bad thing?” steve asks.

“it is when it’s not real.”

“buck--”

“i wanted a life back then. i wanted this. some nice house in some nice neighbourhood. fall in love, settle down - the whole nine yards. but i got captured, steve. i got tortured, and brainwashed, and now i live in the twenty-first century, and i fight bad guys with ridiculous powers, and i have a computer that i can carry around in my pocket, and--things are good there! even the skinny, angry version of you could’ve lived better there. might’ve even got a cure or two for your sicknesses.”

“bucky--”

“this, though. this isn’t real, steve. i want it to be, so badly. you deserve this. deserve the peace and quiet. deserve the life, and the happiness and the--the girl. but right now, in the time you left, there’s a monster tearing up your friends. our friends. and they need help.”

“they’ve got captain america.”

“they don’t need captain america. they need steve rogers.”

steve can’t help but look back through the window, to where peggy and his kids are talking, serving up dinner. he sighs. “i can’t leave this behind, buck. i can’t.”

bucky sighs, perhaps this argument goes on longer, but he resigns himself to it. “i thought you might say that. i’ll be out here for another hour, and then i’m going back.”

bucky waits outside on the front path for an hour. steve eats his dinner and laughs with his family. when the time comes, bucky gets up, and looks back at the front door, hopeful. but--steve doesn’t show. he heads back.

the fight continues on, bucky breaks the news to bruce, and there are some bad injuries, maybe. i’d say that someone might die, but the real emotional climax of this film is steve-centred, so we probably don’t need a death. fighting goes on for an avengers-appropriate amount of time, and the tide turns against the avengers. then... just as all hope seems lost:

a second captain america shield slices through a monster, pinning down sam. its that holographic one (photon?) from the comics; just something tony had worked up before he died. the camera pans over to steve in his captain america get up; the same one he left in; catching the shield.

more fighting, then steve: “are you using my shield?”

sam: “the other, fake you gave it to me.”

steve shrugs. “it looks good on you. keep it.”

also during/near the end of the fight, bucky and steve reunite, and hug, because i’m a sucker for hugs.

bucky: “i thought you weren’t coming back”

steve: “i wasn’t. but--i couldn’t leave you behind again. not after you showed up like that.”

“but how’d you get back?”

“i still had my pim particles and suits stored in the attic. i think the monster stole my shield when he stuck me there, but he left everything else behind.”

“... i’m glad you’re back.”

“i’m glad to be back. really.”

they win the fight. i dont care how. maybe aim or modok or something shows up or maybe good old fashioned teamwork gets the job done. but they’re happy, and they’re together, and inter-dimensional travel has now been introduced. *cough* spiderverse *cough*

steve still gives up captain america - he’d spent four years in the past as a stay-at-home dad and husband, only using the old suit for press stuff, so he doesn’t really want it back. he liked settling down. that’s what he wants. perhaps he moves to brooklyn or harlem or wherever, to whatever apartment bucky and sam set up for themselves. he cooks and paints (a little girl with blonde hair and a small boy with eyes like peggy carter’s) and punches his fist halfheartedly in the air, droning “go team” whenever they head out on their missions.

he really did mean it when he said sam looked good with the shield.

there would probably be a b plot of another character Doing Things, like thor and captain marvel and whatever their adventure is. but i don’t know what it is yet. there’s a happy ending. then, the first credits scene is some inter-dimensional shenanigans and a villain being introduced. i personally imagine that kang is going to be the next big villain, but he’s time travel, not dimensional travel, so i don’t know.

then, your optional after credits scene: bucky and steve standing by the kitchen counter, talking and whatnot. i don’t know what about. maybe bucky’s getting ready for a mission, maybe steve’s just in a white tshirt and sweats and he’s just having a nice day, making himself some coffee, reading a good book. they talk, and steve nods bucky over.

“what?” bucky asks.

“thank you,” steve replies.

“... ‘til the end of the line, remember? i’ve got your back, rogers.”

“and i’ve got yours. you know that?”

“course i do.”

they smile. they’re happy. they’re at home. the screen goes black as soon as steve leans in and kisses bucky.

(or: your platonic ending: the screen goes black as soon as steve and bucky bump fists in a friendly non-gay way)

then: STEVE ROGERS WILL RETURN IN THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER

it’s a reoccurring role. he’s largely in the background, cheering them on, and occasionally waiting up in bed when bucky gets home from a late-night mission. he trains sam with the shield on weekends.

the end

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #avengers #avengers endgame #no read more cut we die like men #this took me almost an hour to write up #despite only taking ten minutes to imagine #anyway: kevin feige hire me #bethany talks #Anonymous

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dawniebb · 5 years ago

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Thoughts About Renegades Pt.2

I’m about to kick myself out of this fandom: A sequel afgshjavsbn

I’m sorry :’) These are, again, some thoughts I decided to write down in case somebody else feels the same way.

This is the link for the first part: https://dawniebb.tumblr.com/post/614167998575624192/thoughts-about-renegades

-Listen. I always fall in love with the shittiest characters possible (Looking at you, freaking Heather Duke afvsghavs) so Genissa had it *all* on her side. And yet, she was too much even for me :). Still, I had hope. I was open for possibilities for like... three chapters or so bc she's *that* annoying :) Again: This is coming from someone who likes entitled bitches full of themselves like her. When I finally gave up, I just wanted her to die but a part of me knew that wouldn't happen bc Pearl is The Lunar Chronicles' Genissa and she's still around (living her best life. Hella rich). Then she showed up at Supernova and I knew it would be a shitshow. I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED, Y'ALL. SHE REALLY PLAYED THE CLOWN...But still, even if this hurts me more than you'll even know: For like a whole page, she was right. She had solid, strong arguments, bc she just said out loud what Nova was trying to say back in Archenemies when nobody would let her finish her fucking sentences. So, yeah, when Genissa said everything Nova was trying to say at the Council's face, she was absolutely fucking right and every single one of the Council members were acting like tyrant brats, so they had it coming lol

-Still, I don't think this means Genissa suddenly turned into a likable character, nor a redeemable one whatsoever. Fine. She was right for a while bc she said everything Nova was trying to say, but she didn't do it bc she was concerned about the situation. She didn't really care about what could happen to other prodigies. She didn't care about what could happen to the Renegades themselves or the Council. She only cared that it happened to her. She's the type of person with the "You won't understand it until it happens to you" type of mentality, and that's not exactly a positive personality trait. She had this "You have to do something bECAUSE IT HAPPENED TO ME.ME.ME I'M IMPORTANT" vibe. If it had happened to Callum, for example, she wouldn't have given a shit :v. But it was her, so something had to be done. She didn't learn anything from it, just the fact that she's not untouchable and anyone can be harmed by the Council's horrible decisions, even her. Hence, she didn't earn a redemption arc and, in my opinion, she did not have one :v. Her giving Adrian the Agent N doesn't mean anything either. Nova went too hard on her with her power and she was probably feeling drugged or dizzy.

-Which, at least for me, is kinda a let down because redemption for characters like her can be possible even if they've done shitty things in the past. Theseus Cassio Lowood from Anna Dressed in Blood (I'm begging you again to read Anna Dressed in Blood) was more of an entitled bitch than the actual entitled bitch of the duology (Carmel Jones) and by the end of the book we see a HUGE character growth on him.

-I want the best for Team Sketch afgbsja but if I were Danna I would hate Nova, so I guess for a while she will...and she won't be quiet about it. I'm talking about rolling her eyes up to Heaven every time Nova opens her mouth, making excuses to avoid hanging out with them if Nova is coming too. Shady stuff like that. From my experience in my first year of college, I even dare to say Danna will feel hurt when they mention anything positive about Nova (She'll feel like they're choosing Nova over her even though she's been here longer). And it's not like they'll hate each other forever and Danna will be *this* expressive about it forever, but they'll surely have to work on fixing their relationship. You can't just expect the person you locked in a mason jar to be nice to you :) that's not how we roll :)

-HOWEVER, even if I'm taking Danna's side here bc if I were her I would hate Nova too, I must admit I believe Nova lowkey has her own reasons to at least mildly dislike Danna. I mean, Danna is nicer than many people in the trilogy, but she's not the nicest person that has ever stepped on Earth (do you remember I mentioned I LOVE this type of characters?). She comes off as defensive and judgemental at times. I know she was right. I know she was smart enough to be the only one who wasn't fooled by Nova (we gay people are geniuses,y'all) but...let's picture a scenario in which she wasn't right. A scenario in which Nova happened to be just a normal girl with very strong opinions about everything. Not an Anarchist. Not Nightmare. Just a fella who enjoys being salty and fighting over politics lmao. And then there's this pal making this comments like "that's so anarchist omg pls don't you must be nightmare" and THEN she follows her all the way to her house and she's like ????? ....I mean, Danna, sweetie. I love you but pls relax, you'll hurt yourself one of these days.

-Have you ever written your opinions about Renegades and realized that everyone is so freaking morally grey??? to the point where NO ONE IS RIGHT? BUT SOMEHOW THEY'RE NOT WRONG EITHER?

-This is more a headcanon than it is an opinion: NARCISSA LIKES TO HATE-READ TRASHY YA. She doesn't even get mad at the awful plots, like, they ENTERTAIN HER. She likes to make fun and mentally roast the writer's horrible choices.

-We're going to talk about Ruby now :) brace yourselves:

-A period is blood along with other substances. However, unless she was some kind of disease, it's not a wound. It shouldn't be, at least :') So, unless I'm proven wrong, it's not her period I'm worried about at the moment, since it's mentioned the blood that crystallizes it's the one that comes out of her wounds. What I'm worried about it's pregnancy afsghavsb

First of all, I think it would be IMPOSSIBLE to her to give birth naturally, as childbirth is way more dangerous. Sometimes the deliver stage can rip up a woman's walls, which happens to be a wound. And what happens when Ruby has a bleeding wound? Her blood crystallizes. So, if the baby's head, neck, or any other part of their body is already down there, she might as well stab them to death or at least badly hurt them.

Then, a C section. A C section is basically doctors cutting layers and layers of skin until they get to the uterus. That's a profesionally done wound lmao. And unless they have some way to stop Ruby's powers from acting up, it would be impossible to get to the baby and THEN getting them out without, again, them getting stabbed to death.

-So, in conclusion, I think Oscar and Ruby would just adopt children :')

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #dawnie complains about stuff lmao #these are mostly about danna nova and ruby #also i talk about genissa for two huge paragraphs #renegades #archenemies #supernova #danna bell #genissa clark #nova artino #ruby tucker

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the19thduckpotato · 5 years ago

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The Ties That Bind Part 1 (MHA fanfic)

This is a LONG fic. But a completed one. And one that has personal headcanons between @my-favorite-aesthetics and myself. (Also, I’m sure I fudged hospital stuffs).

Have fun, enjoy the loving angst! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The waiting room chairs were not comfortable. It wasn't the hospital's fault. Not in the least. Public chairs were made with the average person in mind and he was anything but. His towering form squirmed as he tried to get comfortable, tried not to think about it, thought about it, thought about it a lot-- The PA system crackled its constant stream of commands for this doctor or announcements for families of that patient. He strained to catch the name he wanted to hear, grew slightly more irritated each time the name wasn't the right one Don’t pace, people will notice Don’t think about it, it'll only drive you mad. Don’t rub your hands together, they have ... The crimson stains. He hadn't washed his hands. Knew he would be asked to before he stepped farther into the hospital. He didn't want to, not just yet. Washing would be forgetting and he refused to let himself forget what just happened Don’t think about it Don’t don’t don’t Is don’t all you have to say?? He squirmed in the chair once more as another name was called. His throat ached with copper rawness, his arms sore, his head still throbbing. He felt separate from the rest of the world, a surreal sense of wondering how the world was still moving at its regular pace as he sat there in his own pit of misery. He stared at his bloodied hands, still waiting to hear his kid's name but tuning everything else out. Every moment was turning into a struggle not to leap up and loudly demand answers. And because he was All Might, they'd quickly jump to obey him. He leaned his head into the crooks of his arms, red fingers splayed in the air so as not to get blood in his hair. He had to wait. He needed to be patient. BUT--!!! Don’t think about it The heat The screaming Don’t think about it-- Izuku's stricken face Don’t-- As he had looked up to Toshi, blood streaming down his face DON’T-- As his tight grasp had weakened and slipped from Toshi's shirt His heart thudded painfully, remembering How he had knelt over the boy Thud How he watched his world crash down around him Thud How his fist formed quickly and tightly, nails biting deep into his palm. The pain hadn't deterred him, only spurred him Thud The brightness of the hospital took over once more and his throat constricted. His hands now throbbing in unison with his heart, hands covered in more than just his blood, hands that had acted with a single purpose To release the fury and the hate To unleash pain until they were numb He closed his eyes, horrified. ... Just let me see my boy A soft pleading prayer Spoken? Only thought? He didn’t know please just let me see him, let me know he's ok, please oh please oh please He forced his eyes open, stared at his hands in disgust just let me know he's ok, that'll make it Better? No. Worth it? Well... He had messed up. He had sworn he would never lose control like that, not since the first fight with All for One but Izuku A disdainful snort. The boy would not be his excuse. He would take responsibility for his lapse. And he knew he would shoulder that willingly a hundred times over if only oh God, please let him be ok His thoughts wound in jagged circles, cycling, cutting, replaying over and over. Shame Dismay Shock Fear They plucked at him, dragged him down, it was getting hard to think of anything else-- "--Midoriya, room--" His head snapped up, eyes wide and wild. He froze, making sure he had heard it right. And sure enough, amidst garbled static noises, he heard it again. Sprung to his feet and strode past the nurses' station to go see his boy, his dear wonderful-- "Excuse me!" A solid looking nurse blocked his way. "Sir, where do you think you are going?" Toshinori blinked at this unexpected deterrent (oh Lord, does Recovery Girl have extensive family?) and stammered out, "Midoriya, Room--" "Visiting? In THAT state? Oh no no no, come with me, you got to get cleaned up first!" An unwillingly Toshi was pulled in the opposite direction, casting his gaze over his shoulder down the hallway. Kid.... Ten minutes later found a confused but cleaned up Toshi standing in the hallway again. He wiggled his bandaged fingers experimentally (the nurse had been quite noisey once she discovered his busted knuckles under the dirt and blood). He remained where he was a moment then started reading room numbers, walking down the hallway. He soon found the room, hesitated, then tapped the door with his fingertips. Then, carefully, wondering if the door would creak, he pushed it open. He poked his head inside, unsure what he would find. Unsure of what to expect. Just knowing what he didn't want to see. "K-kid?" Izuku drifted in a dark haze, feeling little but the tingling of OfA’s power rushing through every inch of his body and the sense of his own heavy breathing through his mouth. Not wanting to wake up any further for fear of feeling something more painful. Something in the back of his mind told him that something terrible had happened, but he didn’t want to remember what it was. For now, he floated in half-sleep. A tapping noise pierced through the quiet of the hospital room. Izuku felt a spike of fear at the sudden noise, but his limbs remained heavy and still where they were, feeling glued in place. There was a soft hissing noise as the draught guard brushed against the floor. The door was opening. Izuku’s heart pounded even more than it already was. Gotta run gotta runrunrun someone’s HERE, THEY’RE HERE, STRANGER IN THE ROOM WHO IS IT ARE THEY GONNA KILL YOU they could stab you and you wouldn’t be able to escape unless you could MOVE, YOU HAVE TO BE ABLE TO MOVE, MOVE— He couldn’t move. “K-kid?” Izuku’s heart leapt. IT’S HIM, IT’S HIM, IT’S REALLY ALL MIGHT HE’S HERE— A powerful sense of relief washed over him. You don’t have to move, he’s safe. You’re safe now that he’s watching you. He’ll protect you. Protect me? All Might— Images flashed through his head rapidly. Fury. Blood. Rage and movement too fast to see and a twisted grimace and the horrible crunch and squish of bone and flesh and screams of— ....No. Izuku’s stomach turned. No....... please, no........... please don’t let that have happened, it was all a dream, all a hallucination, right...? One of them must have had... a Quirk... that... did that to me, that made me see that....... o-or, a... oh no.... they could have had a Quirk that.... amplifies.... rage...... that... oh no, did it really happen—?? I need to see my boy He couldn't open the door fast enough I have to see the kid He didn't want the door to open He forced his eyes open --and his breath caught painfully in his throat. Izuku lay still Dead he's dead he's oh God he's His mind picked up tiny details immediately to calm his blaring panic. Izuku's chest rose in slow, steady movement. A monitoring device beside him kept quietly beeping diction. A get well card signed "love mom" Oh God, Inko, Inko, I'm so sorry At least he was alive. ....at least? Toshi choked down a dismayed noise. Izuku looked so small, so still. The bandages he could handle; heroes often were in and out of bandages. But being in this room meant they had had to stabilize him. To ensure he had survi-- Another strangled noise. This is the reality for heroes, you know this. But not him. Toshi had never wanted this for him. Especially not after he had promised Inko. She had trusted him to keep her child safe, the only reason she had let Izuku return to UA. He looked for a chair, ready to take up a vigil, ready to tell Izuku ...what, exactly? Whatever he wants. Just please be ok. What happened what happened what happened Did they do that to him?? All Might would never... would never... no... please say no he would never do that to me-- FOR me, not to me, what?? No that's weird don't think that, he wouldn't hurt me, he wouldn't hurt anyone like that.... More memories of screams echoing in the dark alley where they fought. Had his own voice been one of them? But.... His breathing rose with his heart rate. ??? WHAT HAPPENED, WHY-- A tiny, impossibly-high-pitched whine escaped his half-asleep body. Toshi's ears pricked up and he stared imploring at the small frame that encapsulated his whole world. "....Izuku?" The softest breathing of his name. Spoken with concern, with trepidation, with please reassure me you're ok, please wake up sit up speak up The uncertainty scraped at his heart. The monitoring device beeped in slightly faster insistence and Toshi frowned in worry. Don’t panic don’t don’t don’t Don’t again Then do something He pulled the chair to Izuku's bedside, lowered himself into the seat, then reached out hesitantly. As if afraid to Contaminate Wake him too soon. His hand wavered then gently rested on the messy mossy mop. Brushed it once then grimaced as he found locks hardened together by dried blood. Reminders. Even so, his hand stayed.

Izuku's breath caught, the touch sending shockwaves of awareness through his body that had grown used to feeling nothing but the same still position. His eyebrows furrowed, and he groaned softly as he tried to move, only succeeding in shifting his shoulders a bit.

!! He's coming back around! "Easy," he murmured. He took the kid's hand in his own and gently squeezed. Small scarred flesh cradled in large dangerous hands. Large clean hands. He had even washed under his nails. No need for Izuku to see-- His face contorted and he almost yanked his hand back. Instead, he kept his watch. "Don’t rush it, take your time, I'm--" He swallowed hard. "...I-I'm here." "Easy." Izuku breathed deeply. In and out. I-I'm trying, I'll do it! I'll try.... More oxygen will wake me up. Just keep breathing deep.... One for All kept humming under his skin, wanting to pull him back into sleep. Into healing. It would be good for me to sleep though.... "Don't rush it, take your time, I'm--" Toshinori's voice sounded so shaky. So afraid. Of what? "...I-I'm here." I'm here too. A wave of determination swept through his heart, and he forced his hand to twitch in Toshinori's. His heart lurched as he felt the twitch. --Izuku my boy I'm here I'm so sorry please come back you can come back now oh please just He waited for further movement, his emphatic joy quickly dissolving. It...it was probably just an unconscious twitch, doesn't mean anything He gazed at the hand cupped in his palm, willed it to move again. This is your punishment for what you did. His head bent over the hands, his thoughts running darker and darker. And a single hot tear rained down, puddling in the folds of Izuku's palm.

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #toshinori #yagi #sunflower dad #all might #dadmight #izuku #midoriya #deku #fanfic #angst #the ties that bind #tttb part 1

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