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subwaysurf45 · 3 years ago

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Love You to the Moon and Back

summary: Bucky notices you’re feeling down after a bad injury, he does his best to help.

words: 3817

warning: depressive episode, doctors, mainly fluff!

pairing: Bucky x Reader

Masterlist!

Bucky could tell you were getting bad again.

And it hurt him to see you like this but it always happened after a big mission, your job was traumatizing and it took a toll on all of you. Bucky knew he had his days but he also knew when you finally let yourself slip it was really bad.

You were a very headstrong person, you didn’t like letting people see your weaknesses or just you being hurt in general. So it sucked when you had broken your shin and witnessed a school of kids get blown up by a bomb, maybe sucked is an understatement but it was what you always said.

You had pretended to be a teacher because there was supposed to be a hit on most teachers at a private school, so when the school blew up before everyone was out of the building- including you -it left the memories very crystal clear. There was no way of saving everyone so you saved yourself, and the feeling of selfishness had never been more apparent than right now. You were lying in bed with a cast on your left leg, your left leg was on top of the duvet while the other leg was under.

A tank top and shorts was all you wore even though you were cold. A pillow was placed between your legs down by your shins to keep the injured one elevated, Bucky had stuck it there the last time he came in to check on you.

Speaking of Bucky, he walked into your shared room in the compound.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed as he gently opened and closed the door without making any sound, you had become hyper-aware to sound and light so a loud noise or a flash of a camera could send you into a state of hysterics. Bucky sat himself at the edge of the bed at around your midsection, you were lying in the middle and facing him. You barely said hello, all you could muster was a groan that had the same rhythm as the word hello. “How’s my girl doing?” Bucky rubbed your thigh very carefully.

It was so obviously a rhetorical question, you were absolutely shit and he knew it. You both just stared at each other and Bucky seemed to get the message, he nodded and looked down. The room was so dark from the lights being off and the curtains being pulled you barely registered that Bucky had a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers. Bucky saw you turn your nose up and he knew you would, you had been like this for what felt like weeks.

“You have your two appointments today, you wanna use the crutches or the wheelchair?” Bucky asked as he gently caressed your thigh, a little hum came after a few sections to clarify this wasn’t rhetorical.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled into your pillow.

“Okay…” Bucky held onto the last syllable, he glanced over to the wheelchair and crutches. “How about you have a little snack and then when you got food- and I’ll get water -you can make your choice. You also know you can switch and I’ll be glad to grab it for you, alright?” he did a few quick pats on your thigh before setting the plate down on the bedside table, he grunted as he stood up and stuck his arms slowly beneath you. All Bucky did was sit you upright to eat, you had gotten better at eating and now didn’t need motivation to eat but just a little push at the beginning to keep going after the first bite. Bucky also found if he ate a few pieces from the plate you’d be more inclined to eat the rest.

“Thanks,” your voice was low and barely audible.

“No need, pretty lady,” Bucky got right beside you and grabbed the plate, he placed it between you and let you choose the first piece. “So, you’re at the doctor at two and then Doc at three-ten, do you wanna nap between for a little or for a while after?” he just took a cracker and plopped it into his mouth.

“No, no nap between, I wanna sit outside Doc’s office like before to make sure I’m not late.” You mumbled and stacked a piece of cheese on an apple slice. Doc was your therapist that was assigned to you a little while before your injury, Bucky wasn’t the only one who got nightmares and manic episodes; you probably got them more. Bucky knew he couldn’t go into your therapy meeting, he could physically go in but it went against his morals, this was your time to be alone and completely vulnerable to a human that you only see one or twice a week, he didn’t want you to sugar coat anything just because he wa sitting there.

Bucky nodded and hummed before pulling the notebook out of the bedside table’s drawer, your combat backpack which you used for everything between missions and a picnic in the park was curled over itself in the corner of your room. Bucky picked it up and headed back to bed to let it rest there as he packed. He did this when you weren’t injured, Bucky had sadly realized your memory was a little shot from the amount of bootleg brainwashing and head injuries. You’d constantly forget about appointments or missions, or even the date.

“Baby, I told you, your birthday is today, that’s why I got flowers.” Bucky said and pointed to the counter with the bright flowers on it.

“No…” you rubbed the front of your head. “My birthday isn’t today, I forget the day- but it’s not today, I swear.”

He slid in your journal that you used to write down lists and memories, you had used a guitar pick as your bookmark even though you can’t play anymore. Sometimes when you’d show up to a therapy session you’d forget what you wanted to say, it hurt him when he’d walk you there and you’d be saying the list of things under your breath with your eyes closed. Nightmare, mom, picking my nails, ankle, nightmare, sand, flowers.

“We gotta go soon, anyways, wanna get ready for the day?” Bucky softly asked, there was no nice way of telling your loved one they needed to shower.

“Sure,” you looked down at the plate and grabbed the last of it before getting up, the apple and cheese was just curled in the palm of your hand, as you walked over you shoved it all into your mouth because you knew you had to shower and you didn’t like soggy cheese.

“I’ll keep packing your bag, and I’ll fill a water bottle for you.” Bucky had been your human crutch as you walked to the bathroom, you had an itch down in your cast that was bugging you.

Tony had wanted to add tech to the shower to help you stand because putting pressure on your left leg hurt after three minutes and seven seconds- not that you were timing to see how long you could go without collapsing. You had said no to tech and just asked for a bar, Bucky even thought it would be cool but it was all up to you.

Bucky helped you slip out of your clothes before leaving you be, he knew he would have to check on you periodically because you were too stubborn to ask for help if you had fallen or couldn’t get in the shower. You gripped onto the metal bar and helped yourself slip in, you turned the water on right away.

You liked warm, long showers. You just let the water hit your skin as you stood in front of the shower head, the water pressure was high so you let the bullets hit your face when your eyes were closed. Your hair got wet as you stood there, you reached for the bottle of shampoo and expected it to be where it always was. The was getting into your eyes and when you squinted to see where the bottle was everything was double, as you reached for the bottle you had actually reached for the fake double and knocked the bottle off the ledge. A loud thump rang through the bathroom and it sounded like a bomb.

There was one second of silence before you heard scrambling from outside the bathroom door, all at once you could see the door swing open by its shadow through the curtain. The curtain was pulled back so hard a couple of ringlets holding it up were ripped off.

“Baby?” Bucky yelled before he registered you were standing upright. “What?” he breathed heavily, he was completely expecting you to be passed out on the floor with a cracked skull.

“Shampoo bottle,” you said meekly.

“Oh, thank god…” Bucky sighed to himself as he reached down to pick it up. “Are you hurt at all, did you fall?” He placed the bottle back on the ledge which made him reach across your naked body, on his way back his hand touched your shoulder then went to cup your cheek and move your head to look at him.

“I’m all good, babe.” You smiled, an exhausting smile.

“Alright, back-is-packed, finish up and I'll help you over to physio, alright?” Bucky closed the curtain to give privacy but waited for a verbal answer.

“Perfect, thank you.” You grabbed the bottle again, your heart ached for him to be in the shower with you, it was something you did all the time before you were injured.

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady.” Bucky reached for the door and opened it, before he could walk out, your voice quietly called his name, he could barely hear it over the water in the shower. “Yes?” he replied with the same softness.

“Stay here with me, please.” the ‘please’ came after a beat, and extra plea.

“Always,” Bucky sat on the toilet seat and gave the company you needed as you tried to stick your finger down your cast to itch that one spot on your leg.

*****

Soon enough you were sat in the physio room, Bucky was off to the side with paper work in his lap and a binder in your backpack he packed for you. You liked the moral support when you were here because you never really had the best experience with doctors, Bucky would act like he wasn’t even there. That was a good thing, he did need to be the hovering boyfriend all the time because that can get tiring for both parties. He’d look up and listen to the doctor near the end, Bucky would write down the exercises and when to do them so he could gently remind you later.

“Alright, you’re gonna get a new cast next week,” the doctor smiled at you, when you didn’t pick up on the excitement the doctor’s smile faded. “That means three quarters done!” Bucky had looked up and smiled, even clapped a couple times.

“Then I have to learn how to walk again,” that was an exaggeration but it didn’t feel like one.

The doctor gave a knowing look, “why do I feel like you’re already walking without the crutches?” You didn’t say anything because it was true.

Your leg was examined and x-rayed, Bucky held onto your necklace as you went in. Your mind faded in and out as the doctor spewed ‘doctor stuff’ at you, you just didn’t have the care to listen; but Bucky did. He’s the type of guy to take notes and research later.

Bucky would look over and see you looking at the floor, not even paying attention. He knew he couldn't get mad at you, you both dealt with injury very similarly. But something about seeing you shut down entirely made his heart ache, he wanted to reach out and lift the corners of your lips up into a smile because they seemed like they were being weighed down, he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and real smile. He hadn’t been going on mission to keep you company, but now he knew his most important mission.

He walked you over to your therapy session that was still in the building, your Doc would come to the Avenger tower. He’d walk you right to the door of some random debrief room and kiss you goodbye. Bucky would hold your shoulders and gently rub your arms to hype you up before going in, he gave his little speech and said the same thing after.

“You know I love you, and I know it’s hard.” he’d then kiss your cheeks and forehead. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, don’t even sweat it, pretty lady.” He then wouldn’t leave until the door closed and he heard muffled voices.

The tower was right in the heart of the city, everything he needed was right there and a walking distance away. He slipped on a long sleeve and his gloves, he knew you took the backpack but you also had reusable bags, he took a few and headed out into the summer heat, it wasn’t humid today which was great but it wasn’t cold either. The tote bag was slung over his shoulder, all that was in it right now as a list.

flowers

chocolate

card

stuffed animal

To call Bucky a romantic would seem weird to someone who only knew of him from the news or a museum, you knew him as a total hopeless romantic. Even in the 40’s, Bucky was the type of person to keep their walls up until he really got to know and trust you. It would normally be one little thing that would allow him to truly be himself around someone, he let his guard down that day you were walking to the restaurant he made a reservation at, Bucky placed himself so that arm or hand you’d hold would be his right but when you caught on you walk around him and looped both arms around his left, metal arm. After that, he was goner.

He’d leave little sticky notes everywhere, a blue square paper in the coffee mug that read: ‘make sure you only drink one cup!’ or another on your shampoo bottle: ‘you look great naked ;)’. Bucky knew the little things mattered to you and vice versa, he knew that grand gestures didn’t mean anything without a little kiss that came before.

The flower shop smelt great, Bucky didn’t know much about plants but he knew which ones you’d like. He was thinking of putting one on each bedside so whenever you’re lying in bed- which was a lot -you could look at some pretty flowers. They were a nice shade of purple and the stems were not too long, Bucky bought them and put them gently in his tote bag before heading over two stores to the grocery store you always shop at.

He was envyus of your clean eating, you’d eat what you want but you’d shop at fermer’s markets and organic stores. Bucky didn’t know it made a difference. He went to the frozen section and found chocolate covered strawberries. Bucky picked up a little pack of eight and headed to the front. There were also flowers there but they didn’t look nearly as nice. All he wanted was a very simple cute card with a blank inside, they were easy to find. It was cream coloured with a little sketch of a fuzzy, brown teddy bear holding a yellow balloon. All it said in dainty cursive at the top was: “look at you go!” Bucky knew this was perfect. Near the cards were little toys and stuffed animals. He found a bear that looked eerily similar to the one on the card but without the balloon.

As he walked into the Avenger’s tower the bag was full and he had enough time to spare to set things up. Bucky headed to the rooms and made the bed, he changed the sheets as well because he knew you liked them when they were crisp. The teddy sat right in the middle with the card next to it. Bucky had written a little note that covered the entire right side of the card. He got a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with ice, he also found that white wine you liked and stuck it on there with the strawberries just to keep them cool but not melted.

Bucky glanced at his watch and felt almost giddy as he realized it was time to head over to the conference room, he had to work on not giving it away when he’d first see you with his wide smile. The walk to the room was quick because of how fast Bucky was walking, he turned the corners sharp and almost jogged down the hall down the meeting rooms. He only stood there for about three seconds before the door slowly opened, Doc had opened the door and helped you out. Bucky’s smile turned into complete worry when you walked out holding a tissue to your nose, your eyes were red and puffy. Bucky also noticed that your fingernails were red and bleeding, that was one habit you were currently trying to break.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked in quiet disbelief, his eyebrows almost touching.

Doc gave a curt nod, “we talked about a lot of things,” her answers were always so vague.

You sniffled and waited for Doc to leave down the hall, Bucky was still looking at you. His hands held your shoulders and gently massaged the answer out of you.

“It was a good cry, I needed that.” you sighed from exhaustion.

A little piece of Bucky’s heart broke, if you needed to have a good cry then you could have told him, he would’ve listened. Bucky started to go back and see where it went wrong, if he was too overbearing and if this whole afternoon he had planned was created at a very wrong time. He wanted to ask what he did wrong but what came out was different. “Well that’s good to hear, I know Doc is good at that- helping you out.” His words were true but something about the delivery made it seem uneasy.

“I just-” you looked to the ceiling and hoped to find the words you needed written there. “I like flushing it all out to her because I won’t see her for a week and I don’t need to keep up with what I’m feeling. I always cry to you but Doc is just really good at explaining how I feel, you’re there to validate it and make me feel soothed.” You held his left hand as you both walked down the hallway. “I feel lighter, like, I feel better.”

“That’s always good, sweetheart,” Bucky made sure you were putting weight on him because you didn’t bring your crutches but you really should have. “I have a little treat for you,” He turned to face you when you both stood at his door, Bucky kept his hand on the door handle. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks but I hope you know I love you all the same, and all I see is my strong, beautiful girlfriend.” Bucky saw your confused face, as he opened the door to reveal a dim lit room with flowers, wine and a teddy your eye welled up with tears again.

You gasped and put your hands on your chest, “for me?” your voice shook as you walked in, you peered into the ice bucket to see your favourite wine and some food as well as a card beside the ice bucket, under the teddy. Tears flowed down your face as the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over you, you could barely string a sentence together. A hand waved the gifts all away, “too much,” was all you could muster.

“No, baby,” Bucky smiled, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Nothing will ever be too much for you.”

He let you cry in his chest for a very long time, you both ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as he stroked all the way up your back. His hand would bunch up your hair as he went up to your neck. His lips were right at your ear, all he whispered were sweet nothings and a calming ‘shh’ once and a while. When you had a little composure Bucky reached for the card, as you read it your lips trembled even more. A hand stayed glued to your heart as your body warmed at loving words, you could barely read it with blurry vision from the tears but it still seemed crystal clear. Your finger traced over the signature: ‘love you to the moon and back, Bucky’. And you crumbled again, your forehead hit his chest as you cried away all the pent up emotion you thought you flushed out at your therapy session.

With all the crying you were so tired, Bucky had thrown on a movie you two could watch while enjoying your strawberries and wine. You only had two and half a cup before you were snoring on Bucky’s shoulder, he tried to nudge you a couple times but nothing worked at all. He watched the movie on his own and saved the last two strawberries for you in the morning. You didn’t even wake up at him getting up and leaving the room. When he came back he got you out of your day clothes and into something comfy.

*****

You woke up to the sun hitting your back, when your eyes opened they focused on the flowers and a smile graced your face. It was the first time in a long time since you smiled with your eyes, a little giggle even slipped out.

At that sound Bucky walked out of the bathroom, “well there she is,” he smiled wide.

“What does that mean?” you wiped the drool from the side of your mouth, “I had a nap, a really good one, too.” You seemed to be bragging.

“A nap? Baby, it’s eight.” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Ya, I fell asleep at about five so I had a three hour nap, no biggie.” You rolled on your back and stretched out, your gaze moved back to Bucky when you heard a giggle, “what?” you laughed back.

“Eight in the morning, the next day. Your three hour nap was actually a well deserved fifteen hour hibernation.” Bucky joined you on the bed.

“That’s why I feel so good,” you sighed, you looked over to Bucky and swatted his chest at his little smirk. “Don’t think like that.”

“I bet I can make you feel just as good-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

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swbumblebee · 3 years ago

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What if Qui-Gon Jinn was not particularly special in his post-mortem abilities?

AKA “Old Ben” and his many Force parents.

They had all watched, their collective Force aura swamped in sadness, grief and longing, as Qui-Gon finally introduced himself to Obi-Wan.

They’d never call him ‘Old Ben’. The fact that he was only 40 years old notwithstanding, this was the boy they’d raised, grown up with, idolised. They remembered him toddling about the gardens, fascinated by the brightly coloured flowers; Getting shy around pretty people and developing awkward crushes. They remembered him standing alone at the head of an army, quietly confident and immeasurably capable. They had vivid memories of him carrying them back to the creche, so steady and strong; of his measured wisdom, and the confidence that Obi-Wan Kenobi would always triumph.

They remembered the mullet.

Nobody named “Old Ben” ever had a mullet.

The man they now, as they always had really, looked to for a light when everything else went dark.

They didn’t catch the murmured words. They were Jedi after all, (even if they were now technically one big Jedi rather than a temple full of Jedi) and eavesdropping was rude. Nobody listened to the sulky mutterings of the presence that was Quinlan Vos.

Their boy was nodding, sitting quietly on the floor whilst he finally, finally after weeks of careful and gentle persuasion, of them all keeping a tight rein on the order’s maverick (“Do not, we repeat do not, come out of the water tank. You’ll give him a cardiac arrest or something”) believed in the presence he saw before him.

They watched once more, pleased, as their missing piece allowed himself to be bullied to his feet, and guided over to the pile of blankets he called a bed.

They could feel Qui-Gon’s bitter relief as he perched next to his former student, his longing to pull the blankets up around his boy and smooth back his hair.

But words were all they had.

Still, as Obi-Wan Kenobi had shown the Galaxy; you could do a lot with words.

---

They’d argued (as much as an incorporeal fusion of spirits could argue) at length over who got to go next.

“I knew him longest, he’ll trust me!”

“He needs someone calm, measured. I will go”

“No offence Master Plo but you’ll make him cry. He needs cheering up, I’ll go!”

“Vos so help me Force-“

“I was the Master of the Order, I should do it”

“Master, we’re dead. I’m not sure seniority applies.”

In the end it was narrowed down to two options; Bant Erin, Obi-Wan’s oldest friend. Sweet natured and kind, she would be the perfect choice.

And Mace Windu.

It turns out seniority does still apply beyond the grave.

---

A small part of Obi-Wan’s subconscious was telling him that it was starting to get a bit awkward.

The transparent blue form of Mace Windu was looking down at him, the welcoming smile quickly turning into a grimace.

“…Obi-Wan?”

No. no no no this was not happening. He didn’t have time to go round the bend he had a child to protect!

He wasn’t sure if it was reasonable to measure sanity on the volume of dead loved ones he was hallucinating, but somehow one seemed saner than two.

Though it turns out he’s insane, and so not a good barometer of these things.

He knew his stare was starting to get very unnerving as his hysterical inner-ramblings reached a fever pitch.

“…Obi-Wan, are you alright?” Imaginary Mace Windu asked, concern and a tiny bit of nervousness showing on his face.

“I’m fine, how are you?” Obi-Wan asked, remembering a solid piece of advice from his formative years; Always fall back upon good manners when in unfamiliar territory Padawan mine.

Well, this was about as unfamiliar as it got.

Imaginary Mace looked at him, utterly baffled for a moment.

“Well…I’m dead, I suppose, is how I am” he answered awkwardly.

“Right. Obviously.” Obi-Wan nodded politely. “My condolences”

There was another awkward silence.

Imaginary Mace tilted his head for a moment, listening for something.

“Well…here I am” he said, spreading his arms a little.

“…yes.”

The other Jedi frowned at Obi-Wan’s strained reply and his act of scrubbing his hands down his face as if to wipe away the image in front of him.

“Qui-Gon didn’t…didn’t mention we were coming?” he asked tentatively.

Obi-Wan shook his head, wordlessly.

The frown on Imaginary Mace turned into a complete scowl as the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“JINN” he bellowed, and Obi-Wan felt it echo in the Force like nothing before.

“He can’t hear you, he’s with Yoda”

Another figure popped into existence next to Mace, and Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes once again as Depa Billaba bowed to him.

“Obi-Wan” she greeted with a grin.

“…hi” He took a deep breath, mentally cursing his absent-minded Master.

“Are you alright?” Depa didn’t stop for a reply as she looked down with him and gestured at him, gently instructing him to get up from the floor. “Oh look you’ve scraped your knee there! Master I knew you’d startle him!” she scolded her former Master.

It felt like he was having an out of body experience as Depa ushered him into a chair (the only chair in the hut), Mace looking on anxiously.

“There we go” Depa soothed as she got him settled “I wish we could make you some tea my friend.” She said disappointedly.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“You ah…you can’t?” he asked, something permeating the haze. Of this whole situation, that seemed by far the most unfair thing.

Mace smiled encouragingly, seemingly happier to be on more binary ground.

“I’m afraid not, we are beings of the Force, like your Master.” He explained, before scowling again. “Who, I would kill if he weren’t already dead,” he growled.

“I’m so sorry Obi-Wan” Depa said, dismayed “We all wanted to come and be with you, but we though Qui-Gon might be best to start with, so as not to overwhelm you”

“Sorry about that” Mace said apologetically.

They sat in silence a moment, Depa and Mace watching him process.

For the first time ever, Obi-Wan had exactly zero thoughts in his head.

He was starting to feel the pressure.

“All?” he tried.

Depa and Mace looked at each other.

“You ah…you said ‘all wanted to come’” he clarified.

Depa nodded happily.

“Yes yes, we’re all there Obi-Wan” she smiled at him

“Any Jedi slain by a Sith, or the machinations of the Sith, is there” Mace explained.

Obi-Wan was having the slightest bit of trouble taking deep breaths. Neither of his companions seemed to have noticed.

“Where?” he asked, only mildly aware that his voice was getting just a little pitchy.

“In the Force, we’re all one in the Force” Depa started again, and then paused a little lost for words.

“We’re all together and we kind of…share our presences” Mace picked up, with difficulty “Everyone who was killed by Palpatine’s evil, everyone from us right down to the littlest initiate, we share one consciousness in the Force.”

Obi-Wan was none the wiser.

Mace waved a hand frustratedly.

“Sorry, Plo explains it better”

“Plo?” Obi-Wan loved Master Plo. He loved all of them. And they were gone.

“Hello Obi-Wan”

“Well, if Plo and Depa get to see him I’m bloody well here too!”

“Hi Obi”

“Obes!”

He could only watch, speechless, as the faces of old friends, comrades, mentors and carers crammed into his hut, all looking at him with unadulterated, unfiltered pleasure and love was the last thing he saw before his scrambled brain decided it’d had enough, and he knew nothing but darkness.

---

It turns out, living with the forms of all your dead teachers, carers and friends was actually rather trying, after a while.

“Oh thank goodness you’re not still drinking that awful caff”

“I like caff – Master Plo please don’t try and lift that”

“Relax Obi dear, we’re incorporeal”

“Can still see things though”

“Vos get out of my fresher!”

“What does this do?”

“Never you mind. No don’t – Ugh. Why don’t some nice, well behaved padawans ever come to see me?”

“They’re not allowed, only those who knew you personally can visit. We thought it might get a bit stressful otherwise.”

“…I can’t imagine.”

Aside from having to adapt his busy routine to accommodate half a dozen fidgety and curious…ghosts (?) poking around his small hut at any one time, another unexpected addition to his (attempted) isolation on Tatooine was the nagging. And Force could they nag! The concentrated worry of many, many, beings with nowhere else to direct their extra energies was powerful.

“Obi-Wan you haven’t drank enough today. Go and check the vaporators”

“Padawan aren’t you going to eat?”

“Listen, that plie of cloth can’t be good for your spine”

“Force! Get some sun block Kenobi or you’re going to look like an old shoe in three months”

“No right, I saw a sunhat he can buy at the market”

It was…weird. He’d always been very self-sufficient, not to mention being the centre of everyone’s attention was difficult, to say the least. But as the months went on, he found himself transitioning from awkward acquiescence to see-sawing between mulishness and good-natured obedience. The stubbornness rising usually when the despair did. But those days were few and far between.

And now, when they did occur (for one can only avoid one’s demons for so long) and he felt like he was drowning in the weight of existence, he could rely on his friends for encouragement, care, and the motivation to carry on.

“If you join us before your time I will KILL you Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now kriffing well eat something!”

---

Of course, when their brother, friend, son, comrade, teacher and last hope did at last join them, there was no nagging or disappointment (or violence). The ultimate Jedi was back in the fold and they were once again complete.

#And they're fussing #Obi-Wan Kenobi #mace windu #I See Dead Jedi #depa billaba #jedi order #fluff?#snippet of nothing

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jancys-blue-bayou · 2 years ago

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Well, for how I feel about the Jancy of s4 and the gross and unnecessary Stancy shipteasing, see previous post (ask response). For s4 in general I’ll say... vol 2 was better than vol 1. S4 was better than s3. But it’s really not good, I think.

There’s just way too many locations and characters. It sidelines a bunch of characters which I ranted about here before. The Cali crew (sans El) barely got do anything at all to do with the plot. We got some nice character moments, esp between Jonathan and Will in vol 2. But plot wise they had nothing to do. Jonathan just got to drive for 9 episodes. Mike got to “be the heart” aka yell encouragement to El. Will got to... tell Mike to do that. And together they got to do a rehash of the sensory deprivation tank in s1. And at the end Will got to have a little UD tingle moment. It’s ridiculous that main characters who were at the heart and center of the show before was reduced to this in s4 while walking Russian memes and new mains like Eddie got more to do.

The bigness in terms of abundance of characters and locations also throws the pacing off. Especially in ep 9 when there’s so much stuff that’s supposed to happen simultaneously but bc they go from Nancy/Robin/Steve to El/Max vs Vecna to Cali crew to Russia gang to Lucas fighting the jock to Eddie and Dustin with the odd sprinkle of Erica too, there’s like at least a half hour between Nancy/Robin/Steve getting choked by vines to us seeing them again... still being choked. I get they’re very proud of their big action sequence and in theory I think them all fighting the Hive Mind on different fronts is a neat idea but the execution is lacking, I’m just like how are the guys in the Creel house not dead yet El is taking her sweet time doing anything in the Mind Scape etc.

There’s other pacing problems too but this was where it most jumped out to me. I think it worked way better in s1 and s2 when they also had simultaneous plans going into action but not to this scale and it worked better then I feel.

There’s some interesting UD and Vecna stuff though idk if it makes sense really but hey, maybe they’ll pull it all together in s5. But right now I still have a lot of questions about why Henry is who he is, why he had powers and why he decided “i’mma be super evil” like are we gonna get more of a motivation than “I hate 9 to 5 eat work die lifestyle” lol? Also why did he tell Nancy everything? I suppose they’re saving that for s5 but. The border between the real world and the UD disappearing is a neat concept, I think that can be really cool. On the other hand I’m having trouble wrapping my head around the logic of one dimension overtaking another but I’m willing to run with it.

As an aside, I’m not wild about turning to using another test subject as the big bad, just on principle I always thought the test subjects would be innocent victims. But how they changed up all that background about the Lab and retconned a bunch of stuff in s4 turned into... yeah. Idk. On the other hand I totally see the appeal of Vecna as a villain, I’m just torn.

Also I don’t see the point in the Russia stuff. Yeah I get it, the Cold War was going on. But I think they could’ve just used Russia as a looming but unseen threat, it’s enough with the supernatural threats + the US government as a threat.

Speaking of, the portrayal of the US government from s2 and on is really weird. How they humanize it with Owens and now have turned into internal conflicts, Owens vs Brenner vs Sullivan, it’s really weird. Esp Owens part of it, why is there randomly this super friendly uncle in the shady covert government operations and why is he so completely selfless and willing to sacrifice and save El and her friends, why does he care so much?

Btw goddamn what a choke hold Coca Cola has Stranger Things in, that product placement at the end with El spinning the bottle. I don’t get why she had to spin a bottle at all was it just to get a prominent COKE logo in there?

Positives uh... aside from cute Jancy reunion:

Jonathan and Will talking and hugging and Jonathan clearly knowing Will is gay and seemingly Will knows Jonathan knows, that was all nice but eh couldn’t they have let Will say it please?

Nancy being a fucking badass.

The little Nancy and Max scenes we got in s4 was great, why couldn’t we get more of that instead of all the needless Stancy shipteasing moments? Stancy is long dead, you could’ve just focus on Nancy and Steve both having a lot of nice bonding with everyone else in their plot (and be completely fine, platonic and not weird with each other).

Joyce got to hug both her sons this time lol. Still can’t believe Winona asked the Duffers if she could hug Jonathan too at the end of s3 but got “there’s no time for that” as answer. There was time for the most overlong, unnecessary, excruciating musical moment in tv history, but not for Joyce Byers to hug both her sons.

Lucas and Max was great this season both individually and together. I’m never into kid ships but Lumax might be an exception to the rule, they’re very sweet together.

#stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #st4 vol2 spoilers

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mycouchpullsoutbutidont · 4 years ago

Text

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

#ben gross #devi vishwakumar #ben x devi #never have i ever #fanfic #devi x ben #nhie #mycouchpullsoutbutidont

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bcbdrums · 4 years ago

Text

Melon Misfortunes

A/N: A little foray back into the world of watermelon... Thanks to @split-n-splice for some clever lines and the great title.

Happy birthday, @jennaanneg!

Read on: FFn AO3

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

Drakken rubbed the back of his neck and straightened up in front of the watermelon crate at the grocer's. He had been bending over the sea of green, bulbous fruit for at least ten minutes, trying to find the very best ones. After the long day, he was finally feeling the exhaustion and pain in his spine.

Drakken glanced to his right to be sure the empty cart was still there, and then turned back to the melons.

"Hello, Drew."

"Gah!"

Drakken recoiled, banging his forearm on the metal cart at the sound of his former college friend's voice and nearly losing his balance as his recovery from that had him bumping into the crate.

"Just as light on your feet as you were in college, I see."

Drakken straightened up and adjusted his shirt, taking in the single quirked eyebrow of James Possible with loathing.

"Just as rude as you always were, I see," Drakken retorted as he gave the man a once-over with wariness and frustration.

Possible was exactly the same as he remembered him from college, except for some wrinkles, gray hair, and extra padding around the waist, all such as comes naturally with age. Drakken bit the inside of his cheek knowing he had aged at least the same, if not worse for his other problems and stresses on his life.

The man didn't seem one bit perturbed by his insult, and to Drakken's dismay he leaned up against the side of the watermelon crate and continued what he apparently thought was a welcome conversation.

"We haven't heard anything about you really since the invasion."

Drakken rolled his eyes and looked back to the watermelons, hoping the man would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately, Possible continued.

"Although my Kimmy-cub did mention running into you at this very store once, after stopping some crooks with Ronald."

Drakken's frown deepened as he considered that in all the stores in all the world, Kim Possible just had to have been busting some small-time criminal while he was buying watermelon. But his brow suddenly rose in the realization that there was no real reason for James Possible to be there.

"You know, she mentioned something about watermelon that time too... You branching out from flowers into mutant fruit, now?" Possible asked with an amused chuckle.

"None of your business," Drakken replied through a grunt, bending low over the melons to get Possible out of his line of sight.

A blessed silence fell for several seconds that made him hope the man had taken the hint and left, but then...

"Finally left the blue lab coat behind, I see."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Drakken snapped, feeling another twinge in his neck as he turned too quickly to give his former friend a venomous look.

Possible chuckled. "My wife and I are on a couple's cruise. St. Lucia is one of the stops," the man explained.

Drakken grumbled under his breath about the unfortunate reality of living so near various tourist locations. Perhaps it was time to consider online shopping for groceries...

"Getting a few grays there, Drew."

"Oh like you're one to talk," Drakken said, grabbing the closest watermelon and hefting it into the cart.

As Drakken's irritation rose he wondered if Shego would settle for watermelon-flavored gum. He could grab some off the rack near the check stand and run, and no one would be the wiser.

"All this time and you're getting that one?" Possible said with a concerned frown.

Drakken hesitated, narrowing his eyes on the man.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, those oblong ones aren't very sweet. They were over-watered."

Drakken blinked again, a myriad of new annoying thoughts running through his mind. He moved to set the melon in the cart, but Possible was giving him an all-too familiar, knowing and painfully smug grin.

Drakken frowned.

"Fine, which melons should I buy?" he asked through a scowl, shifting his weight as somehow holding the large melon was putting undue pressure on his spine.

"Well, what are you using them for?" Possible asked, raising that single annoying eyebrow higher as his smirk grew.

"For eating, you— Ngh!"

Drakken cut himself off as he nearly dropped the slippery melon. He grit his teeth as he carefully placed it back in the bin, not making eye contact with Possible who was surely grinning in his perceived pompous superiority that had only added to Drakken's disdain for the man.

"Fine! Which one should I get, then?" Drakken asked as he straightened again, crossing his arms.

His brow rose in curiosity as James Possible's face adopted a thoughtful, critical expression as he bent over the crate.

"For starters, you need something uniform in size and shape. That's how you know it developed properly," the man said. Drakken watched as Possible started sorting the watermelons before he continued. "And if it's dark and dull, you know it's ripe. Avoid the pale and shiny ones."

"Don't you have something better to do on your...so-called couple's cruise?"

"My wife is clothes shopping," Possible stated simply and with a slight cringe as he lifted a melon and examined it.

Despite himself, after nearly a minute of watching Possible sorting watermelons Drakken joined in, moving only the large oblong ones as he didn't know much else. He abhorred the idea of getting advice from the man who was partially responsible for his becoming a villain... But, if it meant getting the best melons for Shego...

"And there, those ones will be very flavorful," Possible said, pointing to a melon with a massive orange discoloration on it.

"It looks like it spent too much time in the sun," Drakken said skeptically.

"It spent a long time ripening on the vine," Possible explained, as if the topic were an everyday one. "But avoid the white spots. And here," he gestured to the ugliest of melons, covered in brown scars that spread over the rind in a webbed appearance that interrupted the green stripes, "is another sign that they're sweet and flavorful."

Drakken leaned away again and frowned. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Possible straightened as well, looking ever-confident. "The brown spots indicate numerous pollination attempts by bees, thus the melon is sweeter."

Drakken stared the man down for several seconds and detected no lie in his words. His brow furrowed.

"How do you know this?"

"I've done some research into various botanical fields."

"You're a rocket scientist. Unless something has changed in the past—" Drakken stopped as realization struck. His brow rose, and suddenly Possible looked uncomfortable. "Are you...trying to move in on my research?"

Possible cleared his throat. "Anyway, those are the tastiest melons...if eating is in fact what you need them for."

"You're trying to move in on my territory! You're...you're jealous!"

Possible turned on his heel and departed rapidly with a stiff wave.

"Pleasure catching up!"

Drakken stared in astonishment until the man vanished through the automatic doors of the store, and then a grin slowly broadened his face. James Possible was jealous...of him!

"About time," Drakken muttered as he turned back to the melons. His grin quickly faded into uncertainty.

What if Possible had been lying about the melons?

He tried to recall in the past which ones had tasted the best. Not that he ate much of them, but he had sampled more than his fair share.

It was true, the enormous long ones never held much flavor and seemed watery. Perhaps it was true that the ugliest were the best? He had never bought those before, so...he supposed it was worth a try.

Drakken shrugged to himself and started loading up the shopping cart. Possible had no idea after all what the melons were really for. There would be no reason for the man to lie...except malice. And yet...something told Drakken, that that hadn't been the man's motive...much to Drakken's confusion.

Shego was still in bed when Drakken returned to the lair with the watermelons, and he had checked on her while the henchmen unloaded them from the hover-car. She wasn't feeling as ill that day, but still didn't want to get up. Thankfully, the promise of watermelon seemed to calm her ire, so it was only with limited anxiety that Drakken portioned up one of the hideous looking melons and prepared her a simple bowl to start with.

The flesh of the watermelon itself did indeed look redder and was definitely juicier than what he was used to buying, but even if he thought it was good—which he wouldn't, having lost his taste for the fruit—it was Shego's opinion that mattered. And so he held his breath as he walked back to the bedroom to present the bowl to his wife.

Shego sat up slowly in bed and Drakken's brow twisted in sympathy at her grimace of pain. Once the bowl was in her hands he tossed off his polo shirt and pushed his feet out of his shoes, grateful to be home where he could shake off the displeasure of interacting with James Possible and focus on the important things. Namely, his wife and their unborn child.

Shego had one hand on the small swell of her belly as she adjusted pillows with the other so she could lean against the headboard while she ate. Drakken quickly moved to her side to assist her which earned him a look of annoyance, as if he should have already been helping her, but also a look of gratitude.

Drakken sat on the bed and un-tucked his tank top as Shego tossed the blankets down to her knees and then brought the dish of watermelon up to chest height with one palm supporting the bowl from beneath as she stabbed one of the succulent cubes with her fork. He held his breath again as she brought the bite to her lips, and after only a moment of chewing her eyes widened.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, the bite going into her cheek as she spoke. She put another cube in her mouth as she continued chewing the first.

"Sanchez's place, like always," he said with a slightly nervous shrug.

"Better than any he's ever had before," she commented through her full mouth.

Drakken watched as her eyes brightened through the enjoyment of her biggest pregnancy craving. He felt the irritation of the shopping trip melt away at the pleased look on her face, and he hoped the treat would also go some way toward easing the pain of the never-ending morning sickness.

He got his answer very suddenly when Shego set the bowl down, grinning at him as she pushed the bed-covers even farther away. He didn't even get to speak before he was knocked back slightly by her arms wrapping around him and her lips pressing against his. He responded with a startled hum as he caught himself from falling with one palm on the mattress, his other hand instantly finding her waist.

Shego pulled away just enough so she could smile into his eyes, and Drakken blinked at her dumbly in confusion as she shifted nearer, her pregnant belly pressing against his.

"Thanks, Dr. D.," she said simply, and kissed him again, the distinct flavor of watermelon on her lips.

For once, it was very, very sweet.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years ago

Note

So I got artificial for the word generator and thought of a scenario where Kiyo, Kiibo and Ryoma's s/o gets killed and leaves behind an alter ego they made. Idk if that makes sense sorry if it doesn't.

Oh this makes perfect sense!! Thanks for the angst! (ya’ll better strap in bc these HURT to write)

............

Korekiyo

The anthropologist tried keeping calm during the trial, but all throughout it..he was shaken up, unable to compliment the “beauty” of finding out the killer’s motivations.

Because it was you who became the victim--his beloved who promised to travel the world with him when all of this was over.

He lost his composure as soon as the culprit was identified, screaming why you were taken from this world so quickly. Not even Sister could calm him down; he couldn’t bear listen to her speak of how you were only “getting in the way”.

How dare she speak ill of you?!

You’ve pulled him out of the darkness, his own madness..and showed him the true beauty of love

And yet..the culprit took that love away from him overnight.

If it was up to him, he would’ve given them a fate worse than death. But he knew he couldn’t interfere, so he watched their execution with a solemn smile behind his mask. And he left the trial room with an aching heart.

Were you watching over him from the afterlife? He could only hope so.

He laid in bed, wide awake for hours, wondering why things had to turn out this way. Maybe..he could speak to your spirit. He had all the books he could ever want in his lab. Surely there’s some way he can hear your sweet voice again..

Though right as he sat up, the Monokubs pad on the table beside him suddenly lit up. "Huh? How strange..” Then he reached over to grab it, and what he saw on the screen made him gasp:

It was you, but..in a small pixelated form. As though you were trapped in some video game.

“Oh! It worked! Thank goodness..it was tricky bypassing the programming on this tablet but-”

He heard your voice, and he felt his heart soar as he smiled. “Oh, [y/n]! Y-You’ve returned to me!”

“Ah, Korekiyo. I’m sorry but..I’m not exactly [y/n].” Your avatar spoke regrettably. “I’m an alter ego they made, a..digital avatar with their personality programmed into me. There’s nothing supernatural about what you’re witnessing.”

“...oh, I see..” The joy he felt was swiftly taken from him as he propped up the tablet, hugging himself. “So the reality is..my d-dearest [y/n] is truly gone forever. I can only hope they’re watching over me, wherever they are-”

As his voice broke into a sob, tears dripped down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric of his sleeping mask. “It’s just not fair...i-it wasn’t their time yet! Why them?! Why-?!!”

“I’m here, though! So technically..my creator is watching over you.” You remarked, hoping your words could calm him down in some way. “Please don’t cry. When the time comes, I’m sure you’ll be with them again, Kork.”

Korekiyo immediately tensed at the familiar nickname, saving him from yet another breakdown.

To hear this AI say that with your tone of sweetness, even though it wasn’t actually you, made him realize...you’ve created something truly beautiful thanks to your Ultimate.

With a quiet sniffle, he reached over, gently stroking the screen with a bandaged finger. “Oh, [y/n]...I suppose I was wrong about technology corrupting humanity’s beauty.” He laughed softly. “Forgive me for misjudging you.”

..........

K1B0

Losing Miu was painful enough. But for you to be gone, too?

K1B0 swore he was about to shutdown when he saw your body, cold and lifeless.

In the trial that followed, he spoke the least..still unable to come to terms with the fact somebody killed you--the one person who showed him what “love” was for the first time in his life.

It was a truly wonderful human emotion...and just like that it was taken from him.

Miu might’ve given him new tools like flashlight eyes, but you’ve upgraded him to feel more emotions, particularly sadness and love. And he experienced true sadness when he cried real tears and demanded the culprit to explain their actions--he didn’t even care for Kokichi’s mocking anymore.

Since then, he just couldn’t stop crying as he left the Shrine of Judgment and went to his lab.

An hour before you were brutally murdered, you told him you were working on a special project, installing an AI of yourself onto his Monokubs pad. You used some of the technology from his lab, and left it in there for him to find later.

If finding this AI meant he could talk to you again...then he’ll go for it.

With a quiet whimper, K1B0 dragged himself into the lab, spotting the tablet not too far away. As he picked it up, it activated, and before long a small pixelated version of you appeared on it.

“Hello? Can you hear me K1B0?”

“[Y/n]...I-I...” Warm, salty tears streamed down his face once more as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the tablet. “No..y-you aren’t them. They’re gone..you’re their..s-secret project, right?”

“Indeed, I’m Alter Ego [Y/n]!” Your avatar nodded. “I thought you’d be happier to see me, but..now that I’m aware of what has transpired..that no longer seems to be the case.”

“N-No. I’m..I’m happy I found you. I just don’t..understand why I’m crying if I’m happy.” He muttered, looking at the screen. “I suppose..I’m on my own now with these new emotions.”

“Crying doesn’t always have to come from sadness, it can come from any overwhelming feeling, even from the happiness you’re experiencing.”

“...huh? How do you..?”

“I’ve been pre-programmed with vast knowledge of human emotions--in the event my creator isn’t...available to explain them to you.” You seemed sad for a moment, but your avatar perked up. “But as an AI, I’m still learning new things everyday so..we can sort through these feelings together!”

“That’s...true.” K1B0 managed to calm down, a smile on his tearstained face. “I failed to protect [y/n], but..I promise I will do my very best to protect you, Alter Ego [Y/n].”

.........

Ryoma

Seeing your body get devoured by the piranhas until nothing but bones remained was traumatizing enough...

But to later learn that the culprit drowned you and tried to pin the crime on Himiko by putting your body in that piranha tank?! That absolutely destroyed Ryoma.

How cruel and ironic was it that you--someone who had everything to live for--became the next victim while he--someone who had next to nothing to live for--survived this trial?

Everyone was shocked as the ex-tennis pro suddenly broke down when asked about his alibi, trying to convince them all he killed you and dismissing the obvious evidence that he couldn’t have done it.

You died in his lab, right? Therefore he knocked you out. He handcuffed you. He drowned you in the sink-

But..he gave up after failing to explain to Shuichi how he could’ve gotten your body from his lab to the gym. And since his hands showed no evidence of rope burns...he couldn’t have done it at all.

Despite trying to lead everyone to the wrong answer, nobody blamed him for lashing out that way.

Even after Kirumi confessed and was executed....Ryoma could only leave the trial room in utter distraught.

You were gone and never coming back--just like everyone else in his life.

He was inconsolable as he returned to his dorm, crying the moment he shut the door and locked it. “D-Damnit all! Just when I thought..things would be different this time....” Clutching his beanie, he curled up on the bed, not wanting to wake up ever again.

The despair he felt was extreme; the kind that...made him want to d-

However, he noticed his Monokubs pad lighting up, halting his train of thought. In confusion, he grabbed it, wondering why it suddenly started up. But he nearly dropped it as he saw who was on the screen:

“Hey..can you hear me?”

“Wh..[y/n]?!!”

“Ah! It worked!” Sure enough, you were on the screen, though you looked like a digital avatar of some sort. “My creator..are they around?”

“...so it’s not you.” Ryoma sighed, feeling crushed once more. “Y-You were..really killed.”

“...oh, I see.” Your avatar mumbled in sadness. “I’m a digital recreation of them--Alter Ego [Y/n]. They created me in case anything were to happen--n-not that they thought they were gonna die, but because they loved you a lot and didn’t want you to feel alone.”

"This is what they’ve been doing in their lab all this time?” He was surprised, though at the same time..he knew you had remarkable programming skills thanks to your Ultimate.

“Good news is I managed to delete your motive video. They were very concerned about it. So it’s just me on here! And...I’ll do my best to give you a reason to live, Ryoma. That...was my creator’s first and final request. I may not be them, but I’ll try to.....Ryoma?”

Your avatar noticed him crying again, though when he looked at the screen, there was a small smile on his face.

It was true that you were gone forever, and that he’ll never be able to hug you, kiss you, or tell you how many times you’ve saved his life.

But as long as you lived on within this “alter ego”...perhaps he could live on, too.

#clanask #anonymous #danganronpa x reader #drv3 #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo shinguji x reader #k1b0 #k1b0 x reader #ryoma hoshi #ryoma hoshi x reader #tw death #tw suicide mention #danganronpa spoilers #one word prompt

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ganymedesclock · 5 years ago

Note

outta curiosity, why do you think the bugs are human-y sized? i've seen that portrayal fairly often in fandom, but it never occurred to me during my own playthrough b/c of things like the weapons all being things like "Nails" and "Needles" (plus Cloth's huge fang club) which feel... like they're supposed to /seem/ small, if that makes sense.

Kind of a complicated web of reasons, some in-universe, some out.

The first thing I’m going to say is that I agree with you in that there is something that “feels small” about Hollow Knight’s world. When a friend of mine, @betterbemeta played the game, they spoke a bit about a “microscopic aesthetic” that they chalked to things like the amount of detail in the backgrounds. At the size we’re used to seeing the world, dirt is just dirt. From an insect’s eye view, however, individual grains are visible to a much greater degree.

This very granular nature fills the world. Nothing has the anonymity of just being dirt- it’s all shells or fossils or bits of stone and sand and glass. Our relationship with the world is intimate. We are shown spaces and the vastness of them looms, daunts. So I don’t for a second resent the impression that the scale of the world “feels small”.

What does bug me, if you’ll pardon the pun, is trying to add humans into this world as some kind of vast upper limit. Because while they wield pins and needles, nails and shears... these are not scavenged objects. This is not Pikmin. The nail is called such, but it is never a nail as we would recognize, designed to be hammered into an object. The bugs of Hallownest mine materials, and forge them into shapes that are engineered and worked artistically. The Nailsmith has spent much of his life obsessively honing his craft.

It feels arrogant, when there is no human presence in the game, to automatically slot us in an imagined supergiant slot that would trivialize the game and everything narratively important about it. It feels even more arrogant to suggest an independent culture that never shows any evidence of being dependent on humans is whimsically plucking our door nails for funny little bug sword duels, rather than that they have a culture of forging and carving their own weapons, tailored to their needs, without “divine inspiration” from anything bigger than it except its gods, which are themselves entities not in the likeness or shape of humans.

For me, I feel like it operates much better to presume Hollow Knight’s world is comparable to Nausicaa’s- it is a land of giants, rather than a land of the diminutive. A world that, if we or creatures like us were walking them, we would walk alongside Ghost, these same roads and highways, and would have this same experience of being dwarfed by the vastness of the space. I feel like if you really want to imagine humans in this world, either explicitly or for a sense of scale- we’d be on the level of the setting’s bugfolk.

Another thing worth noting is that this world is also very alien. Far moreso than, say, Pikmin, a game that does feature tiny aliens on a post-apocalyptic earth, where we can recognize much of the world and its shape even if the creatures now inhabiting it are strange. In Hollow Knight, the world is strange in its beauty and savagery. It’s really not like ours. The larger things get, the weirder they get. There’s almost no indication of mammalian life, or even, besides the bug-people having some recognizable species among them like moths, butterflies, cicadas, bees- creatures that we recognize. God Tamer is either an ant or a cockroach most likely, but her steed was originally conceptualized as a lobster- and it is an eight-eyed, quadrupedal creature with a filter-feeder mouth, large horns, an expanding translucent dewlap and neither claws nor long tail to speak of, so Team Cherry has actively avoided putting “normal creatures” in there.

This setting has a particular logic about creatures. Everything is translated through that lens, so things we would recognize come out distinctly different, and the general thrust is ‘more like a bug’. So to me, that precludes the intrigue of humans, because we have what humans would look like, with concession made to these strange rules.

They’re the characters we already see and interact with.

I dislike the idea of towering humans, because to me, the sapient bugs of Hallownest so clearly are the humans. I feel like this is a world on a divergent planet. There’s no apes for humans to come from, or monkeys to grow into apes, or even mammals for monkeys to come from- everything is bugs, so the sapient creatures come from bugs. Quirrel, in the prequel comic, even briefly holds a much smaller crawling insect and muses how it and he have similar shells, and, yet, are fundamentally dissimilar creatures. Another narrative could very easily transcribe a similar moment between a human researcher and an orangutan he spots in the bushes.

So this compels me to, in crossover contexts, put the bugs as close to humans. I feel like this is a beautifully constructed and deeply alien world, and there’s so little to gain and so much to carelessly bulldoze by adding in a sense of scale that allows us to just ignore so much of the strangeness and force our own ordinary world over it. I don’t have this problem putting in other giant or strange forces in the setting- I’d be super up to colossal forests of giant trees as a level or scene in a fanwork, for example.

But I guess that’s what turns me off of a lot of things like the bug tank AUs- the humans’ presence and society feels like a way to not just put what’s familiar to us in there, but in such a way that invalidates the refreshing novelty of the world around it. There’s no stated upper limit to Radiance’s powers- there’s nothing she can’t infect merely because it’s too large. So putting her in a glass tank wouldn’t negate her. If it was that easy to stop her, PK wouldn’t be driven to desperation and have committed a staggering amount of esoteric sin on his own children trying to find a way. It immediately undermines character plots and motivations.

Suggesting that the bugs are living borrower-style among humans and making use of their technology, likewise, cheapens the plot of the Nailsmith and his obsession, one that is shared by many, or, in the Silksong demo, Forge-Daughter’s “ancient line and honored role”.

Now, I have seen borrower-style stories and loved them! I was massively obsessed with the movie 9 when it came out, which featured tiny cloth dolls (the largest of them could be held easily in one hand by a human) surviving in an apocalyptic wasteland, and they utilized pieces of human technology cobbled together into ingenious new forms. But the thing about Hollow Knight, is it is not that world. Some weapons are large, almost oversized for their wielders- but they were still built with those wielders in mind, by other bugs, using designs developed by bugs.

Cloth’s club doesn’t really refute this by being a tooth broken from a larger creature, either- the temple of the black egg is made either from, or in the likeness of, the hollowed shell of a truly gargantuan creature.

This world has some very big things. I feel like thinking of humans as ‘the giants’ in this setting vastly underestimates the world. That somewhere in Cloth’s journey- and somewhere accessible to the kingdoms’ guards that became Husk Guards- there were vast cadavers with teeth that could be harvested is explained handily on its own by the idea that this is a world partially populated by giants- giants that play by the same lovely arthropod sensibilities of the more regular-sized denizens.

Another exciting thing worth noting is that there are ribs and spines all over this world! If these guys were truly on the scale of ordinary bugs, they wouldn’t need them- their exoskeletons would do all the supporting for them. But these guys are big enough to need at least vestigial endoskeletons. The implications of the remains that we see don’t exactly show us arm or leg bones, but rather intact limb exoskeletons. So these guys would have more complicated organs and more bones, that a bigger creature would need, but something the size of a realistic our-world ant would not.

#Hollow Knight #Silksong #readmore #thethrillof

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sweetiejunie · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t mind me

Summary: annoyed, you wanted to get back at him

Genre: smut

Yeonjun x reader

=====================================

There he went again, screaming and laughing into the mic at some of his friend while they played, what you now know to be labeled as, an fps game. Sometimes you felt bad for his mic, having no escape from the torture, but at the same time, neither did you.

His computer was located a mere wall away from your shared bedroom, in the echoey living room of your home. On nights where he wanted to stay up playing games, you would head to bed first, neither of you seemed to mind really. Eventually, someways throught the night, you would hear the door creak open and a pair of arms would wrap around you.

It was currently 4am when you had once again woke up to the noise of your boyfriend hysterically laughing and swearing at his teammates when ‘did something stupid’ as he would put it. You never understood what could possible get him so riled up about a game.

This wasn’t the first time yeonjun has woken you up with one of his antics. It’s happened many nights before but every time you tried to talk to him about it, he would apologise and immediately forget what you had just agreed on.

Tonight, however, you weren’t having it anymore. You decided to do something about it, something more than just using words or having a chat with him. You wanted to mess with him... i guess you could say you wanted to fuck with him, both literally and metaphorically.

Wearing an oversized tshirt that belonged to yeonjun, you stepped out of the bedroom. The moment you opened the door, his voice was even more amplified, the only barrier left between you and him now removed. As much as you loved him, you hated him for interrupting your sleep.

Entering the dark living room, you spotted him at his usual corner, next to the TV, facing the windows. You walked up behind him and placed your hands on his, so very broad, shoulders gently massaging them as you wanted to first make your presence known.

He was only dressed in a simple tank top and sweatpants, yet he still managed to pull it off, looking absolutely amazing.

“Oh hey love. Sorry, did i wake you?” He asked, muting his mic and removing his headphone. He tilted his head up to look at you.

His skin glowed a tint of blue as mixture of moonlight and light emulating from the monitor screen reflected off him. As ethereal as he may have looked at that moment, you had to remind yourself you supposed to be mad at him.

“No it’s alright. Dont mind me, continue your game, i just wanted to watch you play for a while,” you said, in a sort of passive agressive manner.

You didn’t want to tell yeonjun your actual motive for coming out here, and you highly doubted he wanted to know either.

Turning back to his game, he unmuted himself and spoke with his teammates again. You took this opportunity to begin placing kisses along his neck.

“Y/n what are you-”

“Shh,” you placed a finger on his lips. Holding back a smirk, you continued, “like i said, dont mind me and continue your game. I’d like to play a game of my own, and the only rule is that you’re not allowed to mute yourself anymore.”

He looked at you in confusion. ‘Yeonjun where are you?’ You heard one of his teammates ask through his headsets.

“Your friends are looking for you babe, it’s rude to keep them waiting,” you said with a pout, showing yeonjun you were ‘innocent’.

Having no choice, he put on his headphones and returned his attention to the game. “Yeah I’m here, sorry. I just got a little distracted by something.”

You continued your actions, littering kisses along his neck, jawline and anywhere else you could reach from that angle. You smirked as you heard yeonjun try to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat.

Moving one side of his headset to the back of his ear, you leaned in. “Gosh babe, you look so hot in tank tops, you should wear them more often,” you said breathily, just loud enough for him to hear, making sure his mic couldn’t.

Running your hands up and down his bare biceps, you laughed as yeonjun pressed his lips together, afraid of replying you, afraid of what the mic would pick up.

Grabbing one of his hands, you lifted his arm up and slid between him and the table, straddling him. You placed his hand back where you picked it up and rested your arms on his shoulders. You watched as his actions froze, both in real life and in game.

“You better keep playing before they start getting suspicious,” you warned, looking at him with your doe eyes.

Unable to process what was going on, yeonjun didnt dare move.

“I said keep playing babe, don’t pay any attention to me.”

‘Yeonjun! Quick we need back up! Where are you!’ Hearing his teammates voice, immediately, yeonjun woke up from his dazed stated.

“I’m- I’m on my way!” He hesitantly replied them.

You gave him a look of approval as he tried his hardest not to be bothered by your actions. Seeing him struggle to keep his composure amused you. He continued talking to his teammates, attempting to sound like his normal self. I would tell you what he was saying but honestly, you didn’t really care about that.

You continued placing kisses on his neck, gently sucking on the skin, leaving subtle marks as you made your way down. Arms tighly wrapped around the back of his neck, you felt as he started to poke your inner tigh. You took this as an indication to start grinding on him.

Not wanting to block his view of the screen, you lifted your head just enough to see his expression. Pleased when you noticed how hard he was fighting back a groan as he grew harder underneath you.

You stripped yourself of his shirt. And lucky for him, or maybe not so lucky in this case, that left you in a pair of lace lingerie you had put on, knowing it was his favourite.

“You know, you don’t have to hold back. You could always just let your dear friends know how you’re getting laid right now,” you whispered into his ear.

Yeonjun swallowed hard, keeping his mouth shut as he felt your breath tickling his ear. He wanted to touch you so badly, but he could take his hands off the keyboard, not wanting to get killed.

Determined to get that groan out of him, you hands wondered down to your own core as you touched yourself through your panties. You continued, “fuck babe, i just want you in me so badly.”

You played with your clit and let out a whine. You knew how much yeonjun hated you touching yourself. You didn’t need to now that you had him. Yeonjun’s pupils were blown up with lust as he watched your little act.

“I’m so wet for you, i just want to ride you right now. You’ll be quiet for me right? Unless, of couse, you want them to hear,” grinning, head resting on his shoulder as your hands moved underneath his shirt. You pushed yourself down against him harder, adding the preasure you both so desired.

He chocked on nothing, contemplating his choices, hesistant to make a decision. Of couse, he did want to fuck you, but he didn’t want his teammates to know what was going on either.

You noticed his hesitation and decided to answer for him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. As long as you dont make too much noise, you won’t embarasse youself in front if your teammates.”

You pulled his pants and boxer down, just enough for his member spring free from its confines. You pumped him a few times, loving the sight as precum leaked from the tip. Spreading it down his shaft, using it as lubrication, you stood up slightly, pushing your panties to the side as you slowly sat down on him.

You let out a content sigh as he filled you to the brim, and yeonjun only wished he could do the same. You laughed slightly as you noticed how he started to respond his teammates with one word answers instead, his mind probably a mess of thoughts.

“You feel so good, you fill me up so good yeonjun,” you said as you started to move your hips on his cock. Using him however you pleased.

You threw your head back, letting out a moan, feeling him twitched inside you as he bite his lip so hard he could almost draw blood.

“Fuck junnie, I’m cumming,” you said, hands on his shoulder for support as you rode out your high.

By this point, yeonjun was in so much ecstasy he didn’t care about the game anymore, the screen just became one big blur to him as he ignored all the complaints he was hearing through the voice chat. Just as he was about to reach his own high, you stopped.

You stood up, getting off him and retrieving his tshirt off the ground. Giving him a wink as you made your way back to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Leaving a very confused, and frustrated, yeonjun behind, wondering what on earth just happened.

You knew what was going to happen afterwards. Yeonjun hated being teased, and even more so, being left with blue balls. Most people would be a little more worried in this situation, but not you, you loved a rough and frustrated yeonjun.

You sat on your bed, legs crossed as you heard footsteps approach the bedroom. And well, you can guess what happened next.

=====================================

Am not turning into a smut blog but ill just write whatever i feel like writing at the time. And a little smut never hurt anyone right 😉 still not good at writing these sorts of things but I’m working on it!

Masterlist

#choi yeonjun #txt #txt yeonjun #txt writing #txt ff #txt fanfic #txt au #txt imagines #txt post #txt smut #txt scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun au #yeonjun ff #yeonjun smut

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

Text

JINJER'S TATIANA SHMAYLUK: "I WILL GET REVENGE"

Go inside the Ukrainian metal group's new album 'Wallflowers'

Jinjer has teamed up with Revolver for a limited-edition bundle that includes the band's Summer cover story and a Wallflowers vinyl variant on 180g white wax. It's limited to only 300 copies — pick up yours now.

Tatiana Shmayluk wants revenge from beyond the grave.

As a woman fronting Ukraine's biggest metal band, she deals with endless bullshit. Comments. Snide remarks. Trolls. These dudes — and they are all dudes — might doubt her motivations. They might have something to say about her looks. Her clothes. Her uncompromising attitude. They might even attempt to throw shade on her high-flying vocal acrobatics or ferocious performances. But attempt is the key word here — in any and all cases.

Shmayluk is having none of it. If she can survive an upbringing in war-torn Ukraine, she can survive the haters. If she busted out of Eastern European obscurity to become an international star, the shit-talkers cannot touch her. If she can be held up as a role model by young women around the world, the power clowns cannot clown her.

Besides, there is post-mortem retribution to consider: "When I die, I will get their asses."

She says this with a laugh, perhaps because she understands that most of the people reading this won't believe it. But make no mistake: She means it.

Then again, undead reprisals won't be necessary. As it turns out, revenge is a dish best served with a heaping side of unmitigated success. Shmayluk fronts Jinjer, one of the premiere djent-prog bands on the planet. As of this writing, they have over 250 million cross-platform streams and views. They have nearly half a million monthly listeners on Spotify. Their 2017 live studio performance of "Pisces" — arguably their biggest song — has over 51 million views on YouTube.

Shmayluk and her bandmates — guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov, bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and drummer Vladislav "Vladi" Ulasevich — somehow manage to combine metalcore, djent, prog, nu-metal and even R&B and reggae into a musical style all their own. Not bad for a group of young musicians from a conflict-ridden corner of the world that most Americans can't even point to on a map.

On the day Shmayluk and Abdukhanov speak with Revolver, Jinjer are in France recording their set for Hellfest's "Hellfest at Home" streaming event, which will replace the beloved annual metal festival — usually held in the sleepy French village of Clisson — with pre-recorded and contact-free sets from some of metal's heaviest and most popular bands. Such is life in what we hope are the waning days of the pandemic.

"Things with the pandemic are way worse in Ukraine than in the United States," Abdukhanov tells us. "Very few people have managed to get vaccinated. We are in line and waiting our turn. And because we haven't had the vaccine, we had to stay in quarantine here in France for seven days. We had to pay for this extra task just to be able to come here. It's a deep pain in the ass."

"In Ukraine, the shops will be open today but closed tomorrow," Shmayluk adds. "It's constantly on and off. But I didn't go sit in restaurants and things like this, anyway. I want to just be at home."

Both Shmayluk and Abdukhanov spent the early days of the COVID outbreak in Los Angeles. Jinjer were in Mexico when the remainder of their Latin American tour was cancelled, so Abdukhanov went to see his pregnant wife. Shmayluk went to visit her boyfriend, Alex Lopez of deathcore troupe Suicide Silence. She stayed for the remainder of her visa. "I was addicted to Amazon," she says. "Every day I ordered something. I got my first DSLR camera and some other photography equipment. Me and Alex got a huge fish tank — the Rolls-Royce of fish tanks. And then another tank. And another tank ..."

"Our American tour was supposed to start in April 2020, and it had not been cancelled yet," Abdukhanov explains. "We didn't know the situation fully, so we thought it might still happen — or part of it, maybe. So, it seemed reasonable to just stay in America. Of course, by the beginning of April the tour was cancelled, and it was clear that this thing would last very long."

The pandemic's enforced downtime did have a creative upside: Jinjer wrote and recorded their new album, Wallflowers. "For the first time in our whole career, we finally had time to write songs, practice them and go to the studio very well prepared," Abdukhanov says. This time around, drummer Ulasevich wrote the bulk of the material. Before he got started, the band collectively decided that they had to branch out from their last album, 2019's Macro.

"We knew for sure that we had to change the sound because we couldn't allow our album to sound the same," Abdukhanov offers. "All of us wanted some-thing new, and we had a very clear picture: We wanted the bass and guitars to be very aggressively distorted. Vlad, as always, had a very clear idea of how to change his drum sound and drum parts. As for the music, we never try to expect something from our new material. We just write music and let it flow. I think this will never change for us."

The result is somehow Jinjer's most aggressive and melancholy album to date. From the anguished, woozy groove of opener "Call Me a Symbol" and the dizzying, caustic metalcore of "Copycat" to the moody seesaw of "Vortex" and the airy, ominous dreamscape of the title track, Wallflowers is next-level Jinjer. "A lot of new elements are on this album," Abdukhanov confirms. "For people who are not familiar with our music, it can be complicated listening. But I think our fans are prepared for it. They got used to expecting what they don't expect."

At first, Shmayluk wanted to call the album As I Boil Ice, after Jinjer's new song of the same name. But the title didn't fit with the floral cover art they had already selected. They added an icicle to the image, but that didn't seem to help the situation. They ultimately decided on Wallflowers, which relates to both the artwork and Shmayluk's lyrics. "When I started writing lyrics, it was January 2021 and I was back in Kiev," she says. "Alex had come to visit, but it was time for him to fly back home to L.A. We had spent a lot of time together and now I had to learn to be alone. I didn't want to do anything socially oriented. I was just walking in circles in my apartment, making a huge hole in the floor."

Shmayluk's self-imposed isolation, underscored by the pandemic, set the stage for a more personal approach to her lyrics. At first, she started writing in Russian. Then she switched to English. "Vortex" was the first song she finished. "It's about a person who overthinks a lot," she explains. "Have you ever experienced that thing where you just cannot escape your thoughts? Your head becomes so heavy, like a ball of lead. It's about to explode. It can lead to depression, basically: You cannot stop, and you fall into it. That's the vortex."

As of this writing, "Vortex" is set to be the album's first single. The band has already filmed a video for the track. Shmayluk hopes the song can provide a kind of temporary support system for those who might need it. "Sometimes songs help me to overcome my emotional issues," she says. "Even with sad songs, they can make you feel you are not the only one who feels this way. It really eases your pain if you can find compassion to heal a sad heart."

Album closer "Mediator" is the result of an online personality test that Shmayluk took at the suggestion of a friend. "I'm always ready to do some psychology and self-analysis," she enthuses. "The result I got was 'mediator,' which has to do with compassionate, sensitive people. I feel this is basically another word for 'introvert' or 'wallflower' — it's all connected."

"But the song is about when I was younger," she adds. "I was an idealist. I wanted to see things as perfect and people as kind. But the reality is harsh. You grow up and you realize you still have a lot to learn — a lot of lessons that can't be taught in school. Life lessons."

The title track directly addresses the album's over-riding theme: Shmayluk's struggles as an introvert. "I've met a lot of people who have no idea what extraversion or introversion is," she says. "I explain it in this song so that hopefully people can relate. Introversion can be a problem for people who think that there's something wrong with them. If you are a wallflower in school, for example, people will mock you and bully you. When you grow up, you will realize you were just born this way."

"Society rejects people like her," Abdukhanov adds. "Society rejects people who stay inside. They think there's something wrong with these people because they are not part of a herd."

"That's true," Shmayluk says. "It's been hard for me to fit in with most people."

Which is probably why she feels so close to her bandmates in Jinjer. "They are my best friends and almost my only friends," she says. "It's really hard for me, as an introvert, to find new friends. Most people want an open book. They want you to just blah-blah-blah all the time. That's how they get information about you. But you have to read me if you want to know me, and most people are too lazy to do that."

"They want everything fast," Abdukhanov adds. "We live in a consumer society, and people are consumers even in relationships. In a way, you could say this album is like a manual for dealing with introverts."

"If you are patient with an introvert, you will discover the treasure," Shmayluk says. "You will have a friend for life. I think it takes a year or two to get to know me, and then dude ... you cannot shut me up!"

Abdukhanov knows Shmayluk better than most. They've been in Jinjer together for a decade. "Over the last 10 years, I think I saw her and talked to her more than anyone else," he says. "Because we're constantly on tour. We went through the nine circles of hell together. We played small clubs with only 10 people in front of us, and now we play huge stages for thousands of people around the world. This journey made us a family."

Of course, the haters are still out there. Lurking. Judging. Commenting. "I try not to read comments, but sometimes it is impossible not to see anything," Abdukhanov says. "I helped to manage some of our social media, and I cannot help but see some exchanges. But it doesn't hurt me much, fortunately."

"We are strong," Shmayluk says. "And I will get revenge."

#tatiana shmaylyuk #jinjer #2021 interviews

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snkpolls · 4 years ago

Text

SnK Chapter 133 Results

The chapter poll closed with 1456 responses. This month’s poll results brought to you by /u/berthototototo ,u/staraves, u/_Puppet_, @shifter-lines and @momtaku

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,365 responses

Nearly 80% of the fandom rated chapter 133 as good or great. In comparison with most SnK chapters, that’s on the low side. Since this was yet another set up chapter it’s possible that the fandom is waiting to see what payoff there will be before they throw their full support behind the developments introduced this month.

lmao good chapter but wtf

It's the best paced chapter since the rumbling began.

All I can say is I can't wait for the next chapter.

Great start to the end

There were a lot of contrived moments here on the first read but I'm hopeful things will play out in an unexpected way.

One of the better recent chapters, felt well paced and most of the dialogue and events seemed logical and fitting. Nice to see one more location added to the AOT world before the end.

I’ve been doing polls for almost 30 chapters now, this is the first where I have no chapter rating, I need to see how all this plays out before I decide if I love it or hate it.

All of this self-reflection is annoying. Though that feeling is just more because of the fact that waiting a whole month for another ‘these hands have killed’ chapter is not exciting when we are so close do the end and I just want to see the ending already.

Average as fuck, the intention is good but the execution is not it, and the dialogues feel very forced and repetitive.

Not good at connecting the narrative plot points 'cause there's...hundreds of them at this point but I'm here for the character interactions and to see just what the hell that "See you, Eren" from the beginning actually meant

Good but I worry about the pacing, some of this should have came earlier, will wait to see what comes from it.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT 1,379 responses

Looks like a lot of people were glad to see that this conflict will not be resolved with a little heart-to-heart (34.9%). People also loved seeing child Eren being spooky with his new pal Ymir (18.8%). 11% liked seeing Eren’s friends reach out to him – or at least try. 9.4% liked Levi, because Levi. Connie, Jean, and Reiner sharing a moment of understanding warmed 8.6% of your hearts. 5.6% were happy to see Falco and Gabi brainstorming, and seeing Mr. Leonhart being a badass was the favorite moment for 3.6%.

I don’t know how it didn’t come up in this survey that Levi called Armin COMMANDER. That was my favorite moment by far. I also enjoyed the confirmation of Levi still caring about Eren. He always uses Zeke as a scapegoat. I somewhat feel bad for monke.

Isayama yeeting the Talk no Jutsu trope was my favorite moment!

I CAN"T BELIEVE THAT FLYING TITAN IS CANON LIKE HOLY SHIT

It was tough for me to decide a favorite moment from this chapter because every scene in this one was awesome. That's how fantastic of a chapter it was! I guess the only issue for me is the possibility of the Flying Titan actually becoming a reality when it felt too good to be true, but looking back, I think there was some foreshadowing to this becoming a reality.

God bless Isayama for the flying titan reveal

Favourite part was child Eren and Ymir standing in the paths.

Kiyomi being willing to die and sink with the ship actually hit me harder than I expected

Levi being the smollest husband is my favorite.

The gang forgiving RBA makes my heart weep with both melancholy and joy

WHO WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MVP 1,363 responses

Kiyomi and Eren are similar shades of green in this chart but I assure you it was Eren’s ranting about freedom (39.8%) and not Kiyomi’s talk of sacrifice and atonement (1%) that granted Eren this month’s MVP. Armin (18.9%), Mr. Leonhardt (9.5%), Falco (6.2%) and Levi (5.7%) are the other visible pieces of the pie.

#TEAMEREN

ANNIE IS THE BEST GIRL!

EREN IS A GENEROUS GOD

Falco is a good boy

Proud of armin for not backing out from commander role🤩

I love every time Eren shows up nowadays, other characters are getting a little worrying tho, Its starting to seem like alot of them have outlived their usefulness to the story and are just repeating stuff until their deaths.

Reiner handsome. That is all.

eren is just a cool badass

WILL ONYANKOPON ACTUALLY MANAGE TO GET THE PLANE TO EREN WITHOUT ISSUE, OR WILL THE HALF-CAPACITY FUEL TANK BECOME A RELEVANT POINT? 1,363 responses

Because Isayama has made clear that details as small as which direction Grisha is looking while leaving the house can’t go unquestioned in this manga, we asked about the fuel tank which is at half-capacity thanks to Floch, and whether or not it will present problems for those on board. A strong plurality, at 44.2% of you, think that they’ll run out of fuel, but it won’t be a massive hindrance. In second place, with almost exactly half of the votes as the first answer, 22.2% of you think Onyankopon will use the plan in some sort of suicidal attack, and just under 20% think the fuel tank will be a major roadblock in some other way. Lastly, ~14% of voters said they’ll make it just fine despite the damage. I admire your optimism.

I hope in vain that Onyankopon doesn't die. He won't even get to go to PATHS if he does.

THE TALK WITH EREN FINALLY HAPPENED… SORT OF. WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING DESCRIBE YOUR THOUGHTS? 1,371 responses

Multiple select charts aren’t the prettiest but we like to think they do a good job of showcasing what the fandom thinks on a topic. While none of the options this month reached any sort of consensus, they do provide a snapshot of what we want and expect from Eren.

Of the items offered, only “I’m glad Eren was firm and there will likely be no Talk no Jutsu” reached 50%. The other more popular choice were “I’m surprised Eren reached out to them instead of the other way around” (41%), “THAT PATHS STUFF IS STILL SO COOL” (38.8%) and “I’m glad so many were able to talk to him and it wasn’t just EMA” (33%).

The more negative options, ‘Eren was unnecessarily cruel, his friends deserve better”(13.8%), “I’m mad that Eren is letting them fight him. It’s like he wants to lose” (10.6% ) and “I don’t like Eren dismissing the possibility of talking” (8.1%) received only a fraction of support.

it looks like Eren is committed to HIS path, which backs his friends into a really tough corner. I can't say I'm surprised; we've seen it coming since they got to the ocean, we just didn't want to believe it.

Paths do be lit tho

I really wish Eren would stop the rumbling. He had done more than enough.

Eren's speech, didn't feel like him talking. It was way too typical, he used his catchphrases way too many times. This could be done on purpose for an in-story actual reason, but if it wasn't, i'm not a fan of it. The alliance talking about the colossal being able to defeat eren, makes me think armin won't be able to. I think Armin and Reiner still don't understand Eren's intentions, i fully think he does not want to be stopped. Eren is going to try to kill all of them.

I love Eren dialogues. I just loved the chapter and paths scene so much. Quality character development!!

Feel sad about Erens "catch me if you can" - I wish that the alliance will work together with Eren ....

Thank god for no talk no jutsu

he's been allowing them to use their titan powers, even against the Yeagerists who were supposed to defend their country. That means Eren doesn't dise with his friends, but doesn't side with his own supporters. Yeah, Eren's a dick.

WHOSE WORDS TO EREN DID YOU ENJOY THE MOST? 1,366 responses

The attempts at talking to Eren were almost a character rorschach test as each individual brought up what was closest to their hearts in an effort to stop the rumbling. While none of their pleas impacted Eren, we were curious which one the fandom enjoyed most. Levi’s promise of an ass kicking (32.5%) was the favorite, distantly followed by Mikasa’s more impassioned “Let us share your burdens” (24.9%).

Levi beeing sassy again - awsome

Mikasa saying she wants Eren to share his sins with her may be a hint for what's to come. I think she won't be able to let go of Eren and turn against the alliance to protect him.

Levi is hilarious

Honestly, the alliance have been so clueless that even Eren himself had to spare a moment for them, explicitly telling them that talking is never an option with Eren ‘I must always fight’ Yeager.

Look man, I'm an Eremika shipper and all but I really wish Mikasa didn't go on her usual "I'm here for you Eren" spiel in paths. It felt a little forced, and this would've been a good arc to have some more upfront and major changes as to how Mikasa sees Eren, but to get that usual "100% devotion" Mikasa that we've seen all series after we got signs that she's changed how she sees Eren was kind of disappointing.

I knew that the alliance talking to Eren won't work

Everyone is all sad while trying to convince Eren to stop the rumbling, and there's Levi cracking up jokes 😂

EREN PREEMPTIVELY TOLD THE ALLIANCE TO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH HIM AND TO ATTACK HIM WITH THE INTENT OF KILLING HIM. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? 1,357 responses

It seems to be another month of Isayama dangling Eren’s motivations in front of us, though this time we got some substance in the form of some surprising words to the alliance. The most popular interpretation is the straightforward one (30.1%), that it’s as Eren says and he is genuine in not wanting to step on his friends’ freedom. Up next is people who support Reiner’s hypothesis of Eren wanting somebody to stop him (21.2%), with decreasingly popular choices being Eren wants to be killed only after the rumbling is complete (15.5%), he’s just continuing his daily “freedom” spiel (12.4%), and he’s confident in the alliance’s inability to stop him (11.6%). Many opted for the write in option to share their original theories (5.6%).

Seemed like a cry for help to me.

Im convinced that he wants to be stopped, he just doesn’t realize it yet.

Inconsistent character writing lol

Eren loves his friends, so much that he is unleashing the Rumbling, but he only cares about them on a physical level. He wants them to stay alive, no matter how they are mentally.

Eren is in the darkest part of his mind and wants to die. However, his obession with freedom is strong, so he keeps moving foward and won't allow his friends to just kill him without fight.

He wants the alliance to challenge fate, as he thinks the destruction of the world is inevitable

I believe that Eren does want to win but doesn’t want to live with the guilt, but I just felt this moment was too forced, and honestly a little bit cringe, just didn’t feel like something Eren would say

It wasn't Eren talking

No idea, not even sure it's really Eren talking

There are only a few possibilities that make sense: Reiner is right and he wants them to kill him, Ymir is controlling the PATHS and trying to imitate Eren but doesn't quite understand that his concept of freedom is hypocritical, OR Eren only sees restriction of freedom enforced through PATHS as being truly taking away their freedom, like he thinks it's alright to manipulate, gaslight, beat and imprison his friends using his own voice and hands, but using the Founder is somehow too far.

it’s all a part of his plan even tho the fandom hates it. Just wait for it guys ;)

Eren wants the world to see that the Eldians they hate are saving them from the rumbling

If allaiance kills eren then the world will respect eldians more

Zero Requiem

I don't like the Lelouch scenario, it is contrary to what Eren's character really is. I believe there is more to this because why say it now, when he could have said it before ? There has been many holes with what he's doing.

Lelouch ending

LELOUCH LELOUCH LELOUCH

It means he values freedom over safety... which makes him look like a hypocrite because a lot of times he had no problem taking their freedom from them lol

hes hypcritical asf, getting to decide who can be free or not when he that literally was bothered by that himself. I think it was very selfish

Eren has become crazy had this point and his reasoning doesn't make sense, he's trying to dodge reality

Eren is just trying to define, create, and justify his own version of “freedom” because he can’t let go of his childish way of looking at the world. Letting his friends have their “freedom” almost feels like a cheap necessity he had to toss into his homemade definition of freedom.

Eren is a fucking narcissist, a hypocrite.

Eren is dumb

Eren is just doing what he has to do.

Eren's cool as fuck

He's literally giving them the choice to do what they want. The freedom of will. It's up to them to decide if they want to stop him by force or not. At the end of the day, Eren is already firmly set on doing what's necessary for Paradis.

If they want to die trying to stop the rumbling, they are free to do so. But, he wants them to know that negotiating is useless

Reiner is wrong, Eren doesn't want to be stopped because the Cringevengers are trying to take away his freedom to destroy his enemies

EREN IS DEPICTED AS A CHILD, AND WITH THE SAME SHADED EYES AS YMIR ONCE DID. WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING EXPLANATIONS DO YOU BELIEVE? 1,339 responses

Child Eren appears again in this chapter, but now resembling Ymir even more. About half of the fandom thinks that the shaded out eyes is a sign of loss of free will. The other popular option, at 42.1% is that they’re depicted at the age they first got their titan powers. The idea that their eyes symbolize ignorance and that their child form symbolizes immaturity each got about 16%, and 10.5% of fans think Yams drew it this way just to look cool.

Alliance POV. They cannot understand Eren/Ymir, therefore their eyes (=windows to the soul) are obscured. Note that Ymir's eyes gradually got clearer from Eren's POV as he humanized her.

Carla died when Eren was still a child. He never healed from this traumatic experience, his child-self is still strongly suffering, that why he appeared as a child. I believe that the child next to Ymir is the darkest part of Eren's soul.

child self image is reflective of eren entering a state of naivety so as to bear the pain and gravity of the rumbling which he has caused

I think it symbolizes a kinda immature concept of freedom

"Slaves don't need two eye balls". Eren is a slave to freedom.

shaded eyes represent being blinded by their desire for freedom & child-like state represents their innocence even if deemed to be something more

The are the ages of their greatest trauma

Adult Eren couldn't live with the guilt so he's letting child Eren carry the weight.

Both of them are doing everything for the sake of others, at the moment they aren't even thinking about themselves. EREN wants the people he loves and cares about to live a happy life and for that he is ready to sacrifice himself.

Bert had shaded eyes when talking to Armin too. I think it means the character is going to do questionable actions but in a mysterious manner. If that makes sense…

Bertold had the same shaded eyes when he was acting as the villain in rts. Same for Eren/Ymir here. Like Bertold, he is willing to kill his friends

Eren could have split his psyche similar to Reiner did with Marco. He is so distraught from his actions that he is using his child self's willpower to continue moving forward.

What about that parasite thing that attached to Ymir in the tree? What if that's the big bad of the series, and has taken over Eren?

The eyes are closed because they are tapped into the Yggdrasil network and are looking at what is happening in the real world through an inner eye.

YMIR APPEARS TO BE ALIGNED WITH EREN. WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THIS? 1,329 responses

Ymir and Eren standing side by side was quite the sight to behold, but what does it mean? The large majority at 55.9% believe it indicates that they’re on the same side wanting the rumbling. 19.2% believe Eren to be a pawn to her now, 15.6% think it’s the other way around, and 9.3% think she’s on his side but is having doubts about her allegiance.

Corrupted by the Eren’s idea of freedom (Ymir’s freedom was taken from her); Child Eren is a prisoner of Adult Eren’s future actions.

Eren is taking Ymir's place as the lord of the Paths. Like Ymir, after he dies, he will live on in the Paths.

I low key think Eren is kinda being controlled by Ymir/ conflicting with her

Eren is now like Ymir, enslaved in Paths to something bigger

Ymir started controlling Eren when he was a child

Ymir and Eren are tied together now. One is definitely being influenced by the inner emotions of the other (possibly Ymir's years of resentment for her life since we saw Eren "sleeping" at the end of one of the previous chapters with the birds)

Eren as a child symbolises regression, immaturity and narrow-mindedness. Eren refuses to be an adult (aka making compromises, listening to others…) and enslaves himself to the simplistic ideology he had as a child. Ymir was a literal slave who never managed to emancipate herself despite her power. I think the parallel between the two is to make Eren's state of mind more explicit than it already was in 131.

EY is cute and canon

EREN SAYS ALL THAT’S LEFT IS TO FIGHT. WHO IN THE APPROACHING BATTLE WOULD HE BE WILLING TO KILL? 1,333 responses

Eren’s willingness to kill his own friends has been a topic of debate ever since the two sides separated, and this chapter pushed that question further. People seem to think Eren would hesitate the most with Mikasa and Armin, and hesitate the least with Pieck and Reiner, with the others falling into various middle positions, as the chart shows. The requisite to avoid Eren’s hit list seems to unsurprisingly be a pre-existing bond with him, with some leeway being given to children. Except for Gabi, it seems, but we all know how Eren fondly refers to her as “that brat”.

Eren has accepted that he will kill his friends, and wants to get it over with

Eren explicitly said "If someone tries to take my freedom, I won't hesitate to take theirs". That was in private to Zeke, so I don't doubt for a minute he will kill anyone in the Cringevengers he needs to in order to achieve it.

He is willing to kill them and I can't wait when some of the 104th will die already

Eren kill Armin already please

If Falco dies, I cries.

IF NEITHER SIDE STEPS DOWN, EREN SAYS THEY’LL COLLIDE. WHO DO YOU THINK WILL WIN THE BATTLE? 1,349 responses

The time to make your bets is here! As the long-awaited battle between the alliance and Eren approaches, the audience is almost evenly divided on what they think the outcome will be. If this poll counts for anything, the alliance are projected as the victors (50.6%), narrowly edging out (by only 15 votes) the believers in Eren as the winner (49.4%). Whether you attribute the neck-and-neck result to the unpredictability of the setup, or simply too many clearly incorrect people from the opposing side to yours, is up to you.

The alliance will win GG WP

The alliance have 1 skilled warrior , 2 skilled former SC soldiers , 5 Titan shifters and 2 Ackermans but I still thinking that they can't defeat Eren or Ymir .

th Eldian empire will win in the end and the outside world will get what it deserves...I hope

Eren naturally shouldn’t be able to be stopped. He’s way too powerful.

I appreciate the fact that Commander Armin definitely has no tangible plan and it was the SC part manifesting their death throes for a peaceful end. Still I can't help but cringe and not feel anything at their attempt.

don’t think it’s a win/lose situation between eren and alliance, both with win and lose in some way and there will be some 3rd option

I can't wait to see the alliance-Eren fight. I just can't wait

Isayama's writing with his asshole. Whoever side gets to win, we lose.

LEVI RETURNED FROM PATHS WITH MORE FINGERS THAN HE STARTED WITH. IS THIS A MISTAKE? 1,342 responses

We’ve seen Isayama make mistakes that the fandom took too far before, is this the case again? In an incredibly close vote, 51.5% think it is just a mistake, while the other half at 48.5% are convinced Isayama slipped in this plot development.

I've been saying this for years but Levi getting his fingers back from the Paths was definitely intentional and I'm sure the relationship between Ackermans and the Paths are going to be a major plot point. And after 132 I'm wondering if the 'afterlife' aspect will prove important too.

Is it just me or has Annie been going through a growth spurt lately? Either that or Isayama's artwork is getting sloppy. Not to even mention Levi's fingers…

This was quite a chapter. So many things that could happen especially with the flying titan. And then levi possibly having his fingers back. Then learning annie’s titan power. I heard aot will have a bad ending but i hope the the alliance will win.

Levi is being healed by the coordenate. Ackerman's blood is "half titan" so he must have recovered because of that just like titans do.

WHICH COMMANDER HAD A BETTER TITAN DRAWING? 1,352 responses

Can Armin live up to Erwin? While he’s asking himself that, the fandom has decided that in the drawing department he has not. Erwin’s (in?)famous turkey titan drawing ate up 61.2% of the votes compared to Armin’s drawing from this chapter at 38.8%.

none of this would have happened if my goat erwin was still alive

IF EREN IS INDEED STOPPED BY SOMEONE, WHETHER IT BE KILLING HIM OR INHERITING HIS TITANS, WHO MAKES THE MOST SENSE FOR THIS ROLE? 1,349 responses

The bets are on Mikasa being the one to stop Eren and/or inherit his burdens at 30.2%. Her words to Eren this chapter could definitely be foreboding in hindsight. Armin, leader of the uphill battle against Eren, is the runner-up at 26.5%. 18.6% think the answer is no one – presumably because Eren will either wipe ‘em all out, or be the one to decide his own fate. 13.5% think Reiner will be the one, he is the same as Eren after all. But everyone is the same nowadays, so who knows?

We then have Gabi (4.3%), Falco (2%), and Zeke, Jean, and Levi tied (1.5%). Annie follows with a tiny fraction (0.4%), and Pieck, the ultimate underdog, has the fewest votes at 2, or 0.1%.

...Hang on, aren’t we missing someone? Yes – even below Pieck, there is the underdog of underdogs: literally nobody thinks Connie will be the one to end it all. Will he ever be considered a real main character? :’(

I'm leaning towards Mikasa.

It feels like there was a lot of foreshadowing for Reiner to go head-to-head with Eren one final time.

Can't wait for Gabi to eat Eren.

WILL LEVI KILL ZEKE? 1,322 responses

It’s been over 4 years both in and out of world since Levi vowed to kill Zeke. Will he end up doing it after all this time? The majority of fans think he will, at 54.8%. 18.5% think he’ll die before completing his goal, and 14.2% think he’ll reassess the situation and his goal of killing Zeke.

Both will die fighting each other

He may kill him and realise it was pointless, both as revenge and to stop the rumbling. Or possibly he'll be prevented from using violence as a solution this time. No forgiveness though.

He will defeat him but die just after killing him

He will fulfill his promise to Erwin but he'll die soon after

I do think he will but I don't think it's about Erwin's promise anymore

He will prioritize stopping Eren over killing Zeke

Please don't kill monke. Let him redeem himself first. Monke to save the world!

He won't necessarily forgive Zeke, but he will take pity on his sad state of affairs, but more importantly realise stopping the rumbling is more important than his petty revenge.

I predict Levi will kill Zeke, but it will be some kind of suicidal attack that will get him killed in the process.

Zeke will die but not by Levi's hand

He'll be forced to team up with him to save the world. But won't forgive him.

Nah, characters never get what they want, plus I don't see a real fight between them, that would be repetitive and too predictable and Zeke is probably too distressed/depressed over what happened in paths. And that would be really boring if Levi killed him tbh.

No, Because Zeke is already dead

I can’t believe the Beast Titan could be any animal they wanted, including a T-Rex, and that boring jackass picked a monkey. As if he wasn’t enough of a loser.

HOW CORRECT ARE ARMIN AND LEVI IN THINKING THE RUMBLING CAN BE STOPPED BY KILLING ZEKE? 1,343 responses

Levi suggests to the alliance that instead of ending Eren’s life to stop the rumbling, they could opt to kill the man previously called the key to the Founder, Zeke. Only 4.2% of people agree that this would help in stopping the rumbling, with the most popular response at 41.8% being it would fail due to Eren having full control of the Founder. The belief that Zeke’s death would have alternatively disastrous consequences is also popular, with 27.8% thinking Ymir’s presence would allow the titans’ advancement to continue, and 26.2% expecting the lack of command over the titans would render them mindless, but still functioning.

killing zeke probably won’t solve anything since the rumbling has already started, it might make a difference since eren isn’t royal but i think it’s just too late, and I really don’t want zeke to get killed

They'll find either that Zeke is already dead and was only needed alive for a moment to begin the rumbling, or that his continued existence is still necessary for defeating Eren somehow.

Everyone's talking about "stop Eren using Zeke," and here I am remembering "Zeke, stop Eren."

How is killing Zeke going to solve what Eren is doing? The poor guy just wanted to achieve his dream of eliminating all pp’s and instead he has to bear the burden of the destruction of the whole world.

Killing Zeke instead of Eren would be an emotional cop out for the Alliance. I hope that won't become the case, because that would make the ending of this manga super dissatisfying.

WHICH WHOLESOME MOMENT BETWEEN COMRADES DID YOU LIKE THE MOST? 1,334 responses

In such dire times, wholesome moments really are appreciated. 43.5% loves seeing Annie recall her 104th days the most, while 28.3% appreciated Connie accepting comfort from Reiner. The rest of you were split pretty closely between Gabi and Falco being adorbs together and Armin emulating Hange in his interactions with Onyankopon.

Annie's flashbacks of the Warriors I rly liked, Reiner smugly looking at Bertholdt was rly heartwarming...

It is very heart-warming how close the surviving members of the 104th still feel to each other after all said and done, including Eren.

the 104 got some understanding /closure for previous actions, so that's nice

Gabi and falco should have listened to Annie when she told them to take care of the charcoal, instead of ruining the chapter, and spewing some nonsense

WHICH OVERUSED PHRASE FROM THIS CHAPTER ARE YOU MOST TIRED OF? 1,315 responses

Isayama sure is hammering home certain themes and character motivations; is it too much? 29.1% are tired of hearing everyone scream EREH, which is most often attributed to Mikasa, but it branched out this chapter to all his friends. 22.3% got bored of everyone being the same as each other; because when everyone’s the same, no one is. 19.5% are tired of every other word out of Eren’s mouth being freedom, 16.4% want Levi to get an original thought, and 12.7% want Eren to shut up about his other catchphrase and just stay put for one second.

Muh ereh

I LOVE YOU EREN KEEP MOVING FORWARD 4EVER

"The dialogue between Jean, Reiner, and Connie couldn’t have been worse. It felt like a bunch of stock phrases, “we’re the same”, “traitor”, etc.

Can't remember who said this and where but Eren does love his friends, it's just that he only cares about their physical well-being. ""You are free to do as I see fit.""

Ereh: Reiner, I am the same as you. I know that my enemies are the same but I have no choice because Society™

Rainah: No, you are wrong. I had a choice, but I attacked the walls because I was selfish and because I wanted to.

Ereh: Damn bro, same. Time to commit war crimes!

Man, each time I feel like the 104 can't be more annoying... I can't stand their whining about ereh, how they don't wan't to kill him and that ereh is just misguided, let's talk, please come back uwu.

The forced ""We're the same"" bullshit is really getting on my nerves. Reiner broke a wall with the goal of committing a genocide against innocent civilians. Jean and Connie killed a few soldiers with the goal of STOPPING a genocide against innocent civilians. No, these actions are not the same, and I'm sick of Isayama trying to make us think that they are. Now, I can forgive it because it seems like he's just going for a "Jean, Connie and Reiner all murdered former comrades and are racked with guilt because of it" comparison, which I'm fine with, but we're on thin ice here with the moral reductionism.

"We're the same". I'm sorry, are they suggesting the 104th and Warriors are ANYTHING alike? the 104th are victims of circumstance who were forced to make terrible choices. The Warriors willingly slaughtered hundreds of thousands. The Warriors are horrendous monsters beyond redemption, and it's insulting of Connie to say they're the same as those inhuman creatures.

even tho I liked that Connie and Jean acknowledge their similarities with the Warriors, they are still not the same, the Warriors were brainwashed coerced children when they started their crimes, the 104th were adults in high positions when they killed innocents and they enabled Eren to do the Rumbling by ignoring the signs, while RBA almost from the start fought to prevent the Rumbling.

The chapter's named Sinners, Isayama called feeding a person to a titan a sin right as chapter 84 came out, and EAMJC killing Bert still hasn't been addressed under these circumstances? They're saying they are the same as the warriors which isn't true in any capacity and I hope they fall on their ass soon to realise they are not at all the same.

Eren saying freedom all the time has been cringe since the EMA table confrontation.

WHAT WILL FALCO’S FLYING TITAN BE USED FOR? 1,335 responses

The most popular two options, at roughly a third each, are that Falco will come in clutch at the final battle, and that he’ll save them when the plane starts to falter.

Carrying the Eldian evacuees to safety but remember there are also Marleyans there. A titan saving Marleyans, by its own will, will all help for the final peace treaties

Either taking Annie, Gabi, Yelena, and Kiyomi off the boat and picking up the Alliance in case the Flying Boat runs out of fuel at any point, or carrying the Eldians from Liberio to safety in case there are no airships left at Fort Salta to escort them.

What's the point of Annie going off if she's just going to join back a chapter later after more aruani flashbacks?

I DON'T WANT TO BELIEVE IN THAT

Eren is baiting him with that "scenery" because he needs to have the 9 titans to end the Ymir's curse

Fly gabi to the founding Titan to snipe eren

I get a feeling that he is the one who may inherit Eren's titans. What would be the point of giving him the titan powers, if he doesn't have any bigger role to play? Falco is somehow opposite to Eren, so if the power of the FT and AT are given to such pure boy like him, the future of the world might become brighter.

I thought the dialogue hinted more at Annie eating Falco's spinal fluid and gaining wings. Also I think it will be funny if Falco's memories are not from the previous Beast Titan but is actually the "Scenery" (it looks suspiciously similar)

Transporting Annie, Gabi and Falco where needed for the plot.

I wonder if Annie mentioning eating birds meant anything, or if it was just another poor attempt at humour by Isayama?

He'll transform thinking he can fly, find out he can't, the ship will sink and that's how Isayama will kill the characters on the ship

He'll fly far away on a different planet and start a new colony. Oh wait there is atmosphere. Whatever paths will lend him some cheat codes :P

THE PLOT POINTS HINTED AT IN THIS CHAPTER HAVE SPARKED SOME BACKLASH. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EACH ONE?

So many revelations! The most controversial ones are Falco potentially becoming a flying titan, him getting Zeke’s memories, and the Female Titan powers; though more people are ok with each of these than not. Eren letting his friends continue to use titan powers, and the Beast Titan being multiple animals are the most accepted developments.

The idea of a flying titan is forceful and too convenient. I wonder how Isayama will draw it and not make it look like something odd.

The flying titan thing is the dumbest and most forced thing in snk I've seen. It feels like something from a fanfic and just seems so out of place. It's so sudden and forced. There are other things that seem really rushed in this chapter too. Like the bits about Annie's titan etc.

Lol at people calling anything about this “forced”. AoT fans pretend they’re a lot smarter than they actually are.

The stuff about Female titan and flying titans and memories being distributed was maybe a bit too conveniently delivered in the very end of the whole series, but tbh it's still plausible in-universe. I take it as a sign that Isayama knows what he wants and he wants to do the ending justice, not just get it out there as soon as possible with as little work as possible."

I'm glad the Falco can fly because it means the rest of the alliance can join the final battle and him flying was well built up. What I think should have been set up better is this power coming specifically from the Beast Titan. All past users we have seen of it was a monkey and we're just being told it could be other animals now?

some things (like zeke's beast memories, female titan abilities, flying titan, warrior families being alive) were so convenient, but I'm not too mad about it

Someone had thought about the beast titan animal theory before, since there was a giant horse at those old "paintings" that tell the story about eldia in marley's perspective, it is in chapter 87 i think, when grisha's parents are lecturing him.

The falco thing is too forced. The beast titan being any animal isn’t that forced but it should’ve been revealed waaay before, not in the same chapter as this whole falco flying thing.

I fully expected the Liberio Eldians to be alive, but was not expecting them to be en route to Fort Salta.

I don't like how plot convenient it is that the Eldian evacuees from Liberio are heading for Fort Salta just like Eren with his rumbling titans, the Alliance fighters on the flying boat, and now apparently the boat crew as well.

I always thought that suggested all the forms that titan could take. In retrospect it feels obvious -- Yams, you practically telegraphed that by naming the kid Falco in the first place.

What do you mean it's stupid that Galliard cured world hunger by creating bacon with his Titan form? His name is PORCO

since when could the Female Titan copy other powers? Did I just miss that? Because it just comes across as a convenient way to get Falco, Gabi, and Annie to the final battle.

annie will eat a boat and tranform into a boat titan AND KILL EREN WITH HER BOATNESS.

WHICH TRAIN MOMENT DID YOU ENJOY THE MOST? 1,332 responses

After being implied in 125, we get to see the Liberio evacuees on the run. As set up in that chapter, 44.8% were most happy to see Mr. Leonhart continuing to be a boss, while 33.6% were most hyped for another great double spread of the rumbling, as we’ve gotten for the last 4 chapters. Mr. Finger and the Brauns' concern for the children came in after that, followed by Karina and the Grices.

Papa Leonhart is a true badass. It wasn’t said if Bertolt’s mother was still alive, and the lack of Galliard parents/zeke’s grandparents was interesting- how the only warrior/cadet families shown were ones with a child that the readers know is still living.

Go Mr Leonhart we stan

I can’t believe karina is still alive

While having all the warriors' family (expect for the Yeagers) be there is forced and not natural, I'm really hoping that Falco gets to reunite with his parents. He's so precious that he deserves that. If the other parents die then so be it as long as I can have a Grice family reunion.

The approaching rumbling has pretty much lost its impact as a visual image because Isayama has overused it to death.

I liked the new character in the train

This chapter was a beautiful demonstration that ANNIE GOT ALL HER GUTS FROM MR. LEONHART THAT BADASS JUST REFUSED TO DIE AND FORCED THE MARLEYAN SOLDIERS TO GET TO THAT TRAIN WHAT A LEGEND

WILL THE BLIMP BOMBERS BE EFFECTIVE AT ALL? 1,348 responses

The chapter ended on the cliffhanger of the blimp bombers approaching Eren, but will it be worth the wait? The Majority, at about 75% think they will take out a few colossals but nothing to write home about, 19.7% think Eren will wipe them out without a second thought, and 5.6% think they will help deal a decisive blow.

I think The bombs on the plane , The colossal Titan nuke ability and the blimps won't do any kind of damage to Eren .

the blimps Will be destroyed by founding titan eren using his thorn on his spine

I'm itching to see eren finally take some sort of action against marley's bombers :D

I’m wondering if Isayama is going to flip the script a bit and showcase how the advancing technology is gaining the upper hand over titans, and cut Eren off in his tracks abruptly/make him change his tactic. Or, if it’ll just be the catalyst for the alliance to stop him after they witness it has no major affect on the titans.

I'm not sure about the direction of the final battle but everything's colliding at Fort Salta one way or another. I'm curious about this volume's cliffhanger."

DESCRIBE THE CHAPTER IN ONE WORD 855 responses

Continuing with the theme of underwhelming reception, the responses to this were, at least compared to others months’, very low in quantity and disparity between the top words. The 5 most chosen words for this chapter, quantity and average rating included, are:

Setup/Set-up [32 ; 3.91] Amazing [28 ; 4.79] Freedom [25 ; 4.20] Awesome [19 ; 4.84] Paths [19 ; 4.16]

Honorable mentions (because they all had the same or only one less amount of picks) include Ereh, Interesting, Great and Pain.

WHAT CHAPTER DO YOU THINK THE MANGA WILL END AT? 1,337 responses

Since Isayama’s self-appointed deadline of 2020 likely failed to stick, we’ve decided to revive this monthly question. The last time we asked, the majority of respondents chose 138 as the final chapter, which remains the most popular option now, though now losing a majority (39.5%), with 140+ (20.9%) and 139 (21.3%) hot on its tail. Perhaps it has something to do with the shared opinion that this chapter is one of setup, but it’s safe to say most of us are unconvinced this is ending anytime soon.

I think that the manga will end at chapter 138 or 139, and so 133 has to be the last "transition" chapter before the climax (end of volume 33/beginning of the last volume)

I think the story is going to end either at 138 or 139.

it will be over in a few months and both like Eren and Yams, we will finally be free.

I just hope Iseyama doesn’t rush to end this before the end of the year. 138 is the minimum

Idc at this point i just want it to end now it feels like it's stalling

I CANT WAIT FOR CHAPTERS 134+ TO COME OUT

im sad its ending :(

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,366 responses

Wow this was close!! We have a lot of hopes for next month’s volume closer. Of the options we presented, “The alliance finally taking action against Eren” (23.1%), “ZOOK WHERE ARE YOU” (22.1%) and “I’m always down for more Eren Jaeger” (20.9%) created a tight three way race. Historia’s return to the story was a distant fourth (12%).

I'm really curious about Zeke's whereabouts, I'm sure he will play another big role from now on

I’m just confused about Eren’s motivations and desires at this point.

Love the thought of a flying titan

levi better kill zeke next chapter!!!

Pls bring back historia

I just want to see Historia. Please I miss her lesbian greatness. Please I'm tired.

Next chapter is gonna be crazy

where is monke??

Isayama has something up his sleeves and I’m scared for the next chapter lol

Just let Levi kill Zeke already

Kiyomi backstory when?

One thought, the same as after every chapter, who's gonna bite the dust next ?

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING PLATFORMS DO YOU USE TO DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,274 responses

Reddit (41.3%) and Twitter (40.7%) remain the two most active platforms for fandom discussion, with Twitter stealthily creeping up on Reddit ever since we allowed multiple selections. Discord follows at (21.6%), with those lucky enough to talk about SnK in real life close behind (20.4%). Wherever you discuss the series we appreciate your support of the chapter poll! Even the Snapchatters.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER? 365 responses

WOW, something something the japanese fans are not happy copypasta

The rumbing started some time ago and our heroes should get hungry in a little bit, will they be able to call pizza? Or something? Because it'd be very sad if they had to die without dinner :(

If Falco's cloud memories end up being child-Eren's view from last chapter, that would be incredible. So many characters will seemingly play an important role now that I have no idea what will happen next.

Reiner keeps thinking that the dialogue is about their guilt and since they are the same, then Eren wants to kill himself. But one of Eren's main statements is that he keeps moving forward despite everything (and he thinks Reiner is the same). I think Reiner's ""Eren wants us to fight him because he wants to die"" will be proven wrong, and he'll come to the correct conclusion in the end.

it's frustrating seeing eren continue the rumbling for the sake of his friends when it's not what his friends want

It's good but it could freak me out

it's honestly making me feel more hopeless...

Connie Reiner conversation was perfect to bring up his late best friend Bertholdt, but I guess they forget again and pretend they never killed him brutally, and he just got thanosed one day lmao

i'm really enjoying annie's development. she's went from one of my least cared about characters to one of my favourites just from her development with armin and reiner alone. really looking forward to how isayama will finish her arc.

Eren is gonna be defeated by the power of friendship and the power of the scarf he gave to boring Mikasa and also by two kids who should honestly be dead by now but somehow are still alive in this mess anyways boring chapter i don’t care what happen anymore I just want to this to end

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a Falco should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The Falco, of course, flies anyway because Yams don't care what nerds think is impossible.

I don't mind the "inconsistencies", because most of what people are complaining about is just nitpicking that doesn't have much of anything to do with the story being told. I just hope that we're done with setup and can finally get to the final battle next chapter.

Everybody in this chapter was admitting their sins, but Bert still wasn't mentioned when so far he's the biggest elephant in the room when it comes to Reiner / AMJC. They watched Armin devour Bert and felt nothing about it, they participated in a terrorist attack against Liberio and threw a party instead/didn't protest against it, but the moment they betrayed their countries and slaughtered their comrades, suddenly they're evil sinners. It really feels iffy as shit.

Eren should finish what he started, I actually support him, I do understand his anger, his past anger, and everything that has been done to the Paradis Island. The only way to stop the exterior world’s way they think about them, is killing them all (or nearly), otherwise it’s never going to stop. It would be too much of a childish way of actually allowing the alliance to stop him knowing that he’s really REALLY powerful.

I don't get why people are having so much backlash about Eren allowing the Alliance to kill him, it's not a goad of "come get me", it would be hypocritical of him to take away their powers to stop him when he preaches about freedom, because then he'd just want PERSONAL freedom when want he truly wants it freedom for everybody especially Eldians.

@ isayama as a yumihisu shipper stop the Ymir smelling Historia's hair gag it isn't funny :/

I just think Eren doesn't detour from his character cause he's persistent on continuing the rumbling, having his own definition of freedom while he also doesn't take away his friends' power to fight him. It's just kinda frustrating that Eren is so blinded by his concept of freedom and chose this path.

People who think Eren will complete the rumbling are in heavy denial.

I kinda hope that we get to see Hizuru at least once. I also believe that Mikasa deserves to know the truth about her Ackerman blood and that it does not make her a slave in any way. More than anything though I just wanna see her character done justice in this final arc so that people will finally quit complaining about her always being "Eren-obsessed." She is without a doubt one of the most misunderstood characters in the entire series.

I liked the Paths stuff. But I'm bored of the cringe 104th, Isayama please give back Bertholdt I wanna see him, Paths is the perfect opportunity T-T

I maintain that Eren allowing his friends to fight him and potentially die because FREEDOM is fucking weird and OOC because he had no problem taking their freedom away in 112. He lied to their faces (same chapter he stated that ignorance=slavery) and locked them in prison. He also couldn't stand losing anyone close to him for most of the manga (serumbowl, hiding info about Historia, etc.), even if it went against Paradis, and so far nothing states that he suddenly and consciously changed his mind on that. If there is no explanation for his sudden change in behavior then parts of his character just went down the drain for the sake of covering up a plothole (that could easily be resolved by just saying that the founder can't control the shifters......)

I read some theories of Hange come back as a Titan Shifter. The parallel of both Ackermans put their fist on Eren and Hange before they died. Eren came back to life again as Attack Titan after that. There are also similarities between Hange and Xavier, both do research on titans, wearing glasses and I wonder if we would find out who is this person that Zeke could trust, as Xavier mentioned. We've seen Hange almost died 3 times, during the battle with Bertholdt and Reiner revelation, the crystal underground with Kenny's team and Bertbomb. Hange managed to come back again and again. Maybe I'm just being hopeful here (crying again) but I respect if Isayama sensei really killed Hange for good. But but but.. T^T

I'm beyond sick of the alliance. If they win at this point Isayama has officially destroyed his own manga.

No Hanji = nothing to smile neither to hope for in this chapter. I hate Eren for not even reacting to her death.

Isayama's doing a terrible job with the Alliance. I have many reasons to want the rumbling to be stopped, but if I forget for one second that Armin's my fave charac., I need to ask WTH?? Characters say one thing while the narrative says another. Yo, every damn chapter they've been feeling guilty and shitty, yet their constant regretting says they're good people. The heroic sacrifices say they're good people. The refusing to bring the kid although the kid can fckin fly says they're good people. This is more complex than calling an oldman with a career built in genocide HERO then calling these lost as fuck teens SINNERS. Repetition won't make me buy it. Btw, I'm not taking proJeCtiNg five chapters from the end. I refuse to believe these characters are at the same. damn. mindspace as 10 chapters ago. Nah. Losing or winning, this finale should feel dignifying, not pathetic. I'm desperate here. :(

I'm tired of Eren and the alliance. My feelings are with Levi's promise, nothing else. What comes after that (if Levi is able to kill Zeke) it would be interesting (and amazing, I'm sure) conceptually, I will love to read it, but my heart is with our midget. He deserves to rest.

Also Levi...I get why he's still ""muh kill monke"", it makes sense with his character... But that doesn't mean it's not annoying.

I REALLY enjoyed this one

Can't believe that flying titan was a sort of joke since the Marley arc, but now it's a thing uh.

More evidence that freckled Ymir may be alive.

where bert

where IS ZEKE

Where Monke?

Ymir distorting the space and keeping Mikasa, Armin, Connie and Jean away from Eren makes me think she's controlling him.

YOU ARE FREE

There was so much information given to us this chapter. The reveal of the possibility of Falco flying and the possible death of Zeke.

There were some alright points to this chapter but for the most point, it seemed like so many things were forced, the most ridiculous points of this chapter for me were the warrior families living, and Falco deciding he can fly simply because he had a dream

This chapter (like all the others and the others to come) made me cry. 😔

This chapter made sense. Too much sense. All the plot points we’d been expecting like Falco being able to fly, Eren bringing the alliance into Paths to tell them they have to kill him if they want to stop the rumbling, and the folks from Liberio surviving, were all present. I think Isayama is about to throw some wild curveballs and ruin our whole careers

Something's wrong with Eren

Thanks Isym for ruining Armin and make him Annie's waifu

Nice, a little boring but also not disappointed

The alliance was so annoying this chapter. Reiner projecting his pathetic suicidal thoughts into Eren was just absolute cringe. Then Jean and Connie actually saying they’re the same as the guys who killed their friends and families just made me damn near bust a vein. Then Pieck was just being a passive aggressive bitch. I was hoping that at least the 104th would make it out alive but now I straight up want Eren to kill them all. They’re just flat out insufferable, incompetent traitors at this point.

Pieck passive aggressively roasting Armin felt good

Levi is sexy take the bandages off his face and let me see the scar

Levi's really fed up. he doesn't care anymore about eren he just wanted to kill zeke. But I do agree that by killing Zeke, maybe the rumbling will end.

People thinking that Eren became a slave are speedreaders

For me, the Rumbling represents Eren’s own death drive. He’s killing others and wants do die in the process or afterwards. And his talk to the alliance is what his "if you don't fight you don't win" ideology boils down to. Blind, narrow-minded kid!Eren doesn't really see any other outcome other than him completing the Rumbling (aka "winning") or getting killed by his friends before he can complete it. I (heavily) suspect Isayama is going for a third option though.

This arc has highlighted Eren's internal contradictions regarding freedom. We have him forcing his friends to fight, imprisoning them, beating them, gaslighting them about their own free will, but most of all forcing the rumbling onto them, which completely takes away their agency to choose their own fate. I would be disappointed if Isayama has dropped this consistent pattern of Eren contradicting his own ideals of freedom, just to rectify his mistake of making Eren too overpowered due to rule of cool (something I initially feared), so I'm hoping the true reason has to do with Ymir taking the reins and speaking for Eren.

Eren can't help what he wants and believes in and he can't stop his convictions to move foreword, but at the same time he recognises his friends own free will and different convictions and has decided that both sides will never be able to give up their own convinces or meet at a middle ground and has decided to just let things play out.

Eren is resigned to his fate to rumble the world, but he will not command his friends to do anything. He is willing to die by their hands.

Eren prizes freedom above all else. If someone uses their freedom to try to kill him, he wouldn't mind

Eren isn't sure if he's right so he wants them to have the chance to stop him if they feel so strongly

Sooo due to the Warhammer nutcracker incident, does that mean Falco has a portion of the Warhammer, or something?

Spectacular chapter completely closing the possibility of dialogue between Eren and Aliance. It's good to see that Eren remains firm with his actions and hasn't changed his psychology of freedom out of the blue. Although many people think that Eren wants to die, I'm sure that he will fight against the Alliance to survive and carry out his plan to destroy humanity.

Still a Beruani shipper...and...OMF ANNIE IS THE 2ND SASHA SHE WANTS TO EAT GIVE MY BABY FOOD

Still feels like buildup ready for the final showdown already

Telling the story as if the alliance stands a chance, or has anything close to a complete picture of Eren, is still dumb

historia pov when

Honestly I think everything about Annie is forced and she never should have come back.

Hope Jean survives 💯

Hope will reveal historia's baby connection to the series

I believe in Isayama

I believe that Annie got the ability to harden by eating part of Reiner, I think by revealing her ability yams intends to lay foundation for Annie getting wings as well and joining falco in the sky fuck ya

I hope Annie's father dies in front of her

I hope any inconsistencies in Eren's character get clarified later.

I hope more is discussed about Historias child

I hope My beloved Eren kills levi and armin

I just can’t wait a pray that MAPPA don’t fail us💀

I don't know man why the fuck does a flying titan exist

AC130 INBOUND, wait, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT BIRD THING AND WHY DOES IT HAVE BOMBS IN ITS HANDS

Isayama is a hack

isayama never misses

isayama the goat, incredible as usual

#snk poll #snk polls #snk poll results #snk 133 #snk chapter 133

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 17. Sanctuary

‘You touch me and suddenly I feel a little less war torn. I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like but I think it may feel a lot like you.' anatomy-of-rains

When I woke up, the room was still dark and I had something warm pressed against my back. The pillow smelled of citrus and the blanket was soft around me. It was the most comfortable I had felt in months. I wanted to stand still in that sleepy second forever, but I soon discovered why I had woken up: there was a shrill ring from downstairs. I waited, eyes pressed more tightly together, wishing the noise away, but it rang again, seemingly louder.

I heard an annoyed huff as Harry’s warm breath hit my hair and ear – it was him pressed against my back, then. He moved, slowly, carefully, out of the bed and out of the room. When I heard his steps on the stairs, I opened my eyes and looked behind me, finding there was a lot of room in the bed. He was close to me because he chose to. Without his warmth, there was only one explanation for the sudden heat I felt, and it only made me feel guilty.

I heard his steps again, and closed my eyes, hoping – though I could hardly admit it to myself – he’d cuddle me again when he returned to the bed.

Except, instead of returning to his place in bed, he kneeled in front of me and called, “Marie?”

“Y–yes?” I made a show of opening my eyes in a slow flutter.

“Sorry to wake you… But there’s someone at the gate for you.”

I sighed, confused, rubbing the sleep off my eyes with my hands. Then I kicked off the blanket, regretfully, and sat up, feet off the bed. He moved to sit next to me.

"Sorry."

"No, don't-- I'm-- I'm the one who's sorry..." I sighed. "I swear I didn't plan on bringing you into this."

"You don't have to apologize." He said, calm. "I just... I don't know how to help you… I don’t even know what… ‘this’ is that you’re apologizing for bringing me into."

I sighed. “Do you know who is here?”

He showed me his phone, clicking a picture from a text chain. It was a grainy, black and white, security camera image, but the faces of my two protection officers were recognizable enough.

“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay…”

“Security?”

I nodded. “Is there– Is there some way I could just…? Not see them?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I just have to call back and let the gate know if they should be let in or not.”

I was quiet for a while, mulling it over. The implication of essentially running away and hiding in a foreign palace was not lost on me, and as he was a prince, I imagined it was also not lost on Harry. The fact that he was still willing to let me do what I wanted was… touching, honestly.

“Okay.” I nodded to myself. “Do it.”

He smiled, got up, kissed my forehead, and quickly left the room again.

“Go back to sleep.” He called back.

Smiling, I laid back down and pulled the blankets over me. It was a little while later that Harry came back to bed. As we were both awake, he didn’t get too close again.

“Any… problems?”

“No.” He assured me. “They were a little pissed, concerned, too, I think. But it’s not like there’s anything they can do.” He sighed. “My head of security did call and tried to give me a lecture about it, but I told him I was too sleepy to pay any attention, so I think he gave up.”

I turned on my side, facing him. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

He laid on his side as well, facing me. “That’s it, I’m instituting a rule. No apologizing.” He smiled. “…Though, I do have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What is the… plan? Exactly? What– what do we do when they come back? I mean, you’re obviously welcome to stay as long as you want… but, the press will start asking questions eventually… And your boyfriend will come back from his business trip eventually… What then?”

“I…” I gulped. “I guess… I guess I’ll go home at some point. I just don’t know when.”

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be easier to just call your parents and let them know?” He asked. “So they don’t worry.”

Feeling a strange knot on my throat I reached out with a hand to touch the stitch line in the pillow case.

“I guess…” I sighed, trying to ease the knot. “I guess part of me wants them to feel a little lost… just for a while… just so they know how it feels to have a lot of questions and no answers.” I said, biting my lip then to try and stop the annoying desire to cry. “Is that… childish?”

“No.” His hand found mine, and held it softly. “Actually, it makes me even happier to be helping now.”

When I woke up a few hours later, he had his arms around me.

The room was still dark, quiet, there was nothing inside that reminded me that anyone else in the universe existed beyond him and I, so every part of my body just wanted to lay back into his embrace; to feel his breath in my neck and let the chills all over my body remind me I was alive.

It was easy to fall asleep again, feeling more at peace and safer than I had in months.

When I woke up next, it was bright outside, and the bed was emptier by my side. I felt disappointed, and the moment I did it was hard not to hate myself. So I kicked the covers and went to the bathroom, washed my face, and changed out of his shirt into my own tank top, just so I could say I wasn’t wearing pajamas anymore. As I climbed down the stairs, it downed on me this -- the previous night, technically -- was the first time he saw me without makeup. And weirdly, it hadn’t felt… well, weird. It just felt as natural as my real face was.

Downstairs, I arrived just in time to see him burn his hand slightly on the stove, curse loudly, and suck on his finger as he stared daggers into a frying pan.

“Good morning.” I said, amused. “Need help?”

“Oh, morning.” He replied, smiling. “No, just forgot that trying to fix a pancake that folded wrong with your bare hands is a bad call… you like pancakes?”

“Sure.” I pointed at his fridge. “May I?”

“Please, make yourself at home.”

I got a couple ice cubes and wrapped them in a piece of plastic wrap.

“Here,” I said, placing it inside his hand, with the injured finger touching most of its surface, “keep it like this for a little while.”

He smiled. “Thanks… uhm, how–how did you sleep?”

I took a seat at the table, bringing one leg up to hold it. “Good… better than in a long time, actually.”

I didn’t look at him as I said it, but I figured being honest was the least I could give him.

“…shit!”

He hurriedly flipped a pancake with the help of a spoon just before it got too brown.

“Have you done this before?” I asked, grinning.

“Oh, of course.” He replied, sarcastic. “That’s why it looks so seamless. Was it the hand injury or the pile of failed attempts that gave away my expertise?”

I looked at where he was pointing – a plate in the sink, filled with half folded, crooked, burnt pancakes –, and laughed.

“Okay, maybe I should take over, then.”

I approached, reaching for the wooden spoon.

“No, no! You’re my guest! Sit down and relax!”

“Relax to the sound of curses and the smell of burnt skin? I don’t think so.” I joked, forcibly holding on to the spoon and pushing him out of the way with a hand to his ribs now, trying to ignore the feel of his waist in my hand. “Go on, I insist. Why don’t you make us some coffee?”

“Alright.” He allowed. “But I want it on the record that I tried being a good host.”

“You’re a fine host, Your Royal Highness.” I giggled, rolling my eyes.

“Thank you.” He said, sounding mockingly touched. “But I strive for greatness, Your Royal Highness. So I’ll attempt to have been promoted to fantastic host by the end of your stay at Nottingham Cottage Inn.”

I laughed, slowly adding more batter to the frying pan. “You’re ridiculous… do you have a spatula?”

“How do you even know how to cook?” He asked, opening a drawer. “You’re making the rest of us, royals, look bad.”

“Not all. Just you British lot.” I teased. “Let me guess, you had a cook?”

He handed me a spatula, looking slightly outraged. “You didn’t?!”

“God, it’s like you forget how different most royal families are from the British–”

“Okay, I get it, the world pays more attention to us,” he said, hands up in the air, “but royal culture, if we can call it that, is the same. Upper class never wants to do things, they hire people to do things.”

“Well,” I sighed. “I guess you’re right. And to be fair, my father did grow up with a cook. And to be fairer, we had one sometimes. But my mother was born a commoner, she was the first commoner to marry into the Savoy royal family.”

“Really?”

“Yes… She’s had to earn the respect of the people, and by all accounts, it wasn’t easy.” I told him, flipping the pancake with a flip of the spatula.

“Women coming out of nowhere into the monarchy is never seen as a good thing, no matter where you’re from.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eyes, wondering if he was thinking of his own mother. “No… I think people are always ready to hate women, no matter the setting, but particularly on the public sphere… but my mother has always had this… gift for reading people. She knows how to identify the motives behind most situations, and how to read people’s intentions rather than just reacting to their words or actions. So she knew what the public expected her to be, and she knew how to play that role.”

He grinned. “How does that lead to you not having a cook?”

“She was who she had to be for the press and the public… but she was herself in her own home. And in her home, she wanted her children to be raised like she was. Self-sufficient, independent, skilled.”

I looked at him, laying the spatula down for the pancake to finish cooking before I continued.

“So we had staff, sure, but she from the moment I was born she made the rules clear. Us kids were to make our own beds and put our own toys and clothes away, and no one was supposed to help us. And we were properly punished if we left something to be done or did something half-assed. And cooking was part of it. She made time to cook, and she demanded dad made time to cook with her. And as we grew up, we were supposed to help, too.”

I picked up the spatula, put the pancake with the others on a plate, and started another.

“There were exceptions, days when they both had too much work, and we had to be cared for by the nanny and cook, but it was… rare.” I sighed. “As we grew up, it got harder. Dad became king, grandpa retired, they both became busier… So with boarding school, and university, it got harder, too. But sundays are still our family dinner days. If we’re home from school, or on a holiday, we get home and help our parents cook and have dinner together.”

I looked at him, who was watching me intently.

“It’s nice,” I smiled, “it’s an easy way to spend time together and mom was right, it did teach us independence… University was much easier because of it.”

I flipped the pancake on the pan with a flip of my wrist.

He sighed. “Okay, now you’re just showing off.” I laughed. “Your mom seems smart… and impressive.”

I nodded. “She is… or, was, I guess.”

He approached, leaning against the kitchen cabinet next to the stove.

“Has she–has she improved, at all?”

I sighed. “Kind of… she’s not hiding in her room, anymore. At least not all the time. That’s something, right?”

He gave me a sad smile. “It’s something… is it enough?”

Just as I was gathering up the courage to tell him about taking over her work, there was a knock at the door.

“You should go upstairs.” He whispered.

“Why?”

“I’m not expecting anyone.” He told me, eyeing the direction of the door warily.

“Oh.” I said, laying the last pancake on the plate and turning the stove off. “You think it’s–?”

“If it’s for you again, do you want me to send them away?”

Heart pounding in my chest, mouth dry, I nodded, “…yes.”

He nodded, once. “Go upstairs.”

I did as he said, as quietly as I could, sitting at the last step and leaning towards the lower floor to overhear.

“Ah, hello. Your Royal Highness.” The voice was easy to recognize.

“…Hello.” Harry replied, suspiciously, but as politely as ever.

Beyond the door, Auguste’s voice was stern, polite, and calm. “I’m here for Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte, if you’d be so kind.”

“Hm…” Harry hummed for a long time. “Who should I say is calling?”

“Her private secretary, Auguste Authier.”

“Right. Excuse me one moment, si vous plait.”

I smiled at his French as I heard the door close. He waited barely three seconds before opening the door again.

“Sorry, Monsieur Authier, but the Crown Princess is unavailable at the moment.”

Auguste was silent for longer than it was normal for him. “Unava–? Did you even–? Have you–?” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sir. Would you mind if I talked to the Crown Princess directly?!”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry, I meant oui.”

I covered my mouth with a hand just as a chuckle escaped me at his loud, over pronunciation of ‘oui’.

“Sir.” Auguste repeated, now less politely. “Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte is the heir to the throne of Savoy and as her private secretary I was sent on orders from her father, the King! Her safety and wellbeing is a matter of national security and seeing as her protection detail lost contact with her more than twelve hours ago an international crisis brews by the minute.”

“Woah.” Harry said, unmoved. “That sounds serious.”

“It is! And you may understand, I’m sure, how concerned her family has been!”

“I do understand. Question. How do you know she’s here?”

“How–?” Auguste stuttered. “We know she is!”

“Okay. How?”

“Her phone’s last GPS location was here.”

“Was it here, or was it the street outside?” Harry replied. “Because from there she could have gone anywhere. Hypothetically speaking.”

“Sir, I–” Auguste sighed. “I’ve been in touch with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth’s Senior Security Advisor, whom I met last year during Savoy’s royal tour of the UK. He was able to inform me that last night you left your residence and re-entered with the Crown Princess, who was then signed in–”

“But did she?” Harry asked. “Or was it a friend of mine using her passport? I mean, how can you be sure?”

“I– Well–” Auguste stuttered. “That’s ludicrous.”

“Is it?”

“Sir, if the Crown Princess isn’t produced I will be forced to report this to His Majesty King Phillippe and we may be forced to contact the proper authorities.”

“That’s an interesting point.” Harry granted. “Why haven’t you? I mean, if you are truly concerned for her safety and wellbeing, shouldn’t that have been your first course of action? Christ, man, she might have been kidnapped! Interpol must be warned!”

There was a long silent pause.

“Or could it be,” Harry went on, “that you are aware that she is probably alright and just doesn’t want to speak to you?”

Another long pause. I went down a few steps to get closer to their voices.

“Are you–” Auguste cleared his throat. “Are you able to confirm that the Crown Princess is… well?”

Harry waited a while, likely considering his choices, before answering.

“I think Marie-Margueritte is doing better than even she knows.”

“Could you, please, alert her that her parents wish to speak to her?” Auguste added. “They are… worried.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but I assume he must have nodded because Auguste seemed to be satisfied.

“Thank you.” He said, and next thing I heard was the sound of the door closing again.

I was pensive, biting my nails when I heard steps and looked up to find him standing in front of me.

“I’m going to assume you heard his message.”

I nodded.

Harry climbed the stairs and sat by my side in the steps, slowly; he sighed.

“He’s a character.” He said. “Intense.”

I smiled, nodding; quiet still.

“Wasn’t he your… dad’s aide? Or Louis? Or something?”

“He’s been trained under Charles Clemment Montennon for nearly the past decade.” I told him, who seemed intrigued. “Montennon is my father’s private secretary.”

“Oh, okay. So the monarch’s secretary has been training that guy to be the next monarch’s secretary for the past decade.”

I nodded. “Louis was twelve when he was hired… he didn’t need a secretary, so Auguste would just study under Montennon and understand the workings of the family… Later on he became more hands on with him, when he went to University… but he was meant to become his full time secretary after he was done with his studies and started working as a royal officially.”

Harry nodded, “And now…?”

I sighed. “And now I’m the next monarch. So my private secretary has been chosen for me.”

“What happened to… the other one?”

“Cadie.” I smiled at my hands, shrugging. “I’m not sure. She was transferred.”

He gave me another few moments of silence and peace before leaning in and saying, “Pancakes?”

Grinning, I nodded, so he got up and offered me his hand, which I didn’t have to think twice about taking.

--- ---- ---

We had breakfast as Harry told me about his childhood – about his favorite cartoons, about his cook and the pork chops he’d make whenever Harry had a bad day, and about lying about how his day was when he just wanted to eat that.

After, when he asked what I wanted to do, I asked what he would have been doing if I wasn’t there. He confessed he had some work to do, so I convinced him to do it as if I hadn’t invaded his house asking for sanctuary. It took some insistence, but I managed to convince him I could be quite happy in his room watching something on the TV.

I spent about twenty minutes scrolling through the Netflix options before I decided to click on the first episode of Orange is the new Black, which I’d heard good things about, but hadn’t started yet. There was a red bar in the thumbnail of the episode, which meant Harry had watched it, so I thought I could talk to him about it later.

I went downstairs a while later when I could smell something incredibly nice and noises in the kitchen. Harry was making chicken curry -- from a box, he justified -- and told me to toss a salad. I did so as I asked him about work, and he told me about the reports he had to read regarding one of the charities he was patron of, which were boring -- he preferred the in-person work but recognized the research was important --, and the speech he had to write for an opening of a homeless initiative.

We ate lunch as I told him about my own experiences with charity work, my first speech on a solo engagement, and how much easier I found doing this kind of work from America.

“Because it was just about the work, not about the press opportunity.” I told him, describing visits to an elderly care center, and winter material donation drives.

We sat at the table long after we were done eating, and ended up spending almost half the afternoon just talking to each other about our own experiences. I did the dishes as he dried them, and then he had to hop in to a conference call about work, so I returned upstairs for more Netflix. Instead of watching anything else, though, I ended up taking a comfortable nap.

I woke up a while later feeling safe, cared for, at peace. So I just stretched and continued to watch the show. Halfway through the second episode, the phone rang. I paused to try and overhear, just in case it was someone else looking for me, but Harry seemed to be exchanging friendly words with someone he knew, so I went back to Piper’s struggle.

When the episode was over, I jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, realizing the sun was setting by now. Harry was on the couch, his laptop on his lap, but his eyes unfocused on the wall.

“Okay, so, Daya and that baby-faced guard… that’s gonna end badly, right?” I asked, sitting on top of my leg in the armchair, facing him, “I mean, I know it’s an edgy show, but it’s legally rape. Even if it’s consensual, he’s a guard and she can’t consent as an inmate.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“Orange is the New Black. Have you seen it?”

His expression softened as he grinned. “Oh, yeah. Great show.”

“Yeah, and what about Alex?! I can see the show is trying to get me to want them to get together, but she’s engaged and as much as I may or may not dislike Jason Biggs, Alex is the whole reason Piper is in jail!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t see any of those characters making good choices in the near future.”

There was something off about his look, or about the way his smile didn’t fully stretch out as it usually did.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Something with work?”

He sighed, shutting his laptop and putting it to the side. “My brother called.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, you being here could be… misconstrued.”

“…I–” I stuttered. “How does he even–?”

“He heard from my grandmother’s security advisor, who was asked to interfere on behalf of… your parents.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling… embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He added. “I told my brother is none of his business… for what’s worth.”

I smiled, a little sad. “Did he want me to… leave?”

“He offered for you to stay at his place.” He told me. “He, Cath and the kids are in Norfolk. He said you’d be more comfortable there, and it’s true, they have more room–”

“I don’t want room.” I interjected, a little too forcefully. I felt my cheeks warm. “I mean–I’m comfortable enough here.”

He smiled, a little more honestly now. “And I suspect if you were in his place he could authorize whomever to enter, so you couldn’t exactly–”

“Escape.”

We were quiet for a moment. His eyes focused on me, intently, and he seemed to think something over for a few seconds before getting to his feet and sitting at the coffee table, turned to me. He held my hand in his.

“Mary–”

There was a knock at the door, so we both jumped. He brought a finger to his lips, in a gesture for me to stay silent, as he walked to the front window, and delicately pushed out just a little bit of the curtains. He looked out for barely one second before coming back to me.

“It’s your mother.” He whispered.

“…what?! No!” I whispered back, confused. “She hasn't left Corsilla since we relocated there after the funeral. She’s– She wouldn’t–”

“Mary.” He repeated, holding my hand. “Your mother is at the door. What do you want me to do?”

With my heart pounding, I thought back to the despair of the funeral, to the questions, to the agony of needing answers, of needing help for the planning, and having to go through it all alone. I thought of my mother’s glassy eyes, looking over me whenever I said or asked anything.

I got to my feet, shaking my head.

Harry understood enough. “Go upstairs.”

I turned to go, but turned around to him again.

“What?!” He pressed, whispery still, anxious.

“My mother. She can be… tough.”

“Okay.”

“No, really… She’s… Insistent. And… and she can seem judgemental, but it’s because she cares! And-and she can make you feel like–”

“Marie.” He stopped me, holding on to my shoulders. “I’m fine. Go upstairs.”

“What I mean is I know in normal circumstances she’d love you, I know she would–”

He gently pushed me towards the stairs just as another knock sounded on the door.

“And don’t speak in French with her!” I warned as he left. “Your accent is not great–”

Hesitating for only a second, I turned around again and left. I stood at the top of the stairs, like I had when Auguste had come, straining my ears to overhear the door being opened just as she knocked one more time.

“Hello.” Harry greeted. “Your Majesty. What a surprise.”

“Your Royal Highness.” My mother’s voice was low, polite, it was difficult to hear. Her accent was a little more discernible than mine. “How are you today?”

“Good, ma’am. Thank you. And you?”

“I could be better, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Harry replied. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Surely you don’t need to ask… May I be invited in?”

There was a pause.

“It’s been a long trip and I could use some water.” My mother added.

“Of course.” Harry told her, closing the door next, so I assumed she’d come in. “Please excuse the–mess. And the lack of space.” He said. “As you know, it’s just me, so I don’t need a lot of room.”

“It’s charming.” She said. “Reminds me of the home I grew up in.”

“…So, would you like cold or room temperature water?”

“Whatever’s easier.” My mother replied, now sounding closer. I overheard the sound of heels on Harry’s stone floor.

“Here you go.” There was a silent, awkward pause. “Would you like to sit? I can take this away… Sorry, I was doing some work.” I heard noises as he seemed to rush around the living room.

“It’s quite alright. I don’t need to sit.” My mother told him. “I never got the chance to thank you for attending my son’s funeral, sir.”

“Please, call me Harry… and, ma’am, actually…you did.”

“I–?” She stuttered, slightly. “Oh. Good. I wasn’t–Good.”

“…I was happy to attend, I–I mean, not happy. That’s not what I–what I mean to say is I liked Louis a lot. There was never a question about attending, for me, that is.”

There was another pause; my heart was beating louder in my chest.

“So, my daughter. Is she upstairs?” The question came so naturally I was impressed Harry didn’t just answer.

“…She’s not available right now.”

It was a different tone he had used with Auguste. Less amused. More… sincere. Apologetic.

“That’s not up to you.” On her end, my mother’s tone suffered a dramatic change from polite to definite. Fatalist.

“No, it isn’t.” Harry replied. “It’s up to her.”

I heard her heels on the stone again, quicker this time. “I thank you for your concern, Harry, but this is a family matter.”

There was more noise – more steps, these heavier.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is my house.” He said, sounding closer to me now, “I’m sorry, I am, but I must insist you can’t just… go where you’re not invited.”

I forced a breath into my lungs, nervous. As she also sounded closer, it seemed obvious my mother had tried to climb up the stairs before Harry stopped her.

I knew my mother. His tone was not something she would appreciate. Being told where she could and could not go even less so.

“I appreciate I am in your home, and I am trying very hard to offer you the politeness and manners that requires… Harry.” She said, slowly, and now, coldly, adding his name as a last, throwaway thought. “But I am the Queen of Savoy. And my daughter is the future Queen of Savoy. This… whatever it is that this is… it is above you in many more ways than one. You are outranked and meddling in issues that you have no business in. One phone call from me and this can be blown up in ways that will have your family’s reputation reeling generations from now and rest assured I will make sure that the world knows the fault lays at your feet.”

There was a long, tense silence. Breathless, I stepped back, into Harry’s room, trying to hide from view as I imagined she’d come up any minute now.

When Harry’s voice came up again, it was smaller than before – something I did not fault him for – but it was, impressively, calm and confident, somehow.

“I do not contest any of what you just said, ma’am.” He started, slowly. “But nevertheless… this is my home, and you cannot go upstairs.”

Another long, breath-stopping, silent pause.

“Marie-Margueritte!” My mother shouted, strident, louder than I had heard her in years. I jumped back, scared, heart beating faster, wondering if she would show up behind me. “Viens ici maintenant!”

‘Come here now!’, she demanded in French.

“Ma’am!” Harry replied, louder too, firmer. “Please refrain from yelling in my house.”

Under her breath, my mother said something in French I couldn’t hear, but sounded well enough like words I had been raised not to use.

“Do you realize, monsieur, the danger of this?!” She asked him, rispid now, all commoner, her accent flaring up, “You are harboring an heir to a foreign throne in your home and precluding her from contacting any of her compatriots and family. This is enlèvement! Kidnapping!”

She went a little longer about interpol and international law and the dangers to diplomacy before allowing Harry any room to reply.

“The Crown Princess is where I draw the line, sir! She’s not something you can interfere with!” She told him. “I don’t know what part of this is fun to you, but unlike yours, her life is now about bigger things than… passing pleasure.” The last two words she added with a note of disgust in her voice. “Not to mention I will remind you that she is taken! I cannot imagine her boyfriend, practically her fiancé already, Christopher Ratté, would be pleased to know of this. You are lucky he is not the one you have to answer to as I assure you he would not be so contained as me.” She paused, and I could hear her loud, tired breathing from up the stairs. “He is meant to be the Consort to Savoy and Margueritte, his Queen-to-be, Savoy’s Queen-to-be, belongs at home, with her family, fiancé and people, not here, with… whoever it is you are to her.”

“Are you done, ma’am?” Harry asked, slowly.

“No, I am not done, sir!” She replied, louder still. “You clearly do not care about the consequences of your actions, but unlike you, as the heir to the throne, Margueritte cannot simply throw all of her responsibilities away for a few days of fun with her British boyfriend.”

One second of silence. Then two. Then Harry’s voice, calm, low, but outraged.

“Do you even remember she’s your daughter anymore?”

My mother scoffed, “Excuse me?”

“The Crown Princess, the Queen-to-be, the heir to the throne, the future Queen… it’s like you forget that she is your daughter.”

“I am quite aware of who my daughter is.”

“Are you?!” He asked, louder, “Because I am not sure! I don’t know who you think you raised, ma’am, but I do know my friend, that’s who she is to me, by the way, my friend, is not the kind of person to do the things you have just tried to use to get some sort of reaction out of me… Frankly, it’s offensive, and I do not even know you. I cannot imagine what it must be like to hear such things from one’s own mother! Now allow me to clarify as it seems so important to you to know, my friend asked me for a place to stay, I gave it to her. That is all that is happening here, and as to the diplomatic risk to Savoy and England, I can promise you this, I do not care one bit. That’s the good thing about not being an heir. My friend asked me for a favor and I don’t have to give it a second thought no matter how many people try to tell me to.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself for someone who–”

“I am not done, ma’am.” He interrupted, loudly. “I allowed you to speak whatever it is you wanted, now is my turn.”

“How dare you accuse me of being a bad mother–?!”

“Twice now I have had to comfort your daughters because of the ways you have chosen to deal with your grief.” He told her, interrupting again. “I assure you I am the last person who would ever try to school anyone on what healthy healing is, I learned that one doing the opposite, but I did not have kids counting on me.”

“I am quite aware of my children!”

“Are you?! Then, pray tell, why is your daughter hiding in my house right now?! She is going through great lengths to put space between herself and you and the only thing that seems to concern you are the consequences to your country–”

“I have to!” My mother shouted. “You’re not an heir, so allow me to teach you, this is what it means to have a horse in the race! Every decision, every action, every little sleepover at a friend’s house,” she added, sarcastic “could be what sets off the fall of a centuries old house of cards.”

“Then let it fall!” Harry replied, exasperated. “I am talking about your children! I don’t know if you remember, but you had more than one!”

In the silence that followed, I realized for the first time my knees seemed to have buckled under my weight. I was crouching in place, tears falling freely as I struggled not to sniff and make a sound, suffocating slightly.

“I am sorry, I–” Harry cleared his throat, sounding calmer now. “I am sorry for yelling, I am. And I assure you I sympathize with your… pain, but–”

“What do you know of pain?!”

“I know quite enough.”

My mother sounded… more strained than I had ever heard. Her voice was… breaking. Harry, in his end, sounded sterner than ever.

“Which is how I know that…that trying to pretend it isn’t there helps no one. It–it just pushes people away.” He sounded calmer now. “She’s hurting. She’s been hurting and you weren’t there and she noticed. Now she needs to be here. So let her.”

I heard a sniff, but I didn’t know if it was mine or not.

“…or else you might find yourself grieving her, too, for the rest of your life while she’s standing right next to you.”

Another long time in silence, before I heard Harry’s sigh.

“Now, ma’am, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave.”

I heard my mother’s heels grow distant until the sound of the door opening and closing. I let out a long breath I was unaware I had been holding.

At the front end of Harry’s room, I spied through the curtain just in time to see her car drive away towards Kensington Palace’s gates.

I tried to clean my face of the tears, but they kept coming. I heard the sound of Harry’s steps as he made his way up the stairs, so I hurried into the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t see me cry one more time, but I couldn’t stop it still.

Unaware of how or when, I found myself inside his dry bathtub, back to the wall and falling down to sit, hugging my knees in front of me.

He knocked on the door, tentatively.

“Mary?” His voice was calmer, softer now.

“I’ll be right out!” I replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Is it okay if I come in?” He asked, and soon later I heard the door creek open.

I wanted to answer, to tell him he doesn’t have to, I’m fine, I swear I am! But much like all the times I wanted to demand answers from my father and his advisors, I couldn’t find my voice. A painful knot had lodged itself on my throat.

“Hey.” Harry said, whispery, pulling the shower curtain all the way to the side slowly. “Is it okay if I come in?”

I nodded with my head, eyes closed, avoiding his – still trying to stop him from seeing me breaking down one more time.

I heard him step inside and felt as his legs hit mine as he managed to sit in the small tub.

I pressed my palms to my eyes as the tears fell freely still.

“I’m sorry, I’m being silly.” I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. “You’re the one she yelled at.”

“You’re not.” He replied, serious, so sure of himself I started to believe him. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I just… She was talking about you like–” he stopped himself.

I removed my hands from my eyes to find him sitting right in front of me, cross-legged, scratching his hair in exasperation.

I pressed the inside of my pointed fingers to the nail of my thumb, biting my lip, trying to call my breaths.

I braced myself and tried to steal my heart for a confession.

“No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”

His large hands covered mine as he pulled me towards him, determinedly. He pulled me into his chest to cradle my head in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around me tightly, one hand cupping my face as he caressed my hair.

I cried again, ruining his shirt. It was his warmth, his openness, all of him that made me knock down all my walls and allow my heart to break, knowing, for the first time since we had lost my brother, that it would be okay.

Harry was there.

--- ---- ---

[A/N: I knooooow, a lot of emotions going on here. But Maggie wouldnt stand up to her family so somebody had to, right?! Dont worry, she will eventually. Let me know your thoughts?????? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING IT MEANS A LOT!!!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years ago

Text

Illicio 15/?

Part 14

I suppose it was clever of you, to send this one specifically. I have never been too fond of his kind. Too... volatile, if you'll excuse the little joke.

But I'll move on. I'm a grown woman, and I know perfectly well when I've lost a battle. It isn't even that big of a tangle in the grand scheme of things, now that I think about it.

And see, that's exactly what I wanted to talk about, Jon. How would you say it?

Statement of Anabelle Cane, regarding inevitability.

"So... where did you find her?" Tim asks, as he walks around a corner. It opens to a long corridor, with tasteful hardwood floors and sensible faded ochre walls. There's a little table by the wall anywhere between five and a hundred steps in, right below a mirror that's usually round, but sometimes is triangular or square. Right now it's eight-sided, and Tim looks into it to fix his hair- and his face. The latter melts a little if he's not paying attention, but is easy enough to mold back into shape.

"Roaming the tunnels. She was a bit lost. Everyone is, down there." Helen's voice echoes all around him, and his headache gets the slightest bit worse. There's no telling how long he's been here for, but at least in her corridors he can pretend the confusion is only a side effect of Helen around him.

"So you thought it would be a good idea to make her into dinner." There's a single cobweb stretched between the little table's legs, and Tim presses a finger to it like he's done to the others, watching it curl and shrivel as it chars to nothing. "Or were you actually trying to get her out and throw her at us?"

"Burn a couple more of those, and I might be able to tell you." Helen's voice is clearer now. Bitter. Tim nods grimly.

"I'm going to need you to let me out somewhere else."

"Better if you don't say the name, I think." Helen sighs. "Keep walking."

So Tim does. There's still plenty to be confused about. The Desolation rages inside him, feeding from the raw loss burning a hole through his chest

Sasha's dead.

No, he corrects himself. She's been dead for a while now, years. The thing Jon killed was just that; a monster, no matter how many times Tim called it Sasha's name. No matter how many times Tim found himself loving it.

The fire at his core burns a bit hotter.

He keeps trying to tell himself he was loving the memory of Sasha and not the beast, but is there really any memory left of her? Logically speaking -ugh, he sounds like Jon-, he knows there have to be. He knew Sasha -loved Sasha- long before the table came, but when he tries to conjure them, all he sees is the long-limbed thing, the ghost of its touch on Tim's skin sending shocks of nausea through his stomach.

"If you're going to puke, please wait until I let you out."

"Feeling vindictive, aren't we?" Tim composes a smirk even as he takes a deep breath to fend the nausea off, leaning heavily against the little table. His reflection on the half moon-shaped mirror looks decrepit with exhaustion.

"Aren't you?" Helen asks, and Tim's knuckles whiten around the table's edges.

There was a spiderweb on that table, and there's another on Jon's lighter.

"You have no idea."

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

Calling the fog is easier now.

Tim hasn't been home in a while, and Gerry hasn't sought him out either after he lashed out at him. Which is... what he wanted, he supposes.

It's much better to work like this, now that even Peter has opted for leaving him alone. Without interruptions, without the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Lately, he has started to suspect even the Eye's gaze slips off of him at times.

It makes him wonder if Jon can still See him. If he even tries anymore.

There's probably no answer to that question that could make him feel... something, not anymore. Martin shakes his head, hoping to dislodge the thought and go back to his work. There's things to do, including a new statement to record that Peter must've slipped in before he arrived. He's getting close to being done with this, at least.

Will there be anything left of him once he doesn't need to be lonely?

Will there be anyone left who cares?

All he can see when he tries to look into his future is the comforting, cool embrace of the fog. It's not a surprise, not really. Fear has ever been a constant in Martin's life.

A tape recorder clicks to life by his elbow, and Martin sighs. "Yes, alright. I'll just... Martin Blackwood, assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute. Recording statement... what is it? 0131305..."

The feeling is... odd, he decides after he goes through Judith O'Neill's statement barely giving the words a thought, as fast as he can without mangling it, because the sound of his own voice is grating to his ears.

"It's... I know I should feel guilty, you know?" he asks the tape recorder, resting his chin on his hand. "I mean, this is this person's worst moment, that she trusted us with, to preserve and protect. And- and I'm just trying to get it over with."

Click. Martin feels his lips curl into a small smile. Who knew he could still do that?

"Yes, I guess so. But it still doesn't feel like I'm doing enough. Not that it ever has, but still..." He sighs.

It doesn't really matter, does it? All Jon and Gerry need is the information, not his thoughts on it, not his- just the facts. That's what they want, and- and since he finished this quickly enough, he should be able to sneak down into the Archives and drop the tape at his old desk before Gerry can try to come get it.

He doesn't have to see the hurt on his face when he sends him away again.

The door to the office closes silently behind him as he steps into the corridor to start the way down to the Archives, and he's immediately assaulted with the pressing sensation of other people's existence. Martin doesn't quite Know about every person in the Institute, but he can feel their presence like one would feel the heat from standing too close to a fire; a warning to get away, before you end up burned. Luckily for everyone, life in the Institute seems to be contained at the upper levels, the building completely silent once he reaches the bottom floor.

The old break room calls to him like a siren at sea, but Martin ignores it. There's nothing for him there anymore, other than a brightly painted mug pushed to the back of the cupboard to be forgotten, like the painful memory of the times when there were no fears of monsters, and the biggest worry in Martin's mind was a fake resume.

This is why he hates coming down here, he thinks with a sigh. It's just... logically, he knows they were never going to stay that way, planning birthday parties and getting to know each other, the little Archive team. He knows they were doomed the moment they signed their transfer to their new department. But still... Better times, less complicated, and- there's a woman there.

More importantly, a woman he doesn't recognize. She's tall and dark skinned, with tightly curled hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head, her sharp, deep brown eyes examining what Martin recognizes with a muted sense of alarm as a scorch mark shaped like footsteps on the polished hardwood floor.

"Excuse me? You can't be here." Martin says after a deep breath. The tape recorder in his hand clicks on again; great, now Jon is going to hear him chasing away his meal. "Did you come to give a statement? I'm afraid we're not taking new ones at the moment."

There's a pang of nausea at the lie, but Martin ignores it. If he can keep one more person from tangling in with this-

"I gave it a while ago. Haven't been too afraid ever since." The woman shrugs after turning to face him. She's wearing a black tank top with a stylized ghost on it, that Martin would once have smiled at. "I'm only waiting for Melanie. You're Martin?"

He blinks. "You... know me?"

The woman's lips twitch. "Jon talked a lot about you while he was staying at my house."

Martin frowns in confusion, until it all clicks in his mind. The ghost, the statement, Melanie, Jon. The fact that he couldn't feel her at all before practically running into her.

"Huh. I- I didn't know Melanie-Georgie and Jon-Georgie were the same person." Martin feels the air around him cool a little more when he gives her a second, evaluating look. She's beautiful, and she looks confident and calm even in this place of terror. Jon... Jon really has a type, Martin thinks as his mind conjures the image of a pair of blue-green eyes glaring up at Peter in defiance.

"Small world and all that." Georgie shrugs. She frowns then, after she gives him a once-over of her own and apparently finds him lacking. Which is... not ideal, probably, but Martin can't bring himself to care. "Are you alright?"

"I am. Thank you." Martin looks away, because her eyes are nothing like Jon's asides from being a similar dark brown in color, but Martin finds himself thinking of them anyways. "Could I ask you to let Jon know I left this here? Or- or Gerry. He'll do too."

He can feel Georgie's eyes on him for another, unbearably long minute, before she speaks again. "Why don't you tell them yourself?"

"I'm- we're not really... talking. Not anymore." He's aware he doesn't owe her an explanation, but it's... why lie to a stranger, specially one that doesn't care?

"Ah." Georgie's gaze falls for a moment, before she lifts it back to Martin's face. "Could I ask why? Jon speaks very well of you. And from what Melanie tells me-"

"Actually, I'd rather you didn't." Martin cuts in. There's a pang of irritation at his stomach, and he feels the Lonely receding just the slightest bit. Not good, not- "With all due respect, it's none of your business, or Melanie's. Or anyone's, really."

Georgie's eyebrows climb up her forehead. "Wow. Okay. I'm sorry, I suppose. I just thought-"

"You don't know me." Martin says it more for himself than for her. She doesn't know him, and she'll forget him the moment he walks away. The so-called "concern" in her voice is just that, a misguided attempt motivated by-

"Well no, but Jon cares for you." She shrugs.

"Jon cares too much, that's the problem." Didn't he hear Tim complain about that years ago, angry and drunk against Jon's desk with Melanie slumped on his side in a similar state? Jon doesn't care until he does, and then you can't tell which one is worse.

Georgie's eyes are still digging into him, so intense Martin has to remind himself she has nothing to do with the Watcher.

"I think it usually ends worse for the ones that care for Jon, actually." And she arches an eyebrow in a gesture Martin has seen Jon made countless times. It's funny, how people pick up traits from the ones they love. He wonders which one of them had the gesture originally, and which one took it in and made it their own.

Has he picked up anything from Jon? The way he pushes his glasses up his nose, or holds his cup of tea? It's... that would be nice, he thinks. That even when he goes into the Lonely, when he's no longer capable of loving Jon -if he still is-, there will be a part of him that remains.

He also wonders if Jon has picked up anything from him, but the thought is cold and faded. Martin has always been on the sidelines, easy enough to forget once you get him out of your way. What would Jon even take?

"-tin?" Georgie's voice reaches him faintly, distorted.

"Maybe." There's a strange echo to his own words, and he can see the wisps of fog curling around him. "But it's good that people care for him anyways."

"What-"

"It's nice to know he won't be alone."

Georgie takes a step towards him, but stops short a second after, as her eyes glaze over for a beat. Her brow furrows in confusion, and she looks around the bullpen, her gaze sliding off of Martin.

"Okay, I'm ready, sorry I- Georgie?" Melanie asks as she comes into the room, frowning when Georgie continues to look around the office. "What's wrong?"

"I... nothing, I guess." Georgie's eyes are still confused. "I just- I could swear I was talking to someone."

Melanie gives the room a once-over of her own and Martin holds his breath, but she doesn't notice him either. Good.

"Huh." Melanie hums in thought for a moment, before her eyes turn mischievous and her lips curl into a grin. "Maybe it was a g-g-g-ghost? I know a pretty girl that does a podcast about that, you should tell her the story."

Georgie huffs a chuckle then, her encounter with Martin already forgotten. "I think I know the one. With the cute girlfriend, right?"

"That's her. Bad taste in food and men, amazing taste in women." Melanie hooks her arm through Georgie's, a pleased, slightly flushed smile on her face as she pulls Georgie towards the door. "Let's go?"

"I- hm. I think I was supposed to tell Jon something." Georgie hesitates a little at the threshold, and Martin's heart skips a bit.

"Ugh, just text him. You'll make his day."

"Don't be mean." Georgie smiles.

"I can live with you on his side or with Gerry on his side, please don't ask me to do both, I'm not strong enough."

Georgie laughs, the sound growing fainter as the door closes and they walk away, leaving Martin behind.

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

Tim stumbles out the door, his head protesting as his body tries to adjust to the change in perspective, which is most definitely not aided by him immediately rolling down half a flight of stairs.

"Would it have killed you to find a something at floor level instead?" Tim grumbles, rubbing at his bruised shin.

"If you find one that's not sealed, feel free to let me know." Helen says dryly, pulling her door closed as Tim glares up at her. "Good luck, dear!"

Tim rolls his eyes, and when he's focused them on the door again it's back to being an old, dusty window through which he can just barely see the street below.

Fine. This is amazing.

A single thread of spider silk pulls at his elbow, and Tim huffs a dry, humorless cackle.

"Done with subtlety, aren't you?" The thread is trying to tug him upstairs, so Tim burns it off before starting in the opposite way.

He can feel the Web trying to wrap itself around him, to obscure his mind and concern him with matters that will take him out of here. Where is Martin? Is he alright? What if he was in Helen's corridors for so long that everyone's gone?

Tim chuckles at the thought as he comes to a stop before a door sealed shut with cobwebs.

Who else could he lose? Sasha's dead, and so is the thing that tricked him into loving it. Danny's gone, his death successfully -but so unsatisfactorily- avenged. Martin continues to slip through his fingers no matter how much he tries, and-

"Just spit it out." Tim freezes when he recognizes his voice, static-y and grainy with the whirr of a tape recorder as background.

"You're not planning on coming back." Jon's voice has the finality of a goodbye, and Tim realizes abruptly that he remembers this conversation. He didn't realize it was being recorded at the time, or he wouldn't sound nearly as put together.

Tim-on-tape laughs, so ugly, so angry that Tim-in-the-flesh flinches.

"That's rich. Do you care now? That's called guilt, Boss"

"Tim-"

"Don't. Stew on it, for all I care. You deserve it."

A sigh, long and tired, before a weak, broken voice.

"I'm so sorry, Tim..."

Tim lets out a sigh of his own, mouthing his next word.

"Good."

Steps crunching on gravel, as Tim walks back into the cheap motel and leaves Jon alone with his thoughts.

It's no wonder the Desolation chose him, all that burning anger boiling just under his skin, the taste of ash on his tongue, the finger pressed down on the trigger to call on destruction like a well-trained dog. So convinced that Jon, who he'd loved so much and who cast him aside without so much as an explanation, was the cause of all his anger. So eager to make him suffer just the same.

"Is that really all you got?!" he shouts out, and his breath comes out in puffs of steam that leave Tim's nostrils burning with the scent of guilt. "Mistress of manipulation, and all you have for me is 'you were angry and a douche'? Because guess what? I still am!"

His hand burns its imprint all the way down to the wood, as the cobwebs shrivel away.

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

I suppose it was clever of you, to send this one specifically. I have never been too fond of his kind. Too... volatile, if you'll excuse the little joke.

But I'll move on. I'm a grown woman, and I know perfectly well when I've lost a battle. It isn't even that big of a tangle in the grand scheme of things, now that I think about it.

And see, that's exactly what I wanted to talk about, Jon. How would you say it?

Statement of Anabelle Cane, regarding inevitability.

Was that good? Did it do something for you?

See, I'm ever so good to you, dear. I know you're on a little 'diet', but one fresh statement can't be too much, can it? Just a single taste, you've been behaving so properly for your team...

But I've strayed from my point again. I do that sometimes, you know? It's a bit hard to focus on a single thing, when everything is so intricately connected! Try following a thread in the weave of a tapestry, see how long it takes you to lose track of it in the big, beautiful picture.

No, what I wanted to talk about, how did I put it? Inevitability?

You're familiar with that, aren't you, Jon? How running and running away only ever brings you back to where you're supposed to be.

I learned of it the first time I ran away from my family home. I had all these grandiose dreams, coming back artfully smeared in dirt, perhaps with a nasty-looking, but perfectly applied gash to my arm or leg, and I would never have to ask for anything again. I would be Anabelle, lost and returned, the greatest treasure my family could ask for.

The house already danced to the beat I drummed, but I wanted more. I wanted things to go my way before I even had to orchestrate them. I wanted things to land on my web, and strangle themselves to death trying to pull themselves out.

It was a good plan, for a nine years old.

I could tell you about the woman, I suppose. Young, and emaciated and lost, weaving herself into a tapestry she could not see, so desperate to feel something that she didn't notice when the syringes began overflowing with many-legged things that scurried and ran through her veins much more effective in soothing her pain and fear than the heroin ever was.

I could tell you how I ran. How I climbed back up my window before my older sister even noticed I was ever missing. How I shook that sleepless night, seeing crawling shadows everywhere, feeling the pinprick of their legs on my skin. I thought the woman was a demon that was sent to scare me into being a nice little girl, to correct me from the nasty schemes I orchestrated to get others in trouble.

You would know, wouldn't you, Jon? The incredible lengths to which a child's mind can go to try and rationalize an encounter like ours.

And it worked, I suppose. For years, I stopped manipulating, I stopped weaving. The urge was still there, and the ability of course. It was almost as though I could see the threads connecting every occurrence with the outcome I wanted, just waiting for me to pull on it the right way. But I didn't. I had seen my punishment, and I would be good, I told myself.

Didn't you do something similar, when you found my little book? You were adorable.

But you see, even though we both tried to run, to break free of the path we were meant to take, we both ended up exactly where we were needed. Don't hate me too much for pulling your strings, dear, just remember there's a bigger puppeteer out there.

And please, don't take this as some sort of grim reminder -everything is always grim with you, isn't it Jon?- that free will is a lie, and we are all just chess pieces moving across a board. That is not what I mean at all!

Free will is a beautiful thing, and so satisfying to have. You specifically have a will of iron, Jon, and that is a high compliment, coming from me. The twists and turns I've had to send you in just make sure you had what you needed to survive! And all just because you were too stubborn to take the path the Eye set for you.

But that is exactly what the beauty of an ineluctable plan is, just to come back to the original subject of my statement. Knowing that your every movement, your every choice is already factored in the grand scheme of things. I find it soothing, don't you? Knowing that no matter how far you stray from the path, you cannot truly ruin anything.

Look at your dear friend. An unwanted variable in my plan for sure, but apparently not to the Mother's one, since I ended up talking to you after all. Perhaps a little earlier or later than I originally should have, but things worked out in the end. They always do.

Perhaps all the players must, at some point, take a look around, and see if they're not standing on a checkered board themselves. I can think of some people specifically, but it wouldn't do to ruin the surprise.

Now, how do you close these things? Your charming little catchphrase… ah, of course.

Statement ends.

"I- you found this?" Jon's voice is a bit shaky as he finally looks up from the paper, and the tape recorder clicks to a stop on its own. "Were you looking for it?"

Tim shrugs. "Not really."

"But then- Tim, why were you at Hill-"

"It's none of your business, alright?" Tim rolls his eyes. "Maybe I just decided I really fucking hate spiders."

After listening to that, he definitely does.

Jon's arachnophobia has never been a secret, but he guesses it makes a lot more sense now. A lot of things do.

He doesn't like any of them.

"Tim-"

"I'm going to leave now."

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

"Tim said you were full of spiderwebs." Jon's voice is calm, quiet.

Helen tilts her head. "Aren't we all?" She asks. It's not in her nature to give straight answers.

"I'm starting to think so." Jon gives a sigh.

It's a fun little tableau they make, each on one side of the desk, between them a tape recorder with a bit of tape still left, a sheet of paper next to it.

"This is how we met," Helen hums thoughtfully. There is no map on the paper, and the statement in the recorder is not hers -about her-, but it still feels painfully, exquisitely familiar. "Back when we were both human."

Jon lets out a little huff of air, like her words are somehow a surprise for him, who could Know it all. "Do you remember how that felt like?"

Helen smiles, feeling her lips curl in on themselves dozens of times. "Do you?"

"A little, at times." Jon lays a hand on the desk, and Helen sees the recorder practically click on and vibrate with the need to go to him. Funny little things. "More, lately. I... having everyone helps."

"That doesn't bode too well for Martin."

"I- it doesn't. But I'm- I wonder if you'd be this far gone, if I hadn't turned you away when you first came to me."

Helen tilts her head, when Jon's eyes fix on her. They don't have the lovely green glow they take when he uses his powers, and they look... sad.

It's not an emotion the Distortion knows how to deal with, because the Distortion shouldn't be dealing with feelings anyways. It's even more puzzling to have it aimed at her.

The part of her that is still Helen -is that all of her? Is that any of her?- feels a pang of grim satisfaction. "Is that what this is, then? Making amends?"

Jon shakes his head slowly, sadly. How can a man exude so much melancholy? Is that what happens, when you care so much?

"Not really. I- we were always going to change, I think. Our only choice is how we do it." He pushes the tape recorder towards her, with a tired smile. "I hear you collect them?"

"Only until it's time." Still, Helen cradles the recorder in her hands. Such a curious thing.

"Time for what?"

"I don't know." Helen shrugs at an angle that should not be quite possible for shoulder joints to give. "Doesn't it frustrate you, Jon?"

He gives a little, choked up laugh. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"All these rules about what should and shouldn't be done. We are power. Why should we be contained?"

Why should they?

Why should they strive to stay human, when that's the very thing that was ripped from them? Why-

"I think... Because I want to be contained." Jon gives his desk a little thoughtful frown, before looking up at her again. "If I'm going to be a monster, I'm going to be one in my own terms."

"How noble of you." Helen arches an eyebrow, and Jon's lips twitch into the ghost of a smile.

"Selfish, really. It's the only thing I have left."

"Didn't she say it wouldn't matter, in the end?" Helen lifts the tape recorder to tuck it in the pocket of her blazer. "The grand scheme of things, and all that?"

"It matters to me."

"So you'll spend the entire journey there being miserable, just for the sake of some moral high ground?"

Jon shakes his head, his lips moving around words he can't quite put together. It's almost a bad joke, the Archivist, tongue-tied.

"If I weren't miserable in this situation, I wouldn't be Jon." He says in the end. "I- maybe the Spider dropped me gift-wrapped at the Eye's front door, yes. But it can't take that from me. It can't take who I am."

"Bit boring, isn't it? Not changing at all, ever?"

"...Yes, I suppose you of all people might find it so."

"Can I still keep the tape?" she asks, clicking the stop button to make the funny little thing sleep again.

Jon sighs. "It's yours."

Helen smiles. "Just until it's time. Cheers, Jon, good luck on your moral crusade."

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

Corruption statements always leave behind a stale, sickly aftertaste. It's not too surprising really, but lately Jon has started to dislike them even more.

It's the way this entity tries to disguise itself as love, as the natural progression of devotion into indiscriminate consumption, parasitism, destruction.

Everything that love isn't supposed to be, everything that-

The Eye pulls urgently at his mind, and Jon is dragged out of his reverie by the sudden Knowledge of sharp blades and singing blood.

Jon sighs, before diving into his desk drawer to pull out his mobile.

"Yeah, I think, um-" the door to his office opens and closes behind him, and Jon's heart races as he tries to force the next words out. "I think you should probably get down h-"

The phone is yanked from his hand, and Jon vaguely registers the sound of the call clicking to an end, far more focused on the edge of the knife that comes to rest against his throat. Right over Daisy's scar, like it's one of those 'cut here' lines, and the thought is much funnier than it should be.

"Hello, lad." Trevor Herbert's breath is musty and bitter, and Jon sighs. This is fine, this is- all he needs is for one of them to get distracted. He broke Breekon before, and Not Sasha too. This is his home terrain, he can-

"Miss us?" Julia's long-nailed, almost clawed hand grips his shoulder tightly and forces him back on his chair. "We have some things to discuss, it looks like," she says, and though her voice is pleasant enough, Jon can hear the underlying growl under it.

"If you give us the right answers, maybe we won't have to check if you're still human enough to bleed." Trevor smirks. Jon looks up at the old man, but everything in him is telling him to keep quiet, to wait for an opening. Hunters are not to be taken lightly, much less as a pack.

"You've got something of ours." Julia stabs a knife of her own right through Barbara Mullen-Jones' statement. "Took it right from under our noses."

"After we saved you from that Stranger puppet and gave you all the information you needed. Very rude to steal our biggest resource." Trevor presses the blade a bit tighter to his neck, but Jon couldn't care less about it anymore.

How could he have been so stupid? He'd thought they were here for him, why come to the Archives if not to kill the Archivist? Something hot and dark and angry starts brewing in his stomach.

"Gerry wasn't yours," he snarls. "You had no right to-" the knife presses deeper, and Jon's mouth snaps shut more out of the Eye's self preservation sense than his own, his mind still reeling with the memory of the pained ghost that asked him for a smoke, just a shadow of the man he-

"You heard that, Julia?" Trevor cackles." 'Gerry'!"

"Seems like you've gotten pretty chummy." Julia leans over, her mouth curled in a sardonic smile. "Pull dear Gerry out every now and then for a tasty statement, don't you?"

Jon's eyes narrow as he tries to ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach. Of course he feeds from Gerry, but it's- he's not like them.

"Where is it?" Trevor snaps at his silence, giving him a shake. The knife breaks skin, not enough to bleed but enough so that Jon feels the sting.

"I set him free." And Gerry came back to him, he's Jon's now, and they are not taking him again.

"You what?" Julia grabs him by the shirt, pulling him up to his feet. Jon comes gladly, his chin held high and holding Julia's gaze. He can see the Hunt in her eyes, but Jon finds that he's not too intimidated, not after Daisy, and definitely not when Gerry's life is on the line.

"You wasted your time coming here." Jon says simply.

"Aren't you feeling ballsy today?" Julia gives him a hard shove, and Jon topples back on his chair. "But we didn't. We can at least get rid of another mouthy monster before we go. You want the honors, old man?"

Trevor shifts his grip on the handle of the knife, a wide, lupine grin spreading over his face. "Don't mind if I do." Jon's lips twitch into a smile, and the two hunters scowl.

"Get away from him." Daisy snarls from the open door to Jon's office, and Trevor and Julia snap around to face her.

"Who- ah. Got yourself a guard dog, didn't you?" Trevor laughs. "Smart bastard."

"More of a lapdog. She's scrawny, isn't she?" Julia goes for a mocking, dismissive tone, but Jon sees the stiffness in her limbs, and the nervous twitch of a muscle on her jaw.

Jon looks at Daisy, and he realizes for the first time just how sickly she looks. The lean frame that wrapped around him in the Buried now appears emaciated, and though Jon can See the boiling presence with too many teeth trying to burst out of her skin, there's no denying what abstaining from the Hunt has done to her.

"Malnourished, more like. Haven't tasted blood in a while, have you?" Trevor asks. "This one will die nicely; you could come with your kind instead."

"Or I could hunt you instead." Daisy takes a step forward, and Jon Sees the hunter boiling even closer to the surface.

"Don't." Julia say simply, when Daisy makes to take another step. Her hand digs into Jon's hair, pulling back to expose his neck. "Or I'll kill your library rat."

"You can try. You better hope you're faster than me, though." Daisy's voice devolves into a low growl, and Julia responds in kind. Trevor says nothing, merely watching the two women face off.

"Do you really think you can take us both?" She asks, tightening her grip in Jon's hair. "You're weak."

"Are you willing to bet your daddy's life on it?" Daisy bares her teeth.

"I'm not her father," Trevor says sullenly, and Jon snorts.

"Are you sure?" Jon asks, and Julia yanks roughly on his head.

"Shut up, I'll-"

"Let's go." Trevor interrupts. Jon gives him a quick glance, an old wolf that has learned to pick his battles.

"Old man-"

"There's no rush. Plenty of monsters to go around, too." Trevor gives Daisy a grin that she responds to with another growl. "Good luck guarding them all."

Julia gives another snarl, letting go of Jon's hair with a harsh shove that has Daisy flinching forward, before she and Trevor make for the door. Daisy stands there like a statue, and Jon feels the tension in the air rising with every passing second, until Trevor and Julia seem to decide to just go around her.

Their stomping footsteps grow fainter and fainter in the distance, Daisy crouches to the floor, her entire frame shaking.

Jon shoots from his chair. "Daisy? Are you-"

"Don't touch me," Daisy snarls, startling Jon. He pulls back the hand he was about to lay on her shoulder.

"Daisy. Listen to me." Jon kneels before her. "Just-"

"They're not gone yet. They're- I could find them. I could take them down." Daisy's shoulders shake even harder, and Jon forces himself to not flinch back.

"The- remember what you said, Daisy. Don't listen to the blood..."

"...Listen to the quiet," Daisy responds after what feels like an eternity. Jon carefully lays his hand on her arm, right above the spot where her nails are digging into her skin. She leans into it, and Jon wraps his other arm around her.

"It's- you're wasting away." Jon squeezes her shoulders, muttering into her hair. "You need to-"

"I'm not going back to that." Very slowly, one of Daisy's arms comes to return the hug.

"Daisy-"

"I hurt people, Jon. You know I did. I almost killed you-"

Jon squeezes harder, as the Eye drops flash after flash into his mind. The last moment of all the people -all beings- whose last view was the Hunt-distorted face of Daisy Tonner. "That was not you. That was the Hunt."

"We're the same."

"No, you're not!" Jon snaps. "You're- it's different, Daisy. You are different. What you were before-"

"I was a monster." Daisy's voice holds a special sort of fragility, and Jon tightens his grip as much as he can.

"There are worse things to be."

They stay there for what feels like hours, until both their breathings slow down, until Daisy's shoulders stop shaking with the urge to chase, and her nails are no longer digging into Jon's shoulder.

"So... did something happen here, or is this just something you two do for fun?" Tim's voice comes from the still open door, and Daisy whips up so abruptly that Jon is just thrown back in a tangle of limbs. "Whoa, tense."

"Tim-" Jon clears his throat as he climbs to his feet. "This is not a good time."

"When is it anymore?" Tim arches an eyebrow. "So?"

"It's noth-" Jon stops himself, sighing at Tim's unimpressed, guarded look. He chooses to trust. It doesn't matter that Tim doesn't trust him back, he- there's a reason for that, and Jon has to live with it. Maybe forever, now. "The hunters came by. Daisy scared them off."

"Top dog, I like it." Tim smirks at Daisy's answering scoff, before turning to face Jon again. "Did they come for you?"

"No, they-" Jon freezes, Trevor's last sardonic remark ringing in his head like a bell.

They're gone. They're gone, and they- Daisy was able to track him down to Michael Crew's house before she even knew the Hunt was in her. Trevor and Julia are both experienced hunters, and they came here for-

Jon shoots out the door, shoving his way past Tim and ignoring Daisy's concerned call, and hers and Tim's footsteps behind him as he rushes up the stairs and out of the institute.

He knows the way to follow like a bird flying South for Winter, a thread of steel pulling at his very core as buildings and street signs rush past the edge of his vision. He doesn't know how long he's ran for, his lungs burn and his legs are tired, -Jon has never been an athlete- but he's getting closer and-

Jon turns a corner and slams against something solid and soft and warm, bouncing back with a huff before his mind registers the concerned blue-green eyes looking down at him, and the shouting in his head comes to a halt.

"You're alright," are the first words Jon can form coherently.

"I- am?" Gerry arches an eyebrow, and Jon laughs with relief before throwing his arms around him. "Jon?" Gerry asks, an arm coming to rest over his shoulders, a hand behind his head.

"Huh, you were right. I owe you a drink I guess." Melanie says, her voice both dry and unimpressed, and Jon flinches back from Gerry's embrace like he's been burned. She rolls her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Of course they were together, they're hunting, how could he have forgotten?

"I- the- at the Institute-" Jon sputters. Melanie's not with the Slaughter anymore, but she wouldn't have let Gerry face the hunters alone. His face starts heating up as the uselessness of his mad dash through the city rains down on him.

"Jon, what happened?" Gerry asks, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Is anyone- shit!" Gerry yanks him and Melanie out of the way, throwing the three of them against the wall just as Tim and Daisy turn the corner at full speed.

"We're here!" Melanie calls out calmly, and the two of them skid a few feet before turning back to face them.

"What the fuck, Jon?!" Tim exclaims, steam shooting from his lips as he pants. Daisy eyes him in a way that makes it fairly clear she's thinking something along the same lines, and Jon wishes for nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Again.

"Uh- yes, I can-"

"Explain why you made us run all the way to Chelsea?!" Tim shouts again.

"Stop yelling at him!" Daisy snarls. She looks considerably better than she did at the Institute, and Jon wonders if chasing after him did something for her. "Jon?"

Jon darts a look around, trying to gauge the general mood. Tim is, of course, furious. Both Gerry and Daisy are giving him mixed looks of worry and confusion, and Melanie seems to be enjoying his predicament.

"I- they were looking for him," Jon mutters, growing more and more embarrassed as Daisy and Tim start to connect the dots.

Daisy sighs. "You though of calling me on the phone, but not him?"

Oh. That's- Gerry does have a phone that he usually has with him.

"I... wasn't really thinking."

"You're kidding me." Tim groans, and immediately turns to the street to start hailing a cab down. "You're paying for my ride back, you asshole."

"Uh... can I ask what this is about?" Gerry leans down to whisper in his ear. Jon exhales, the relief at finding Gerry alive and well still swelling in his chest.

"At home. Please?"

Gerry's brow furrows, but he eventually nods. "At home, then." And he presses a kiss to Jon's temple.

Jon, who is most definitely not used to public displays of affection, freezes on his spot. His face burns even more when he hears Melanie groan as well, before she begins to walk away.

"Tim, can I ride with you? I don't want to stay any more."

"Be my guest. Maybe we can convince the driver to charge him by the passenger. Daisy, you coming?"

Jon sighs and steps away from Gerry, pulling his wallet out when a cab rolls to a stop before Melanie and Tim. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The idea of four walls and a door as a sanctuary is laughable in the world they move in, but home is home, and it's more about a feeling than it is about a space.

"Please don't go after them." Jon's voice is almost too quiet in the thick darkness of the room, but Gerry can taste the desperate intensity in the words just as clearly as if they'd been pressed to his lips.

"Why would I?" he asks, like the thought wasn't the first thing on his mind as soon as Jon ended his tale. It's not like he can pay them back for what they did to him, keeping him from his rest just to use him, but fuck it would be satisfying.

"Gerry."

It's the emotions poured in it rather than the name, what makes Gerry feel like the breath has been punched out of him.

It's heavy with a sort of devotion Gerry's never been on the receiving end of, but that he's tasted in Jon's words before, sweetening Martin's name like a breathless prayer.

It's new.

It's terrifying.

It's intoxicating.

"Say my name again."

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

"Won't you look at that." The voice that reaches Gerry's ears when he climbs the last step out of the Archives makes Gerry freeze on his spot.

He's heard it a thousand times before, reading his last, most intimate moments like they were a particularly boring instruction manual, tearing him from the painful, burning dormancy of the book for another round of questioning.

"That sneaky bastard." Julia shakes her head with a disbelieving cackle. "Dear Gerard, long time no see. Sorry, it's 'Gerry' now, isn't it?" She was always the one asking the questions, impatient and snappy whenever Gerry took too long to answer.

Gerry snorts, his mouth twitching into a smile. These two are opportunistic hunters if he's ever seen any, a pair of hyenas looking for lonely prey.

"This is very convenient, you know?" Gerry cracks his neck. He's never killed hunters before; Gertrude always thought they were better left alone, since they usually went after other avatars. It's just fitting that Gerry's always been good at learning on the fly. "I promised Jon I wouldn't go looking for you. Didn't say anything about what would happen if you found me."

"Oh, you promised him? How sweet." Julia smirks as she moves, her eyes glued to him as she flanks him. "How did he get you like this, huh? You were much more useful when you were pocket-sized, let's go back to that."

"I hate to disappoint." Gerry focuses on her. She's younger, faster than Trevor. Her neck is also very thin, and he Knows she favors her right side, and forgets to watch her legs. It's just a matter of getting a good kick in-

"Let's just kill him. He's no good to us like this, and who knows what he is now." Trevor is at his other side, no doubt giving him the same evaluation he just gave Julia. "One less monster."

"Oh yes, that's your whole thing, isn't it?" Gerry arches an eyebrow. "Pretending you're doing this to save people, and not because you're just another pair of hungry dogs."

"Better than just playing house with the monsters, if you ask me. How's dear sweet Jon?"

"Doesn't it worry you?" Gerry ignores Julia's taunts, looking at Trevor instead. That always did irk her when she interrogated him. "She doesn't have the best track record with parents, if I were you, I'd be concerned about ending like Robert Montauk."

That does it.

Julia launches at him with a roar, and Gerry has barely enough time to plant his feet to catch her- before a burst of fog shoots out of nowhere between them and Julia skids to a stop inches from touching it.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to leave the premises, please." The three of them freeze as the fog dissipates, leaving behind only Martin's grey, cold-eyed form. Gerry feels his mind kicking into overdrive because this is bad in so many levels. First and foremost, Martin and the hunters are in the same place at the same time, and that's less than ideal. Then there is the fact that Martin just came out of the Lonely, and-

"Who the hell are you?" Julia goes to push Martin aside, pulling her hand back as if burned when it goes right through him. "What-"

"Out." Martin says, his eyes hard behind his glasses. "Unless you want to wait for the others, in which case feel free to stay, they should be here soon."

Gerry smirks at the nervous look that passes between the two. Of course they wouldn't like to be the outnumbered ones.

"Remember how you used to ask me about the monsters? I'll give you a freebie, for old time's sake," he says, stepping forward to stand next to Martin. "You don't want to wait."

"Real cute." Julia bares her teeth at him, and Trevor narrows his eyes. She then whips around on her heel and walks towards the door, only stopping for long enough for Trevor to reach her, and Gerry watches them go with a bitter smile.

The doors closing after them is almost deafening in the silence left behind. Out the corner of his eye Gerry can see Martin start fidgeting, and he takes a deep, calming breath before turning to face him. It's alright. Martin is- he's here, he just has to pull him back.

"Did you really call anyone else?" Gerry asks.

Martin rolls his eyes, and Gerry notices with a pang of guilt that they're a cool, muted gray, despite the interaction. "Of course not. But I had to get them out, and I heard Tim say that Daisy alone was enough to send them running. Figured the idea of more people would only be more effective."

"I could've taken them," Gerry shrugs. Then, and his voice has grown a bit weaker, "I didn't know you could go into the Lonely now."

Martin looks down at the fog rolling around him like he's seeing it for the first time. "Hm. I didn't notice I was in, actually."

"That's- Martin, that's worse." Gerry grimaces. Martin is still human -as far as he can See- but only barely so.

"Is it?" Martin asks, and his contour is starting to blur and fade again, like a mirror fogging up. "Stay here today, will you? I'm sure Jon will be happy to have you."

"Martin, please-"

But he's gone.

Gerry stares for a moment at the spot he disappeared on, but eventually he gives a long, defeated sigh as he starts the way back down the stairs to the Archives.

Sending the hunters running no longer feels like a victory.

#jongerrymartin #jongerry #gerrymartin #illicio #vit writes

39 notes · View notes

cassnottiel · 4 years ago

Note

maybe a s5 au where instead of deke being all grown up he's more around the age of a teenager? and everyone is super exasperated with him as per usual in s5 but the team takes on a more parental-ish role and when fitzsimmons find out he's their grandson its less skimmed over and more like them taking an active role in being there for him

The first thing May felt was the piercing pain in her leg. Wherever she was now, she was in no condition to fight. But she wan't going to tell the man with the glowing helmet that.

He was good, she would give him that, but she was winning. Until he shoved his belt buckle into her stomach, and she lost all weight. He twisted the front of it, and she flew back and hit a wall.

The man sighed heavily, leaning against a table not far from her. May watched as the man raised both his arms and took off his helmet, his hair was disheveled and he had a scruffy beard, and he was glaring at her.

"I hate wasting the charge on that thing," he pointed to his belt buckle, and started walking forward. "Honestly, I wasn't trying to hurt you, but you had a lead pipe at the ready, and I can't r-"

May kicked him in the face.

He reeled back, and his glare was back when he looked up. He shoved a cloth in her mouth, pulled her right arm forward, and stabbed her wrist. He inserted a circular plastic thing into her wrist.

"What the hell is this thing?" May yelled at him when he took the belt buckle back. "And who the hell are you?"

The man sighed and rolled up his own right sleeve, showing a matching black device as the one he just put in her. "It's a metric. Everyone needs one, here. Now, where are the others? Because I was paid to give them to all your friends."

May didn't trust this man, who introduced himself as Deke, but she had no choice, he would take her to the rest of the team. Walking beside him to the holding level of what he called the Lighthouse, he looked way younger than she initially thought he was. The angry expression and the beard added a few years. She stopped worrying about his age when they met up with the rest of the team, having bigger things to worry about. Deke had stabbed her, but he also helped get her friends out of a holding cell.

She would tolerate him.

Daisy had blown past Deke, ignoring his pleading for her to make a better plan, to play the long game, as he put it. He looked really young when he wasn't yelling at them. But she wan't about to let Simmons suffer under the Kree, she would get her friend back.

Daisy, dropped down from her whole in the ceiling, looking at the much nicer hallways than the rest of the Lighthouse, and started walking in one direction. As she turned a corner, and invisible wall blocked her way, and a white vapor hissed out of the wall and into her air ways.

She watched as a Kree with a fancy coat and white makeup sauntered over to the glass, a familiar man following close behind.

"I told you she'd find her way down here." Deke Shaw looked straight into Daisys eyes. "And demonstrating her powers, no less."

He called her a weapon of mass destruction, but his eyes were pleading. It made him look younger than her. He had begged her not to do this, maybe he thought he was saving lives by ratting her out, Daisy didn't care.

Daisy coughed, glaring at Deke with all the fire she had in her. "I'll kill you," she promised, "I swear."

He really did look like a kid.

- - -

Coulson watched how Dekes face completely changed when he heard the recording of the man from the surface, taking almost ten years away. He recognized that voice. He wouldn't tell Coulson who it was, but he was willing to help them, when he couldn't get far enough away from the S.H.I.E.L.D team when they first got there.

Deke helped Coulson and May get down to level 35, a big help.

"People don't get pregnant anymore." Deke told them when they were all looking over the baby.

"What do they do -- sterilize the whole population?" Coulson asked as May walked around more.

"We think they do it through the food," Deke glanced down at the baby, "so they can decide who has children."

"How long?" Deke didn't seemed phased, but Coulson was horrified. This was a full dystopian vibe.

"They've always tried to control it," Deke turned and started walking throughout the room, "I was one of the last ones born the old-fashioned way. Until Kasias decided that it was easiest to just-"

"Create the children themselves." Coulson finished. "How long ago was that?"

Deke shrugged. "About sev-"

"Phil!" May looked up from a computer screen and stormed over. "I found something."

"What is it?" Coulson asked. May looked angry.

"Him." May glared at Deke, then she swung her fist.

Deke held his nose, which started to bleed. "Okay, ow!"

"May?" Coulson followed May, then saw what made her so angry.

Deke Shaw sold Daisy to Kasius.

"Okay, well, this is probably the part where I should explain." Deke glanced at the screen, where Daisys face was pictured.

"No." Coulson shook his head. "This is the part where May breaks your face."

But May did not break his face, he started to explain. Then, two Kree entered, and Deke tried to talk them down, but Coulson hit one of them with a chair.

"Oh!" Deke took a few steps back. "Okay, we're fighting."

Yes, they were fighting. And they were losing, until Deke decided to help and hit one of the Kree over the head with an oxygen tank. The Kree took out a small knife and stabbed Deke.

Coulson wanted to leave him, but the Kree had Jemma, Daisy, and May. And Deke wanted to help them, that counted for something. So he patched the man up.

"Okay." Coulson backed away. "The bleeding's stopped. How's it feel?"

Deke breathed heavily. "It's fine." He was obviously not fine.

"Good. In that case--" Coulson punched Deke, who groaned.

"I really need you people to stop doing that." He stood up and limped to the other side of his room.

Coulson grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Where's Daisy?"

Deke looked like a scared kid. "Look, I had to do that. People have died, and Kasius wouldn't have hesitated to kill hundreds more, and Daisy didn't even seem to care at all!" His eyes were earnest and shining. "So, trust me -- it's safer with her out of the mix."

"I don't trust you!" Coulson shot back. Those reasons did seem valid, but Daisy was like his daughter.

"Well I did what needed to be done." Deke was so convinced of this, like a stubborn teenager.

"Oh, please!" Coulson rolled his eyes. "That wasn't the first time you went for a payday." Deke turned away, and Coulson prodded his chest. "You weren't out to save lives, you made a profit. So don't pretend your motives are pure!"

"There's so much that you don't even know that-" Deke turned to storm away, but Coulson yanked his arm again, making him wince.

"And now you're doing it again, aren't you?" Coulsons words were venomous. "You don't want to help those people on the surface. You want to turn them over to Kasius for-"

"You don't know me, man!" Something in Deke broke, his eyes were shining with something else. "I was nine -- okay? -- when my mother got dragged away and murdered. Kasius got rid of all the elders, all the smart people, and she was one of them." He was close to tears, he looked so young. "And after she was gone, my dad took up the cause. He carried the torch for her. And as I got older, I begged him not to. I said that they were gonna get him, too," his voice cracked, "and I was right. He got sent to the roaches, just like the rest of them, when I was twelve."

Coulson watched Deke carefully.

"That's why it was pretty strange to hear his voice, after five years."

That one sentence sent Coulsons mind reeling. "That was your father?" Then another realization. "You're seventeen?!"

Deke looked like a scared kid because he was a scared kid, acted like a stubborn teenager because he was one. No wonder he looked so young, he's just a kid. A kid who just wants to see his father again.

Deke fumbled with his things and pulled out a shiny coin. He held out the coin to Coulson. "Take it. It's what Kasius gave me for Daisy." His eyes shone with tears. "I don't care about it anymore, I just want to help you. I want to see my dad again."

Coulson thought for a minute, just staring at the kid in front of him. He shook his head and started walking towards the door. "No, stay out of this. You're safer if you stay out of this."

Dekes eyes widened and he ran forward, but the door slammed in his face. He slammed his fist against the metal, yelling to be let out.

"What's the plan with Deke?" Yo-Yo asked as Mack welded Dekes door shut.

"I just grounded him." Coulson looked back at the door. "I punched a seventeen year old kid in the face."

- - -

Daisy turned away from Fitz and Simmons, and watched a pair of glowing blue eyes appear out of the darkness. She grabs him by his shoulders and slammed him against the large tank in front of her.

"Good thing I'm wearing a helmet."

Daisy ripped the helmet off of Dekes head and threw it aside. "Are you here to pick up the bounty?"

"No! I'm here to save your ass." Deke tried to step forward, but she pushed him back again.

"I should kill you right now!"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Fitz looked between the two of them.

"He works for Kasius." Daisy kept her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't work for-" Deke stopped himself and addressed Fitz and Simmons. "I mean, sometimes I do, technically. But right now, I'm team S.H.E.I.L.D, alright?" He gave Daisy a fake salute.

"It's convenient, you showing up right now."

"Convenient?" Deke scoffed. "No, it's mindblowing that I managed to escape my room after Coulson grounded me and welded my door shut."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Daisy shoved him again. "Coulson locking you in your room like some teenager?"

"Well," Deke glanced down at the scientists, "some teenager knows how to get you guys out of here." He picked up his helmet. "Come on."

Daisy and Jemma helped Fitz stand up.

"How old is he?" Jemma whispered to Daisy, who shook her head.

"Seventeen," Deke called back from ahead of them, "now, hurry up!"

- - -

"Alright, are you ready to take this thing out?" Coulson asked Deke when the whole team made it to the Trawler. Everyone else looked to Deke, who looked at everyone else.

"Me?" Deke pointed to himself. "I'm not a pilot."

"What?" Daisy clenched her fist against the concrete wall. "You don't know how to fly this thing?" He's just a kid, you can't quake him.

Deke scoffed with a small smile, the first time his expression fit his age. "I never said I did." He jogged up the stairs and climbed the ladder, leaving the rest in the hallway.

Coulson sighed. "I kind of feel bad about punching him."

"At least you didn't threaten to kill him." Daisy said and grabbed one of the ladder rungs. "And I still might punch him."

"He's a child." Fitz pushed himself off the wall to follow Daisy.

"A child who sold me to Kasius." Daisy started climbing the ladder with a sarcastic smile. Deke was sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the radio. He didn't look up when Daisy sat heavily in the copilots seat.

"If you want to kill me, can you wait until after we get down to the surface?" Deke turned a knob on the radio, smiling at the static sound.

"Why?" Daisy propped her feet up on the control console in front of her. "You want to breathe real air before you go?"

Deke laughed quietly. "That would be a good bonus, but that's not the reason." He finally looked at her. "My dad's down there."

Daisy didn't say anything to that, just studied Deke. His eyes looked remarkably like Fitzs, all blue and emotional. His beard had grown since she had last seen him, making him look well into his twenties, but if he made the right facial expression, like the melancholy one he wore at that moment, he really did look like the teenager he was.

"What?" He shifted uncomfortably, winced slightly, and brought one of his hands to rest against his abdomen, around the same spot Fitz had been stabbed.

"Nothing," Daisy shook her head and told herself to stop with the Fitz comparisons, "it's just, you're really young."

He groaned loudly as Coulson and Fitzsimmons entered the cockpit. "I liked it better when you all thought I was thirty and hated me." He closed the cabinet to the radio and stalked out.

Fitz sighed heavily as Simmons helped him into a chair. "What if we put him in time-out?" He asked. "D'you think he'd go?"

"We have to survive this, first." Coulson turned the key and the Trawler rumbled to life. "So strap yourself in."

They did survive, but the ship crashed. Deke threw them all clothes and goggles to cover themselves with, and pointed out to the howling winds when asked why. "It's brutal out there, with the storms and the roaches. It's why we thought nobody could survive." He told them as he pulled on a pair of gloves.

So the five exited the Trawler and walked to the Zypher, thankfully it wasn't far. May was there to greet them.

"Holy hell," Deke, Fitz, and Simmons all looked up to the small balcony above the cargo hold, where a smiling man stood, "is that Deke Shaw?" The man started descending the staircase to get to him. "I thought I was looking at your old man twenty years ago!"

"Oh, my God, Voss!" Fitz and Simmons watched as Deke hugged Voss, and they could finally see how young he was. For just a moment, his jaded side melted away and he just looked glad.

"May told me you implanted her metric?" Voss asked, and Deke nodded proudly. Voss laughed, "Alya would be so proud of you, you're just like her."

Jemma and Fitz decided to let the two have their moment and look around the Zypher.

"Why'd you bring Deke?" May asked them while Jemma stitched up Daisys cut.

"We couldn't find a babysitter on such short notice." Fitz said, which made Daisy laugh.

"What?" May looked between all of them, confused.

"He's seventeen," Jemma clarified, "just a kid."

May blinked a few times in surprise. "A seventeen year old has enough medical knowledge to stab through my wrist an not kill me?"

Daisy huffed a laugh and pressed the bandage against her arm, "that seventeen year old kid rebuilt the Framework out of scraps."

Fitzs eyes went wide and his head whipped around to look through a doorway at Deke, fiddling with one of the claws they use to keep the Zypher grounded. "How did he do that?"

Daisy shrugged and stood up. "It doesn't seem dangerous, I've seen it." She took a few steps toward the door, "it's not even realistic. People pay to see one building with fake beer." And then she left the room.

Jemma sighed and started packing up her medical supplies. "He's a genius." She glanced up at the others in the room. "Maybe a little annoying, but a genius."

After Voss' people attacked, and Robin was dead, Coulson looked around at his team. Someone was missing.

"Where's Deke?" Coulson met Daisys eyes. Something like panic flashed across her face, and she twisted Voss' arm a little farther behind his back

Voss hissed in pain. "Relax, he's fine." He yelled through his pain. "He figured us out first, he's in the back." Daisy started walking him out, and Voss laughed bitterly. "That kid's too smart, it'll get him killed, the same way it killed his mom."

After locking Voss away with the rest of his people, Daisy started looking for Deke. She turned a corner and saw him sitting on a desk. She picked up her pace when she saw the blood matting his hair and dripping down his ear and neck. He looked up when he heard the keys to the padlock jingle in her hand.

"I thought you'd be dead." Daisy pulled the door open.

Deke didn't stand up, he just looked back down at the floor. "Yeah," he looked so small at that moment, "I guess Voss didn't want any more of my family's blood on his hands."

"You're dad . . ." Daisy closed her eyes. This kid would never see his father again. He's an orphan. "Deke, I'm s-- I'm so sorry."

Deke finally stood up, which looked like it took too much effort. "I just hope Robin can help you find your answers." His eyes, which were always so expressive, looked red and empty. The tracks down his face told her that he'd been crying. Daisy put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"That doesn't look so good." Daisy gently turned his head to look at his head wound. "Let's go get you checked out."

As the two started walking, Daisy was thinking. She couldn't stay mad at Deke. He was a scared kid doing what he thought was right, and she can't blame anyone for doing that.

In the short amount of time they had known Deke, the S.H.I.E.L.D team had grown somewhat fond of him. They would never admit it, but they liked the kid. So, when Enoch says he has twelve minutes before the Kree capture him, and Deke volunteers to secure the time machine, Daisy says she'll come with.

"I'll come, it'll be better if we take the plane together." She walks to his side.

"Yeah, no duh." Deke blocks her path. "But none of the time travelers can go because you all need to be at the rendezvous when it's turned on, so do the math."

The three adults all understand what he's trying to say, and they don't like it.

"Deke, it's a suicide mission, you can't." May says.

"You're just a kid," Coulson steps forward, "and you still have your whole life-"

Deke shook his head with a scoff. "No, nobody who grows up in this place is a kid." He tells them, taking a few more steps backward. "Tess has died, Flint's building your magic time travel rock. You guys gave me a gun and let me decide what to do with Voss. None of us are kids." He sighed and glanced behind him. "And besides-- what are you going to do? Lock me in my room?"

He turned around and started walking back to the Zypher.

"Be careful!" Daisy yelled after him.

"You're a pain in my ass!" Deke shouted back.

- - -

Somehow, through some means, Deke made it to 2018 with the rest of the team. As soon as Daisy saw his mugshot pop up on the giant screen, relief flooded her veins. He didn't die with Enoch. She jumped into action.

The fresh air is heaven to her. The first time she's breathed it in in weeks and it's amazing.

"That's my little brother." Daisy says to the cops in the small town of Rivers End, the ones who arrested the kid they brought back from the future.

Deke stood up, smiling when he saw her through the holding cell. That was the first time Daisy had seen a real smile on him.

"Are you okay?" Daisy asked as soon as they were out on the street. "How are you here?"

"I'm great!" Deke was still smiling and he was practically skipping beside her. "I was powering up the time machine, and right before it exploded, the rock kind of melted, and then I ended up here."

"So the first thing you do is commit a crime?" Daisy raised an eyebrow and indicated an alleyway to walk down.

"In my defense," Deke held the door to the Lighthouse tunnel for Daisy to walk through, "I didn't know you payed for things with paper money in 2018."

"I'm not talking about that." Daisy shook her head. "You're only seventeen. You have to be twenty-one to legally drink alcohol in the United States." She glanced back and saw his surprise. "You're lucky the beard makes you look my age or they would have charged you with underage drinking."

Deke didn't say anything to that, except: "Wow . . . "

Daisy hummed in agreement. "Hey, speaking of your beard," she pointed to a door that lead to the control room, "are you going to shave it?"

Deke gave her a weird look and stopped just before entering the room. "Why?"

Daisy shrugged and sat down on the spinning chair. "I don't know. So you can look your age, maybe?"

The next time things were relatively calm, Deke walked into the control, but didn't say anything for a while.

"What is it?" Fitz asked, not looking away from his screen. Deke opened his mouth, closed it, then ran a hand down his face, through his beard that had grown scruffier, if possible. "Deke?"

"Can you teach me how to shave?" The kid blurted out.

Fitz stopped what he was doing and turned around. "What?"

"Never mind." Deke said quickly, his face going slightly red. "It's stupid, forget about it."

"It's not stupid." Fitz stood up and reassured, which stopped Deke in his tracks. "I'm just surprised, is all. Nobody taught you in the future?"

"No," Deke shook his head, "it's usually a dad thing, right?"

Fitz winced. "I'm sorry. Just give me a minute to finish up and then I'll be free."

"So it's that simple?" Deke was sitting in front of a mirror, a can of shaving cream and a razor in front of him.

"Basically." Fitz nodded. "Just be careful around your neck, it's easy to cut yourself while shaving."

"Thank you," Deke smiled nervously, "this is probably really weird."

Fitz shook his head. "No, I get it." He watched the teenager carefully drag the razor down his jaw. "My dad wasn't around to teach me how to shave, either."

"I'm sorry." Deke stopped and glanced back. "Who taught you, then?"

Fitz laughed and leaned against the wall behind him, "My mum did."

"Wait-- girls shave?" Deke furrowed his brow.

"Yeah," Fitz laughed again at his surprise, "some of them do." At the confused look, he clarified. "Their legs."

"Oh-- ow!" Deke dropped the razor and leaned closer to the mirror, watching a bead of blood run down his jaw. Fitz sprung forward and grabbed a wash cloth.

"How bad is it?" Fitz asked, trying to get a look.

"Not very." Deke took the cloth and pressed it to his face. "Faces bleed a lot for minor things, right?"

Fitz nodded. "Yeah. You're almost done, do you want to finish?" He handed over a small adhesive bandage.

Deke covered the cut with the Band-Aid and picked up the razor again. "I'm guessing this gets easier the more you do it?"

"Yes, it does." Fitz wiped his hands on a towel then handed it to Deke when he finished shaving. He clapped his hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations, you're a man now." He joked.

Deke rolled his eyes with a smile. He looked at himself in a mirror, he finally saw what the others did when they called him kid.

- - -

"NO!"

Jemma froze mid-step in the empty hallway. That was Deke. There was a crash, and Jemma took off running. She halted at a doorway to a storage room just in time to watch Deke stab a Kree soldier. She ran to him as the Kree crumbled to dust.

"Are you okay?" Jemma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit on the floor. He fell heavily, staring at a spot just behind her. "What was it?"

"My . . . my mom." Dekes voice was hoarse. "I knew she wasn't real, but I couldn't . . ." he dropped his knife. "Then the Kreeper just--" he coughed and looked away.

Jemma rubbed his arm comfortingly and sat down across from him on the floor. "I'm sorry, Deke. You shouldn't have had to see that."

Deke sniffed and braced his hands on the ground to get up, but stopped and looked at his bicep. "They're not real, how did it hit me?"

Jemma jumped into action, helping him up and having him take off his jacket. She ushered him to medical and inspected the deep gash on his arm. She took out a needle and spool of thread and started stitching the cut closed.

"I really thought I was done getting choked up about things," Deke said absently while the scientist worked, "I guess I was wrong."

"Well," Jemma didn't look away from her task, "your life has changed very drastically in a very short amount of time. I wouldn't be surprised if you have mixed emotions."

Deke sighed in frustration and ran his right hand through his hair, showing off the bloody bandage that has been wrapped around his wrist since he took out the metric. "But everything in the past is so much better." He stared at the wall in front of him. "I just-- I don't know what's going on with me."

"You'll figure it out." Jemma smiled encouragingly as she wrapped his stitched arm with a bandage and then went to change the one on his wrist. "The steps you take don't have to be big, they just have to take you in the right direction." The words she had said so many times to so many people rolled off her tongue so easily, but Deke sat frozen on the cot, his eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

Deke suddenly stood. "I'm good now, thanks," he took a step toward the door, "I should probably go get my ja--"

"I'll get it." Jemma gently pushed him back down on the cot. "Just sit there and rest. You don't need to risk hurting yourself more."

Jemma felt his eyes on her back as she walked out, but paid it no mind. She entered the storage room she had found him in, the only evidence they were there being the leather jacket on the floor next to an open box. She picked up the jacket, smoothed it over her arm, and turned to leave. But something on the floor glinted and caught her eye. It was the knife Deke had used to stab the Kree and cut open the tape on the open box. Jemma bent down to pick it up, and she recognized it. The number 17 was carved into the side of the multi tool, just the same as Fitz did. This belongs to Fitz.

"Deke?" Jemma walked back into the med bay and stopped in front of him, taken off track before she even started. "I just noticed, I'm sorry, but you shaved?"

He felt his jaw and nodded, looking nervous. "Fitz taught me."

"Speaking of Fitz--" Jemma set the jacket down and held out the multi took, "why do you have Fitzs knife?"

Deke stopped looking nervous and a confused expression took over. "What?" He picked up the knife and examined it. "No, this is mine. My grandfather gave this to me when I was a kid. See-- it's got a little seventeen on it." He pointed to the number.

That made Jemma even more confused. "This is . . . this is Fitzs, I swear . . ."

Dekes eyes widened again. "Oh, my God." He muttered.

Jemma looked up at him again. "What is it?"

"This is going to sound really crazy," Deke warned, "but . . . when I was a kid, my mom would always tell me that thing you said earlier. You know, the steps you take don't have to be big . . ."

"They just have to take you in the right direction." Jemma finished for him. He nodded wildly and pointed at her.

"Right! She said she learned it from her mom, who also taught her a bunch of basic medical procedures, which she taught me-"

"You put Mays metric in without the device everyone else used." Jemma caught on to his thought process. "And your grandfather gave you Fitzs multi tool . . ."

Deke smiled nervously, "I think, I think I'm . . ."

"You're our grandson." Jemma finished for him, and he nodded. She stared at him, really looked at him for a while. Freshly shaved, he looked so much like Fitz when they had first joined the team in the field. She jumped up suddenly and ran to the other side of the room, pulling three test tubes out of a cabinet. She placed it in Dekes hand. "Spit in there, I'm going to get Fitz."

She had run out before he could answer.

"Fitz!" Jemma burst into Control and grabbed her husbands hand. "Come with me, it's important."

"Jemma, what--?" Fitz tried, but was cut off as he was dragged away.

"Not now, just follow." Jemma held one of the test tubes out to him. "Do you have your multi tool?"

"Yeah, why?" Fitz held the glass tube in his hand and picked up his pace when he realized they were on their way to the med bay.

Deke was sitting gingerly on one of the cots, holding an empty test tube of his own.

"Deke, I told you to spit in it." Jemma said, then turned to Fitz. "You, too. Spit."

"Why do we have to spit into a--?"

"I'm doing a DNA test." Jemma answered quickly, hauling out an old microscope from a cabinet and setting it on a lab counter. "So spit in the tube."

Fitz turned to Deke, a questioning look on his face that was answered with a single sentence.

"I think I'm your grandson."

Fitz turned away, utterly baffled. But he complied and spit into his vile, then gave it over to Simmons.

"This might take a while," she told the boys, "the technology is old."

Fitz turned to look at Deke. "How are we your grandparents?" He couldn't really comprehend the concept, but he had to try.

"My mom is your daughter, I think." Deke flushed nervously, then dug around in his pocket, pulling out an old metal knife. "My grandfather gave this to me when I was younger."

Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion and dug around his own pockets. He felt the multi tool Jemma asked about, and he took it out. It was exactly like the one Deke was holding, just newer. They both even had the same number scratched into the side.

Minutes passed, with Jemma staring down at the three DNA comparisons the whole time while Fitz asked Deke questions.

"It's true." Jemma said suddenly, quietly, but it made both men go silent. She looked at the two of them from the other side of the room. "Deke Shaw is our grandson."

The three of them all sat in silence for minutes. Then, Jemma stood up and walked over to them and hugged them both.

"Should we tell the others?" Fitz looked to Deke for the answer.

"Why are you asking me?" Deke tried for a joke. "You're the adults, here."

- - -

"Woah," Daisy smiled when Deke walked into the room with the rest of the team, what had become the makeshift dining area, "guys, doesn't he look like Fitz when he got out the academy!" Everyone chuckled at that.

"Fitz used to shave?" Elena asked with a smile, fiddling with her new prosthetic.

"Fitz taught me how to shave." Deke grinned and sat down to serve himself some food.

Coulson hummed and pointed to the small Band-Aid on the teenagers jaw. "Fitz is rusty, he'd probably do worse the next time he tries."

Even May smiled at that remark. The team fell into small chatter in small groups.

"Now that I think about it," Mack said when there was a lull in conversation, "Deke's a lot a like Fitz."

The team all made noncommittal noised of agreement, while Deke smiled nervously.

"You look exactly like Fitz, but with straight hair." Elena pointed to his hair while, unnoticed by everyone, Fitz and Simmons stopped in one of the entrances to the room.

"The weird little inventions." Coulson pointed out. "Fitzsimmons invented the ICERs we use all the time."

Daisy snapped her fingers and pointed to the ceiling. "You both stand in that weird way!" She smiled excitedly and stood up, trying to imitate the pose, making everyone laugh again.

Deke looked helplessly at Fitzsimmons with a shrug and a shake of his head.

"I think we should save him." Simmons turned to her husband and whispered.

Fitz smiled back at her. "I think we should wait a little bit, see what he does."

Jemma playfully smacked his arm and walked forward, into the room. "Stop harassing him."

"He's Fitz with Simmons' hair!" Daisy pointed between the three. "I figured it out."

"Deke, you're their son." Elena joked.

Deke looked to Jemma and Fitz, who glanced at each other before shrugging and nodding.

"Grandson, actually." The whole team laughed it off, thinking it was part of the joke. But, upon seeing the serious expressions on their faces, they stopped.

"Wait, seriously?" May looked between the three of them. "We brought your grandson back from the future?"

"All of you, line up next to each other." Mack said.

"I did a DNA test," Jemma told them, "it's true."

"No way." Coulson smiled wide. "You two skipped regular children and started with the grandchild!"

"Was this a coincidence or did you know the whole time?" Elena asked at the same time.

"It was a complete coincidence, we just did the test-- wait-!" Fitz tried to explain, but couldn't get much further, for Daisy pulled him and his wife into a tight embrace.

When she let go, she ran to the other side of the room, to Deke, and gave him a hug of his own. "You're actually family, now!" She let go and held him at arms length. "That actually makes so much sense, you being related to them."

"It does?" Deke shifted awkwardly.

"You and Fitz are both so . . ." she looked at Fitz with a joking expression. ". . . special."

That was what broke everyone. The eight of them all laughed, though some more than others. Piper and Davis stuck their heads into the room.

"What's happening?" Piper asked. Coulson explained with one single sentence.

"The kid we adopted is actually Fitzsimmons' grandson from the future."

#deke shaw #leo fitz #jemma simmons #daisy johnson #fitzsimmons #agents of shield #high class writing #high class answers #writing prompt

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