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tinseltrinkets · 23 days ago

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Severence Theory: Was Dieter Eagan the First Ever “Innie”?

(Content Warning: Mentions of CSA, Spoilers)

Woe’s Hollow was an incredible episode and divergence from the cadence of the story.

While a lot of its emphasis was placed on the relationships between the current characters, we get significant insight into the lore of Lumon with the text found in the Scissor Cave.

Kier tells of his twin brother Dieter, a figure who up until now was unheard of and undocumented as a member of the Eagen family. On its face, the story tells of Dieter taking Kier into the forest where he masturbates and is subsequently melted presumably by or as a result of the temperament of Woe into “chaos’s whore”.

While this may be a specific detail to hone in on, in the description of Dieter’s self pleasuring specifically uses the word “thrust.”

Thrusting does not imply self pleasure but instead penetration.

This description appears to be somewhat akin to a warped perception of Kier having been assaulted in the woods.

His association with Woe and the subsequent “punishment” of Dieter seems to represent a sense of self punishment or guilt in regards to sexuality.

As a result of being presumably assaulted, Kier’s trauma could have been manifested into either a non-tangible idea of Dieter or as an alter.

Many cases of DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) stem from childhood sexual assault where the brain compartmentalizes its consciousness and memories into separate “personalities” called alters.

Dieter could be Kier’s alter that holds his sexual trauma and is blamed for its infliction of the temperament of “Woe”.

Kier and Dieter being within the same person can be further indicated in how the marshmallows showing Kier’s face are thrown into the fire, the imagery reflecting Kier’s face being melted as Dieter’s was in the story.

This is shown after Milchick reprimands Helena for mocking the story and “not understanding” it. Rather than as a punishment for misbehavior, this could be Milchick’s inadvertent way of trying to explain to Helena what her ancestor’s story meant.

To a degree, Helena may already understand without consciously knowing it. When Helena says that Helly is like her sister, she may not be lying. She could view Helly as a sister in the same way Kier views Dieter as a brother.

The Innies in the Severance universe highly resemble Alters and how they function.

They have the same perception of concepts that their Outies have but hold different memories. Their disorientation and lack of memory reflect the amnesia that is often used as a defining symptom of DID.

Kier’s experience with DID could be what inspired Lumon to develop the Severance procedure and their view of Innies.

Whereas Kier views humans as holding the four tempers, Innies may be viewed as only having one, hence why they’re viewed as subhuman. Kier views his alter Dieter as embodying Woe and subsequently seen as subhuman, as “no one’s brother”.

This would reflect how the four MDR workers resemble the four tempers respectively, Mark (Woe), Helly (Malice), Dylan (Frolic), and Irving (Dread).

In terms of theming, Severance references repression and compartmentalizing them as separate entities to deal with strong emotions, especially in the case of Mark Scout, who’s reason for severing was so he could forget his Woe in relation to Gemma, that Woe which now embodies his Innie Mark S.

#severance #severance theory #severance season 2 #woe’s hollow #helena eagan #helly r #mark scout #kier eagan #seth milchick #mr milchick #severance season two #severance spoilers

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vroomvroomcircuit · 11 months ago

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From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you

(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch

Pairing: Lando x fem!reader

Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this

Wordcount: 2.9k

🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________

(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.

Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.

And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.

Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.

The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.

The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.

The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.

Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.

While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.

“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.

(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.

(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.

“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.

The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.

(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.

Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”

Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.

If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.

“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.

He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.

Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.

A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.

“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.

He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.

“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”

While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.

“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”

An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.

She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.

“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.

Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”

Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.

“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.

“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.

As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.

He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.

It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.

“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”

The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.”

His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.

While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.

There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.

But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”

Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.

“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”

(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.

“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”

Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.

A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.

She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.

Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.

The clothes itself also get the best feedback.

A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.

But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.

Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.

It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.

‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.

Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff

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0neir0z · 1 month ago

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MASSIVE severance 2x04 spoilers

anyways here are my fuckass thoughts

woes hollow and chaos' whore haus of eagan in kier eagans drag race

dieter? i hardly know her

scissor cave is a website i am avoiding clicking on

rip miss huang you would've loved nbc hannibal (thermin mention)

need milchick and freddie lounds to queen out and spread misinformation

got my wife helly r back... but lost my wife irving b i need to kill myself

cant believe helena lost her virginity to an innie

welcome back mulder and scully in ice

do.... do you guys think the outro is the song irv would've picked for his five minute dance party

#severance shitposting #severance #severance season 2 #severance apple tv #mark s #mark scout #helly r #helena eagan #seth milchick #irving bailiff #irving b #OHHHH MY GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD GIVE ME MY WIFE IRVING B BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOWWWWW

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lumonrecycles · 1 month ago

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Wait wait

Is scissor cave a metaphor for getting severed?

Is the fourth appendix like a parable of the first severing?

Cave= brain, scissor= cut ?

#severance #severance spoilers #woe’s hollow

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starleska · 2 years ago

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The Spot x Reader headcanons

just some ideas exploring The Spot as a character and how he may be with a significant other 👀 content warnings for bullying, harassment, possessive/yandere behaviour, and weird Eldritch portal-murder.

⚫ despite The Spot’s obvious ego, he struggles to believe you find him attractive. when you first meet he’s in something of a transformative period: volleying between being in awe at the power of his new physical form, and caving in to the abuse he’s received from friends, family and strangers for how he looks. The Spot rambles to you in a half-nervous, half-manic sort of way about the quirks of his bodies: how his spots fizz when he’s angry and feel like heartburn; how his blank-coloured skin stretches over his skeleton like too-tight rubber; how he isn’t even sure if he has a skeleton anymore. he’s convinced that you’re waiting for him to ‘turn back to normal’ - or, in the suspicious part of his mind, that you have an ulterior motive for getting close. it takes a while for The Spot to notice how blown your pupils become when he looms over you, or how your breath quickens when he says something equal parts charming and devious. but once he’s aware that you truly are captivated by him as The Spot...the power goes quite to his head 😉

⚫ The Spot is hesitant about physical contact at first, but once he knows you’re not a threat, he melts. understanding The Spot’s body was difficult at the start: one time, you tried to hold his hand, but accidentally stuck your fingers through a portal on his wrist and punched him where his nose should be. yet you soon learn to be careful, and with time, The Spot stops flinching away when you rest your palm on top of his, or gently cup his cheek. his skin has a smooth, dolphin-like quality: dry yet slippery like linoleum. you know you’re doing things right because The Spot is a vocal man: he voices his content audibly, with a pleased sigh when you nuzzle into his neck, and a gentle hum when he wraps his long arm around you and pulls you against his chest. when it finally clicks that you want him, The Spot can’t enough of you. he’s forever touching you on the arm, the waist, even the lips. it’s as if now his original form is gone, he can’t get enough of your physical humanity 🖤

⚫ becoming intimate with The Spot does your social life no favours, which makes him fiercely protective of you. it’s no wonder that the two of you found such common ground: you’ve been victim to your own share of bullying and trauma, and feel for The Spot’s plight, having had his whole life wrenched away from him without so much as a sympathetic ear. one day, you’re cornered by several locals who start berating you for being a ‘freak-lover’. they shove you to the ground and tell you to get out of town, and to take that ‘mutant’ with you. but before you can open your mouth to reply, portals open up underneath each your would-be attackers and swallows them up to the shoulders, keeping them pinioned in a kind of trans-dimensional bondage.

The Spot pops through a hole in the sky and rushes to you, checking you for injury and asking, “Did they hurt you?” when you say no, but tell them what did transpire, you watch a ‘frown’ crease the upper half of the hole in his face. he turns away, and strolls over to his new captives, his demeanour languid and cocky.

“Thought you could get away with this, huh?” The Spot asks. a chill thrills up your spine: his voice is two-toned, with something much darker belying his usual sweet tone. the captives are too terrified to reply.

“Don’t bother,” he continues. “You’re just going to waste your breath. How about I do you a favour and...”

he raises one hand, and splits his index and middle fingers apart, like a pair of scissors.

“...cut things short?”

with a violent snap, The Spot snips his fingers together. the portals close in a sickening crunch, and you watch as the limp, lifeless bodies of your attackers slip through the open holes, and disappear into nothingness.

#the spot x reader #the spot #dr. jonathan ohnn #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man #starleskawrites

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bbcsherlock · 9 days ago

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put me and all my mutuals into severance we need to have a meeting at scissor cave

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echoxbuggs · 1 year ago

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Crosshair-dresser

Words count: 1.8k

Warnings: some angst I guess, fluff

To say Hunter was concerned was an understatement.

He hated it.

He hated watching his little brother sit in the house or on the porch all day without saying a single word. He knew Crosshair was still getting used to it, to being comfortable and safe somewhere, really, he did. But Hunter couldn't stop worrying about the things that could be going on in his brother's head.

It had been a few weeks since they had rescued Cross, Omega, and Tech from the hands of the Imperial scientists. He knew both Tech and Omega couldn't sleep well from the nightmares. The young girl often ended up sneaking into one of their beds during the night and clinging to them like her life depended on it.

None of them minded, of course. They all loved their little sister and would do anything to ensure she was okay. It still concerned them to a great amount.

Tech—who hadn't slept much before—definitely wasn't getting sleep now. Hunter knew he spent most of the night tinkering on odd projects or doing research on Maker-knows what. Hunter had to call Phee over several times to convince Tech to go to sleep.

Though these were both concerning, what most worried Hunter was Crosshair. He didn't seem to have any sort of mental or emotional reaction to it. Sure, he struggled with eating and moving around too much, but that was more physical. They all tried to get him to talk but he never did. A few times, they tried to get Crosshair to see a therapist, but he turned down the idea straight away and avoided everyone if they tried to take him anyway.

The sniper stayed in the house mostly, cooped up in his room like a hermit. The only time he went outside was if Omega dragged him along somewhere or if his brothers forced him to go to the doctors. He did like having occasional night walks outside. No one was ever out that late, it was peaceful. No one to bother him or fuss over him.

Crosshair huffed as he and Hunter walked inside their home. They had just gotten back from his weekly checkups. He hadn't spoken one word on the walk to the house, preferring to just not talking about it.

His 'physical therapist' had suggested he do something familiar, get back into routines. He knew Hunter was going to suggest sniping again. After all, that's who Crosshair was; a sniper. However, he no longer had his beloved rifle. His strength had deteriorated, he had actually attempted to shoot a target several times, each time missing horribly due to his lack of muscle.

So he remained quiet, choosing to avoid the subject and just get home to his room, where he could shut everyone out.

As he walked down the hall towards his cave, he heard sniffling coming from a certain blonde's room. Stopping dead in his tracks, Crosshair knocked on Omega's door softly, not waiting for an answer as he opened it and moved inside.

Over their time in Mount Tantiss, Crosshair and Omega had grown closer. He truly considered her his sister, and—he would never admit it—but he loved her dearly. He knew she struggled with the memories of that awful place, he did too, and it only troubled him more to hear the usually happy girl crying.

"What's the matter, kid?" He asked softly, noting Wrecker sitting beside the crying girl on her bed.

"Went to get her a haircut and she freaked out." The large clone explained, sighing softly as he looked up at Crosshair.

"A barber? With scissors and other equipment?" Crosshair asked, brow raising. He slowly moved closer to the two, looking down at Omega who was curled up under her multicolored blankets.

"I...I didn't think it would remind her of it." Wrecker mumbled, looking down as he realized he had unintentionally brought up some bad memories for his sister.

Crosshair sighed softly, nodding to Wrecker. "Go. I got it." He said, giving his brother a ghost of a smile.

Wrecker looked at Crosshair for a few moments before letting out a breath and standing up. He nodded to Crosshair before moving out of Omega's room, closing the door behind him.

Crosshair watched him wordlessly, sitting down beside Omega once they were alone. "Scared you, didn't it?" He asked quietly, putting a hand on where he guessed her shoulder was.

Omega nodded slightly, still sniffling under the blankets. Crosshair sighed, looking down at the girl's figure. "You're not back there, 'Meg. You're safe. We're safe."

Omega slowly peaked her head out from the blankets, puffy eyes looking up at the marksman. "I know." She mumbled, leaning into Crosshair's touch when his hand came up to gently wipe at her eyes. "S-still scared me."

Crosshair nodded, eyes soft as he looked at Omega. "I get it." He said, nodding softly. "Don't like people touching me with tools either. Even barbers."

Omega nodded softly, sniffling as she moved to lean into Crosshair's side. The sniper slowly wrapped an arm around her, humming softly. "I know what could cheer you up." He said, knowing Omega wouldn't want to talk further.

"What?" Omega asked, brows furrowed slightly as her head tipped back to look up at him. Crosshair smiled a little as he looked at her, showing her his free hand. "The black polish is coming off. Think I need a touch-up."

Omega looked down at his hand, grabbing his fingers carefully and examining them, ignoring how he had been picking at his skin again.

"I ran out of black, so only pink and purple are left." She said, frowning softly.

Crosshair chuckled softly, letting her take his hand. "Pink and purple are fine."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Crosshair and Omega sat on the floor of her room, paper-towels, nail polish remover bottles, and nail polish scattered around them. Crosshair sat crisscrossed as he leaned against her bed, watching Omega with a small smile as she painted his nails. She was currently working on his right hand, his left propped up so it got the flow of air from the mini fan Omega had.

She had also gotten a bowl full of candy, eating some pieces every few minutes before returning to the task at hand.

Crosshair watched on patiently, commenting occasionally on the color or whether or not she should add another coat. He had noticed her hidden annoyance though; scratching at her hair frequently, huffing every time she hand to brush hair away from her face. He understood why Wrecker had attempted to get her a haircut. Her hair certainly had grown, reaching nearly past her shoulders.

An idea popped in his head at that, Crosshair tilting his head. He could trim her hair. He knew how to, of course. His brothers always had him trim their hair since he could do it extremely well. Omega trusted him too so there was a less likely chance she'd freak out.

"'Meg?"

Omega hummed softly in response, not looking up from Crosshair's nails as she applied polish.

"I can do your hair."

Hunter paced back in forth in the living room, running his hands through his hair. Crosshair and Omega had been in there for a while. He didn't hear any crying, but at the same time, that's not always a good thing.

"Cross said he could handle it." Wrecker mumbled, watching Hunter from where he sat on the couch.

"I know, Wrecker. I'm just worried. He seemed off today." Hunter said, letting out a sigh.

"He's always weird after the doctor." Wrecker said, shrugging softly. Hunter shook his head, running his hand over his face with a tired groan.

"Hunter, come look at this..." Echo called softly from the hall, peeking into Omega's room.

Hunter's brows furrowed, the sergeant moving over towards the girl's room. He looked inside hesitantly, his expression softening at the sight.

Omega was seated in front of the small vanity, a bright and curious smile back on her face. Crosshair sat behind her, a pair of bright pink scissors in one hand as he snipped at the girl's hair, a content smile on his face as he spoke. "-ou want it braided after? I can probably figure something out."

Omega hummed softly in response, not wanting to nod in case she messed him up. She was nervous at first when he suggested cutting her hair, not aware that he was skilled in the matter. The scissors part scared her at first as well, however she knew it was her brother and she could trust him not to harm her.

"You can braid?" She asked curiously, watching his movements in the mirror.

Crosshair nodded slightly, his tongue sticking out a little as he concentrated on cutting her hair evenly. "Yeah. Hunter seen it once so I had Tech search up how to." He replied, lightly brushing his fingers through her hair. "I know several braids."

"That's really cool!" Omega smiled brightly, leaning into his touch. "Can you do whichever one is the prettiest?" She asked, smiling more when Crosshair nodded.

Hunter allowed Crosshair to finish at least cutting her hair, not wanting to mess him up or distract him. He stood behind Crosshair as he watched him braiding Omega's hair, noticing the smile on the sniper's face. All previous worried about these two had disappeared, the sergeant relaxing slightly at the sight of his siblings happy. "Still got it, I see."

Crosshair glanced up to meet Hunter's eyes in the mirror for a quick moment before focusing back on his sister's hair. He nodded slightly, letting out a hum.

"You have time for another client?" Hunter asked, chuckling softly. He knew his hair was getting longer, he'd need to get a trim soon anyways.

"Sure, 100 credits." Crosshair quipped, smirking softly.

Hunter chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Never had to pay before." He pointed out, smiling softly as he noticed his brother's attitude shining through.

"Hm, fine. More toothpicks then." Crosshair bargained, tapping Omega's shoulder lightly. The girl handed him a hair tie, her smile brightened as she realized she would see his work.

"Deal." Hunter said, watching Crosshair tie off the braid and gently move it over Omega's shoulder.

"One more condition though."

Hunter raised his brow, noticing the way Crosshair sent a smirk to Omega through the mirror. "Go on..."

Crosshair hummed softly, unwrapping the towel from around Omega's shoulders so she could get up. "You get a trim and a manicure." He said, holding out his painted nails towards the sergeant.

Hunter sent a light glare to Crosshair, sighing softly. He noticed Omega's giddy laugh, the girl grabbing her nail polish already. "Fine. Nothing too bright though."

"All she's got is purple and pink." Crosshair chuckled, gesturing for Hunter to sit down on the tiny chair. "Hot pink."

Hunter grimaced lightly, holding his hands out towards Omega as she sat on the floor beside him. "Great."

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earth-ambassador-jim · 1 year ago

Text

Time Has Passed Me By

AO3 ~ Fanfiction

Finally answering this fic request from @rosemaidenvixen . It's been hanging out in my WIPs almost finished for the past 3 years or so.

~~~~

Awareness returned slowly: the sound of rushing water, faint flickering white light, the taste of minerals, the smell of damp earth, and the press of hard stone. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, simply existing as part of his surroundings.

He grew restless and attempted to stand. His first attempt failed but he eventually struggled to his feet and stood there, weak kneed and uncertain. He was in a cavern. Water flowed over the grey stone beneath him and clear crystals hemmed him in from every side. Some of them glowed with a faint white light, most were grey and dead. He stared for a while before his attention turned to himself.

He… Draal… yes that was his name… Draal looked down at his hands and found the blue of his stone crisscrossed with clear white crystal that matched those surrounding him. It reminded him of something Nomura had shown him in her museum one time: a broken vase that humans had repaired with gold.

He looked at his other hand and found that the prosthetic was still there but spikes of white crystal where growing out of it. He tested it and found that it still moved.

Feeling a little more awake now Draal looked at his surroundings again. Where was he? Where was…

“Jim!”

He remembered then: being controlled by Gunmar and forced to fight his friends. Coming to Merlin’s cave and being freed from the spell. Jim finding him. The fight against Gunmar and Angor Rot. Sacrificing himself to save Jim. And finally falling as the poison swiftly claimed him.

Now he was properly awake. Draal wasn’t sure how he was still alive but he had to get out. The Trollhunter needed him.

Eventually Draal had been able to follow the flow of the water to an exit. Unfortunately the sun was still high in the sky so he was forced to wait until it set before he could continue.

Upon exiting the cave he found himself in an open area ringed about by dense forest. He frowned trying to remember what he could from his time under Gunmar’s control to get some idea of where he was. They’d taken a gyre so he was likely far from Arcadia. The question was how far?

Eventually he gave up and just followed the river. It would likely lead him to a human town and he could figure out where he was based on the language. He really wished he had taken Jim up on his offer of a cell phone.

He walked all night and halfway through the next day –keeping to the shadows of the forest- before he came upon a town. It was small. Humans bustled about going about their daily business. Draal crept closer, trying to hear what language they were speaking. It was just then that the couple he was watching turned their attention to the left and waved at someone approaching them.

Draal’s eyes widened with shock when he saw that the newcomer was a troll. They stood unaffected in the full light of the sun, wearing strange clothing, and struck up a conversation with the humans before them as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

The humans and the troll chatted for several minutes before going their separate ways, the humans into one of the buildings and the troll toward the forest. Draal quietly followed.

Was this strange troll an impure? That would explain its tolerance to sunlight. Perhaps the whole village was changelings. In the time they’d been together Nomura had once joked that maybe changelings should just abandon both humans and trolls to form their own culture.

The maybe-changeling had now entered the forest. Draal followed patiently. It was best to wait until they were far enough from the village that they wouldn’t be heard.

The young troll it seemed was foraging for wild herbs. Every once and while he would stop and pull out his scissors to carefully take some plants.

Finally they were sufficiently far from the village.

Draal’s initial thought was to pounce on the troll from behind, pin him down and force the truth out of him, but something made him hesitate. He felt like the might be more to the situation. A puff of air left his nostrils as his lips quirked up slightly. It was Jim’s influence no doubt.

He moved to stand behind the troll.

“Greetings,” He said in trollish.

The troll let out a surprised yelp and spun around, mane fluffing up.

“Holy shit dude! Where did you come from?” He paused and looked Draal up and down before frowning. “Actually where did you come from? I haven’t seen you before and our town isn’t really a big tourist destination.”

Draal hesitated and then replied: “Arcadia.”

The troll blinked and his brows went up.

“Like Heartstone Troll Market Arcadia?”

Draal nodded.

“Lively!” He said, now looking interested. “Do you live in Trollmarket?”

Draal nodded again.

“Wow. I’ve always wanted to visit. I hear the Heartstone is wicked awesome. I’m Smleck, by the way. So what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“What country is this?” Draal asked slowly.

He was a bit offput by the young troll’s strange way of talking. He talked more like Jim and his friends than any troll Draal knew.

“Oh this is France.”

It was going to be a long trip home it seemed.

“What where you doing talking to those humans?”

Smleck cocked his head in confusion.

“They’re my friends…?”

“But humans aren’t supposed to know about trolls,” Draal said irritably. He had the distinct feeling he was missing some important point.

“What are you talking about?”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Also how where you out in the sunlight?”

Have you been living under a rock?” Smleck asked incredulously.

“It seems so,” Draal said.

Smlech set down his basket and leaned up against a tree. He tapped his chin.

“Do you know what year it is?”

“By the human or troll standard?”

Smleck blinked slightly.

“Umm, let’s go with human.”

“2016,” Draal responded.

Smleck’s mouth fell open.

“What the heck. That’s… that’s… Have you been just living on your own all this time? Or did you get caught up in some time magic or something?”

Draal frowned.

“I was injured and just regained consciousness… Why?”

Smleck ran his hands through his mane and took a breath.

“Okay.. so don’t freak out but… You haven’t been out for a day or two… you’ve been out for over a millennia. It’s 3032 now.”

Draal froze and for a moment all he could hear was the roaring in his ears. His first thought was that the fight with Gunmar was probably over. Then he remembered that Smleck had mentioned Heartstone Trollmarket, so they must have won.

His next thought was to ask Smleck if the Trollhunter had survived, but then he remembered that humans rarely ever lived over a century. So whether Jim survived the war against Gunmar or not he was…

Then it occurred to him that after a millennia had past then most of even the trolls he knew would be gone now. He was well and truly alone then.

“Is there a gyre near here?” He asked. “I would like to return to Arcadia.”

Smleck was giving him a pitying look that made Draal want to punch him but he refrained.

“I can do you one better actually.”

~~~~

“One better” Turned out to be a portal. Not one of dark magic like Claire used but a vortex of glowing blue energy created from what Smleck told him was Akiridian technology. Apparently all he had to do was have the station master set his destination and he would just have to walk through the portal and he’d be in Arcadia.

He was a little wary of the device but it turned out to be painless. A welcome change from the nausea inducing gyre.

Draal readjusted his bracelet as he exited the station. On their way there Smleck had dragged him over to the local hospital to get it. Apparently it was a “UV” blocker. All trolls wore them now. It allowed them to safely walk under the sun. Draal shook his head. It was truly a strange world.

Trolls and humans walked the streets that were once familiar to Draal and other stranger creatures besides. Following his instincts more than his eyes he made his way to Trollmarket.

~~~~

Heartstone Trollmarket was the strangest part of this future world to him. The changes to the outside world where somehow less jarring. A myrid of beings, some familiar, some the likes of which he had never seen before, walked side by side on its streets and argued over wares in the stalls.

Still despite the strangeness there was familiarity to the paths he’d spent so long walking and he found his feet taking him to an opening in the stone over which hung a glowing sign shaped like the Sword of Daylight. He stood for a moment wondering at the lack of change but then passed under it and through the tunnel into hero’s forge.

The outside world may have changed but the forge was as he remembered. Automatically he eyes searched the forms of the past Trollhunters to find his father. Kanjigar still stood where he had last seen him. Draal pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head for a moment.

He then started to look around for another form. Jim should have a statue somewhere around here. He knew that humans did not turn to stone like trolls when they fell but the tradition was too strong for him to have left unremembered so Draal expected to find a statue carved in the likeness of Jim. He was curious what sort of a man the boy he knew had become.

There were no new statues to be seen.

A frown traced his lips. If trollkind had failed to honor Jim just because he was human…

It was just then that he heard steps sounding in the entrance. Draal quickly moved into an alcove out of sight.

A troll wearing some sort of human uniform walked into the forge. He walked on two legs and was lean and lanky in proportion. A mane hung thick all around his face and neck like Aaarrrgghh’s but blue-black in color. He had a long leonine tail and three-pronged curving horns. His eyes and nose where strangely human.

The troll looked around for a moment and then pressed his hand to his chest. With a flash of blue armor materialized around him. Draal stilled. So this was the new Trollhunter.

He wandered over to the edge of the forge and pressed the bottom to set off the blades and platforms. His movements where quick and graceful and he danced around the traps with casual ease, going through strikes and parries as if he was battling some imaginary foe.

A smirk curled across Draal’s lips. He couldn’t leave the new Trollhunter to practice on his own. He grabbed an ax from the weapons pile beside him, waited until the troll came a little closer and then rolled up and shot out from his hiding place.

The Trollhunter had his back to Draal when he uncurled and brought his ax down on him but his ears twitched back and Daylight came up to redirect the blow so the troll could move out from under it. Draal was rather pleased.

The troll put some space between himself and Draal before actually looking at him. When he did, he went dead still, eyes widening.

“Draal?” He breathed out.

Draal blinked, caught off guard by the familiarity in the voice of this troll that he’d never met before.

“Impossible,” The troll muttered to himself. “It can’t be…”

Something about this rubbed Draal the wrong way. He let out a growl and lunged forward putting the strange troll on the defensive.

“Don’t drop your guard Trollhunter,” He rumbled narrowing his eyes. “How do you know me?”

The troll was still staring at him but not yet fighting back, only blocking.

“Know?” He blinked at Draal.

His mouth formed and “o” and his eyes widened.

The two jumped apart as an ax fell between them.

“I forgot that you weren’t there,” He said. “You know me Draal. It’s me: Jim.”

At that anger coursed through Draal. How dare this troll take him as a fool? How dare he pretend to be Draal’s friend?

With a roar Draal lunged forward.

“Don’t you dare pretend to be Jim,” Draal snarled, now attacking in earnest. “He was twice the Trollhunter you are.”

Draal may not know this Trollhunter but Jim would have never pretended to be a fallen warrior to fool their friend.

The new Trollhunter back pedaled but finally started counter attacking. They ranged across the forge vaulting off platforms and dodging blades. The troll looked like he wanted to answer Draal’s accusation but at the speed they were moving there was no room for talk.

It was bad timing that got him in the end.

Draal was just bringing his ax down on his opponent when a blade came out of the wall and launched him across the forge over the edge of the cliff. He managed to grab the edge but was left dangling over the deep. The new Trollhunter appeared above him. He stared down at Draal with his sword raised…

And then with a chuckle he drove it into the stone beside him.

“Come on,” He said holding out a hand. “Don’t make it weird.”

The breath seemed to leave Draal’s lungs as he stared into familiar blue eyes.

“Jim?” He whispered. “But how?”

“I think we both have a bit of explaining to do but this would be a better conversation to have on solid ground,” The Trollhunter… Jim said pointedly.

Draal took his hand and was pulled to safety.

The forge was still active around them, so Jim detached a glaive from his hip and threw it across the room striking the off button with easy precision. The center platform dropped back to the floor and the blades vanished into their alcoves.

Jim sat down on the edge of the forge, feet hanging into the abyss and patted the ground beside him. Draal sat. For a moment they stared into the depths in silence.

“So you really are Draal right?” There was a quiet waver in the troll’s voice.

Draal nodded.

“How are you alive?” He asked. “Angor stabbed you through the heart. I saw you fall. There’s no way you didn’t shatter.”

“I don’t know,” Draal said.

He showed the other troll his hand with the veins of clear crystal running through the deep cracks in his stone.

“I think that I did. I don’t know how I survived but perhaps the magic of Merlin’s Cavern put me back together.”

He side-eyed Jim.

“What about you? How did you become…” He waved a hand at Jim’s body. “This?”

Jim chuckled.

“A half-troll you mean?”

Draal blinked at that.

“Half?”

“Indeed,” Jim said. His eyes turned back to the cavern before him, but his gaze was much farther away. “After you… fell. We lost the staff to Gunmar, but… deeper in the cave we found something else… someone else: Merlin.”

“Merlin?!”

Jim nodded.

“He was in some sort of enchanted sleep and we woke him. A… a lot happened after that,” Jim frowned. “Gunmar used the staff to free Morgana from her prison so she could bring the Eternal Night… and,” He sighed. “Merlin and I talked. He didn’t think I was strong enough to take on Morgana… let alone her and Gunmar and Angor Rot. So he made me an offer: A potion that would change me.”

“Into a… half-troll?”

Jim nodded.

“Yes,” He said. “It was an adjustment. In the end we defeated Gunmar and Morgana. Angor actually helped us.” He added quietly. There was regret in his gaze. “He died a hero.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Draal studied Jim’s face as the boy… no man… stared off into the distance, dark brows low and pensive. There were scars crossing his face that the troll didn’t know. He wondered what battles he’d fought… what other comrades he’d lost.

Then Jim drew in a breath and let it out slowly. His shoulders relaxed. He gathered his legs under himself and stood. Draal also stood.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You’re a lot smaller than I remember,” Jim said finally.

Draal let out a surprised and offended snort at that but before he could respond Jim moved forward and wrapped his arms around him. Draal blinked in surprise and then reciprocated.

“It’s funny.” Jim said softly. “I knew you for a fairly short amount of time but it was such an important time to me. You taught me how to fight….” He trailed off for a moment. “Back in the cave I said you were a friend to me… and you are but in the centuries since…”

He hesitated again and pulled back to look Draal in the eyes.

“Well… I don’t know how you see me,” He finally continued. “But I’ve always thought of you as my brother.”

“Oh,” Draal said, surprised.

He blinked and then rubbed absently at his prosthetic. It was a bit of a strange thought. He hadn’t thought of it before.

He remembered when he first met Jim. And then their fight. –It was shameful in hindsight. Especially seeing the man he’d become. Jim had been a mere whelp who had just picked up the sword. - Despite that Jim had accepted him into his life. The way he had come to respect Jim. Training him. Fighting alongside him. Talking about small and silly things with him.

Something settled in his chest.

“Trollhunter… Jim.”

Jim looked up at him.

“I would be honored to consider you my brother.”

Jim’s face lit up in a wide toothy smile. Draal huffed in amusement. He tilted his horns forward and Jim also bent his head. The Rested their horns together for a moment.

It was good, Draal thought. It was good to have family again.

They drew apart.

Draal eyed Jim for a moment and then dropped to all fours abruptly.

“So, Trollhunter, I hear it’s been over a thousand years. Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned?”

Jim blinked and then a fierce and toothy smile lit up his face. His tail lasted in excitement. Draal couldn’t help but to think that being a troll suited him. In a flash he was armored again with Daylight in his hands.

“With pleasure.”

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Draal #Jim Lake Jr #James Lake Jr #Troll Jim #Earth Ambassador Jim AU #Future AU #my writing #trollhunters fanfiction #tales of arcadia fanfiction #Let Jim and Draal be brothers!#This AU politely ignores Wizards and Rise of the Titans

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