#the wall between where her emotions end and his begin probably collapsed a very long time ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures

Read on AO3

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited.

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @direnightshade @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @poedameronloverx @millenialcatlady @jynz-andtonic @lightsinthedistancee @star-killer-md @morby @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @paterson-blue

Just let me know if you would like to be removed or added, no judgement!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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inviciousx · 3 years

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nuclear winter of our discontent

Fractured strips of moonlight shone down from the caving ceiling as Ryat started mixing several ingredients into a metal bowl he'd stolen from an old diner he'd passed on the way out here. Locals in the wastes called this the Old North Church. He called it a resurrection ground. His mind drifted as he added a bit of purified water into the mixture and pulled out his blade. Slashing it across his hand, he let a few drops of blood fall before he could feel it start healing. The demon couldn't help but replay the last twenty-four hours in his head. It had been more excitement than the last two centuries combined. Latin fell from his lips as his gaze moved over the pile of old bones laid over the debris in the floor. God he hoped he'd dug the right grave. As flesh began to form over bone, he began to hold even the tiniest bit of hope that be wouldn't be alone anymore.

She was waking. Not from a dream, but from darkness. Like Jesus saw daylight again on the third day, light was pouring in from behind her closed eyelids. She remembered, before her eyes ever opened: that awful flash, heat searing her skin, only time enough left to drop to her knees and cling to the soft grass one last time. She stirred, grunting softly, and blinked up into the sky. She inhaled softly. What she was was nothing like the fiery destruction that had knocked her out. It was silver and peaceful, quiet.

Caroline pushed an elbow under herself and began to rise, beginning to look around. The darkness surrounding her seemed to pop as her eyes adjusted from the moonlight pooling around her. There were shapes an figures, perhaps, but she could make out nothing specific. She sat up completely, wincing loudly and clutching her side in pain. Had she been knocked back into something in the blast? "Hello?" she called hoarsely.

Red eyes watched her from where Ryat sat in a dilapidating pew. It was one of few that was still being held together, probably by all the dirt and grime that covered it. Her resurrection had taken longer than most, but he supposed that had something to do with the fact that she'd been dead for 200 years. He really wasn't sure how he was going to explain that yet, but he knew he had to. She was going to be punished into a brand new world, a terrifying world... Just like he had been. It seemed like he had just traded one hell for another. At least now he had something other than his own thoughts, even before he had brought her back. Sitting there frozen, a captive to the body he had once enslaved hadn't done him any favors. "Morning sunshine. It's about time you woke the hell up," he muttered, finally getting back to his feet to move closer to her, stepping into the moonlight. "You're very.... Very late to the party."

The light in the hunter’s eyes brightened with confused realization as the demon’s voice purred through the darkness and echoed subtly off the walls. A sharp creak of wood made her head swivel, and, through the light of the moon, she found two red eyes peered back at her. Her heart slammed in her chest. “Ryat. .” she breathed, but offered nothing else, shifting slightly in the pile of rubble. She watched dumb-struck as he emerged into the circle of light. There should have been a million thoughts running through her mind, but it was empty, save for watching his face looking down at hers. She could barely read his expression, but what else was new? His eyes were shadowed but the irises glowed. He looked different, somehow, but still very much the same. Her face winced as she tried to process what he meant. It all. . . felt like a dream. “What’s going on?” she asked softly

Stooping down next to her, he sat with her in the rubble. He was already dirty, grime and filth covering his clothes. Not to mention blood.... "What do you remember?" He questioned, choosing his words uncharacteristically carefully. "I mean the very last thing you remember, because I need to know where to start explaining, and I don't have much time." Being what he was, he was able to see through the veil of death. He knew the difference between when he was dead and when he was alive, and he knew what happened in between, but he doubted that she had that luxury. Or maybe it was a curse.... He wasn't sure. A while caused crimson hues to look back at the black dog that laid guarding the door. Another whimper had him getting to his feet. "Come on. We need to move. I'll explain, but we need to get to higher ground. He wouldn't take her all the way up to the steeple yet, but he would at least hide them in the stairwell for now. Sitting here felt like being a sitting duck.

The hunter's eyes searched his face wildly for a hint of why he was asking such questions. The last thing she remembered? The last thing she remembered was everything, everything exploding and vanishing and then the sudden lack of everything. The emptiest nothing that she could conceive, and could still feel in her bones, as if she was hollow. Her hand seized on his arm like a snake."Ryat..." Caroline repeated, anxiety growing in her voice and heat swelling to her face. The urgency in his voice and the measured tone was making every hair on her body stick up like a pin prick. Ryat used her grip on him to hoist her up, but she collapsed to her knee, finding the legs underneath her shaking and uncoordinated. "Help me. Please." she asked of him, and braced herself around his middle. The black dog circled around them, but always stayed behind, unnaturally bright eyes glaring at the back of the building--if it could be called that. Half up the stairs, encased in near-darkness, and almost suffocating in dust, Caroline pushed against the demon and let herself sink to a stair. Her legs burned as if she'd been marooned in the desert. The hunter breathed heavily, dropping her hand from him to lean forward, taken by the vertigo in her brain. She looked up to what she could see in front of her face--shocking red eyes and a half-shadowed face looking down at her. "The last thing I remember. . ." Her face contorted at the memory, too painful for even tears. Her gaze searched for the words in the dust particles floating around them. "The last thing I remember is the. . ." The hunter blinked faster, as if the emotions that had been stopped where her memories ended were picking up as she remembered ten seconds over and over again in her mind. The more she remembered, the more the monstrous sounds came back to her. "Oh, God. Oh, God." she whispered. She looked back at Ryat, pleading, reaching out to a hand she couldn't see in the dark. "What's happening? Why am I here?”

The fear and fragility coming from the normally quick witted hunter only added to the gravity of the situation. Even with his superior hearing, Ryat wasn't sure what was waiting for them outside. There were things in this hellacious landscape that put the creatures of nightmares to shame. The large Shepherd Dog sat at the bottom of the stairs, ears twitching with each sound, though he wasn't sounding an alarm again yet. He knew she remembered the end. Her reaction told him at least that much. "What you remember.... That's what a lot of people called the end of the world. As you can see that isn't exactly accurate...." He still picked and chose his words, knowing that the smallest thing could be like a detonator, and right now he didn't have the luxury of having the time to help stitch her back together. At least mentally. "It was damn close though....and that was 200 years ago. The world you knew, hell the world we both knew, is gone. There are things even you can't imagine. Whole damn world went to hell in a hand basket." The air here was too thick with dust and the smell of mold from the nuclear storms that passed settling into the interior of the building. Reaching into his pack once he slipped it off his shoulder, he found a stimpack. "I don't know how much this is gonna help, but it should do something," he stated evenly before injecting her with the medicine inside.

Caroline lower lip trembled fiercely as he spoke, but he brows were set in desperate refusal. His words were gathering like a holy flood at the levies, and she bit her lip, shaking her head. The end of the world. The end of the world. The end of the world. Pictures flashed in her mind as rapidly as film ticking through a camera. Home. People. Friends. Life. Gone. . . “Please stop.” she said quietly, squeezing his hand as it released hers to shuffle inside some backpack. The pinch in her arm barely registered past the screaming her in own head. Voices, like a hundred-strong choir was screaming through their murder in her ears. “Stop!” she screamed through it, bracing her hands on the edge of the step and kicking out sharply at his leg. Something connected and she scrambled up and away, spilling onto the landing and throwing herself towards the next set of stairs. It only look another flight to reach the top, which spilled out into a windowed perch with half the wall broken out. Caroline gasped and looked around wildly. A thin layer of snow was coating the rooftops in her sights, but it all blurred together. Steps were right behind her as she made for the roof.

A hiss of pain left the demon's lips even if it wouldn't last long. "You God damn bitch!" He growled, moving after her with speed only a creature such as himself could possess. Maybe the stimpack had been a bad idea.... He'd thought it would do good to help her feel better and give her some mobility. The dog let out a bark at the sudden outburst and Ryat took off after her trying to ignore the pain in his shin. Snow glittered on the roof as it came into his view and his arm shot out, grabbing her ankle as she tried to scramble to the sloped, rotting roof. From his place on the stairs, he roughly tugged her back, not giving a single shit if he caused a few bruises on the way down. "What the fuck?" He grit, red eyes seeming to look through her as he appraised her. "I didn't spend the last twenty four hours gathering the shit to bring you back to let you toss yourself off a god damn steeple!" His grip on her ankle released only to grab her by the arm and pull her up to her feet, but this time he held her steady.

Caroline yelped and slammed to the ground hard as her feet were wrenched from beneath her. Her vision turned into a dropped snowglobe for a brief moment as he torso landed on the raised ledge were a wall should've been, half of body on the roof, half still inside the tower. All she could manage was a strangled grunt of resistance as she was pulled back over the threshold, icy flakes stinging her face. She lost herself in a flurry of kicks and palm-thrusts into Ryat's shoulders, but it was a charade for all the good it did. The young woman gasped as she was forced to stand, and, wrangled in his unquestionable grip, she looked at him wildly. His dark, hidden face from before now reflected so much silver light it was like he was glowing. His raven hair was tussled from the skirmish and blew slightly in the wind whistling through the broken windows around them. Caroline breathed hard, small fogs of hot breath crystalizing between them. Her eyes were stricken, but clearer, as if the truth was easier to see in the moonlight. "You brought me back?" She paused, forgetting to breathe. "I. . died?" The last word was barely a breath.

@a-beast-in-repose

#ryat;#nuclear winter;

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engekihaikyuu · 3 years

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View from the Top 2 - Review

Check out the Read More if you’d like to hear about this show! Askbox is open as well if you’d like me to elaborate on anything out of this.

Before I begin my review of the final show, I do want to start with some caveats:

So as I mentioned previously, the production once again went with PIA for their live streaming platform, which means that live streaming this show is very inaccessible for anyone living outside of Japan.

PIA is a ticketing platform that requires a working Japanese phone number in order to finish activating/registering a new account because you must call the number provided to finish account verification. So without a Japanese contact or a Japanese phone number, this platform is basically impossible.

I have a generous friend in Japan who was willing to share her account information with me, which is how I was able to pay for a show and use her log-in to watch the stream. I did not see this show in-person; I do not live in Japan and obviously travel is off-limits. Even if I did live in Japan, I would have qualms about going to the theater.

There are some logistical issues with this show because of the current pandemic, with the most visually obvious one being the small face shields the actors wear on-stage. They basically serve as protection against direct spittle, but obviously they do nothing to guard against aerosol spread; putting on the play is still an incredible risk to the performers and staff. Another difficulty they face is the fact that Tokyo is still continuing to maintain a nightly curfew. Every evening Tokyo performance needed to be bumped earlier so that spectators can leave the theater in time to make it home for that curfew. Keeping that in mind, the show is a surprisingly condensed 2.5 hours long, where I would have expected 3 hours given the amount of content it covered. This does affect the pacing in Act 2 noticeably, and I get the feeling that were it not for covid and the current curfew restrictions, it would feel a little less rushed at the end.

So, with all that said, here are my thoughts on Engeki Haikyuu’s final play, The View from the Top 2!!! This is absolutely not spoiler-free, for both the play’s content and everything that happened in the manga finale, so if you have not finished the series, this is your last chance to turn back.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t written a full review on a show since Fly High, so I’m a bit rusty at this, and I’ll probably leave out a lot so as always, my askbox is open for people’s additional questions!

The absolute main theme of this play (and really of the entire Haikyuu story) is the friendship and rivalry between Hinata and Kageyama, and the theme: I’m not alone. Engeki really did right by our dual protagonists by framing the final show as showing both of their journeys from beginning to end. Act 1 begins with that familiar sequence from the very first show: Hinata seeing the little giant on TV, being inspired to start playing volleyball, his struggle to find a team in middle school, losing to Kageyama in his one and only middle school tournament, and finding him again at Karasuno. They repeated the scene almost exactly as it was in the first show, and I think it was very smart of them to show us Daigo’s version of it, so to speak. That way we have a more cohesive vision of Hinata from the beginning of his journey to the end. Then they absolutely FLOOD the stage with a montage of projections with footage from all of the shows from the past five-and-a-half years. So already it’s pretty emotional for me, seeing how far the play had come as well as how far Hinata had come in the story.

To parallel this, the beginning of Act 2 actually begins with baby Kageyama. Yes, the baby Kageyama flashback with his sister and grandfather and how he started volleyball. We see Kageyama’s volleyball journey from childhood (for this they used a small doll similar to the dolls they used for young Kuroo and Kenma from Revival) to playing at Kitagawa Daiichi, to losing his grandfather, to being labeled the King of the Court, to defeating Hinata, and then having Hinata find him at Karasuno. And then they once again, they flood the stage with projections with past show footage, but this time they are more Kageyama-centric in the way that the previous ones were often Hinata-centric. And it just really highlights how much these two are meant to share the stage as the two main characters.

To see this framework and to know what’s going to come at the end, with the two of them reuniting in the pro-volleyball arena… just the beginning of Act 2 alone had me in tears. Another way they paralleled their respective journeys was to show us who have influenced them. In Act 1, there’s a dance with Hinata, Hoshiumi, and Udai (all little giants… well, Tsukishima’s in there too because he’s feeling a particular competitiveness with Hinata in this part of the match). In Act 2, there’s a dance with Kageyama, Atsumu, and Oikawa, because Atsumu and Oikawa are the setters who have had the most influence on Kageyama, and he’s drawing on what he’s learned from them for this match. They are not alone in their journeys, they have had people inspire them and be inspired by them in addition to having the support of their teammates.

The Karasuno vs Kamomedai match is interspersed with bits of action from the Fukurodani vs Mujinazaka match, so the stage was pretty busy for basically the entire time. The wires are back for some sequences so that both Hinata and Hoshiumi have a chance to fly, and there are plenty of acrobatics and lifts, and the same incredible soundtrack we love. Ryuu’s Hoshiumi is the obvious standout on Kamomedai for how many lifts he had, and they definitely tried to have him running around on the stage about as much as Hinata. It was notable how much they drew on past techniques and music for various parts of this match, since this is meant to be Karasuno at their peak. When Asahi was feeling particularly stuck/trapped against Kamomedai’s defense, they incorporated the tying-up visual they had previously used in Winners and Losers, with Kamomedai basically tying up and holding Asahi in place with ribbon. There was Summer of Evolution music when Karasuno does a great synchro attack, and the extras-wearing-Hinata-masks reappeared to show us Hinata’s “afterimage” as he flashes around the stage. If you’ve seen all the plays, you can’t miss these call-backs.

The flow of the match was fast. They hit the highlight plays and the highlight emotional moments, but we are clearly past the point where they need to narrate the actual volleyball to us. There was more dancing/acrobatics than attempting to place the two teams on either sides of a physical net with more overt volleyball moves. Everything was more intertwined and fluid than that. And actually now that I think about it, they have been sparse with their usage of a physical net in the past few shows, because everything has been a little more fast-paced overall.

They definitely wanted to highlight Karasuno’s rise throughout the game, to show that they were absolutely a formidable team, that they deserved to be at Nationals, and to show us all the ways that Hinata and Kageyama had grown. For most of Act 2 leading up to Hinata’s collapse, it really feels like they could win this. And I think it makes it that much harder for Hinata to accept being benched, because the team is riding this high and doing so well, and even Kageyama’s more visibly having fun. I think Takeda-sensei easily has a third of the best lines in the series. His speech to Hinata during the Kamomedai match is one that was really gut-wrenching to read when those chapters came out, and it was great to hear it said aloud.

And here is something I’ve never been able to point out because I didn’t do reviews for the past two tours, but I think Daigo’s voice is one of the strongest aspects of his Hinata. I’m sure a lot of that has to do with the work he’s done as a voice actor, but when he cries or whimpers, it is genuinely the most pitiful noise. A lot of Kenta’s portrayal of Hinata’s frustrations throughout the story had an undercurrent of anger and frustration. He’s upset, but there’s always something behind it that says, “well next time, it’ll be different.” And I think Daigo replaces most of that with pure sadness, especially for this scene. After Takeda-sensei lectures him good and proper, and he accepts that he needs to leave, he just sounds so broken. It doesn’t have that anger and drive underneath, he’s just in despair. And why wouldn’t he be? A part of him understands this is the last match he’ll ever play with this team, his first real team.

We then see Hinata bundled up in a coat and scarf, watching the rest of the match from the tablet that Kenma gives him. Snow begins to fall on the stage as he slowly wanders through it, with Karasuno and Kamomedai finishing out the rest of the match around him. Engeki Haikyuu has always allowed for the losing team in a match to line up at the edge of the stage, say thank you to the audience, bow, and take their leave. It’s so symbolic, and it’s so emotional for the actors and for the audience who are in the theater. It’s a moment that just barely breaks the fourth wall, when they turn to us, the spectators, to say, “Thank you for your support.” And they mean it both in and out of character. And I was so so so sad when I realized that Karasuno would take their final bow as a team without Hinata in the lineup. He’s in the back of the stage, separated from his team, and he does take a bow, but it’s very lonely.

Now, I’m sure people are very curious about the timeskip material, and mostly I just have to preface with: it’s fast. It does not take up as much of Act 2 as you might think. It’s boom, boom, boom, cameo here, pre-recorded projections there, patissier Tendou interview, Kuroo in a suit doing a promotional commercial for the V-League, Kageyama’s curry commercial, a projected Osamu selling his rice balls, get the old team together, fateful encounters in front of the bathroom, GO! The only thing we see of the Brazil arc is Hinata having a brief flashback to tell Kageyama that he met Oikawa while he was in Brazil. It’s very short, and that’s all we get for his time in Brazil. Basically, the play is not the place to see Hinata’s journey and growth from those chapters because he goes through so much of it alone, and there’s just no time. The Brazil arc also brings back a lot of technical details about volleyball itself, especially as Hinata is learning the beach version, and that’s an area where the manga is the best medium to examine the finer details of the sport. I can see why a play version would gloss over the technical details to focus on the emotional arc, which is in this case, Hinata and Kageyama.

Because of how fast the ending is, it definitely feels made for the people who already read the manga; Previous Engeki Haikyuu shows have always presented the story in a way that was very friendly to those who may not have read the manga or watched the anime. You could watch just Engeki Haikyuu and not feel like you were missing out on references/jokes for the most part, but this ending would be way harder to follow for those not familiar with what’s already happened.

It’s difficult because I do feel like Act 2 was overly condensed to wrap up this story, but I also don’t think the timeskip material is enough for a whole play on its own. If we had stopped at the end of the Kamomedai match, and had a whole separate play to cover Brazil and the Jackals vs Adlers match… the pacing would’ve been slow and low energy especially in the first half, and it would be an odd choice for the final show of a series like this. My preference would have been for this play to have been three acts, three hours, so that we could linger on some of those timeskip moments a little more, slow it down, and let them land emotionally. But clearly the covid situation prevents that in this case. That being said, I don’t think any of those timeskip moments could really hit as hard as when I first read them in the manga. Narratively, that Haikyuu timeskip was so unexpected and so outside the normal sports anime formula, that the initial shock is extremely hard to top. It was fun to see how they presented everyone in the future (seeing Noya on that boat catching a giant swordfish, or seeing Ennoshita almost break a patient’s back) in stage form, but it’s unreasonable to expect them to give us the same feeling of ?!?!?!? when we first read that Noya was in Italy of all places after waiting weeks and weeks for him to show up.

I still cried in several places, it’s still a great ending to one of the best 2.5D franchises in existence, and it still feels like the culmination of their legacy. I don’t know how it would be possible for anyone to watch that ending sequence with all of the team flags and the chanting of their names, and NOT cry.

There are no more live streams until they complete the rest of their tour and then there will be a live-stream of the very last show, which I will be watching with a towel in hand for my tears. Feel free to send in any questions if you’d like, and if you would like some Strongest Challengers or Trash Heap merch, I have a sales post that I recently made.

#Haisute #Engeki Haikyuu #Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu #Final Show #View from the Top 2 #review #reviews #2300 word vomit for any who are interested

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alexshakestheworld · 3 years

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Fics Rec

Below are some of my favorite fanfics of all times. Most of them would probably be from AO3 (Archive of Our Own ) but sometimes I scout for fics outside of AO3 as well, if I find something worth reading I would put it here too.

I do read fanfics from multiple fandoms but I would make sure to include a tag so that you can know if there is any fic about your OTP in my list.

❤️Spirk (Star Trek: Spock x Jim Kirk): my favorite pairing of all times, though I prefer the AOS version to the TOS. I have read these fanfics so long ago that I can’t remember the content (so I apologize for the lack of my own comment/review) but if I bookmarked them they must have been good enough lol

Once Upon a Time (A Fairy-Tale Love Story) (by littlebirdtold): 47,461 words/6 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In a universe with no Federation, where First COntact never happened, Jim Kirk is your average popular guy. On Christmas Eve, thanks to a series of strange events, Jim finds himself in a parallel universe where the Milky Way is under the control of an alien race and ends up as a servant in the residence of the Royal House of Vulcan. As he starts adapting to his new life, Jim’s curiosity fucks everything up - but hey, Vulcans shouldn’t have told him that he isn’t allowed to enter this wing of the palace; Jim has never been good at following rules. Or, this is the story of how Jim Kirk became a Princess (“Prince Consort, Bones!”) of the United Planets of Vulcan Kingdom.

Honestly, go read every single one of littlebirdtold’s fanfics. He/she/they are incredible and I’m still waiting for his/her/their comeback.

In the Shadows (by scifishipper): 25,202 words/4 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Accused of treason and stranded on Vulcan, Cadet Jim Kirk is offered a solution to his problems: bond with Ambassador Sarek’s son, someone he has never met. When he finally meets his betrothed at the ceremony, the Vulcan’s face is disfigured by cruel scars. Now, penniless and trapped, Jim finds himself committed to a reclusive stranger with a dark past. Has he sealed his fate forever or is there hope for the two of them to find love?

A sequence that you never learned (by annataylor): 64,624 words/14 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When Jim gets it in his head to adopt an eight year old Vulcan, Spock presents a logical solution to the issue of Jim’s humanity: marriage to a Vulcan citizen

Logical Erotics (by EntreNous): 63,458 words/12 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Just returned from a difficult space mission and about to begin teaching at Starfleet Academy, Spock chooses a logical way to relieve stress: a sexual encounter with someone he’ll never meet again. But when Spock discovers his partner of one night is Jim Kirk, a promising new cadet at Starfleet he’s torn between his rational decision to avoid intimate relationships and his increasing fascination with Jim. As Spcok’s normally orderly life starts to spin out of control, will his obsession with Jim prove his salvation or his undoing?

The Vulcan Heart (by obsidienne): 110,110 words/15 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Where two halves make a whole...eventually. (Post-STID

I remembered that my friend recommended this fic to me and I was a bit hesitant at that time because I have never read anything this long. But it turned out to be such a great fic that I appreciated his recommendation every day.

Unexpected (by foreverandeveralone): 10,339 words/8 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Cadet Jim Kirk doesn’t understand why everyone who is not nice to him always has bad consequences. Basically, Jim doesn’t know he is dating the Vulcan version of Sylar, who never forgives anyone who does bad things to his human.

Interesting fic if you love both Star Trek and Heroes.

The Door (by Pouxin): 77,118 words/6 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Spock and Jim both have their doors. Jim wants his to be open. Spock wants his to be closed. An alternative STID things. With more literature. And esoteric faffing. And sex.

Kicked From Inside (by Stella_Notecor): 32,246 words/18 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Drugged by aliens with an aphrodisiac that impregnates males is NOT how Jim Kirk imagined falling into bed with his first mate. That’s exactly how it happens though, and dealing with the consequences - including an angry girlfriend, a pointy-eared baby, and a chief-medical-officer who’s against the whole thing - will force Jim and Spock together, whether they like it or not.

My Golden Sun/Kin-Kur Las’hark T’nash-Veh (by giddytf2): 123,262 words/30 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Mpreg

Summary: When Jim feels thet first gush of slick soaking down the inner seam of his pants, he shuts his eyes and turns his face away from Spock towards the mottled-stone wall of their solitary cell. Spock is staring at him. Spock has no idea what’s just happened, what’s just begun. Spock has no idea that their situation is about to get so much worse. Fuck, Jim thinks, curling up into a ball of bruises and ragged gold, his arms quivering and clutching his bent legs. Fuck my life for being a goddamn Omega.

(Or, a Star Trek: AOS story post-Into Darkness in a universe where both Alpha/Beta/Omega gender dynamics and pon farr exist, with Jim being an Omega going into heat and Spock experiencing his first pon farr while trapped in a cell with Jim. Oh my.

Time of Need (by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)): 33, 669 words/25 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Spock’s pon farr comes early due to the destruction of Vulcan. Nyota is unable to cope with the stark brutality she finds as reality hits home. The captain will have to take necessary actions.

Weekend Lover (by ValiantBarnes (Cimila)): 30,017 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The one night stand Jim Kirk has with the Vulcan passing through Riverside is a welcome break from the monotony. It’s good, very good, but so fucking weird Jim’s sure he’s never gonna forget it. He’s not quite expecting to run into Spock again in san Francisco. A second one night stand turns into a weekend, turns into a lot of weekends, turns into Bones joking that he’s living half his week at Spock’s apartment. But! But, and this is very important: they’re not dating. What also turns out to be important is Spock’s job, which Jim never bothered getting the details of. Starfleet Academy Instructor and cadet?... Less fine.

❤️HotchReid (Criminal Minds: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid): unpopular pairing but they are definitely in my top 5 pairings for sure

Don’t Ever Look Back (by kadeeleigh): 15,848 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: While on a case in California, Hotch and Reid’s secret angers Morgan

This fic features a nice amount of case investigation content, an extremely protective and slightly irrational Morgan, and a remarkably sexy and confident Dr. Spencer Reid.

Arranged Marriage (by VincentMeoblinn): 18,196 words/6 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: When Reid decides to leave the BAU due to his painful crush on Hotchner, the man proposes an extreme way to avoid him leaving or them breaking the fraternization rules - by proposing

A marriage-before-romance fic. Slightly unconventional plot and relationship development (but it is fiction after all so no big deal) but generally cute.

Convergence (by Chestnut_NOLA): 33,232 words/10 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid, newest addition to the BAU has been dreaming of art and murder. In denial that his telepathy has returned, Spencer must work with his team and his boss Sentinel Aaron Hotchner to find the Unsub. Will love help Spencer control his gift or will the darkness in his mind destroy not only himself, but Aaron as well?

It is the second and my favorite fic in the Transference series. If you are into the fantasy genre, Sentinel/Guide bond to be specific, I highly recommend this one.

Healing Touch (by Rivermoon 1970): 21,981 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Mpreg

Summary: Spencer has been watching his Alpha for a while and knows something is wrong. When Aaron collapses during a case the whole team worries. What they find out about his marriage to Haley will shock all of them and when Spencer is asked to help Aaron with his recovery how will their friendship change?

The abuse part is rather brief mentioned than thoroughly described, so do not worry too much (I can’t stand extreme angst). Nice relationship development. If you like Omegaverse, give this fic a try.

Take Me Home, Country Road (by wednesdays___child): 8,698 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Aaron gets a call that his mother is not well. She wants her eldest son to bring home the pretty young doctor he’s been dating. The problem is that Aaron has failed to tell his family that the pretty young doctor is a colleague...and male

A fluff fic at its core. Cute happy ending. My to-go fic when I want to read something short and light before bed.

Lightning Only Strikes Once...Maybe Twice (by Dazeventura6): 16,433 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: While on a custodial interview Aaron and Spencer are stuck in a time loop. Can they break it? Or will they be stuck forever?

Set after the Hardwick incident. The content is something that I wish it happened in the series. A much needed fix-it fic.

Mine (by non_andare): 6,115 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hotch has never noticed Reid before; he’s an inconspicuous Omega who naturally submits and Hotch likes his Omegas to have fire. Then Spencer starts dating another Alpha and all Hotch can think is one word. Mine.

Reid/OC is briefly mentioned but the fic is mainly about Hotch/Reid. Fluff with a bit of angst but eventually happy ending. Jealous Hotch and shy Reid is a nice combo tbh.

Criminal Bonds (by VincentMeoblinn): 26,107 words/13 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Child Death

Summary: Reid was framed for embezzlement a year ago. Hotchner pleaded guilty to several murders. They meet in prison where reid is regularly abused by the stronger inmates until Hotch takes him under his wing

Alternate Universe where Reid is not a part of the BAU. Prison romance. Slight twist at the end but ultimately a happy ending (in my opinion)

Wolf Moon (by Ahmose_Inarus): 117,736 words/34 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Alpha Werewolf Aaron Hotchner is far from pleased when Spencer Reid joins the team...The presence of the young werewolf is not welcome...but when Hotch learns that Spencer Reid was raised by a human mother after being abandoned by his werewolf father, he takes him under his wing. And perhaps he has found more than a friend in the younger wolf...But there’s an Alpha Female in the territory who is far from please...she’s had her eyes on Aaron Hotchner for a long time, and won’t let anyone stand in her way

An Omegaverse story. A bit long but worth every minute. The relationship between Hotch and Reid is so cute that it can take my frustration (and anger) against the antagonist away.

The Librarian and the Dad (by DarkJediQueen): 9,039 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating; Explicit

Summary: It started out as a little crush. Then it became so much more.

Cute. Cute. Super cute. Part 12 of the A Universe of Meetings series, which include multiple Alternate Universe stories. Check out the whole series if you are into Alternate Universe.

Solace (by Lady Angel (dameange)): 4,701 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A Hotchner/Reid rewrite of The Angel Maker episode

Again, a fix-it fic I would like to actually happen.

Dr. Reid and Agent Hotchner (by E_Ng714): 21,013 words/14 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: The BAU has hit a rocky patch, and appears to be falling apart. There is something going on with Hotch, but no one can figure it out. Cruz orders all of them to undergo psychiatric evaluation. Dr. Reid’s presence isn’t welcome by Aaron, at least not at first.

Alternate Universe story. They are both slightly out-of-character but not too annoying. Hate to love. A bit of angst but eventually happy ending.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become (by DegrassiFanatic): 105,975 words/20 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (there’s sex scenes though lol)

Summary: In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father’s departure and his mother’s illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he’s bleeding out in Hotch’s arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

Definitely in my top 10 HotchReid fanfics. I didn’t expect much when I started because I usually don’t read over-100k-word-Teen and Up Audiences-fics but this one turned out to be perfect and it literally saved me from a rough week.

A Different Kind of Solitude (by kyrdwyn): 15 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: NC-17/FRAO (For Adults Only)

Summary: When Aaron and Spencer are trapped together by an unsub, things change between them while the team searches for their lost friends.

It is said “trapped by an unsub” but honestly the situation is not that bad. I tend to think in a positive way that this is a chance for HotchReid to get together. Pretty cute and domestic fic actually.

Home you know (by jetplane): 14,030 words/11 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: When Reid is diagnosed with cancer, he finds himself relying on Hotch for care and support. But spending so much time together forces each man to confront the feelings he has for the other, and it’s only a matter of time before their friendship evolves into something more.

Go Home, Omega (by goobzoop)

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, mean Hotch

Summary: Pretty much Hotch is bigoted about Omegas and Reid is let on the team cause he’s a genius, which Hotch hates, but then Reid learns to stand up for himself cause he’s super kickass and sweet and deserves the world

Oneiroi and Hephaestus (by Lady Angel (dameange)): 31,231 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What if Reid was one of the Yellow-eyed demon’s special children?

If you like both Supernatural and Criminal Minds, this crossover fic is one to go for.

Come Undone (by EloquentDossier): 77,180 words/22 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When Spencer Reid forgot to take his suppressants two mornings in a row, it really shouldn’t have been a big deal. He had them in his bag at the hotel, and as long as he took one that evening, he’d be fine. What he couldn;t have prepared for, however, was the lab the latest victim worked at going into an at least twenty-four-hour-lockdown while he was in it. When Aaron Hotchner was asked to aid his subordinate through what would otherwise be an agonizing heat, he’d had several reservations, one of which had been the consent issue: Omegas couldn’t legally consent to sex during heat unless it was twenty-four hours in advance. With every concern rebutted logically (because of course the Bureau had an Agent Consent form in case of emergencies), he finally agreed. Of all the possible repercussions, however, neither man expected the one they received.

Or that time no one expected the Alpha to accidentally bond to the Omega while the Omega remained unaffected.

Cursed (by Black_Lotus): 60,254 words/20 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Centuries ago Vasile Stolojan, the bastard son of Vlad the impaler, was cursed to be a Vampire. Many years later he has a new name, Aaron Hotchner, and a curator job at a prestigious museum in America but the pain he feels for his lost love remains, until he meets the new Docent, Spencer Reid, who looks exactly like his lover. Is it possible that after six hundred years the man he loves has been reincarnated?

I LOVE this fic.

Yours (by NimueOfTheNorth): 17,232 words/6 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Spencer knew what he wanted in a relationship, and after years it looked like he found everything he dreamed of in Aaron. Now; if only Aaron’s past experiences and guilt complex wouldn’t get in the way.

❤️Niam (One Direction: Liam Payne x Niall Horan): while everybody is going crazy for Stylinson and Ziam, here I am rooting for Niam lol

Break my fall (by niamcuddles): 147,428 words/15 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Being a police officer was never an easy job, Liam wouldn’t have imagined that it’d bring someone like Niall into his life and that they could ever grow so close under these circumstances. If they only would’ve known who the guy was that giving them so many sleepless nights.

With Your Love (by brainstorm): 57,448 words/8 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: Liam’s life was nothing like a normal twenty-two year old guy. Raising a kid on his own was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to face but he wouldn't change his little boy for the world. He never thought he’d find someone that was good for both him and his son, but that changed fast the day he met his son’s new teacher.

Closer (by niamcuddles): 209,765 words/20 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Niall’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually have a real crush on the rick and arrogant guy he’s been attempting to teach how to golf, but there’s something about him that just won’t allow Niall to say no. Not even when he gets made a very unexpected offer.

From the day that I met you (by niamcuddles): 272,394 words/25 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Partying and having a good time are probably two of Niall’s favorite things, he just wouldn’t have thought that a night out would end with him getting to know Liam, or that their paths would cross a lot more often than just this once. But somehow they happen to be more helpful to one another than expected.

Like the angel you are (by niamcuddles): 164,367 words/13 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: To be honest, Niall has already given up on his life ever getting any better, he’s used to being on his own and not being looked after, so maybe not even a way too caring stranger can help change that.

Too Much Too Soon (by brainstorm): 47,353 words/3 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Niall stands up for himself for the first time ever but things don’t turn out the way he wanted them to and he finds himself struggling between the way he’s always been or the way he wants to be. It’s a matter of time to know who’ll win, his mind or his heart. (sequel to “For You, My Love”)

Like the air I’m breathing (by niamcuddles): 81,307 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: Niall is four years younger than Liam and he is sick of being the little brother, that is until Liam suddenly finds a girlfriend and cuts Niall out of his life completely.

Now we are (by niamcuddles): 143,082 words/15 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Liam’s kind of keeping a busy schedule right now, his whole life seems to basically only consist of work and studying, so what he really can’t need at this time are friends who constantly want to hang out, but above that, 19 year ole uni students who can’t take no as an answer.

For what it’s worth (by niamcuddles): 120,800 words/10 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Liam has trouble figuring out his life and what he really can’t stand are loud, talkative and clingy people, but he would’ve never thought that getting rid of Niall could be this hard.

Something I need (by niamcuddles): 87,735 words/5 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: 16 years is a very long time, but Niall still remembers all the things he and Liam have gone through together

❤️Gramander (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: Original Percival Graves x Newt Scamander): I honestly don’t remember how I stumbled into this couple fandom but they do have several great fics. For some reason I only bookmark this one though.

Here We Are (by Miss_Lv): 22,177 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg

Summary: Percival had long given up on the idea that he would find an omega mate, he ver seemed to fit what they were seeking in a husband, always too rough, not gentle enough. But then he meets Newt Scamander and the omega is utterly perfect to him, with his shy smiles and tendency to run headlong into danger. Catching vipers in his hands and keeping nifflers for company, Newt is nothing like the typical demure omega and Percival is lost before he can even think to resist.

❤️Jack O’Neill x Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1): Like I don’t even know their ship name for real…

I Walk Alone...No More (by Joy): 17,955 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Daniel finds love in another universe. Quantum Mirror Story.

Even though it was not original Daniel and original Jack ending up together, but in the end it was still Jack and Daniel, and I was happy with the ending.

Pulling Threads (by Joy): 13,241 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Daniel’s place in the world seems to be going nowhere. After what happened with The Others, sending him back, he’s got some thinking to do about what happens next. Does he go to Atlantis, forget about Earth? Or stay at the SGC in a role he’s not entirely sure is his. Then Jack invites him to dinner and his future is changed forever.

Civilians (by LadyRa): 46,557 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: AU ending to Point of View. What if the AU Samantha hadn’t been willing to let go of Jack?

Instinct (by AuroraNova): 27,783 words/10 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Daniel Jackson is an unconventional, career-focused omega. It’s going to take one special alpha to win him over. Jack O’Neill is determined to be that alpha.

Strange Interlude (by ELG): 228,960 words/4 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Daniel discovers that in other universes not only the uniforms are different… Jack and Daniel’s friendship has been under strain for some time but when Daniel is kidnapped by an AU Teal’c very different from our own, it’s up to Jack to save him. An AU Jack, however, complicates the situation considerably.

❤️Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (I ship Stucky so as a matter of fact, I ship the actors as well)

Sugar Daddy (by orphan_account): 91,139 words/17 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sebastian is a broke and abandoned college kid trying to scrape up enough money to pay for rent and tuition. When he meets Chris, an accomplished architect who takes him under his wing, he doesn’t understand what his friends keep calling him until he looks it up for himself.

❤️Harringrove (Stranger Things: Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington)

Bite Your Tongue And Choke Yourself To Sleep (by trashcangimmick): 21,173 words/5 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Steve is going to grad school in Chicago. Life is comfortable. Life is stable. Steve is doing great and he really wishes everyone would stop asking.

Set the Record Straight (by MischiefManaged97): 35,054 words/14 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Steve was a little nervous about making things right with Billy after their fight. Steve just wants to apologize and relax, but Billy may have other ideas.

You’re the best I’ve ever had; you’re the worst I’ve ever had (and thet keeps fuckin’ with my head) (by determinedlove): 52,697 words/14 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Mpreg, Intersex

Summary: Steve Harrington loved his status in the world and his life. He had great friends and babysat two amazing kids (but don’t tell them he said that). So what if he couldn’t sleep in his room sometimes because the house was just too damn big and the quiet didn’t help keep the nightmares at bay. So what if the new guy at school was everything he had been warned away from? He could play the game just as well as he could. But then Will goes missing. And the new guy proves to be everything people warned him about and so much more when no one else is around.

❤️Namjin (BTS: Kim Namjoon (RM) x Kim Seokjin (Jin)): These two are just so adorable together.

Pack Mentality (by resonae): 9,452 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Namjoon is possessive.

The Professor’s Wife (by EquinoxSolstice): 12,163 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: Everybody knew Professor Kim was already married. It was actually the first thing they asked the man during the first day of classes, with one brave student asking the question out loud for everyone to hear. The older man responded with deep dimples and a raised left hand, letting everyone see the plain, silver band glittering on his ring finger. But, as one Jeon Kungkook found out, they were all completely, terribly wrong. What? The Professor didn’t say he had a wife.

Why Three is Better Than Two (by lulublue1234): 35,298 words/23 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Seokjin is a bit of a stalker. Smitten with a Father-son duo. Where Yoongi is the most adorable child ever created.

The Shaman and the Exorcist (by metastacia): 145,258 words/20 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Seokjin doesn’t believe in ghosts. Which would cause a huge uproar if everyone knew since he’s kind of a big deal at his university; he’s a shaman who protects people from evil spirits. He doesn’t remember where he got the idea to do this from, all he knows is that superstitious people pay good money. Namjoon does believe in ghosts. Better yet, he can see them and he can expel them. But there’s a certain honey shaman at his university who’s stealing all his clients in his exorcism business, and he’s not happy about it because haunted people pay good money. So, what do they do? Figure out whose closet is holding all the skeletons, of course.

Fate Led Me To You (Now Let me Love You) (by MinMinnieMin): 58,382 words/15 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Summary: Seokjin did not believe he’d ever have a happy ending. How many happy endings did you ever hear an unmated Omega with a child have? But fate is a funny thing. What’s meant to be will always find its way. And Kim Namjoon tries his best to get Seokjin to see that. Because of fate, they found each other.

❤️Broyo (Prodigal Son: Gil Arroyo x Malcolm Bright): I seem to have a soft spot for couples with noticeable age difference

To be Normal (by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)): 70,399 words/26 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Mpreg

Summary: Malcolm has a terrible encounter while out trying to be ‘normal’ and get roofied. He doesn’t report it and tries to move on but winds up pregnant. He turns to Gil for support who is there with open arms. As they work through the choices Malcolm has to make and Gil is just there more and more their relationship evolves into something more intimate and romantic than either of them could ever have planned for.

❤️Hannor (Detroit: Become Human: Hank Anderson x Connor): Again, another couple with considerable age difference

Arrival (by coffee666): 83,075 words/7 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hank just wanted help around the house for Cole. He never expected such a goofy thing that laughed and hummed and protected Cole with all of his being. Connor is not like other androids - but neither of them truly know how deep those differences go.

The Opposite Life (by Speckeh): 38,612 words so far

Status: Incompleted (9/10 chapters)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: 17 years and 9 months ago, Connor decided to start his own family, alone. He falls in love with the voice sample of Donor 55719, as the mysterious man talks about a mundane life. It’s everything he wished for. After 17 years of loving the two minute voice sample that fathered his children, what will Connor do when that voice suddenly appears in his life?

By Default//By Design (by Make_It_Worse): 9,211 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Connor, an overworked clothing designer, who is also a huge brat. Hank, an HK800 android model, who isn’t having any of it.

❤️Hannigram (Hannibal: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham)

With a Crown of Stars (by thehoyden): 33,536 words/7 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When the call connects, Will says, “I know what kind of crazy I am, but I’m not this kind of crazy.”

“Will?” Dr. Lecter says.

“Yes, hi, sorry,” Will says. “It’s me. There’s a baby on my porch.”

Taken for Rubies (by emungere): 76,842 words/20 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Crossdressing, Feminization

Summary: Will invites Hannibal over for dinner. Hannibal brings him wine and flowers. A dissection of their pasts and the slow convergence of their domestic lives.

❤️Rinch (Person of Interest: John Reese x Harold Finch)

Pallas’s Rosefinch (by elbowsinsidethedoor): 55,536 words/25 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Summary: Harold needs John. John needs Harold. And that’s the way I like it!

Difficult To Name aka Titles Are Difficult (by elbowsinsidethedoor): 51,710 words/17 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: John is a retired pro who comes back for a special client. For those who fear a BDSM themed story, please note that this is a tender love story.

Milk and Cream (by hallulawy): 33,388 words/6 chapters

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Out-of-character

Summary: Story between John (Alpha, 35, general practitioner) and Harold (Omega, 27-ish, entrepreneur, five-month-pregnant). They are not married (yet).

❤️Noah Reid x Dan Levy (They play Patrick and David in Schitt’s Creek if you don’t know)

Fries Before Guys (by wildxwired): 29,065 words/1 chapter

Status: Completed

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Six weeks ago, Home (on a) Plate showed up in front of the MTV building in West Hollywood and started providing the locals with quite possibly the most amazing and inventive variations of grilled cheese sandwiches and cheese fries every Monday and Thursday, between the hours of 12 and 2. It wasn’t just the melt -in-the-mouth gooey goodness that had people clambering around the truck, or the insanely fair prices that were usually nowhere to be found on the rest of the street food in LA, but the fact that this was all served up by some hazel eyed specimen with the forearms of a god probably didn’t hurt either.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Connections.”

Hope everyone is having a good day today, and hope you like the story

“Explain the difference to me one more time, I just want to make sure I understand.”

“Of course, sir you see t-”

“Admiral, I’m sorry to bother you but the Chairwoman just called, and she needs to speak with you.”

Admiral Vir stood from where he had been sitting with one of the crewmen, and tucked a notebook under one arm. “My Apologies corporal, can we continue this at a later time.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send those resources I was talking about.”

“It would be much appreciated.”

He stepped out into the hallway pausing by Lt. Simon as she stood waiting for him.

“What is this about?”

“They didn't say, apparently it's too classified for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Simon looked back over her shoulder as the two of them made their way down the hall, “What was that abou?”

“Corporal Isaa is a bit of a chemistry genius, I was just picking his brain.”

Simon frowned, “Since when did you care about chemistry.”

Since my ex girlfriend became an exalted saint of her entire planet leaving me to wonder if I ever even deserved her in the first place, and with an overwhelming desire to be better person both morally, physically and intellectually hoping that I might eventually evolve into the kind of man that could ever compare to a woman like her. Even if it never leads to anything because regardless of how I feel, the desire to become better is never a bad thing.

He shrugged, “You can never know too much, Simon.”

She glanced down at her clipboard, “You’ve been very busy the past few days, are you….ok?” She wasn’t really sure if she should be worried. She wasn't exactly good at reading people emotionally. She only really noticed the changes in patterns, and his sudden change to serious intellectual study and going to the gym twice a day struck her as odd.

Adam smiled little, “Fine, in fact….. Better than I have in a while. Turns out, I like to stay busy, I like having things to do, and with two hours before bed to relax and unwind, it's not like I’m working myself to death.”

She supposed that was true enough. Where once the men's schedule had been as hard to predict as the evolution of the seasons, his new routine was as plotted as a grid carved by a laser. He hadn’t changed all that much, still goofy, still insistent on listening to distracting music on the ridge, and wearing those annoying shoes with wheels, but all between his visits to different departments and scrawled notes on hard-copy notebooks, he was beginning to collect in large piles in his quarters.

Two visits to the gym every day, once to work out and once for sparring practice with anyone who would take him on was…. Odd.

A little more so the amount of times he had let Cannon kick the shit out of him, which was many, but the man could take a beating without complaint, so she supposed that was to be…. Admiried?

Pitied?

“Is this about, Sunny?”

Admiral vir almost walked himself into a wall stopping just short as he turned to look at her eyebrows furrowed, “Simon?”

“What/”

“I think you’re getting better at reading people.”

He walked past her without answering the question and into the elevator up to the bridge. They stood quietly inside together as they waited, and Admiral Vir left her behind as he stepped onto deck walking over to take the call.

He sat in the captain's chair as the holo projection buzzed to life before him.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral.”

“What can I do for you.”

“Are you busy?”

“I don’t have to be, ma’am.”

“Good, good, something has come up, and we need the expertise of your crew.”

He leaned forward in his seat just a bit, “Go on.”

“You recall the planet we sent you too, the one with proof of ancient alien inhabitants though there was no evidence of them?”

He shivered, “how could I forget.”

“And you say you encountered… something.”

He nodded “I seem to recall your psychological experts rejected my experience out of hand as…. Head trauma, wasn’t it?”

She sighed “yes, well…. There have been some developments, come to light, and we believe that…. That we were wrong. We would like you to meet up with the scientific team we are sending over, and, if you don’t mind, bring an evaluation of your experience from Dr. Adric, we may want to analyse it more. Our Team wishes to study it in more depth, if that would be acceptable.”

He bowed his head, “Yes, Ma’am. I will. Expect us there within the hour.”

“Our team won’t be ready for a few of your hours yet, so that should give you time to get that evaluation for us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

Dr. Adric stared at the Admiral, sitting across from him in his office. Despite him being here for wildly different reasons than were normal, he couldn't help but analyse the man as if he were one of his patients.

He looked good, healthy, rested, and relaxed, which seemed uncommon for the man within the last year. He was also more reserved than he had been, which could potentially be a sign of emotional exhaustion or simply increasing maturity, but the man’s easy smile and relaxed posture calmed him to that idea, and he sat back in his chair.

“How are you doing?”

Adam smiled again, “Just can’t help yourself, can you doctor,”

“No, afraid not.”

“I’m alright, hope to keep doing better in the future. I think, Like everyone, I still have my days, but they are less and less as the weeks go on.”

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“Did you get the message from the Chairwoman?”

He nodded, “About your experience on RM-46.”

“Yes.”

“What do you remember?”

He held his holopad in front of him and held it up, recording while he took notes.

“I remember feeling like I was being watched, that was a big one, probably more to do with how eerie the planet was than anything. I was on edge, but not afraid. When I fell into the trapdoor, I remember it was dark at first,”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, but I did get the wind knocked out of me pretty badly.”

“Go on.”

“There were these little red glowing orbs on the wall and they pulsed on and off as I walked. They were everywhere, and they sort of permeated the room around me which grew bigger and bigger and bigger as I walked, until I was in a massive room, it could have housed a stadium inside it, and at the center of the room I saw this….. this …. Thing… It's hard to describe really but…. Not, impossible to describe, like a tree root, but curled into impossible combinations and connections, where it seemed like one should end another would begin, and where you would assume one would go in front of another it went behind, but in ways that seemed impossible. Like… Like an M.C Echer painting where the water flows uphill. Everything about it seemed to defy the laws of nature but not in a way that one could really explain…. And when I saw it I…. I had such an urge to… to touch it. Like i…. It's impossible to describe. But you know when you've been underwater for too long and you really need to breathe, and you are so desperate for air that you claw your way back to the surface….. It was like that. And so I reached out, and when I touched it it was… warm, and soft like skin. I Didn’t really have long to think about that thought because before I knew it, itw was like I had been knocked away from my body. Ripped out of myself and cast into the universe.”

He raised a hnd to his head rubbing his temples eyes squinted slightly, “Trying to think about it…. Makes my head hurt because…. It was, unfathomable, there was so much of everything extending into infinity, and all of it was trying to fit inside my head at once. I saw things made and unmade and I felt like I was part of the universe. I was being pulled through everything and nothing and…. I.” He closed his eyes, “I’m sorry, it… it almost hurts to think about.”

He took a deep breath,

“And then I felt as if I was going towards something, somewhere specific, and as I approached…. I…. I felt as if I was going home. Not like home to my parents or even my brothers and sisters but… home.” He sighed, “I’m not explaining this very well. But I felt like I was heading back to somewhere I belonged, it felt warm, like if peace was a location, and there was the only place I could find it. It felt like going to somewhere where I would never hurt again, I would never, want anything ever again. And then…..” he rubbed his head again, “And then I can’t describe, it was like I could see…. Like a veil was being lifted from over my eyes and just as I was looking into… whatever it was, the veil slammed down like an iron shutter and I was pulled back…. I…. Have never felt such a sense of loss….”

He reached up a hand and wiped at his eyes, “I can’t even think about it without crying. It hurts so bad, like heartbreak, not metaphorical,but it physically hurts like my chest is being pulled apart. I think about it and I can’t breathe.” He took a deep breath resting his hand against his chest, “It never seems to fade. If I try to think about it too much, I just hurt.”

Dr. Adric reached out a hand and rested it on the other man’s arm, “We can stop.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, “It's just so, strange. Nothing has ever had that kind of effect on me before, and then just to be told it was all from head trauma, well I don’t buy it. But that wasn’t even the weird part.”

“No?”

“No, when I was there… I didn’t feel… alone…. It felt like, as I was carried away, I was wrapped in the arms of…. something …. Like a child, and when they took me away they said that I wasn't’ ready yet. I Could have imagined it I guess, but I swear, it told me that I wasn’t ready yet, and that is when I woke up five miles away from the city before it collapsed.”

They drew into a long silence.”

“I see.”

“Do I sound crazy?”

“No, I have just never seen a reaction like that…. And you say whenever you think about it.”

“I try to think very little about it. The last time I tried in any sort of way I ended up on the floor in the fetal position sobbing like a child and fell asleep there waking up with an absolutely massive headache, so ys, I try to avoid it whenever possible.”

Dr Adric frowned, “I think that is something we should look into.”

It looked as if Adam was about to argue, but then sighed, “Alright after this is over, I promise, we can look into it, but I am almost 100 percent positive, it isn’t just my head. There was something out there…. something …. Something I am supposed to be a part of, but I’m not.”

Adam turned his head to stare out of the room and into space.

***

Deus, that word again.

He sat at the desk in his room staring at the piles of notebooks before him, and the projected map hanging in the air just off to the side. He spun in his chair to stare at the projections.

Deus…. The latin word for god or deity repeated back to him from the mouths of aliens.

At the projected map before him, the locations where he had heard those words blinked and pulsed slightly as little lines of glowing thread connected them.

First, it had been the infected starborn, and then it had been the Leviathan, and then from the city before the collapse. Why would a latin word make its way into the vocabulary of creatures who had never even heard latin before. Or perhaps this was just some sort of fluke, it was a big universe and some of the sounds that alien made sometimes made human words, it was bound to happen. But the fact that they meant the same thing swas odd.

He wondered if it was some kind of greeting instead, but shook his head thoughtfully, no, they had been talking to him when they said it, directly speaking to him, but that hardly made sense either, last time he checked he wasn’t some great dity of overwhelming power.

He assumed he would have noticed by now.

He tapped his foot lightly against the ground, and off to the side waffles raised her head, wagging her tail slowly across the floor.

“You confused too, girl?”

She whined softly and rested her head back on her paws.

He turned to look back at the map. He was missing something here, a very big piece of something. And he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what.

Of course that wasn’t going to stop him he supposed.

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itsthenovelteafactor · 4 years

Text

Superhero Gothic

Thanks to everyone who responded to my previous post (special shoutout to @jeyfeather1234 💛 ) about superheroes and gothic media! I know it’s been, like, a month, but here we go.

Here’s a bit of a look into some common gothic themes, and how they apply to Doom Patrol, The Boys, Watchmen (2019), and The Umbrella Academy. This one’s a bit long, not gonna lie, but I hope you enjoy!

Part I: Let’s Talk About Gothic Media

There is not actually an all-encompassing definition for gothic media, or even a universally agreed-upon one. You’re probably familiar with some well-known gothic works (think Dracula, Frankenstein, Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King) but there is a lot of debate on what exactly makes them gothic.

There are some common themes in gothic works, though: families/characters under the control of a tyrannical paterfamilias, the crumbling of the established order/estate, long-buried secrets that have consequences in the present, and supernatural events that are stand-ins for/reflective of the emotional state/past actions of the characters.

(Note: these aren’t all the themes of gothic works or even most of them, but for purposes here, I’d like to limit this analysis to them. I’d love to talk about other themes/ideas, though, if anyone has them. 😊)

So… superheroes (quick overview in case you haven’t watched any of them… spoiler warnings for the rest of this discussion)

Doom Patrol:

Five misfit superhumans attempt to rescue their mentor figure when he is kidnapped by an old enemy.

They are very, very bad at it.

Also features a singing horse head, a sentient nonbinary teleporting street (who is by far the best character) and the narrator is the fourth-wall breaking series villain.

Beautifully weird but will also emotionally devastate you. Criminally underrated, tbh.

Watchmen (2019):

Story takes place after the canon of the graphic novel which is too much to summarize.

Alternate history (that should really feel more fictitious than it does) where white supremacist organization the Seventh Cavalry, masked police officers, and former superheroes in hiding all collide in Tulsa Oklahoma

Swept the Emmys this year and ABSOLUTELY DESERVED TO

The Umbrella Academy:

Washed up former child superheroes are forced to reunite when their father dies under mysterious circumstances

Time travel, dysfunctional siblings, and a killer soundtrack

Basically a family drama with the superhero story as secondary (complimentary)

Probably the most obviously gothic of all of these it is aesthetic AF

The Boys:

Superheroes exist but they are corporate sellouts under the control of evil company Not-Amazon (AKA Vought)

Regular human protagonists try to hold them accountable for their actions with varying (read: usually minimal) success

Yes, it’s the one from those weird ads earlier this year

Billy Joel!!

Part II: Niles Caulder, Ozymandias, and Other Terrible Father Figures

The Tyrannical Paterfamilias:

Does not always mean a father figure explicitly, often relating to the notion of a patriarchal tradition, or family inheritance that plays a role in controlling the main characters.

Sometimes, it is a father figure.

Sometimes, it is a representative of patriarchal tradition/male head of pseudo-family unit.

So, uh, role call:

Reginald Hargreeves (even in death) holds power over his children, and has shaped all of them into the adults they have become, and that drives the majority of the conflict. Each of the major character individually grapples with the after-effects of his abuse. Luther feels the need to be the leader and protect everyone and alienates his allies as a consequence. Diego constantly asserts himself as a hero (often to dangerous extremes) because it is the only way he was ever valued. Allison has to teach herself boundaries and responsible use of her powers after he encouraged her to abuse them for years. Klaus turns to drugs to cope with his childhood trauma. Five disobeyed his father with disastrous consequences and is constantly fighting to not become him. Vanya spent her entire childhood in the background, and never learned to assert herself in a healthy way. Thanks, Reggie.

Homelander says that The Seven are like a family. While whether or not this is accurate (it isn’t) is up for debate, he does occupy the tyrannical paterfamilias roles incredibly well. Homelander controls every member of the Seven, threatening them and their loved ones whenever they step out of line (read: do not do exactly what he wants in the exact way he wants them to do it.) He is also very closely tied with conservative/patriarchal rhetoric in-universe and at one point dates a literal Nazi.

William Butcher less evil than most of the other characters on this list but the bar is also like, on the ground. Butcher tries to control the Boys in a similar way (Butcher and Homelander are character foils, okay? it’s actually pretty neat). He’s perfectly willing to sacrifice them in pursuit of his own goals, disregards their points of view and the well-being of their loved ones, and tries to cut loose anyone who disagrees with his methods (recall when Hughie tried to rescue his friends at the end of s1 and Butcher… punched him in the face? Yeah, that.) The difference is that the Boys can push back against his without being, you know, brutally murdered. (And also the Butcher isn’t a literal monster; I’m not anti-Butcher, okay? He’s an interesting character and the fact that he seems constantly on the verge of becoming that which he hates most is part of what makes him interesting.)

Guess what, folks? It’s hating Niles Caulder hours. He engineered accidents to turn the main characters into his test subjects, and then kept them conveniently hidden away in his large manor. Stole their autonomy and independence but paints himself as a benevolent father figure. And that’s not even including what he does to his actual daughter, Dorothy. He’s terrified of her growing up (read: becoming a young woman) and so he locks her away for almost 100 years and, when she is freed, yells at her constantly and makes her terrified of showing any signs of maturation (even though she’s 111 and clearly tired of being written off as a child).

The relationship between Ozymandias and his daughter, Lady Trieu, is integral to the final act of Watchmen. Heralded as the “smartest man in the world,” Ozymandias refused to acknowledge his daughter as his until he needed something from her. While Lady Trieu is more self-sufficient and independent than some of the applications of this trope, she goes to great lengths to prove herself, first to him, and then to herself when he rejects her.

Part III: Been a Long Time Gone (Constantinople)

Gothic fiction is often associated with change, and particularly, the collapse of established systems of power. For example, many works like The House of the Seven Gables and The Fall of the House of Usher take place in old, crumbling manor houses. There is a reason for this! These kinds of estates are remnants of a past that is irreversibly gone, and their continued presence in decrypt forms serves as a reminder.

Each of the four series takes place at a moment, either on a wide scale or on a personal scale (or both!), in which an established order is being questioned, and the constant reminders of that failed order are used to gothic effect.

The Umbrella Academy plays this most directly (In fact, there are TONS of parallels between the end of s1 of TUA and House of Usher that I don’t have the time to get into right now... lmk if you want that meta). We can see the Hargreeves mansion as a very literal example of this. While not worn down, the house is notably both very large and very empty. Shelves are filled with merchandise for a superhero team that disbanded over a decade prior, and portraits of a family that no longer speaks to each other. None of the family members ever seem truly comfortable or at ease in the house, and for good reason - every back corner is a reminder of their incredibly traumatic childhood.

In The Boys, the story begins with the fridging death of the main character’s girlfriend, Robin, at the hands of a member of the Seven, a group of heroes so ingrained in the public consciousness that when they later hide out in a costume shop, literally every single costume is for one of Vought’s heroes. The Seven represent the system in power, which, at the disposal of Not-Amazon means corporate greed, shallow altruism, and the cultivation of public personas at the expense of actual humanity.

From that moment on, the sheer presence of The Seven on everything from public billboards to breakfast cereal is a remainder for Hughie (and the audience) that this established system doesn’t work and is based on lies, which serves this effect on a personal level. In the broader scale, however, we also see that the Seven themselves are fracturing under an unsustainable business model. Even their name, “The Seven” starts to seem a bit dated when halfway through season one through the end of season two there are notably... less than seven of them.

The main characters in Doom Patrol are all in recovery after the accidents that irreversibly changed their lives. We see through flashbacks the people that they used to be, and the difference is striking. They were each established in their own elements: Cliff a famous race-car driver, Rita a world renowned actress, Larry a hero pilot, Jane was involved in counter-cultural movements, Vic was a student and athlete. The foundations upon which their worlds were established are completely decimated by the accidents, and now they (save Vic and sometimes Jane) live mostly in isolation in Niles’ manor house, an estate that is far larger than would be necessary to comfortably house a group of their size.

And you feel the emptiness, both in the manor, and in the lives of the characters. They have barely created a shadow version of their own existence when the series starts, so fragile that a simple trip into town devolves into utter chaos.

Angela Abar of Watchmen has also constructed a life following the terrifying act of terrorism on the White Night. It’s a bit of a double life, and we see that the balancing act is challenging for her, even before the story truly begins. The death of Judd Crawford, and the revelation about him that follows is not only traumatizing on a personal level (but it definitely is that), but also upsets her understanding of the world. People she’s come to trust are not just dishonest but truly monstrous. And the more Angela learns about what has been happening, the more her understanding of the world begins to unravel. Her memories, and the memories of those around her are cast in a much more sinister light, and the effect is genuinely chilling.

Part IV: “I’m the Little Girl Who Threw the Brick in the Air”

In episode 3 of Watchmen, Laurie contacts Dr. Manhattan on the cosmic phone booth to tell him a joke. It’s a version of what TVTropes calls the “brick joke,” and it relies on set up taking place early on, other stuff happening, and then the response coming at an unexpected moment.

So, yeah. Events of the past/buried secrets resurfacing with consequences in the present.

Continuing with the theme from Watchmen, the entire series is punctuated with the way the past and the present intertwine, with elements from both the original Watchmen graphic novel, and actual American history. One of the things we talked a lot about in my gothic lit class was the manner in which the overhanging specter of past atrocities casts a shadow over the present, and how many works cannot help but have gothic themes because there are so many horrifying things in the past that cannot be ignored, and provide both context and nuance for the discussions we have in the present. No series tackles these topics quite so directly (and with as much care) as Watchmen. (note: it does not always make for easy viewing, but if you’re in a place where you feel like you can engage with that kind of material, I highly recommend the show.)

In Doom Patrol, the past actions of the characters very much control the storyline (see: previous discussion of Niles Caulder), but the character whose storyline I want to talk about here is Rita (partially for plot reasons and partially because I just love Rita, okay?). We learn when we first meet Rita that in the past she was... not a great person. We know that the trauma of the accident that gave her her powers has changed her, we also know that she still holds on to the guilt and that her guilt has limited the scope of her world for years, but we don’t know what exactly it is that she’s done.

Enter Mr. Nobody, all-powerful narrator who is not just aware of Rita’s greatest sins, but perfectly capable of manifesting reminders of them into the story. She is confronted with empty cradles, and the sound of crying children in the background of many scenes and we see how much it effects her, without a full understanding of why it does (see: The Tell-Tale Heart). Her past begins to haunt her physically, and she begins to crumble in response to it, until finally she is forced to confide in a stranger (and thus the audience). The past actions do not just inform the audience of Rita’s character - they show up to influence her behavior in the present.

The ending of The Umbrella Academy season 1 is super evocative of the gothic genre with Vanya breaking open the soundproof chamber (wherein she was silenced for years) and rising from the basement to destroy the last remnants of the Hargreeves legacy (which would be awesome if the last remnants of the Hargreeves legacy didn’t include the rest of her family). Pretty much every mistake the siblings make over the course of the season feeds together to create the finale, but the primary cause isn’t something any of them actually did. It all ties back to Reginald Hargreeves’ complete inability to be nice to children. Any children. His own and random strangers that need help.

In The Boys, while the extent to which people are making f-ed up choices in the present cannot be expressed enough, we see through the characters of Homelander that many of the present difficulties are a result of past mistakes. Particularly, the profit-seeking corruption within Vought. We learn in s1 through Vogelbaum that Homelander was raised in a lab by Vought as an experiment, only to be unceremoniously thrust into the spotlight and told he was a superhero (which... does not justify a single one of his actions but is still a major yikes). As the head scientist of the project, Vogelbaum is very aware that ignoring his conscious if the name of research has essentially created the biggest threat their world has ever seen.

(Seriously y’all just stop raising your super kids in isolation)

Part V: Put Them Together, and They’re the MF-ing Spice Girls

Having the environment respond to characters’ emotions/mental states is pretty common in gothic works (it was a dark and stormy night = someone is probably not doing super well). One of the advantages of the genre’s tendency towards the supernatural is that, often, those elements of the stories, as well, are reflections of the main ideas of a work of fiction (see: Stephen King’s really unsubtle period metaphors).

Because all of these shows have a ton of supernatural/scifi elements by virtue of being, well, superhero shows, I thought it would be easier (and more fun!) to come up with a short list of elements, what they mean, and what cases they might apply to.

1. A Nonlinear Experience of Time

The Umbrella Academy: legitimately about time travel. Characters are attempting to fix the timeline but are unable to because they are both mentally and sometimes literally stuck in the past.

Watchmen: In the episode This Extraordinary Being, Angela experiences firsthand the experiences of her grandfather, under the influence of a drug called Nostalgia. The episode touches on many themes, one of which being the impact of generational trauma in marginalized communities. Throughout the series, Dr. Manhatten is cursed with experiencing all time at once, and the episode A God Walks into Abar illustrates that, because of this, he is constantly facing the consequences of particular actions before, after, and while he is preforming him.

Doom Patrol: Mr. Nobody is able to physically travel to one of Jane’s flashbacks via his fourth-wall breaking powers, and gives Dr. Harrison an ultimatum for the future.

What it implies: Events, particularly events that evoke guilt or conflict, are not as rooted in the past as one would like to think.

2. Powers/Abilities that reflect personal trauma/failings

Doom Patrol: Larry’s abilities/bond with the Negative Spirit have made it so that he is constantly covering himself with bandages/avoiding other people, which reflects his experiences having to hide his identity as a gay man in the 50/60s. Rita forced herself to walk a thin line, betraying everything in pursuit of her image; her abilities require constant effort to keep her entire body from becoming misshapen and out of control. Vic’s father with boundary issues can literally control his perception of the world through his cybernetic enhancements. Dorothy’s abilities manifest as imaginary friends because she was kept isolated for years at a time.

The Umbrella Academy: pretty much all of the kids’ powers are representative of the interpersonal skills they were never able to develop. Luther is super-durable but also the most emotionally vulnerable of the group. Five can teleport and time travel but always seems to be too late to stop things. Diego can manipulate the trajectory of projectiles but cannot escape the path his father set out for him, not matter how much he resents it. Vanya always forced herself to stay quiet until the sound literally explodes out of her.

The Boys: Annie’s abilities allow her to control light, but she struggles (in the beginning) to bring to light the horrible things done to her behind closed doors.

Watchmen: Not technically a power, but Looking Glass’ mirror-mask is a constant reminder of the hall of mirrors that both saved his life and traumatized him forever.

What it implies: from a story perspective, these allow for an exploration of trauma/guilt to occur on a scale much larger than people simply talking about their problems (as if anyone on any of these shows knows how to talk about their problems...) It also means that the trauma/guilt of the characters takes on a physical form that is able to haunt them, and constantly remind them/hold them accountable for their past actions.

3. Diluted Sense of Reality:

Doom Patrol: The first season is narrated by its main villain, and throughout the season we see that the act of narration itself has an impact on the story.

Watchmen: The event that kicks off the plot of the story is hinged upon a paradox introduced by Angela near the end of the series when trying to speak to her Grandfather in the past through Dr. Manhattan.

The Umbrella Academy: The pair of episodes in season 1, The Day that Wasn’t and The Day That Was take the same point in time and explore two possible avenue for the future from there, with The Day that Wasn’t ending with the events of the entire episode being completely erased from the timeline.

What it implies: you can’t necessarily trust everything you see, even from the audience perspective, giving them a position not unlike that of the characters. The character’s uncertainty and confusion is magnified and reflected in the world that surrounds them.

Other examples: an apocalypse (The Umbrella Academy, Doom Patrol, Watchmen (of a sort)), ghosts (The Umbrella Academy - hi, Ben!), immortality/invulnerability (Watchmen, Doom Patrol, The Boys), and characters that look significantly younger than they actually are (The Boys, The Umbrella Academy, Doom Patrol).

Part VI: Why Did You Write a Literal Essay Don’t You Have Real Schoolwork (yes... shhhhh...)

And... there you have it. I don’t really have some grand conclusion here. This is (clearly) far from a complete analysis but it is the most my finals-week brain can concoct at the moment.

If you have other ideas, let me know! You can always add to the notes or message me – my inbox is always open! If you got this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Much love! ❤️

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Note

Any chance of getting something maybe set in the future or smthng where percy is telling either his kids or young demigods about how good and powerful jason was or just recalling some of their old adventures and its Percy's way of getting closure for jason? Can be angsty can be fluff whatever floats yah boat:)

I am not afraid to admit I teared up writing this. I am an emotional bitch. Anyway I hope you enjoy Anon!

Masterlist

"Come on boys, your sister's already in bed." Percy got up from the couch to pick up the stray toys and blankets still littered around the room.

"Can we get a story tonight Pops?" Charles looked up at him with big brown eyes.

"Sure baby, what about?"

"About," Lee looked to his twin and then back at his father, "About daddy?"

He released a soft breath, crouching down so he was at eye level with them.

"Of course, I'm always happy to tell you about your dad."

"Thanks Pops!" They beamed and then raced off to get ready for bed.

Percy stood up to lean against the wall, letting the ache of missing his husband wash over him. It pressed against his ribs, made breathing an impossibility. Blue eyes, bright with laughter flashed through his mind. He blinked the tears away, now was not the time to break down.

"Zoe, you want to come listen to the story?"

"What's the story?" She scrunched her nose, "I don't want to hear about the princess and the dragon. Everyone knows she should have made friends with the dragon and gone on amazing adventures."

He struggled to hold in a laugh as she rolled her pale green eyes, "You don't have to worry tonight, it's a story about dad."

She lit up then, smile as bright as the sun, "You're gonna tell us about dad? Yes let's go!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her brothers' room.

He didn't bother to keep his laugh in this time, letting her drag him through the house.

In a matter of moments the boys were tucked into their beds. Zoe was climbing onto his lap as he tried to get comfy on the bean bag sat in the middle of the room.

"Okay you want to hear about a time we killed a monster or time at camp or something else?"

"Monster!" Zoe and Charles cheered.

"Camp," Lee said softly.

"Okay you little gremlins how about both? I'll tell you the story about how your dad accidentally stabbed me."

They nodded, smuggling deeper into their beds and looked at him expectantly.

"It was around the middle of summer, actually your dad's birthday. And I had planned to have a picnic in the strawberry fields. We only had the day to be together because it was Capture the Flag that night and you know your Aunt Annabeth was a tyrant when it came to camp games," He winked, making them giggle.

Lee furrowed his little brow. "Why were you going to the strawberry fields?"

"Yea why not the woods, or the beach?" Charles asked.

"Your dad never really liked the beach. He says there's too much sand and too much water," He laughed softly, "And the woods aren't really that safe. It's better to stay well within camp boarders."

"But why—" Charles started up again.

"Charlie," Zoe scolded, "Let Pops finish the story. You can ask questions later."

"Nobody asked you Zoe," He stuck his tongue out.

Lee untucked his arm and held it off the bed expectantly. His twin sighed and clasped their hands together.

"Later Charlie,"

Percy's heart skipped a beat, as it always did when the twins acted like this. It was Jason's favourite thing about them—that silent understanding, that unspoken bond.

"Carry on Pops," Lee nodded solemnly.

"We had a little party for dad in the dining hall with a silly lightning bolt shaped cake and cloud cupcakes." He didn't tell them that all the drinks were same shade of green as his eyes because that was his husband's favourite colour. Or that Jason had pulled him in and kissed him so hard they had almost started a hurricane right there.

"I had asked my friends to help me set up a picnic blanket and a basket in the fields so we could go after breakfast. But when we got there everything had been trampled and broken."

Zoe gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Oh no," Lee's face pulled in horror.

"Who did it Pops? What happened?" Charles was sitting up now, his hand still firmly holding his twin's.

He gave them a wide eyed look, struggling to hold back his laugh at their intent expressions.

"Well we were both very confused and quickly took our swords out but then we heard a rustle from behind us. We turned around and sitting on a rock was this huge serpent. It was brown and swampy green with two giant horns on its head. And it was just staring at us."

"Your dad tried to get closer but before he could strike his sword this thing was moving towards us. It jumped on me and I fell to the ground."

They all let out a comically loud gasp.

"My sword fell out of my hand. But your dad was there and he sliced his sword down on it. Except he missed the monster because it moves so fast and his sword hit me instead."

Charles groaned, falling back onto his pillow.

"Come on Pops what happened?" Zoe bounced, looking up at him.

"So I'm injured, the monster is still slithering everywhere and your dad is trying to make sure I'm not gonna die. Before he could get me some ambrosia the serpent is back and striking at him. That's when I finally grab all the water from the strawberries and throw it at the monster. And then it crumbled to dust. Guess it wasn't thirsty huh?"

He didn't tell them he choked that creature till it didn't know the difference between blood and water, didn't tell them he nearly died trying to control so much with an injury. Didn't tell them the fury he felt when it had tried to attack his boyfriend.

"Uncle Grover was not happy with me because all the strawberries died but your dad and i made it back to the infirmary and we got all better. Which was great because Aunt Annabeth and Aunt Clarisse would have killed us if we couldn't participate in Capture the Flag." He laughed.

"What was the monster Pops?" Lee asked, earthy eyes wide.

Zoe frowned, "Yea and how did it get in? I thought camp was protected. "

"And who won capture the flag?" Charles waved his hands impatiently.

"We found out the monster was called Cerastes and it probably dug itself up under the borders. There was a whole maze running under camp, but it collapsed after Aunt Annabeth and I helped the creator out."

Zoe squealed, "Can we hear that story next?"

"Maybe another night, princess. And to answer your question Charlie," He smiled at his son, "Clarisse's team won capture the flag. Your dad and and Aunt Clarisse made us clean toilets for a week because we lost."

"Aw daddy," Lee scrunched his nose.

"Yes Annabeth was very unimpressed with them. Alright, time to sleep now."

"Pops," Zoe hugged his neck, "I miss dad."

He wrapped his arms around her little body, "Me too princess. But someday we will all see each other again."

Lee looked at him curiously, "How do you know?"

"Because your dad is in a very special place and if you guys continue to be brave and kind you will also go to that special place and you will see him again."

"And will you be there?" Charles tugged at his hand.

"I hope so. I think if you all give me kisses I'll be able to trade them in when the time comes."

They pounced on him, dissolving into giggles as he kissed them back and tickled their little feet.

"I love you guys, and your dad loved you more than all the stars in the sky." He looked at each of them, green eyes bright with love and sorrow.

"We love you too Pops." Charles let out a yawn.

"Yea, love you Pops." Lee climbed back into bed, "Are we getting pancakes tomorrow?"

"It is birthday tradition," He grinned at them, "And especially since you're becoming old men. Pancakes are soft so you don't have to chew when your teeth start falling out."

"Our teeth fall out?" Charles gave him an appalled look.

"Only if you don't brush your teeth Charlie." Zoe said matter of factly.

"Thats right," He held in a laugh at her serious expression.

"Goodnight little ones." He picked his daughter up, switching off the lights and closing the door halfway.

"You ready for bed princess?"

"Mhm Pops," She blinked slowly, "Can I help you make pancakes tomorrow?"

"Yes please," He laid her down gently, "You're the best sous chef ever."

Her answering beam made his chest tighten.

"I love you Pops. Thank you for the story."

"Was it to your satisfaction?" He flicked her nose softly.

"I like when you and dad save each other," She burrowed into her blankets, "It's much better when you do things together, instead of those silly princes who want to save the princess but don't let her help."

He shook his head in amusement, "When you go on your own adventures remember to do things together."

"We're gonna be a team." She gave him a determined look and then yawned.

He kissed her forehead and pulled up the blankets before leaving the room.

With a sigh he escaped to his own bed, sitting down with the heaviness of longing.

Jason and him weren't just a team; they were the question and answer, the sun and the moon, the beginning, middle and end.

He picked up the framed picture of them on their wedding day, Jason's blue eyes bright with happiness, and Percy looking at his husband like he hung the stars in the sky just so their glow could shine onto this love.

"I miss you my Saving Grace," He whispered.

And then laughed, as he felt the soft caress of wind brushing over his damp cheeks and dancing between his fingers.

"I love you."

#Guys they aren't allowed to die #My heart can't handle this shit #Jercy #Jercy fic #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #Jercy AU #PJO #HOO #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series #PJSSG asks #She speaks #Ciara's Convos #Not edited

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown.

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles.

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals.

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention.

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time.

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself.

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them.

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible.

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time.

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever.

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them.

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them.

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets.

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches.

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time.

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends.

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out.

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks.

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat.

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise.

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars.

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

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deansmyapplepie · 4 years

Text

Remembrance

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Tags: Stanford!Sam, Stanford!reader, past relationship, sort of AU where Jess doesn’t exist, emotions

Word Count: 2,062

(Gif not mine)

A yawn that you couldn't quite stifle behind your hand had you squeezing your eyes shut as your jaw practically came unhinged.

"Good morning." One of your newer officers poked her head through the doorway to your office, and you looked up from your laptop.

"Morning, Mason."

"I'm gonna get coffee before I get to work," she explained. "Can I get you anything?" Coffee sounded like heaven right now. It was 8:00 now, and you had been at the station since 7:30 yesterday... morning.

"That would be amazing, thank you," you replied gratefully. "I'll just take whatever you're having with an extra shot of espresso." Mason grinned at you with a slight shake of her head.

"You got it, boss." The second she was gone, you turned back to your computer.

You were already totally swamped between budget management, staff reports, and evaluations. But now, on top of it all, four little girls had gone missing in the last week and a half. Parents were furious and frantic, and you were only barely keeping your head above water. Your officers were doing the best they could, but even you were having trouble digging up any information. Four little girls just disappeared without a trace, and you were the one that had to tell their parents that you had no idea what happened - not exactly the most reassuring thing to hear when your child has gone missing. All four had vanished from precisely the same spot in the local park, but even stakeouts revealed nothing out of the ordinary. You were making zero progress, and it felt like you were just banging your head against a wall. And the wall was solid concrete. And also on fire.

"Cap?" Again, you looked up from your computer.

"What is it, Duffy?" you asked. Duffy was one of your more experienced officers. He was a bit on the smaller side, but he could still kick ass if needed - you had seen him in action before.

"I'm sorry to bother you." You turned in your spinning chair to face him, smiling kindly as you gave him your full attention.

"It's no bother at all."

"There are a couple men from the FBI here to see you. About the disappearances." You felt your smile falter, and you let out a long sigh. Just when you thought your day couldn't get any more complicated.

"Thanks, Duff. I'll be right there." Duffy let the door shut behind him on the way out, and you took a moment to yourself, burying your face in your hands. This was going to be interesting, that was for sure. You had worked with the FBI once in the past, and it wasn't what you would call a pleasant experience.

It was about two years ago when you had first assumed your position as police captain that two FBI agents had come to investigate a local cybercrime. Rather than work with you as you had been expecting, they mostly just wanted you out of the way and didn't tell you much else. But the times they did talk to you, they were rude and downright mean. You knew they were just doing their jobs, so, of course, you kept your mouth shut, but personally, you didn't think a badge gave them the right to be assholes.

With one final deep breath, you steeled yourself and stood, walking across your office in two short strides to open the door. As long as they weren't the same agents as last time, you were going to be fine. Besides, you had more experience under your belt now.

The second you laid eyes on the two agents, though, you instantly took back everything you had just thought. You weren't sure what either of them was doing here, but you did know one thing: they sure as hell weren't FBI agents. If you had any good sense left in you (which you suspected you probably didn't), you would have arrested them right on the spot. But you couldn't.

Instead, you found yourself frozen in place - from shock or anger, you couldn't tell - forced backward in time as all of your memories played like some torturous slideshow at the speed of light before your eyes. Back to all the late nights studying in the Stanford library, as you slowly but surely fell in love with him; back to the laughter that echoed through the kitchen when he burned dinner on what was supposed to be your first date; back to all the times that he had made love to you in your shared apartment. ...And back to the time when he left without a trace, and your world collapsed in on itself. Sam Winchester.

"S-" The beginnings of his name died on your tongue when you remembered where you were, and you bit your lip hard to stop yourself from calling out. Not that it was any surprise, considering how much time had passed, but he looked much older. His hair was no longer short and mussed, with his bangs drooping into his face like you recalled. Instead, it was longer, smoother, and darker, no doubt because of age. The extra years he had to fill out his face and physique suited him. He looked far more comfortable with himself than he had ever been when you were together, and you were suddenly struck by the pang of how much had changed.

But those eyes - those beautiful greenish hazel eyes that could never make up their mind what color they wanted to be - those were still the same. And when Sam finally spotted you standing breathlessly, his eyes widened, though you couldn't decipher the emotions behind the wall he had put up.

"Agents," you called out, willing your voice not to shake. "We can speak privately in my office." You had only met Dean once: the last time you saw Sam. Judging by the way he brushed past you into your office without a second glance, he didn't even remember you. But you remembered him. Sam looked searchingly into your face as he followed his brother. You held his gaze for a brief moment before tearing yourself away, closing the door behind both of them.

Despite your better judgment, you found yourself standing in front of him, still not truly believing that he was really here.

"Y/N," he breathed, just as transfixed as you were.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean cut in. "Y/N as in your girlfriend from college, Y/N? From fifteen years ago?" Dean's question fell on two deaf pairs of ears.

"What happened to you?" you asked. "I..." You swallowed hard. "I looked for you." Sam looked away shamefully, and you took notice in the way he was unable to meet your eyes when he answered.

"I had to deal with some family business." You had to admit, his answer surprised you. You knew Sam very well, and he was many things, but a liar just wasn't one of them. Since when did he not tell the truth?

"That does not answer my question," you pointed out irritably. "Nor does it explain why the hell you and your brother are playing dress-up as federal agents! Have you lost your damn mind?" The youngest Winchester turned to his brother for help, who merely gave a shrug as he suddenly became very interested in the blinds you had put up over one of the office windows. "You realize this can get you behind bars, right?"

"Well, what about you?" Sam asked with a not-so-subtle subject change. "You were working on law with me, not law enforcement. What happened?" Your heart stuttered sadly in your chest as you began to recount the story.

"October 31, 2005," you started, and Sam immediately grimaced. He already knew where this was going, but you didn't care. He wanted to hear what happened? Then he was going to hear it. "Dean broke into our apartment - which I still think was batshit crazy, by the way," you pointed out to which Dean gave a small nod of reluctant agreement. "You told me it was something with your dad," you continued, "and that you'd be gone for a few days - a week tops. Sam, that was the last time I saw you. It broke my heart, It almost killed me. Up until now, I never saw you again. I couldn't eat, and I couldn't sleep. I-I-" you started to stutter. You couldn't help it. "I stopped going to class." You saw the pity flood into of Dean's eyes as guilt filled Sam's. "My grades started slipping until..." You had to stop for a moment to get your emotions back under control. "I lost my full ride." Even though you felt your stomach fluttering like a leaf in a hurricane, you somehow managed to keep your voice even. "I had to go home.

“My parents were furious," you continued. "They kicked me out, told me not to come back." Sam reached for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze as he listened to your story. "So, I packed up my car and moved out here. I took a waitressing job to pay the bills; I saved up for a few years for the closest police academy. The end goal there was to become a detective, so I could find you." Dean watched the two of you carefully, almost as if he was really seeing you for the first time. "I did it." You gestured to your old detective badge, displayed proudly on the shelf behind your desk. "But then they offered me the position of sergeant, and I realized-" A small choking sound came from your throat, and you realized that your eyes had started to well. You cleared your throat, blinking furiously. "-I realized it was time to let go. So, I took the promotion. That was four years ago." The chain from the overhead fan clinked against the lightbulb as phones rang outside your office door.

Somewhat lost in thought now, you nodded to yourself and moved back to your desk, where you rifled through a dusty filing cabinet. "But I still... Aha!" Your hand emerged from the thing with a huge cream-colored manila folder, packed to the brim, and rubber-banded shut to keep its contents from spilling out. Feeling a bit subconscious, you clutched the folder tightly in your hands. "This is everything I was able to dig up, but you disappeared somewhere around 2006." Dean gave his younger brother a knowing look, which you didn't understand, but you didn't press the matter. "Turns out, you're a hard man to track down."

When Sam opened his mouth to speak, eyes swimming with emotion, you were afraid your heart might stop beating.

"Okay!" You visibly jumped as the door to your office swung open, and Mason stepped in with a cardboard to-go cup. "One extra-large cappuccino, with an extra shot of-" She suddenly seemed to notice that Sam and Dean were in the room with you, and her eyes widened apologetically. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, setting the coffee on the edge of your desk before retreating back to the door. "I didn't realize you were in the middle of something. I'll get out of your hair."

"No worries, Officer Jones," you responded with a smile. "Our visitors were just leaving." Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he didn't object. "Agent," you addressed Sam politely, noting the disappointed air surrounding him at being treated as if the two of you didn't know each other. "I believe this should aid you in your search." When you handed him the manila folder that contained all hints of your extensive search, his fingers brushed yours, just barely, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Thank you." You saw the remorseful glint in his eyes, and in an impossible language that you couldn't explain how you understood, you knew that what he said was entirely different from what he was actually saying to you: I’m sorry.

With that, the two men were gone from your office. You felt yourself sag a bit in relief. It wasn't until Mason touched your arm that you realized she had been speaking to you.

"Are you okay? You look pale." Again, you concealed your emotions with a smile.

"I'm perfectly all right," you lied. "Just tired."

Thank you so much for reading! <3

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox are in my bio!

What was your favorite part? I love when you guys talk to me :)

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soren-bleu-kun · 4 years

Text

BnHA Fics I’ve Read This Week 1

I read and review a lot of fics, every week. Here is the list from last Friday, to today. Let me know if I should I do this next week.

Bloom in Winter - God linking all the art for this was a bitch in my google document, but worth it. In this uncompleted and seemingly abandoned twelve chapter fic where Midoriya is forced to work with villains with his analytical abilities. The story picks up when he finds out that he’s going to have to infiltrate UA as a General Studies student in order to find a way to help kill his idol, All Might.

The Sun in My Eyes - This is a MomoJirou fic where the two girls meet at a young age and slowly fall in love as they grow up together. A fast read, and really cute.

Trust Fall - This is a cute little fic that I think is supposed to end on a note of a possible relationship between Shinsou and Midoriya. Basically, the 2A addition to the UA Cultural Festival is a cat café, and while chasing one down both Midoriya and the cat he was chasing end up stuck in a tree, and it’s Shinsou to the rescue.

What’s She Got That I Don’t? - This is a one-shot where we see Kirishima tell Bakugou that he has a crush on him. Getting rejected, he expected that. What he didn’t expect was for Bakugou to turn around and ask out Uraraka the very next day. This one-shot was good, but painful at times.

I. Shaky Hands - This is the beginning of rexcorvidae’s incomplete Whumptober Series. I did not review every single piece of this series, but it does kick off with a very good start. Dadzawa to the rescue when he realizes that - with all the damage that Midoriya’s done to them - his problem child can’t use a pen well, or a pair of chopsticks.

[Because this was a series of unconnected stories, I will be putting each one that I reviewed after this]

III. Delirium - Midoriya gets sick out of the blue in the UA dorms, attacks some students in his delirious state, and collapses. The whump is just spectacular and I love any story that features a character that thinks their friends are their enemies

IV. Human Shield - While taking Midoriya out for ice cream, he and Yagi get attacked. His brilliant solution to save his mentor? Jump in front of the bullet and almost die. There is some good Dad Might in this fic.

VII. Isolation - Warning, this fic deals with Suicidal Ideation. Basically, what would happen if Midoriya took Bakugou’s middle school taunting as far as it could have gone. It ends with him standing on a roof, read at your own risk.

XV. Scars - Midoriya has scars from the years of violent bullying that he went through and they don’t go unnoticed by his mentor. On the other side of the coin, Midoriya doesn’t want to tell Yagi who did it because he knows that if the people who tormented him don’t get to slide into being the heroes that they don’t deserve to be, they could be terrible villains. I honestly love this fic, it deserves everything.

XVI. Stitches - This is an AU where Nighteye finds Midoriya at a pretty young age, sees the sort of analytical work that he can do, and has him intern at his office [and holds onto his notebooks for him, since there’s a lot of dangerous information in there, even if Midoriya doesn’t understand that when they first meet]. This story takes place a few years into that internship, when Midoriya collapses at work after the stitches he put in himself after another round of violent assault from his classes gets infected.

XVIII. Muffled Screams - The last fic in this series that I reviewed, and it is a painful one, quite literally for Midoriya. In this story, he has been kidnapped, and he has one job. Don’t scream. Of course, this is difficult as he gets tortured, but he has to, because the villain promises that if he makes a noise, someone he cares about will die. We see this from the live feed that is being broadcast of the torture, with Yamada, Aizawa, and Yagi.

Is it the Thunder in the Distance - This is a good little one-shot featuring Yagi spending the night at the Midoriya household and finding his successor sleeping on the floor right outside of his room. All in all, this is a very good fic and I like it a lot. Note, the actual name of the fic is much longer, but I am not writing the entire thing out again.

If I’m Losing Again, Quiet Me Down - This takes place during the Stain Arc, when Midoriya is sitting in the hospital with Todoroki and Iida. While calling around to make sure that people know that he’s okay, he ends up having a panic attack. There is a soft ending to this one.

I’ll Carry You Home - This was a debut fic for the author on Ao3, and it features Yagi carrying an exhausted Midoriya home after a long day of training. Most adorably, he accidentally calls his mentor “dad,” and when Midoriya wakes up enough to realize what he said there is a lot of apologizing. All in all a cute story.

Growing Like You - This is a short one-shot featuring Midoriya finding out that one of the side affects of his new Quirk is that he’s growing, fast and a lot. Trying to find him something to wear, Yagi ends up stumbling across a box of his old UA clothes, and he gives it to Midoriya.

Feelings of a Fanboy - This is one of those “What if Midoriya had a Quirk” stories, and they are some of my favorite kinds of fanfics out there. In this one, his power is called Emotional Rush. Basically, the more he feels, the stronger and faster he gets. This goes up to right around/before the Stain Arc.

Father’s Day - This is a fic that features Hisashi Midoriya not really being around and Yagi stepping into the paternal role in Midoriya’s life, something that they both seem to need.

Define “Villainy” - This is more or less a crack fic where Tsuyu realizes that literally no one in her class has tried to stop her from straight up attempting to murder Mineta, and they will probably continue to let her because no one in the class actually likes him.

Anything, Anything - This is a fic that I already recommended to someone, and it is so good. This is a fic that features eventual TodoDoriya, where the two of them keep running into each other in the UA Dorms common room whenever they wake up from nightmares.

Those Hardest to Love Need it the Most - This is a Dadzawa fic where Aizawa finds out that Midoriya was extremely mistreated at his middle school and opens up an investigation in hopes of taking the place down for Quirk discrimination.

All the Signs - This is a crack fic for what I consider a bit of a crack ship, Huyumi. Basically, Fuyumi gets pregnant with Hawks’ kid and starts acting a little... bird like. The author, ohmytheon, is fantastic and I have read so much of their stuff.

Come Home - This fic breaks my entire heart. This is a story where Touya and Fuyumi Todoroki are twins, two halves of the same whole. This goes through their childhood together, right up to the end where Fuyumi watches Touya being Dabi on TV and refuses to rat him out. She just wishes that he would come back.

Who Will Protect Them - USJ 2.0, taking place when 1A has become 3A. After getting slammed into a wall and not being able to get back up, Aizawa wonders who’ll protect his class, before realizing that they’re more than keeping their own. He’s proud... and he’ll be even more proud if he survives this.

Darken Your Door - This is a fic that deals with neglect, emotional abuse, and manipulation. While on a run to a corner store with Midoriya, Aizawa gets to meet his students estranged father. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that his student is extremely uncomfortable around his parent. From then on he wraps Hisashi Midoriya in more red tape than he’ll be able to get out from under. No one talks to his students unless his students want to hear from that person.

Mouth Shut (Eyes Down) - A story in which Midoriya does not trust adults because they were the ones that let Bakugou and the rest of his bullies get away with assaulting him. He accidentally admits this to Aizawa after being stabbed when he thought he could “handle” getting stalked.

A Touch of Hope - This is technically a soulmates fic, where you find your soulmate after physical contact. Shinsou was not expecting to find his at UA, nor was he expecting that it would give him an opportunity to join the Hero Course if he can prove himself.

Voiceless - This is a shorter fic, only 1K, and it features Midoriya losing his voice when he gets sick and Shinsou taking care of him. It’s pretty cute.

Creating Music - This is a three chapter fic taking place over two days, the day before and the day of Valentine’s Day. This is a MomoJirou fic that is really cute and sentimental. I love it so much.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year - In this fic, Midoriya is a dumbass and Shinsou finds his crush stuck to a pole by his tongue. He is not wearing a coat, and he has been stuck like this for a long time.

Hook, Line, and Sinker - This is a great EraserMic fic in a Quirkless AU, where Aizawa thinks that his tinder date it a catfish because there is no way internationally famous singer Hizashi Yamada just matched with him. Note, there is smut in either the second or third chapter.

Ask Me No Questions, I’ll Tell You No Lies - This is a silly little fic where Shinsou and Midoriya share a hotel room. Before you ask, there are two beds. There is a kiss, but that’s about it. A little OOC for Midoriya, but still pretty good.

Shinsou the Local Cryptic - This is a fic where Shinsou becomes an internet meme of his own creating. It’s honestly pretty fun, and I had a good time with this one-shot.

You Anchor Me Back Down - This is a one-shot with some fun art in it. When Todoroki is hit with a random Quirk that causes him to float whenever he’s happy, it’s difficult for him to keep his crush on Midoriya a secret. This takes place during their third year.

Cosmic Confluence - Wonderful Shinsou-Centric fic where he’s a reaper and it’s his job to watch over Izuku Midoriya until he dies. I wish that there was more of this fic that I could read because the idea of this is so interesting.

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Note

Can you write a imagine were Y/N is willies friend and comes to quarantine at his and Niall’s. Niall ends up liking her and willie encourages him to speak to her or something xx

NOTE: so sorry this took so long to post anon its been the course of weeks i have attempted at writing and rewriting this multiple times and i am still a bit unsure about it so if you or any readers would like to give feedback that would be vv appreciated! Also put a lil thing in here for the anon who thought it’d be cool to incorporate my blog name in an imagine so here is to that reader of mine also, enjoy!

Sad Song Addict - N. Horan Imagine

It had been three weeks since you took up the offer of staying with Willie’s flat with him and Niall. At first, you were hesitant, wondering how Willie’s roommate would feel about your unanticipated stay that could last upwards of eighteen months from predictions of the news. The morning you woke up to the news of airlines shutting down and flights being canceled, you began frantically packing up your things in the hotel room you had booked for the week. But your hope and energy were drained by the end of it due to the current situation and the fact that you gained nearly three hours of tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress you “slept” on last night.

Luckily, Willie lived only minutes from the hotel and was calling you with the proposal of a living situation before you could even zip your suitcase closed. You wanted to decline and kept shaking your head in refusal at each argument Willie came up with: which were very logical and irrefutable. You were stable on your feet financially, but not confident enough to book your stay at a hotel for a year. Additionally, most items you packed to keep you “nourished” were a few granola bars and bottled waters.

It was thirty seconds into Willie’s desperate pleas over the phone for you to come to stay with him when you finally caved. It made you feel lucky, almost, to have a person so close (literally and metaphorically) who cares for you enough to offer their living space and all that is offered to you for as long as necessary.

Now, three weeks of the same guest room, same-colored walls, same sheets, and comforter, the same atmosphere; you had your first breakdown. It was minor and could have been much worse had you not opted for a good cry in the shower and rather tear up your temporary living space. Your breathing was shattered, heartbeat erratic and you’re pretty sure more tears leaked from your eyes than they did from the showerhead above you. You were grateful Willie had left for a quick run to the store for food and whatever cleaning supplies could be scavenged, otherwise you knew he would have heard you.

The beating streams of water trickling down your red face was refreshing, but also a bittersweet method to open up your thoughts. You never realized how much one could take for granted. Specifically, those you saw every day or even every month. You missed being able to walk outside and do the simple tasks you once thought to be mundane: like checking the mail or turning on the sprinklers.

Towards the end of your revelations, you did not hide your smallest whimpers, nor the large sobs which all but heaved out of you. You let them slip because it was the closest you’ve achieved to screaming in a while.

Willie may have been out of the house during this point in the night, but his roommate was not. Niall’s room happened to be right beside the bathroom where your unbridled collapse of emotions had taken place. While he twiddled with the pen and blank pages of a journal, something more peculiar had caught his interest. The sounds of your crying only a room over physically pained Niall to listen to. He yearned to block the noises out, even thought about putting on a pair of headphones to keep your privacy, but the guilt inside of him overrode it.

Labeling your relationship with Niall as “friends” would be a stretch. You would call yourselves acquaintances at most. Ironically, Willie was like a brother to you. But whenever you and Niall visited London concurrently, there were two different parties you would both attend too. Out of the two, Willie was your only mutual friend. Therefore, you and Niall exchanged very few words with one another in past gatherings, maybe shared a pint at the same table. But other than that, you never did cross paths with one another.

Despite you living with him now, it seemed as though nothing had changed. Niall helped you bring your bags to the guest room, gave a less than detailed tour of the home, and accepted they would have to cook for three now. As far as Niall knew, Willie was thrilled to be having another friend to stay with him. While Niall did not seem to mind your figure bustling through his house with suitcases, it was much more pleasant than he let on.

Niall learned to be discreet about his emotions over the years and follow a rule to put it all in the notebook for only his eyes. Secretly, he has always been infatuated with you and would be lying if he said a few certain songs on his previous album were not about you.

You would think that having you here in front of him every day would make this upcoming album an easy write. At least the mushy-gushy songs, Niall thought. But the moment you stumbled through the front door, any idea Niall might have had was pushed to the back of his mind. You were all he could think about, but it seemed impossible to put that in the right string of words since the two of you had become closer.

In a physical sense, that is. Though Niall enjoyed the idea of finally having an intimate conversation with you about whatever, and Willie had persuaded him many times to do so, he lacked the courage. If you were interested you would have come up to him first. At least, that was Niall’s logic. That thought then led him down a rabbit hole of unnecessary thoughts of if you ever thought of him as a friend. What was he going to do if you admitted the likeness was not reciprocated. How was he going to get you to admit it?

The unmistakable sound of the bathroom door creaking open has Niall’s ears perking up. Though he was afraid to know if you felt the same about him, he would feel worse to stand idly by and know you were not your happiest. With a content sigh and a disappointed glance at the still-blank pages before him, Niall heaved himself off of his desk chair and emerged from his bedroom.

Traversing down the hallway until he is facing the guest room door, he begins to regret leaving his own. While his mind was screaming to go back and just ignore whatever urge drove him to stand up in the first place, his knuckles beat him and celebrated with a few steady laps to the door.

“Come in.” Your voice was muffled, but Niall could hear your voice, shaky, and congested from the sadness and snot you tried your best to contain upon exiting the shower. Niall entered the room slowly, as though the floors were lined with fragile antiques he best not knock over. As he glanced up, his eyes drank in the sight of your cheeks, puffy and red as you swiped away below your eyes, trying to rid of any evidence of your earlier emotions.

“Hey,” Niall greeted. He gently waltzed over to your figure, sat with your legs crossed on the bed. “May I?” You gave a small nod to Niall, seconds later having him sitting beside you.

“So…watcha doin’?” Niall tries a lighthearted tone of voice but fails miserably. You had suspicions, as if your blazing cheeks were not obvious enough, that Niall knew very well what you were suffering moments before. But now that he had just confirmed it, your cheeks felt that much warmer.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” There was no point in trying to avoid what both of you knew. After this awkward conversation (wherever it would lead) he would probably go tell Willie, who would sit you down and counsel you without your consent.

“Uh, yeah…I just wanted to check up on ya.” His expression was unchanging with its concern. A few moments of silence passed between you two before a small whisper passed you.

“Yeah.” You nod, meeting his eyes. “Just got a little…homesick. Started thinking. Maybe a little too hard.” You laugh a little. “Listening to sad songs in the shower probably didn’t help, either.” Niall hums in agreement, sparing a smile at you.

“You like sad music?” You scoff at this.

“If there was an AA for sad songs, I’d be their biggest supporter.” Your comment made Niall snort through his remark.

“I’d probably be the president.” His challenging statement earned a light raise of your eyebrows.

“Is that so?” Your hand moves over to retrieve your phone. Upon unlocking it and opening your music library, you offer it to Niall with an outstretched arm. “Take a look.”

He scrolled through your library, eyes widening at some songs or artists he assumed you would never know existed. “Wow…you weren’t kidding.” Niall chuckled, recognizing many of the titles listed on your phone screen. After a few more moments it was handed back to you, who had an accomplished smile gracing her face.

“So, what have you been doing?” Niall shifted slightly on the bed, clearing his throat.

“Writing. Or, I should say trying to.” He rolls his eyes, lips twitching downward to a small frown.

“Having a block?” Niall gives an upsetting shake of his head.

“But from what Willie told me, there’s another songwriter under this roof.” He gives you a sly flick of his blue eyes, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. It was obvious as to what he was hinting, and with how taken you were for the man, “no” was the last answer he would be getting.

“I am. Were you in need of some of my expertise?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt…” Niall shrugs, making you giggle lightly.

“Okay, well—”

“Neither would a date.” He cuts in. It takes a few moments for you to digest the words, and you sat in awe.

“A—I’m sorry, I thought you said—”

“A date? Because I did.” The smirk is climbing up on Niall’s face once again, along with a hopeful gleam overtaking his pair of blues.

“I….”

“Will you go out with me?” Lost for words, the only motion you could perform was a frantic nod. Quickly, you reach over to the bedside table and grab your planner, untouched for the last few weeks in exception to the hour you dedicated to canceling plans and rescheduling other activities for the upcoming months.

“Yeah, what day did you have in mi—” Before you could complete your inquiry, a thin piece of paper fell from the current page in your planner. It was not thin enough to be a plain sheet of paper, nor thick enough to be considered a cardstock or a poster. Niall snatched the object to discern it and flipped it over to reveal a photo.

The polaroid you secretly asked Willie to give you nearly a year ago displayed both you and Niall sat beside each other, laughing over something your awful (and very hazy) memory could not remember. Just when you thought your cheeks were remedied by the flowing conversation between you and Niall, you felt the vicious fire rising to taint them once again.

“This was…that was the night we met, wasn’t it?” Niall questions, baring a bit of tooth at your abashed expression, flailing for any excuse to leave this topic of conversation. Quickly, your hand reached out to snatch the polaroid from his grasp, tucking it safely away in your planner.

“Irrelevant.”

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thebipolarbisexualnerd · 4 years

Note

Tk finding Carlos sitting on the shower floor after a really bad shift, Tk takes care of him(and he doesn't get to hide his curls)

This took a darker turn than you were probably expecting. My brain goes to dark places way too often. Features Carlos whump and inspired by a post by @comablog2 and they let me write a similiar idea so thanks for that!! Hope you guys enjoy

It’s always the last call of the day that ends in disaster.

Carlos could have ignored the call over the radio since he was off shift in another twenty minutes, but he decided to go help with the call after a gunshot was reported at a residential place. TK was with his dad for a while anyways so he wasn’t in a hurry to get home to an empty house. He got in his cruiser and followed instructions to what looked like a perfectly innocent house. He was out of his cruiser and to the front door in seconds, pounding loudly and announcing police presence. The door was unlocked so Carlos pulled his gun and slowly walked into the shadows of the house. Adrenaline rushed through him as nothing but silence met his ears as he gazed around the open concept living room and kitchen. Nothing at all seemed out of place, but Carlos knew something sinister had happened here tonight. His heart pounded as he called out again his position with the Austin Police. He took a slow, careful step down the wood paneled hallway when an image from his nightmares stepped out of the master bedroom on the left hand side.

The moon was the only light in the house and the man was covered in shadows as he stumbled into the wall. Carlos could smell the whiskey from here as it seemed to fill the air like an awful cologne. Green eyes caught his and instantly Carlos knew who it was he had caught tonight. Those eyes haunted him even years after he had last seen them, especially in combination with that maniacal grin.

“My little Latino doll came to join me,” Nathan Cadbury drawled lazily as he leaned against the wall. Carlos could see he was covered in blood despite the poor lighting, but that wasn’t what made his blood turn to ice and a band tighten around his chest. “I heard you became an upholder of the law after all. How nice of you to drop in.”

Carlos knew he should ignore the way blood rushed in his ears. He should arrest this man and have him on the ground already. He was dangerous yes, but also heavily intoxicated and he could have him on the ground in seconds if only his body would cooperate and stop being frozen to the spot. His gun slowly lowered to his side as he stood there taking in the man that he’d thought had ruined his life when he’d been only barely eighteen years old. He was the only monster Carlos had ever known, and he was the motivation to join up with the police academy. He had wanted to protect the world from people like him, and he’d horrendously failed.

The door bursts open while the two of them stand there and Carlos tries to breathe through the panic response his body would always have in the presence of Nathan. The other man begins to laugh as other officers swarm in to arrest him and Carlos can’t look at any of them. He was the first officer here, but he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. He slipped into the bedroom to get away from Nathan and felt himself sinking to the floor when his eyes rested on the body of a young latino boy sprawled lifeless on the mattress. He had been stabbed multiple times before being shot in the head. The gruesome murder isn’t what makes his stomach roll and his breathing quicken. The bruises on his skin were all too familiar, and the marks around his wrists in the shape of fingers were like looking into a mirror from ten years ago. Carlos had always thought he had deserved the way Nathan treated him. He had thought he had done something to earn his bruises and marks. He had told himself Nathan would never do things like this to someone else.

He had been woefully so wrong.

He wasn’t alone long and somehow it felt like he was invisible as crime scene investigators came in to examine the body and the scene Nathan had created.

“Carlos,” Michelle’s smooth voice reached him as he struggled to breathe. The paramedic team had likely been called to transport the body and pronounce the death. “I thought you were off shift.”

“It’s Nathan,” Carlos said to her, knowing she could understand the horror filling him and would be the only one to understand the reason he couldn’t move or even breathe. “They arrested Nathan for-for-”

“We need to get you out of here,” Michelle said without hesitation as she ran a hand over his hair and the touch helped to ground him. “You don’t need to be here. You can’t be here.”

“I c-can’t-” He felt his flimsy walls collapsing with his best friend here. Michelle was the only person who knew the true story between himself and Cadbury. He hadn’t been able to tell his mom even though they were close as could be. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone about that relationship.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Michelle told him softly with a squeeze to his arm. “He’s being taken away for good, Carlos. He can’t hurt you.”

Carlos was using everything in his power to avoid a full blown panic attack as Michelle tugged him to his feet and they made it out into some cool fresh air. He unlocked his cruiser on autopilot, only wanting to get away from here.

“You don’t really think you’re up to driving, do you?” Michelle asked as she cut in front of him to stand between him and the open door.

“I want to go home,” Carlos couldn’t break down here in front of most of his colleagues. He would never live that down. His eyes were burning fiercely and all he wanted was a way to let these emotions out someplace safe. “Please, ‘chelle, I just need to go home and away from...all this.”

“Let me drive-” Michelle started but they both knew that wasn’t even a possible option.

“You have a job to do,” Carlos told her as he nudged her out of the way so he could get into his car. “I can drive home just fine. TK is coming over tonight.” If he didn’t cancel which he was tempted to do in this kind of headspace.

“Text me when you get home,” Michelle ordered as she slowly stepped back from the car. “I mean it Carlos, text me. I’m coming over if you don’t, shift or no shift. I’ll call you later on.”

“I’ll text,” Carlos promised before closing the door and taking a shaky breath in before blowing it out slowly. He had to keep it together long enough to get home. Nathan didn’t matter anymore. He had grown so far past his abuser. He had put this all behind him long ago. Nathan was in jail now, or he would be once morning came at the very least.

But that boy’s death was purely his fault.

Carlos had no idea how he got home safely since he couldn’t remember the drive home at all. He probably hadn’t been safe to drive, but being alone with something to do is the only way he was holding himself together. He was fooling himself to think he could hold this together. He didn’t need to break down. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good now. The past was the past and there was nothing he could do to change it. He made it until he stepped into the quiet shower with hot water pounding down on his back. Nobody was here to witness this and he had nothing to distract his mind from the whirling thoughts of seeing his abusive ex-boyfriend again. Nothing to take his mind off of the image of that bruised boy sprawled on the bed, beaten and shot. There had been so many nights Carlos had thought Nathan was going to kill him back when he was young. The man had an awful temper when he was drunk, and completely unpredictable. Carlos had let himself fall in love with a man he barely knew and it had led to bruises being hidden by long sleeves and clever lies.

The first sob shook his frame harshly as he braced one hand on the shower wall and it felt like he was twenty years old all over again and trying to gather the courage to leave the toxic relationship he was in. Leaving Nathan had been the hardest thing he had ever done, and even back then he hadn’t had the courage to report him. He had simply begged any God that would listen for Nathan to leave him in peace. He had gotten his wish at the expense of someone else and that was unforgivable.

His knees gave out as his body shook and he curled up helplessly sobbing on the floor of his shower where nobody could hear him or judge him for feeling the gaping would reopen once more. The steam wasn’t helping when he felt like he couldn’t breathe already due to the band around his chest tightening like a noose. It felt like he was going to suffocate with how hard he was sobbing and unable to catch a breath in between. If he died here he would deserve it for letting that young boy die. He was a coward and someone had paid the price for that. He had been too weak to speak up so someone had gotten hurt. He wasn’t the man everyone thought he was. He was thought of as a man to be looked up to and respected. He was thought of as brave and unshakable.

Those things couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Carlos!” TK’s voice broke through as the water shut off hastily and Carlos had probably forgotten to even lock his door when he had gotten home. “Oh baby, it’ll be okay.” TK made to reach out to hold him, but Carlos flinched back without thinking. He didn’t deserve hands on him in comfort. He didn’t deserve to feel better. “Carlos, you need to take a deep breath before you pass out. You’re safe and it’s only the two of us here. Breathe with me, baby.”

“I-It’s my f-f-fault,” Carlos stuttered out in between gasping breaths.

“Shh, Carlos take a deep breath, okay?” TK soothed him quietly as he knelt next to the shower patiently. “It’s going to be okay.”

“N-no!” Carlos protested. Things wouldn’t ever be okay again. How could they be when he was responsible for the death of another human being? He was sworn to protect others and uphold the law. What kind of officer broke half of that oath? He didn’t protect that boy from being murdered by a man that should have been in prison long ago. “I-It’s not okay. He’s dead and it’s not okay.”

“Look at me, honey,” TK said softly, rubbing him gently with a soft towel and it was helping ground him to the moment a little more instead of being caught up in being in that house. “Show me those beautiful brown eyes, okay?”

Carlos forced himself to focus on TK and saw how worried his boyfriend was about him. His green eyes showed concern and compassion as he knelt next to him. TK affectionately brushed his curls off his forehead with a towel as he gave him a small smile. Carlos started to realize how cold he was now that his sobs were slowing down at last even if his breathing still hitched time and again.

“Let’s try to get up and dry off, okay?” TK offered as he held out a hand and stood. Carlos wasn’t really ready to leave the sanctuary of the shower, but his knees were cramping up and aching by now, not to mention he truly was freezing enough to start to shiver. The moment his hand touched TK’s the tears came full force again and he found himself wrapped around his boyfriend in an instant. TK didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he was soaking wet and naked, but simply wrapped him in his arms tightly and murmured assurances in his ear. Carlos tucked his face into TK’s neck and sobbed openly like his entire world was ending in this moment.

It took a few minutes, but eventually his cries faded to soft whimpers and TK had wrapped the towel around him to help keep him warm. Carlos felt embarrassed to have cried like that in front of TK, but he also felt a sense of relief that the horror and grief of the day had been released.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos’s voice was absolutely wrecked and he winced at only the sound of it.

“No need to apologize,” TK told him with a small, sincere smile and a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll get you some clothes and you can climb into bed. Then I’ll get you a cool glass of water, okay?”

Carlos nodded and gazed at his feet in embarrassment. He hadn’t lost it in front of someone in a long, long time. TK shouldn’t have had to see that. The man had enough problems to deal with of his own. He didn’t need a boyfriend falling apart over something that had happened years ago as it was.

“Arms up, love,’ TK held out his favorite yellow hoodie for Carlos to slip on and he felt his heart melt in gratitude. The smell indicated home and it made him feel safe, warding off the chill he felt as soon as Nathan’s silhouette shone in the moonlight. He felt hands come up to gently cup his face. “Are you alright? Michelle was worried when she called me.”

“She called?” Carlos sighed and knew his best friend had the best of intentions. “What did she tell you?”

“She said I needed to hurry home. She said you needed me because of a bad call you went on at the end of your shift. I… I’ve never seen you like that.” TK’s sweet face was tight with worry, but Carlos couldn’t force himself to hold his gaze. He knew TK had questions and that it might help to tell someone else about what was going on. He doubted this case was one that would fade with the night. He would likely be having nightmares from his past and this wasn’t something he could hide when TK practically lived with him.

“You aren’t the only one that’s been through a nuclear bad break up,” Carlos tried to smile a bit to show TK he wasn’t completely broken. “I ran into an ex today on my last call.”

He saw the flashes of insecurity on TK’s face and for a minute his tears were interpreted as something entirely different. TK was never said to be anything but brave as he kept his gaze and fought past the insecurities. “Yeah? How did that happen?”

“Well,” Carlos ran a hand over his curls and had to get under the covers to pull them up to his chin. “He was the murderer we were arresting.”

“Oh fuck,” TK said immediately as his eyes widened and he slowly came around to sit next to him on the bed. Carlos could have laughed if he didn’t feel torn apart and raw. He didn’t know how to hold the rest of this conversation. He didn’t know how to tell the man who thought he hung the stars and the moon that he hadn’t always been so strong and sure. He had seen something in TK when he had first come to Austin that had reminded him of himself ten years ago. He knew Alex hadn’t been as bad as Nathan, but he also knew the more he got to know TK that Alex had been far from nice. “Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“When I met Nathan,” Carlos had his hands clenched in the blankets and his voice was barely loud enough to be heard even in the quiet of their bedroom. “I never thought he was nice. He was jaded and drank too much and hated pretty much everyone. He was selfish all the time and took exactly what he wanted without regard to anyone else. I was young and he was incredibly attractive so I forgave the first dozen times he grabbed my wrist a little too hard.”

“Baby…” TK said softly and reached to take his hand. Carlos squeezed his fingers in return, but he couldn’t look at his boyfriend or else he would never get through this.

“Eventually I was one of the only people he was civil to most of the time,” He squeezed his eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. “I thought I was the one that was going to change him. The one that would soften the bad boy and all of that. He was my first boyfriend and I was desperate not to go back to being alone again.”

“I’m right here Carlos,” TK assured him softly and Carlos was nearly finished. The story was relatively short to tell, even if living it had been the longest two years of his life.

“He waited until about eight months in before he started hitting me,” Carlos felt TK grip his hand tighter and heard his slight intake of breath. “By that time I was in love with him, or I thought I was. I was more or less living with him so my family had no idea he hurt me. Anyways, I convinced myself for another year that somehow I deserved it when he would punish me for not doing the dishes or for not having dinner ready when he got home. I thought I wasn’t good enough. I told myself it had everything to do with me and nothing to do with him.” Carlos wiped the tears off his cheeks and was thankful the hardest part to tell was over. “I eventually left him with Michelle’s support and help. She was the only person I told what was going on and she tried to convince me to go to the cops and tell them what had happened. She wanted me to report the entire thing and press charges. I was scared of him and told myself he would never hurt anyone else the way he did to me. “

“You were a kid still,” TK said with his voice shaking a bit and Carlos knew this was a lot to unload on another person. He had no doubt TK could handle his darkness, but it still made him feel insecure. “You were young and of course you weren’t ready to do all of that.”

“Someone is dead because I chose not to say anything.” He felt the shaking start again even as he said the words. “He found someone else to beat up for his amusement and eventually he killed someone. If I had said something then he -- he would… It’s all my fault.”

“Shh, no baby it isn’t,” TK was crying with him now and was done with having any space between them at all as he climbed into Carlos’s lap to wrap his legs around his waist as he hugged him tightly. Carlos tried to stop his sobs as they came back to the surface. He hadn’t told that story for ten years and it was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

“I feel so awful,” Carlos told him amidst soft sobs. “That kid is dead because of me.”

“He’s dead because of the man who pulled the trigger,” TK told him firmly with a kiss to his forehead. “You were a kid and he hurt you. I’m just glad you got out of there when you did. Baby, I promise that you aren’t to blame in this.”

“I need to sleep,” Carlos knew the crying would never end until he had some rest and his brain had some time to process.

"Can you sleep?" TK asked him softly. "I can make you some tea if you want."

"Just want you to hold me. " Carlos felt a blush rising on his face at the simple and earnest request.

"That I can do. " TK smiled at him gently and opened his arms for Carlos to crawl back into and cuddle close until his head was on TK's chest. "I love you baby, and I'm always going to be right here. I'm never going to hurt you. If that bastard wasn't already going to jail I'd be tempted to hunt him down. I'm sorry anyone ever hurt you that way. "

"Glad I have you now, " Carlos whispered sleepily as he felt TK rub circles on his back gently. The crying made him exhausted and it wasn't long before he could fall asleep in his lover's arms safe in the knowledge he would never be hurt again and he would always be loved.

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #angst #mywriting #panic attack #kinda #ex boyfriend #carlos needs a hug #and he gets one #hope you guys like it

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saudadeonly · 4 years

Text

never doubt never fear

Read on ao3. Part seven.

Death Eater!Sirius Black AU

The year after Andromeda Tonks and her family are declared dead to the rest of the Wizarding Britain is the most confusing, most unnerving year she's experienced in her life but she wouldn't change it for the world.

(Spans from February 1982 to March 1983.)

Word count: 11577

___

Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black, which she still has trouble forgetting on the worst of days, considers herself to be a fairly put-together person, able to keep her wits about herself in the direst of situations and her cool even when faced with emotional turmoil.

(“Maybe usually,” says Marina, her friend of too many years, sipping her whiskey, probably the third or fourth one since she arrived. She drinks like it’s a lifeline and has for longer than Andromeda has loved her, but she’s the only one that’s ever cared enough to stay. “But you do have some very specific exceptions.”

“You’re going to die from that,” Andromeda tells her in lieu of an answer, taking a sip of her tea.

Marina laughs, raspy around the edges. “I’ll be gone long before that,” she says.)

(The Dark Mark appears above her apartment three weeks later, the walls painted with her blood, so she’s right, in the end, as she always is—was.

For the first time, Andromeda resents the fact that she can’t sit and listen to Marina tell her, I told you so.)

But waking up in a house she has not been able to visit in a decade, her daughter and husband nowhere in sight when her last memory is of her sister’s manic laugh as she flees through the woods away from her, then walking out of her room only to find her cousin that’s been presumed dead for years in the kitchen is a bit of a stretch, even for her.

Let alone the fact that said cousin, one Regulus Arcturus Black, is currently wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and stirring a pan full of what look like scrambled eggs. He looks up when she enters, black hair sleep-messy around his face, grey eyes bright. “Good,” he says, blinking slowly at her. “You’re awake.”

“Regulus—” Andromeda starts, then finds she has no words yet and sits down on one of the high stools at the island counter. She goes over the previous night in her head. Dinner, riddle-solving with Ted, getting Dora to bed, pouring tea in the kitchen; then a group of wizards inside her house, Bella’s grin, the dark woods around her. After that, nothing at all—certainly not anything involving Regulus.

She watches as Regulus ladles the eggs onto two plates, adds an abundance of bread slices to both, and sets one of them in front of Andromeda. He flicks his wand and a kettle from the stove flies toward the counter, pouring tea into the two mugs resting there. Once poured, Regulus pushes one toward Andromeda and takes the other one for himself, putting it down beside his plate of eggs as he starts to eat.

He nods toward her plate. “You should eat,” he says. “You’ll feel better.”

Andromeda stares and finds she has no energy to stop, which, considering the years of etiquette lessons her mother imposed on her, is a surprise in itself. It’s not so much the fact that he’s here as it the fact that he’s here like this, domestic and relaxed as she’s never seen him, at ease with himself and the space around him. He’s taller, too, and broader, a new weight to him that only age could have brought along. Age that, as far as she knew only a few minutes ago, Regulus never got to experience.

“Am I dead?” she asks, clearing her throat. It’s the only explanation that comes to mind.

He huffs a breath between two bites and looks up at her, brows and the corners of his mouth raised. She doesn’t remember his smiles, however small, coming as easy as they do now. “Not unless I am, too,” he says.

Andromeda blinks. The irony isn’t lost on her, nor him, judging by the remains of his smile. “Well, legally,” she says, slowly finding footing on this rocky ground, “you are.”

Regulus considers, mouth pulling to the side. “So are you.” He points his fork at her and adds, “Legally.”

“And Dora?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper, the name like a jolt of that peculiar thing Muggles call electricity. She can’t believe it’s taken her this much time to ask about it. “Ted?”

Regulus’s eyes darken, mouth settling into a firm line. “Alive but, like you, considered dead to the majority of the wizarding world. And in much worse condition.” He nods toward the room at the beginning of the hall, the one Cissy always claimed as hers because it had the best view. “In there.”

Andromeda makes to stand up but Regulus catches her wrist before she can take a single step. She reaches for her wand, only to find it’s not in the inner pocket of her robes where she usually keeps it. “Where’s my wand?”

“Let them sleep it off, Dromeda,” Regulus murmurs. “Bella got to them before she got to you.”

Andromeda’s heart slams against her ribcage, as if it could jump out and reach Ted and Dora all by itself. Bella’s cruelty has always aged like fine wine and Andromeda dreads to find out what new expanses she’s discovered in the years since they parted ways. “Then let me see them,” she says, ripping her wrist out of his grip.

He draws his hand back, letting it rest against his side, but he doesn’t back down. “Eat first,” he insists with a stubborn frown that is at once familiar and strange; she’s not used to it on his face but she’s seen it plenty of times before on another. “You need it. You won’t be of any help to them like this.” He runs a hand through his hair, the waves an enviable mix of elegant and mussed. “Your wand broke,” he adds in a quiet, careful voice, so much more like the reserved boy she remembers, “when they got to you. I’m sorry.”

Andromeda’s throat closes up. That wand was one of the few constants she had been allowed for most of her life. From that first summer before her first year, through all the years at Hogwarts, through her elopement, her pregnancy, every good and every horrible part of her life. It was the only thing given to her by her parents that she still truly adored.

“We’ll find you a temporary replacement later,” Regulus says. “I promise.” He nods toward the plates, the food probably cold by now. “Now you sit down and eat.”

Andromeda looks up at him. The last time she properly saw him he was only eleven years old, more skin and bone than anything else, all sharp edges and big eyes, small enough she could use him as an armrest. Now he towers over her, looks at her with patient eyes, all that skin filled out, that sharp edges softened.

She collapses onto the stool. “How did you pull it off?” she asks before she brings a spoonful of eggs into her mouth. They’re not bad, certainly worse than she could have made but they might as well be the best thing she’s tasted in years. They’re not yet cold, at least.

He copies her, then takes a sip of his tea. “I didn’t,” he says, shrugging with tense shoulders, which is a contrast that she can’t find strange, not on him. “Sirius did.”

Andromeda is suddenly grateful that she’s sitting down. Her knees might have gone out from underneath her otherwise. Finding out that Regulus is alive is one thing but to know that Sirius, who has despite her best efforts to convince herself and others the opposite always been her favourite family member, is the one responsible for the survival of her entire family, the only thing she still cares about in this wretched world, feels larger than life. She's spent years of anger at the betrayal he seemingly so carelessly executed, not only at her but at his friends. It hurt more than finding out about Bella’s admittedly expected affiliation with Voldemort or Cissy’s marriage into the Malfoy family. She's never been able to put a finger on why exactly.

“Let’s talk,” Regulus says, giving her a soft smile that she might have once thought shy or unsure. “There are so many things you don’t know.”

***********

Andromeda gets used to the old house slowly at first, then quicker every day. It was always a warm, welcoming place but it was slowly falling apart when she last saw it. Uncle Alphard, always a bit eccentric, had never had much interest in keeping a house elf or keeping up the house himself—a trait that was later only amplified by his years-long sickness. But now, with Regulus as the main resident, the house has been fixed up, the rooms put to good use and all of Alphard’s peculiar collections thoroughly sorted through. Andromeda enjoys finding the unfamiliar in the familiar, the little changes that tell her that the shelter of her childhood has become a haven of her adulthood.

Regulus, however, demands a little more adjusting. Andromeda learns quick enough that any change she might have thought superficial at first goes deeper than she could even imagine. There aren’t just the wardrobe change and the growth spurt in play. He’s still distant and considerate, but there is a new sense of strength in him, like his spine has become unbreakable, like it’s been coated in steel and tempered in fire. He dotes on Dora, redresses her wounds, coaxes her to drink her potions and is nothing but patient with her. He’s more reserved with Ted but no less respectful, no less mindful of his newly-obtained injuries – broken ribs, gouged face, cracked spine – and Andromeda can only marvel at the kindness, the one that has despite his mother’s best efforts always simmered inside him, he can so freely give now; there was a time she never would have dared to hope of such a kind fate for her little cousin.

He has his secrets and, as he always has, guards them well, with smooth, easy-flowing movements and an impassive face but Andromeda still manages to catch little glimpses of dark books and large maps he pores over early in the morning or late in the night when he thinks everyone else is asleep.

She doesn’t mind, is quite used to it after years of having to keep secrets herself and even finds comfort in the fact that this is a part of Regulus that hasn’t changed, a part that she still—quite ironically—knows.

*********

Dora, wedged between Andromeda and Ted in the large bed, is just drifting off to sleep when the door to the cottage bangs open. Andromeda’s first thought is that Dora was finally, finally calm enough to have fallen asleep and she is going to kill whomever just woke her up. Then it occurs to her that she might actually have to.

She jumps up and is out of the room before she remembers to grab for the wand Regulus found in the old study. It’s not fit for her at all but it’s better than nothing, especially in a situation like this one.

Ted calls out after her, unable to follow her, but Andromeda ignores him. She trusts him to keep Dora safe while she deals with the intruders or if it comes to the point where he has to take them on by himself. She’ll be damned if she lets her family get hurt again just because her sister has some kind of a desire to get rid of everything she considers to be tainting her past.

But it’s not Bellatrix or even a barrage of Death Eaters that stand in the living room. At first glance, Andromeda almost mistakes the tall, lean man for Regulus; but his hair is too long, his face too pale. He is swaying on his feet and he is much too thin under the cloak he’s taking off. The spike of recognition is more pain than relief.

“Sirius,” she breathes, her wand lowering with the frantic beat of her heart.

Sirius gives her a slow, small smile, an alien thing on his hollow face that was so full of life the last time she saw him. Years have passed since then, long, difficult years for him; she shouldn’t be surprised that he is so, so different now. “Hi, Dromeda,” he says, voice scratching against the walls of her heart. “How have you been?”

Andromeda takes a breath, then another. In between, Sirius throws off his robes with shaking limbs, revealing a white shirt underneath. A white shirt that is, from the side of his ribs down to his hipbone, stained red.

“Sirius,” she chokes out, taking one staggering step forward.

“I know,” he says, glancing at her before he rips the shirt off as well, grey eyes glassy.

For a moment, all she can notice is the ribs pressing up through the too-pale skin, the scars littering the expanse of his torso and his arms, white on white, blades of grass through paper. Then she sees the long, narrow gash down his side, streaming red, and it’s so much worse.

Sirius coughs, a dry, heaving thing, and sways back on his feet. He’s always been a steady boy, unperturbed in the harshest of conditions, resilient where all others failed. It’s the first time Andromeda thinks that that strength will fail him, that he might crumple in on himself.

Funnily enough, that’s what snaps her out of the trance she’s fallen in. She steps forward, wand once again poised but with a different intention this time. “Let me help you,” she says.

Sirius huffs a laugh but he doesn’t stop her as she taps her wand against the wound and murmurs a low incantation, pushing against the will of the wand as it seeks to evade. The gash simmers at the edges, the flesh almost knitting together, but then spreads further back, the blood more like a river now. A leaden ball settles in the pit of Andromeda’s stomach.

“Hardly can be helped,” Sirius says, looking down from the wound towards her with dark eyes. If possible, his face has paled. “It’s cursed, probably.”

Before Andromeda can say he should have told her that before she made it worse, the door bangs open again, this time indeed announcing Regulus with flushed cheeks and wind-tussled hair. His eyes take the scene in within seconds, his hands already throwing off his cloak. “What happened?” he asks, calm despite the situation. He reaches for Sirius and catches him just as Sirius’s knees buckle.

“Bloody Dorcas,” Sirius rasps as Regulus deposits him on the sofa. The plush soft-blue material is dark with blood within seconds. Sirius bares his teeth in what might be a self-deprecating smile, the sound that escapes him almost a laugh. “Knew she’d get me back for Marlene eventually.”

“Talented witch,” Regulus murmurs, turning Sirius onto his side, fingers skimming along the edges of the wound. He reaches for his wand, hidden in the inner pockets of his robes, but Andromeda catches his wrist.

“Magic makes it worse.”

Regulus blinks, swallowing as he tucks the wand away again. “Blood-replenishing potions,” he mutters instead, then gets up and disappears into the kitchen.

“Andromeda,” Sirius says as his eyes flick away from Regulus and towards her, clearing and blurring almost in time with his breaths. He presses his hand over the wound, blood seeping through his fingers. His voice is steady despite all of it. “Right pocket of my robes. There’s a book. Get it.” He coughs, his chest heaving with it, and adds, “Please.”

Andromeda’s eyes burn as she reaches for the robes, blindly digging through the pockets until she grabs a leather-bound book. The thought of losing Sirius just as he’s so close turns over her stomach. She makes to give it to Sirius but he shakes his head.

“Page 23.”

She dutifully flips it open, finding the pages filled with a familiar, elegant script. There are sketches, too, quick but precise, more beautiful than Andromeda would have managed to draw in her entire life. She looks back at Sirius. “These are spells.” Newly invented spells, from the looks of it – Andromeda has never heard of any of them.

Sirius nods, swallowing. “Healing spells, mostly,” he says.

Regulus appears back in the living room, levitating a number of potion vials beside himself. He grabs a dark red one and shoves it at Sirius. “Drink it.” He glances at the book in Andromeda’s hands. “What’s that?” he asks as he hands another potion to Sirius.

“A spell Andromeda will try out on me,” Sirius answers between gulps of the potion. He makes a face and leans his head back against the armrest. His hair lies plastered against his forehead, perspiration gleaming down his neck and chest.

Bile rises in Andromeda’s throat, her fingers shaking. She closes them around the book, refusing to be anything but useful here. She cannot afford to be anything else. “You mean to tell me you haven’t tested it yet?” she asks, managing to keep her voice even.

“Not that one, no. Haven’t had the time.”

“Sirius,” Regulus says, locking his jaw as he glares down at Sirius. They look so alike in the bright room, the lines of their regal faces nearly matching, both of their mouths set in a stubborn frown. “You can’t.”

“What is it going to do?” Sirius shoots back, lifting his chin as far as he can in his reclining position. His voice trembles but his eyes on Regulus’s remain steady. “Kill me?”

*********

After, Andromeda sits by Sirius’s bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest, tightly bound with Muggle bandages. She fiddles with the book, fingering the pattern pressed into the soft leather to set herself at ease; it’s a beautiful, intricate thing – a stag, a dog, a wolf, and a rat, standing side by side, the moon arcing high above them. It’s nearly as peaceful an image as the one before her.

Sirius’s breaths are slow and deep, his heartbeat steady. He is in no danger of dying, at least not from this wound, but Andromeda can’t bring herself to walk away. It’s been so long since she saw him, since she heard his laugh, since she listened to one of his stories. She only now notices the gaping hole in the side of her heart that has existed since she first heard the news.

In the months after Remus and James stopped by for tea, with darker bags under their eyes than Andromeda had in the first year of Nymphadora’s life, Andromeda stayed up for hours at a time, finding ways to berate herself for not having foreseen it, for not doing more to stop it, for not helping Sirius. She was just a renounced heiress back then, struggling with relying on anyone but herself and discovering the difficulties of having a child, but there had been so many occasions Sirius had found the time for them, for her, and she never repaid the favour. The guilt tore its way through her for a long time before she found a way to check it, burying it underneath her love for the only family she had left.

To know now that that was all an illusion is a relief but the guilt has broken through the dam she so carefully built around it, the one that remained firmly intact even after Regulus told her everything, and it now burns like acid, clawing its way into every crevice of her body.

Andromeda takes Sirius’s hand. It’s long-fingered and elegant but even the back of it is flecked with tiny scars. She bows down low over it, forehead touching his wrist, and murmurs, “Je suis désolé, Sirius.” The tears are not unexpected but they feel wrong somehow, too hot and heavy for someone who did so little to help at all. The tightness in her chest eases, though, and her next breath is easier to draw in. So she lets them spill over, lets the acid burn and hopes that tomorrow she can begin to make amends for her mistakes.

*********

Sirius more or less sleeps for the next few days. He wakes intermittently, sometimes murmuring names Andromeda can’t decipher but mostly reaching for the refilling glass of water they deposited on his nightstand. He just lies there, filled to the brim with various potions Regulus practically had to force down his throat, looking more dead than alive even on the best of days.

Dora glides by his room most of the time, drawing back at the smallest of sounds Sirius makes, and Andromeda’s heart aches with the knowledge that her daughter would have been the first to spend her nights watching over her uncle only a week ago. Now, she is just a girl whose normally vibrantly pink hair has remained short-shorn and dark brown since the night she had the misfortune of meeting her older aunt.

She inches her way into the room after a couple of days, drawing herself up against Andromeda as soon as she’s close enough, and watches as Sirius’s eyelids flutter in his sleep. He looks, for a lack of a better word, different than the last time Dora, only five years old then, saw him but when she reaches out to touch the ends of his hair, dark against the white pillows, Andromeda knows she remembers the boy who used to upend her by her ankle and make her shriek with laughter, who spent hours listening to her babbling and answering every one of her concerns with utmost honesty.

“Will Sirius be alright, mum?” she asks quietly, curling into the warmth of Andromeda’s arms in the small armchair. She smells like the sea and chamomile tea Regulus must have just made her. She'll have to remember to thank him later for so diligently taking care of her daughter.

“I hope so, sweetheart,” Andromeda answers, curving her body around Dora’s, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Here, in the quiet, in the dimness, the memory of Dora’s small body, broken and beaten, is clearer than the daylight skies. Andromeda shudders. She cannot lose another person she loves. She will not. “We’re doing everything we can to help him and Papa.”

*********

There is a tapestry of the Black family tree in the dining room. It is reminiscent of the one at Grimmlaud Place, with the vastness and the pompous names, but this one has no scorch marks. It is strange to see her own name, written out in a slanting, copperplate script, right between Bellatrix and Narcissa’s. She can’t imagine that its twin was so lucky.

It’s the first time Andromeda has even been in the dining room since she came here. She usually avoids it like the plague because she nearly suffocates with the memory of long, stuffy family dinners she had to endure in here but it is the fastest way from the kitchen to the small wooden terrace in the back where Ted and Dora are and she stepped right into the rabbit hole of their beloved family. She readjusts her grip on the tray with tea and glances at her name again, eyeing the golden thread proclaiming her death to have been in 1982. She has yet to step beyond the border of the Fidelius charm guarding the house so it might as well be true, for all anyone in this world knows. Although only a few steps away, the prospect of it seems daunting now that she’s got used to this small haven, unaffected by the war raging on outside.

“I was all for painting over the damn thing but Regulus insisted we keep it,” says a voice from her left and she whirls on the spot, miraculously managing to not slosh the tea all over the place. Sirius stands in the doorway, half leaning against the frame, dressed in a loose shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He grimaces as he pushes off of the frame and steps further into the room, adding flippantly, “Something about tradition and legacy.”

“Sirius,” she says, pausing long enough to put the tray down on the table. She turns back around to find she has no idea what to do next. She’d like to hug him but she doesn’t know how well he would take it, or if at all. The few feet between them feel like a chasm, started by war and gouged by time.

Sirius saves her the trouble and positions himself next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder. She can feel the rhythm of his breathing, just a tad quicker now that he is awake. “At least this one is complete,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch the names of the people whose faces had been burned off in Grimmauld Place. Isla. Phineas. Marius. Cedrella. All names the two of them spent their childhood searching, if only to know what things they had done to have earned to be cast out of their family. Their findings only ever offered a horrible insight into what kind of family they had been cursed with. Andromeda had barely been able to look at her father for weeks after.

Sirius’s finger touches uncle Alphard’s name and stills.

Andromeda’s hand trembles and she clenches it into a fist, tight enough to hurt. Her favourite uncle, the dearest soul she has ever known. “He left me some money,” she says, then adds unnecessarily, “In his will.” She chances a glance at Sirius, finding his jaw firmly set. “Is that why—?”

Sirius nods. “Cygnus flew into a rage when he found out. It was the last straw for him and mother dearest wasn’t about to disagree with him. She didn’t waste her time either.” He scoffs, though the corners of his mouth turn up with it. “Alphard left most of the money to me but he wasn’t about to go out of this world without one last dig at the two of them.” He taps his finger against the tapestry, once, twice, then drops his hand. “Stubborn man,” he murmurs, looking all over the tapestry with dark, grey eyes; eyes that, now that they are not closed or glassy with the haze of pain, Andromeda can barely recognise.

“How are you?” she asks softly. She reaches out a hand and hesitates. She keeps it still mid-air for a moment then decides to damn it all and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Sirius, comment tu te sens?”

Sirius glances down at her. He’s been taller than her for some years now, even before they last saw each other, but he seems small now, stooped over in the kitchen where they spent some of their best years, finally, finally not just groomed to be scions of the House of Black, but allowed to be children. He touches her hand, lightly, with the tips of his fingers. “Ça va.” He looks out the window, his chin lifted as he watches the clouds roll past. “I should go,” he says, the words like a splash of cold water in her face; his duties don’t end here, not by a long shot, and she cannot save him from them. “They’ll be wondering where I’ve been.”

Andromeda doesn’t let herself look down at his forearm where the mark rests, dark and too alive across the veins rising against his thin skin. “Not right now.” She grabs his upper arm again and doesn’t let go as she levitates the tea tray with her other hand. “Come outside, for a little while.”

“Are the others there?”

“Just Dora and Ted. I think they’d both like to thank you while you’re awake.” She pulls at his sleeve gently, bites back the urge to beg him to stay. She’d go in his stead if she could. “Come on.”

Sirius glances at the window again, then sighs and lets her lead him out into the sun. He seems a stranger to it.

*********

Regulus doesn’t settle for days after Sirius has left. He is quicker with his movements, more intense when he studies his books, constantly looking between them and the door from the couch he’s nestled himself in.

“It’s been a hard couple of months for Sirius,” he explains softly when Andromeda nudges him. “I always fear I won’t see him after he goes.”

“Not hard years?” Ted asks from where he’s stretched out on the couch. Like this, underneath a red blanket, he looks nearly as he once did, content and dozing in the afternoon, not confined to the couch and a prisoner in his own body.

Regulus looks up at Ted, his hand almost absent-mindedly reaching up to touch the scar resting across his throat. His fingers move when he swallows. “Not like this.” He taps the corner of a small, dark book resting on the coffee table. “He lost a lot.”

And Andromeda finally sees something that she can recognise in Regulus – the fall of his eyes, stubbornly firm, the way he pulls his mouth to the side as if he’s biting the inside of his cheek; guilt has always been easy to notice with Regulus and she can do little to hold down the wave of her own that whirls up at the bottom of her stomach.

“He’ll be back, Regulus,” says Ted. His eyes are dark and gentle, even with a boy that he never met before two weeks ago, and Andromeda’s chest feels tight with the appreciation for this kind, patient man she was thankfully not stupid enough to let go. “He still has you.”

“Yes,” Regulus agrees softly. “Yes, he does.” He readjusts himself when Dora slots onto the couch between him and Andromeda and only once she’s safely curled against the two of them does he add, “I just hope he knows that, too.”

*********

Sirius comes back, of course.

He puts his hand on Regulus’s shoulder when he comes into the kitchen, quiet and unassuming; he moves like a ghost sometimes, half-there, half-alive, trapped between two worlds and welcome in none. Though Andromeda has seen ghosts who suffered a kinder fate. He goes to draw his hand away but Regulus turns toward him, giving him a slow, sad upturn of lips, and puts his hand over his, squeezing it once, quickly.

“Alright?” Regulus asks after he’s let go.

“Alright,” Sirius says, nodding. He reaches around Regulus to steal a piece of bacon from his plate and bites off half of it. “Bella is still on a rampage so they were all sufficiently distracted.” He looks at the remaining piece of bacon, frowning, then up at Andromeda. “Did you make this?” he asks.

Andromeda nods, still not finding the right words to say anything else, too busy scrutinising Sirius. He seems better and worse at the same time – he’s paler than he was when he left but he holds himself upright now and doesn’t grimace anymore when he moves.

“It’s good.”

Regulus glares up at Sirius. “Are you implying mine isn’t?

Sirius shrugs. “I’m not not implying it,” he says and Regulus shoves him.

*********

Sirius and Regulus filter in and out of the house from then on. Regulus, who used to disappear for scraps of time during the day, now stays away for hours, although he always comes back before the dark has settled in, usually smiling softly at himself or humming under his breath. On some days, even both.

“He has someone,” Sirius says on one of the rare days he’s with them. He’s gone for days at a time and unlike Regulus, rarely spends the night and even then, he is gone before the sun has risen. He spends most of his time with Regulus and his books and parchments, scribbling in the margins, or with Dora, playing chess with her or showing her various wand tricks to entertain her. He is always kind, always patient, but the scars and wounds underneath are visible even on the best of days. Andromeda wonders sometimes if he sees Bellatrix when he looks at Dora with her dark hair and high-cheeked face, or when he looks at Andromeda herself; she doesn’t blame him for getting lost in the pain sometimes. “He won’t tell me but I see him.”

“Are you sure?” Andromeda asks. It seems unimaginable, not because Regulus would be incapable of forming such a relationship, but because it seems almost bizarre that he might allow himself such a comfort, such a liability when he and Sirius are clearly mixed up in something that goes beyond Sirius’s affiliation with Voldemort.

Sirius nods, dragging on the cigarette he’s lit. “I don’t blame him for it,” he says, puffing out the smoke, his voice caught with it. “I had things I didn’t tell him about, too.”

There are so few things Andromeda thinks Sirius has left to keep to himself, to cherish. She cannot imagine the pain he must have felt leaving his friends in the dark and with every loss after it – there can’t have been just a few of them. Her heart aches with the thought of how alone he must have been that first year before Regulus joined him.

“He’s happy,” Sirius says, pressing his shoulder against Andromeda’s briefly. “I can never resent him for it.”

“I’m glad,” Andromeda says and pushes the question bubbling up her throat back into her lungs, squeezed between her ribs, storing it for a day she might get a satisfactory answer. Are you happy?

*********

Days bleed by, then weeks, during which Andromeda learns to exercise a degree of patience she has never known before. It takes hours to put Dora to sleep sometimes, days to help Ted master a new level of mobility, but Andromeda never for one second wishes it were any different; she has them still and that is more than she can ask for.

Sirius examined Ted the second time he came back and his diagnosis, coming from someone who Andromeda has known to be exceptionally talented at healing, offered little hope; but Ted is trying with everything he has, religiously doing all exercises and drinking his potions—the results are defying all expectations.

Currently, he’s learning to use the wheelchair Sirius has procured and magically enhanced for him, using the wheels to propel himself backwards and forwards, back and forth, back and forth. “This is quite nice,” he says, smiling up at Andromeda with tired eyes, set strangely into his thin, scarred face. He’s always been a bit on the stout side, but he’s lost a lot of weight during his recovery, his rehabilitation; it’s not a bad change but the reasons for it are. She misses, sometimes, her cheerful husband and her bubbly daughter but always catches herself before she wishes to go back. There are so many things she has gained now that she would never have managed to see otherwise. It is hard to be resentful of that. “Come on,” he proclaims as he tugs on her hand and then lets go to push himself forward, past the kitchen and towards the front door. “Let’s take it out for a test drive.”

Andromeda follows, opens the door and steps out. It’s a beautiful day, cold but not unpleasant, the sun shining high up in the clear sky. She hasn’t made it a habit to remind herself of it lately.

Ted is a bit unsure in the wheelchair, rolling over the grassy knolls and dips, but it is wonderful to see him enjoy the outside world without having to rely on anyone’s assistance, to be self-sufficient, if only for the time being.

She stands next to him once he’s stopped and reaches for his hand on the armrest. “I love you,” she tells him. “And I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much pain.”

Ted smiles at her, wide and unrestrained, but weak around the edges. He wraps his fingers around her and brings their joined hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of hers. “My Dromeda,” he murmurs. “You’ve only ever brought joy to my life.” He pulls on her hand until she gives and climbs into his lap, curling into his firm torso, into his smell of chamomile and healing potions. He wheels them forward, slowly and unsurely, but Andromeda trusts him enough to keep her eyes closed until he stops. He’s brought them all the way to the end of the path leading to the village below, where Regulus has taken Dora, heavily masked, for the day.

It takes her a moment to realise that they’ve crossed the border of the Fidelius charm and there’s a painful tug in her chest, an old panic finally rearing its ugly head; but it’s Ted and she trusts him. So she noses against the curve of his neck as he wraps his arms around her and she breathes him in, lets the sunrays wash over them. With him by her side, she isn’t afraid.

*********

“How’s Cissy?” she asks Sirius when she finally dares.

He looks up from a parchment, depicting strange, mangled creatures. He and Regulus have been becoming more open with their research, leaving them to lie on the table even if they’ve left their spot for longer than a minute; she thinks they might tell her what they’re up to soon. “Good,” he says, grey eyes unreadable. He takes a bite of the sandwich she’s made him and it seems almost absent-minded or at least not deliberate. Regulus told her Sirius practically has had to have food forced down his throat for months, if not years. “Surviving,” he adds after he’s swallowed the bite; then, even softer, “She fears for her son.”

Andromeda thinks back to the family tree in the dining room, the gold thread tracing down from the line connecting Narcissa and Lucius. “Draco,” she says and he nods.

“He’ll be two soon,” he tells her, a distant look crossing his face; it seems at once caught between reminiscence and regret. “I’d help her if I could but Lucius would kill her before he’d let her go and she won’t risk Draco.”

Andromeda’s throat burns, a familiar sensation by now, older even than Sirius’s servitude. It’s been a constant companion since she last closed the door of her childhood home. Bella, she had little qualms about leaving behind, but Cissy, pliable Cissy who would do anything to please their parents and Bella; she would have taken her with if she had been able to. She cannot blame Sirius for having the same conflict within himself, for failing to come up with a solution when his circumstances are so much worse.

“I’m sorry you’re alone,” she says, leaning back against the counter, gripping the old, hideous wand like it’s her lifeline; she hates it, its history, its character and everything in-between—but it’s all she has right now and it has to be enough.

“I wasn’t always,” Sirius says, the long, elegant lines of his face shifting as he reaches up to touch a small carnation pendant resting just below the hollow of his throat. She has the sudden image of the boy he was, rising from the stool at the Sorting, equal parts elated and terrified. She really thought that he was safe then, that he would get away. “But I am now.”

*********

Regulus teaches Dora to fly on a broom, leading her high up into the sky and guiding her through easy manoeuvres. It makes her laugh, makes her giddy with excitement and she comes back into the house rosy-cheeked and with shining eyes.

Ted reads bedtime stories to her, has her tucked against his chest until late in the night, until she’s been asleep for hours and not mere restless minutes. He kisses her hair and tells her he loves her and doesn’t let go of her unless she asks him to.

Andromeda sings her lullabies until her throat hurts and brushes her hair and plays with her. She shows her all the wonderful things Alphard kept in his house, all the knowledge he kept in his books. She teaches her to dance every ballroom dance she remembers and doesn’t once mind any antiquity Dora breaks.

But Dora’s hair remains dark, her features familiar and painful not because they remind Andromeda of a past she’d rather forget, especially now, but because they are not her daughter’s, who has made it her personal mission to be her own and no one else’s since the day she first figured out how to control her abilities. They are a reminder that Dora lost something – that she was robbed of it – she can’t ever get back.

Then Andromeda goes for a glass of water in the middle of the night and she finds Sirius sprawled out on the couch, a thin blanket over him. He rarely goes to his room to sleep, instead preferring to crash in the living room; Andromeda hasn’t dared to ask him why yet. His chest is rising and falling steadily, his breaths blowing his hair away from his face. He has his arm around Dora, who is snuggled into his chest, her own arm barely reaching up to be wrapped around him. The embers in the fireplace cast a soft, warm light over the two of them, just enough that Andromeda can see that there, just above the swell of Nymphadora’s ear, her short hair glows pink.

*********

Snow melts under the relentless onslaught of the sun and gives way to blooming flowers. The days grow warmer, longer.

Andromeda starts tending to the old garden and Dora, with her hair a beautiful, beautiful pattern of pink and brown, joins her. They work while Ted sits in his chair nearby, reading or simply watching them. Sometimes he tells them stories or jokes; on other days, they are all content to stay in silence, to enjoy all the things that they nearly lost. Here, in the small world they’ve built for themselves, occupied and protected by people Andromeda loves most, they start healing.

*********

The newspapers grow darker and Regulus’s eyes become stormier, his face worn with frowns. He stays inside day and night, digging through old texts that probably haven’t seen the light of day for decades.

Sirius doesn’t come home for weeks.

*********

It’s nearly June when he does. The garden outside is blooming, bright with colours and life, but the house doesn’t light up until he bursts through the door.

“I got it!” Sirius yells. He’s smiling, honest-to-god smiling, when he barrages directly into Regulus and knocks the two of them off-balance, nearly onto the floor. “I got it, Regulus,” he says into his shoulder, muffled and fuzzy with the shock. He’s still grinning when he pulls back but now, so is Regulus.

“How did you get it?” Regulus asks, reaching out a hand.

“I convinced Narcissa.”

It’s not until Regulus takes the small black book from Sirius’s hands that Andromeda even notices he had it. It’s an old, unassuming thing but Andromeda spent nearly half her life in houses where she learnt the hard way that most things weren’t what they appeared to be; even just looking at it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her chest heavy with the weight it has brought to the room. Whatever it is, it isn’t harmless.

“What is that?” she asks.

Regulus and Sirius exchange a dark look, an old sort of connection she remembers the two of them sharing since they were children; they have always known best how to exclude others from their conversations without even trying. Sirius’s face remains for the most part impassive, but Regulus’s mouth twitches to the side.

“I’m not stupid,” Andromeda tells them, which they should already know. She was the mastermind behind most of their pranks in their youth, after all. “You’ve already done it now.”

Sirius sighs, a deep, long thing that seems at once strange and usual for him. “Fair enough,” he says, sweeping his hair out of his eyes with practised ease. It’s getting long again; Andromeda should make him sit down and cut his hair. “You should sit down.”

*********

Sirius brings a dagger that Andromeda’s seen in one of the display cases in the study and offers it to her. It’s goblin-wrought silver, he tells her, coated in basilisk venom, a thing a friend of his managed to procure for him. It is one of the few things that can destroy the soul inside the diary.

“Your honours, Dromeda,” Regulus says softly, standing against the wall next to the fireplace. She only now notices the golden chain of the locket resting against his chest, the shape of it obvious underneath his white shirt now that she knows what to look for.

“This is how we end it?” she asks, looking between him and Sirius, unsure at whom the question is directed.

But it’s Sirius, with his eyes like shards of ice, his back like a pillar of steel, that says in a firm, cool voice, “Yes.”

Andromeda nods, steeling herself, grips the dagger and stabs it into the middle of the leather diary. Black ink bleeds out, pulsing in time with the shrill, dull screams that tear out of it. Andromeda dives to the side, the dagger clattering to the ground as she covers her ears. Sirius catches her, pressing her against his chest with a quiet, soothing murmur, the sensation unfamiliar after so many years but Andromeda can’t look away from the horror before her, knowing that it’s a piece of someone’s soul dying, something she caused. Voldemort was, despite everything, human once, too.

The diary heaves one last spurt of black blood, then goes silent and lies there. The weight in the room lifts.

*********

“What else could be a Horcrux?” she asks Regulus the next morning. Ted and Dora are still asleep in their rooms and there’s no one else to overhear them.

Regulus looks up from his breakfast, swallowing before he answers, “Anything. Voldemort seems partial to sentimental items – his diary, Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup, his family’s ring.”

“Items relating to Hogwarts?” Andromeda muses, taking a sip of her tea. “Sword of Gryffindor?”

Regulus shakes his head, eyes sharp. Andromeda doesn’t doubt that everything she might come up with he has already thought of. “Only a true Gryffindor can get his hands on that one.”

“Ravenclaw’s Diadem?”

“In theory. But it’s been lost for centuries.”

Andromeda knows, of course, so she nods and doesn’t mention it again; but something trickles against her mind, an old memory, a passing thought, and it doesn’t let go.

*********

Regulus pokes Sirius, dozing on the couch next to them, while they file through different texts. It’s tedious and gruesome work, Horcrux hunting, and no one can blame him for not wanting to participate in it after having to deal with the Death Eaters for weeks. “How did you convince Narcissa?” he asks.

It makes sense that he would; if Sirius was Andromeda’s favourite cousin, then Narcissa was Regulus’s, the feeling no doubt mutual. Although years apart, they both found solace in the quiet things, the unassuming ones; they have always been the counterweights to Sirius and Andromeda. Regulus must have kept the worry for her despite everything that happened—or perhaps exactly because of it.

Sirius blinks open his eyes, languid. The dark bags underneath them are a horrible sight to behold but not an unusual one. “I mentioned Draco – that it might help keep him safe if she did what I asked.” He makes a face, absent. “I’m not proud of it.”

Regulus glances at him, then back down at the parchment in his hands. “Had to be done,” he murmurs.

“He’s a good kid,” Sirius says, a tinge of fondness creeping into his voice. “Happy.” He adds, to Regulus or Andromeda, she doesn’t know, “You’d like him.”

Andromeda knows he doesn’t mean to hurt them but it stings, the knowledge that he gets to know their nephew, gets to see him grow up while they are stuck here, grasping at dragon’s breath. The darkness rises up in her for a moment, two, then dies down. It doesn’t disappear exactly – but Sirius has sacrificed so much for them and still does, on a daily basis. Having that small reprieve, that one little gift, is the least that he deserves.

He’s happy. I can never resent him for it.

Besides, it is just a matter of time.

*********

Regulus turns twenty-one years old in the hottest week of the summer. Andromeda forgets sometimes, how young they all are, how much they have already suffered.

She bakes him a cake, the cranberry one he so adored as a child. Dora draws him a picture of him, Sirius and the three of them, prouder of it than she ever has been of any other accomplishment. Sirius buys him a set of books and even hugs him, a quick, brief thing that nonetheless makes Andromeda’s eyes sting.

He blows out the candles and Dora asks him, “Did you wish for anything?”

Regulus cradles the back of her head, fingers carding through the purplish hair there. “Oui,” he says, “I did.”

He doesn’t tell them, of course, and Dora is content with that, but he slips out of the house in the evening and Andromeda has an inkling anyway.

*********

Andromeda doesn’t look at the newspapers anymore. She stopped long before Bellatrix came crashing through her front door and the idea is to never start doing it again until she dies or until Voldemort is defeated, whichever comes first—and she’s having her doubts.

But it’s pointless not to look at newspapers when she can just take one look at Sirius when he comes through the door and know how bad it is anyway. Given the fact that most of the media is currently already controlled by the Death Eaters, that way is even more accurate than the Daily Prophet itself. She wishes she didn’t have to know, that she could just curl into the space between Ted and Dora and stay there forever, the rest of the world be damned.

There are people in the rest of the world, though, people she loves, people she knows, people she wishes she could make amends with. Sirius. Narcissa. Lucretia. Her classmates, her colleagues. They’re all fighting, in their own way, she’s sure of it. It seems unfair that she gets to step away from that.

The thing is, she could. Sirius is the Secret Keeper of this house and she knows he would let her if she asked; even if his cover was blown, even if he was tortured to death, she knows he would not give them up and they would all be safe for the rest of their lives.

But at the end of the day, Andromeda knows who she wants under the roof of this house if the worst time comes and it’s not just her small family and Regulus; it’s Sirius and Narcissa and a dozen people in-between. So she covers Regulus with a blanket, kisses the top of his head as he moves and murmurs in his sleep, and brushes Sirius’s hair away from his face, presses a kiss to the edge of the scar across his cheek. Then she settles against them, opens the book again and starts reading.

The war isn’t going to end itself.

*********

“He has the Ministry,” Sirius says with a hoarse voice on a November morning. He came sometime during the night, slept on the couch again. It’s the first thing he’s said since they woke up.

Regulus frowns. “There hasn’t been any indication—”

“Imperius,” Sirius says, shrugging. “Bagnold and most of her office – I don’t know exactly who, though. He didn’t put me on the job.”

“Who then?” Andromeda asks and dreads the answer even before Sirius’s eyes, dull and dark, catch hers.

“Lucius. Bellatrix. Rodolphus.”

“Why not you?” says Regulus. “We wouldn’t—” He rubs a hand across his face, makes a soft, agitated noise. “We were doing so well.”

“I know, Reg,” Sirius says softly. “Believe me, I know.” He worries his lip and sucks his cheeks in; they look even more hollow now, his face as white as death. “He’s sending me to the werewolves.”

Regulus blanches. “Again?”

Sirius’s nod is short, curt, like he’s already resigned. “He wants them ready. He has something up his sleeve, I don’t know what. He’s not telling me. I don’t think he’s telling Bellatrix either.”

One short conversation, a few scraps of information and the world is already infinitely worse than it was mere minutes ago. A lump gathers in Andromeda’s throat. The Ministry being done for was to be expected, of course it was, but it’s worse now that it’s actually happening, when the possibility of the people outside being protected is completely gone, not only because the government has fallen but because Sirius won’t be there either.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, trying for a reassuring smile but his mouth trembles. “They’re not such big bad wolves as they’re painted to be. Preferrable to the Death Eaters, really.”

*********

Dora cries when he tells her, throwing her arms around him and clinging to him long enough that Andromeda has to look away.

Sirius holds her, murmuring soft words to her, shushing and rocking her to the side. “C'est d'accord, ” he says, soft against the wild purple of Dora’s hair. “It’s just a couple months, Dora. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“But it’s your birthday tomorrow,” Dora tells him between sniffles. “I haven’t finished your present yet.”

Sirius blinks, mouth open, and Andromeda wonders if he even remembered – or maybe he didn’t expect that they would remember, that she and Regulus would care enough to tell Dora. Oh, Sirius. “Your presence is present enough, Dora,” he says finally, pulling her into another hug. His head is tucked against hers, his eyes closed, the gentle expression on his face at odds with the strength he’s holding her against him. “Besides,” he says, slowly drawing back, “you can give it to me when I come back.” He pokes her in the belly and that makes her crack a reluctant smile. “Gives me something to look forward to.”

*********

It’s worse, somehow. It’s not like he wasn’t gone before but at least they knew he was around somewhere. Regulus could reach him when the need called for it and it was a matter of days, or weeks, at worst, before he came home. Now, it’s months, an endless stretch of time that only seems to draw on longer with the lack of success their research offers.

Then Regulus says, “A Horcrux can be a living thing.”

Andromeda looks up from her parchment, the image of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem now permanently scorched into her mind, all too familiar, then blinks at Regulus. “What?”

He stretches across the coffee table to hand her the piece of an old text. It’s in Ancient Runes, her brain blanking for a second before it starts translating, but Regulus has already continued by the time she’s halfway through. “The soul can be placed inside a living thing – an animal, a plant, a human, probably.” His eyes are shining when she glances at him. “Sirius said Voldemort found this snake, Nagini. He always keeps her at his side and with his obsession with being the Heir of Slytherin—” He tilts his head to the side, like a cat, giving a slow one-shouldered shrug.

“He made her a Horcrux,” Andromeda finishes, her mouth tugging up at the corners.

Regulus nods, running a hand through his tousled hair. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes twinkling. “We’d have to check— Sirius would have to check,” he corrects, his forehead creasing up, his eyes blinking closed for a second, “but it’s likely.” He takes a quill and scribbles a quick message onto a small piece of parchment lying to the side. He slices the tip of his finger open and presses it to the top of the parchment, leaving behind a bloody fingerprint when he pulls it back. He taps his wand against it, once, twice, then sits back. The parchment disappears in a puff of blue-black smoke.

*********

“What will you do, Andi?” Marina asks, her voice velvet-smooth. She’s sitting on a throne in front Andromeda, leg crossed over the other, her sea-blue dress barely reaching the bend of her knee. Her chest is splashed with red, her brown hair tangled around her bruised face. A tiara rests atop her head, it, too, speckled with red.

Andromeda pushes back the urge to throw up. She’s dreaming, she knows she is, but Marina’s death is still an aching scar; she will never forget the emptiness of her eyes as they stared up at the ceiling painted in her own blood. “I don’t know,” she whispers.

“You? You, Andromeda Black, don’t know?” Marina says with a laugh, a high, breathy thing that sends chills down Andromeda’s spine; it is not the familiar, throaty sound she remembers. “I don’t believe it.”

“You know how you can help. Of course you do.”

“I don’t, I don’t.”

Marina shoots her an unimpressed look, eyes dark. She reaches up to move a stray strand of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Where is it, Andi?”

A sob builds up in Andromeda’s throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marina was always a sharp person, a no-nonsense kind of one, but she never demanded more of people than what she knew they could give.

She shakes her head, fingers gripping the edge of the throne until her knuckles are white as bone. “You know,” she says. “Now you just have to remember where it is.”

*********

They celebrate Christmas without Sirius.

Regulus, rosy-cheeked, drags in a Christmas tree, tall enough to reach the ceiling and make Dora jump around with glee, her hair changing colours every time her feet touch the ground. They adorn it with ornaments Ted and Andromeda, despite her wand acting up, manage to conjure up and spend the day before Christmas baking cookies. By the end of the day, they are all so full they nearly forget anyone is missing at all. Come morning, they are all starkly aware of it again.

New Year’s Eve comes around and that passes without Sirius, too. Regulus sits outside on the cliff until they drag him in and even then, his eyes seem hollow, his voice empty when he says, “I forgot—it’s been a year—more than—since—” He puts his face in his hands and whispers, “Evan.”

It’s a sombre affair, New Year’s Day.

*********

Dora’s birthday is looking to be the same kind of subdued when no one is around in the morning—just the two of them, curled up on the couch while Dora opens the gift Andromeda managed to get for her. Ted and Regulus disappeared down into the village a couple of hours ago.

It should be better, Andromeda thinks. It’s her tenth birthday, the last whole year before she’s set to leave for Hogwarts and she deserves better. The knowledge that she can’t give it to her presses down on her chest, too heavy.

“I love you, little one,” Andromeda tells her, kissing the crown of her head. At least she’s happier now, at least she’s safe this year. At least Andromeda can be thankful for that.

“Love you too, Mum,” Dora says back absently, fingers skimming over the Quidditch book she’s unwrapped. She smiles up at her, though, bright and sudden. “Thank you, I love it.”

Dora is not a naïve child, has never really been, but Andromeda sees how much calmer she is now, how much more she considers everything she says or does and it makes her want to get up and find Bellatrix herself – to do to her the unspeakable things that she did to her daughter, to show her that she took away something from an innocent bystander in the name of something as trivial as blood. But it doesn’t matter to Bellatrix, it never has, and it isn’t worth it, not when both Andromeda and Nymphadora would lose so much with it.

“We’re back!” Ted shouts as he wheels himself into the living room, his lap full of presents. He’s grown stronger in the past months, his muscles building back up once he started moving around; but more important than that, he’s happier and not resigned but at peace with this big change life has brought for him.

“We even picked up a renegade,” Regulus adds, following in after Ted and carrying a load of things, the beginning and end of which Andromeda cannot for the life of her figure out. He frowns at someone behind him. “He’s refused to help us carry the gifts.”

Sirius steps in after him, dressed in clean, pressed dark robes, everything about him sleek and polished. He shrugs, his too-long hair falling in his eyes, and says, “I am the gift.”

Dora shrieks and ricochets herself off of the armrest, slamming into Sirius with enough force to make him stumble back a step; and he is. He really is.

*********

Sirius bends down low over Regulus and her, each of his hands on their shoulders. He doesn’t look unwell, not for a man who was supposed to have been dealing with feral creatures for the past few months. “You were right,” he murmurs, low enough Dora and Ted won’t hear. Andromeda thinks Ted probably knows anyway. “Nagini is a Horcrux.”

*********

Sirius is sitting eerily still for someone who could not be forced to calm down as a child. Then again, there are many aspects in which Sirius has changed and settled; this can hardly be any different. He’s letting her cut his hair, which is, although soft and glossy for the most part, damaged enough she will have to cut off at least a half of it.

“Don’t the werewolves have any tools to keep themselves in order?” she grumbles, sniping off half of a strand. Once it falls in place, it just reaches his earlobe.

Sirius breathes deep. “They live in poverty, Dromeda,” he says, rolling his shoulders back. Through the thin material of his white shirt, she can see a scabbed wound stretching from one shoulder to the other. “They can hardly afford such luxuries.”

Andromeda has, as a principle, made it her main objective in the last decade to be as different from her family as possible. In large part, that involved successfully relearning every ideology Cygnus and Druella had done their best to instil in her. On the rare occasion, however, Andromeda, in her admittedly bull-headed pushing, came to the limits of her own morality, to the grey zone that she could not move out of solely on the basis of being far away from the Blacks’ mentalities. Werewolves and similar dark creatures fell into that grey zone because at the end of the day Andromeda, as a child from a deeply dysfunctional family, felt she didn’t have the ability to make the judgement for herself. She fears such moments most, when she realises that she can escape her family, but some shackles can never be fully stripped away.

Sirius’s voice is soft but rather lost, a boat far out in the open sea. “They’re not bad people, not most of them,” he murmurs into his hands covering his mouth. “Those that are, were bad people before they were ever Turned.”

*********

Andromeda stands in a vast room, with no end in sight. There are piles of trinkets around her, large piles of every little thing Andromeda can think of and yet larger ones of things she couldn’t name to save her life. They are arranged in lines, leaving narrow rows for passage in-between.

She steps forward, down one of those rows, her fingers skimming over the things scattered atop. A book, glasses, a quill. A frame, a wand, a tiara. A piece of string, a wig, a bust.

Marina appears in front of her, dressed as she was the last time, only her hair is woven into a crown of brown and red now, her fingers taut with dried blood. “You are far more foolish than I thought you were,” she says, looking down at her with hooded eyes and curved mouth. “I thought you were the observant type.”

“What are you talking about?” Andromeda asks. She’s tired of these dreams, these nightmares that plague her even in the daylight. If she’s not dreaming about them, she’s thinking of them. She wishes they stopped.

“Where is it, Andromeda?” Marina says, huffing impatiently but not in the way Andromeda is used to. “Where are we?”

Andromeda looks around. The ceiling of the room is high and dark, plain and unassuming, the walls too far away or too covered to be made out. She knows this place, she’s certain of it. She’s been here before. This meant something to her once, once, a long time ago—

And then it hits her. The seventh-floor corridor, the left one—the tapestry with the room that was never not there, the one she hid all the evidence of her relationship with Ted in, then later on of her plan to escape. I need a place to hide my things.

She turns, eyes searching for the thing she should have remembered a long time ago. The wig, the painting, the frame.

It’s resting on a precariously-put set of old, leather-bound books, covered in dust, all the glamour that should have been there long gone; but she knows where it is and what it is. She knows, she knows.

Marina has moved to stand next to her, her breaths steady. The blood has disappeared from her dress, has been washed out of her hair and off her hands. “I knew you’d remember eventually,” she says, fingers curling around Andromeda’s wrist. Her voice is once again the harmony of warm, raspy tones Andromeda knows. “It’s high time the war ended.”

Andromeda is stumbling out of bed before she’s even fully awake.

*********

Regulus grumbles when she shakes him and tries to burrow himself deeper under the covers. The sun is beginning to arc across the sky, far too early yet, but this is important. Andromeda cannot wait when she knows every minute wasted is a minute more that the people she loves have to suffer.

“I know where the last Horcrux is,” she tells him and he’s sat up within the next three seconds.

He looks up at her, grey eyes wide and just the little bit glassy, but his voice is strong. “Where?”

“Hogwarts.”

*********

Regulus sends a message to Sirius, the words smudged with sleep, messy with haste. We know where the last one is. Come as soon as you can.

After it’s disappeared in the burst of smoke, Andromeda asks, “What do we do now?”

Regulus sits down in front of the fireplace and opens a book, the picture of restrained calm. She shares none of it; her body is alive with the need to get up, to pace, to do something. “We wait.”

*********

Hours pass. Then days.

Sirius doesn’t come.

*********

The door to the terrace slips open so quietly Andromeda almost doesn’t hear it. She thinks for a moment it’s Dora or Regulus and she doesn’t even deign to open her eyes. Then she remembers Dora has taken off on a broom, diligently supervised by Ted, and Regulus is sitting next to her, gently rocking the garden swing they’ve settled on for the morning.

She stands up, just a second after Regulus, and whirls towards the door. She’s never felt anger like this before, pulsing in her belly like a fresh seal, scratching against the walls of her throat, as if it might tear them apart if she doesn’t let it out. She hides her trembling hands in the pockets of her dress.

Then she sees Sirius. His hair is a mess, haphazard around his face, his chest heaving with quick, rash breaths. The beat of his heart is not nearly audible but even so, Andromeda can imagine its fast pace just fine. He’s holding their message in one hand, his fingers dark with blood, a stark contrast to his pale face once he brings them up to it.

All the fight drains out of Andromeda.

Regulus doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. “Where have you been?” he asks, voice at once lower and louder than Andromeda’s ever heard him use. “We sent the message nearly two weeks ago.” He pauses, eyes flicking up and down Sirius’s body. “No matter.” He steps forward, grabbing Sirius by the shoulder and shaking him lightly. He cracks a smile, unsure in the face of Sirius’s indifference. “Sirius, we found it. It’s the Ravenclaw Diadem. It’s at Hogwarts.”

That does get Sirius to blink and shake his head, like a dog getting water out of his ears. “Oh good,” he says, voice hoarse. “We can kill two birds with one stone.”

Regulus’s smile fades as he steps back, his arms falling back to his sides. “What do you mean?”

Sirius clears his throat. He looks down at his hands, at the bloodied message, then up at Dora, laughing in the sky. Once his eyes move, they flick towards Andromeda, then settle back on Regulus. “Voldemort has had a spy at Hogwarts since September,” he says, his face crumpling with a desperation Andromeda hasn’t seen on him, probably ever, opening up like a chasm after an earthquake. “He’s going to attack Hogwarts at nightfall.”

#harry potter #sirius black #andromeda black #andromeda tonks #death eater sirius black #not really #but technically #regulus black #regulus black lives #ted tonks #nymphadora tonks #sirius and andromeda #sirius and regulus #sirius and nymphadora #in a world three degrees north

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