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Chapter Three. Conversion

Thus there is such a thing as human absorption. It appears in all the forms of conversion wherever the superior power of one person is consciously or unconsciously misused to influence profoundly and draw into his spell another individual or a whole community. Here one soul operates directly upon another soul. The weak have been overcome by the strong, the resistance of the weak has broken down under the influence of another person. He has been overpowered…. —Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together[57]

Dr. D. James Kennedy, tanned and dapper in a dark brown suit with a white handkerchief in his breast pocket and meticulously combed silver hair, stands to the side of the podium and shares with us the most important tool in winning converts to Christ: becoming a friend. The seminar I am attending is being held in a hall of the Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church complex at Coral Ridge, Florida. Three spindly, white spires, all topped with crosses, tower above the cut-rate shopping centers and convenience stores stretched along North Federal Highway in Fort Lauderdale. The five-day seminar is designed to train us to teach Evangelism Explosion. The program was begun by Kennedy in 1967 and is designed to train evangelists in the tactics and methods used to save souls for Christ.

“I would always go in first, introduce myself, Jim Kennedy,” he begins. “I’m checking the lay of the land, and I will look around the living room and see if there’s something there that I can comment about. Frequently, there will be a large picture somewhere and where did they put it, this picture? Why would they put it over the fireplace? Significant.”

“In Fort Lauderdale you don’t find too many fireplaces,” he adds, smiling, “but there’s some kind of central focus. Maybe…golf trophies…I’m over here looking at these golf trophies…painting…I say, ‘Beautiful painting. Did you paint that?’ The first rule about looking at trophies: don’t touch them…‘Did you win all those trophies?’ So we have a little conversation about golf, but I know enough about golf to have this conversation. Now what have I done? I’m making a friend.

“Compliment them on whatever you can,” Kennedy says. “Discuss what they do. You’re going to find out what are their hobbies, maybe right there in the living room. Then you’re going to ask them about what they do, where they’re from, how long they’ve been there…something to discuss with them…In doing this, you have made a friend.”

We sit with our green marbled Evangelism Explosion workbooks open to the chapter titled “Making Friends.” We are being taught how to get prospective converts to open up and feel at ease. The manual suggests asking questions such as: “Tell me something about yourself.”[58] We are instructed to listen attentively, since “people usually are most interested in what they themselves have to say.”[59] Evangelists should “look the prospect in the eye, move your head up and down, echo what he says by repeating his words and voice inflection. Be sensitive to his felt needs and respond appropriately. Remember and use his name often in the conversation.” And, it adds, “Pay a sincere compliment.”[60]

Kennedy warns us not to carry a large Bible, but to keep a small one hidden in our pockets: “Don’t show your gun until you’re ready to shoot it.”

Metaphors of war and sex saturate the lectures and the readings. Kennedy says that the primary task of Christians is to recruit “soldiers in the army of Jesus Christ who are absent without official leave (AWOL).”[61] He speaks of himself and other pastors as generals or admirals and of evangelists as soldiers. And he warns that it is Satan who convinces believers not to take part in the battle.

What is [Satan’s] idea? It is this: that wars are very dangerous, complicated operations, and ordinary persons could get hurt needlessly; therefore, they should go home and let the generals and admirals fight wars…in the church this, in essence, is exactly what Satan has done![62]

Sexual metaphors are also sprinkled into the bellicosity of the conversion message. A “functionally mature, responsible, reproducing Christian”[63] should be producing others like himself. Christians who receive the gospel for themselves but do not convert others “are like immoral seducers.” “The seducer,”[64] Kennedy writes, “is satisfied merely to exploit and then tell of his exploits rather than entering into a meaningful marriage commitment.” Kennedy recalls the difficulties he had one night during which he was unable to “consummate the witness”[65] with a new disciple’s wife.

Conversion is a form of sexual warfare, a form of seduction and finally a form of physical conquest.

You must “seek to identify with your prospect. If that person would talk about the fact that they were lonely and you had a lonely experience, man, you want to tie into that, you jump onto that…get all over that with your testimony…because they’re going to identify with you,” Kennedy says.

The tactics of conversion come with layers of deception, including, we soon learn, false friendships and cooked testimonies, the promise that the evangelists are giving the “free gift” of eternal life and that what they preach is the inerrant word of God and cannot be questioned. Conversion is supposed to banish the deepest dreads, fears and anxieties of human existence, including the fear of death. This is the central message we are told to impart to potential believers. But along with this message comes a disorienting mixture of love and fear, of promises of a warm embrace by a kind and gentle God that yearns to direct and guide the life of the convert toward success, wealth and happiness, and also of an angry, wrathful God who must punish nonbelievers, those who are not saved, tossing them into outer darkness and eternal suffering. The message swings the faces of this Janus-like God back and forth, one terrifying and one loving, in dizzying confusion. The emotions of love and fear pulsate through the message. God will love and protect those who come to Him. God will torment and reject those who do not come to Him. It becomes a bewildering mantra.

Conversion, at first blush, is euphoric. It is about new friends, loving and accepting friends; about the final conquering of human anxieties, fears and addictions; about attainment of wealth, power, success and happiness through God. For those who have known despair, it feels like a new life, a new beginning. The new church friends call them, invite them to dinner, have time to listen to their troubles and answer their questions. Kennedy tells us that we must keep in touch in the days after conversion. He encourages us to keep detailed files on those we proselytize. We must be sure new converts are never left standing alone at church. We must care when no one else seems to care. The new converts are assigned a “discipler” or prayer partner, a new friend who is wiser than they are in the ways of the Lord and able to instruct them in their new life.

The intense interest by a group of three or four evangelists in a potential convert, the flattery and feigned affection, the rapt attention to those being recruited and the flurry of “sincere” compliments are forms of “love-bombing,” the same technique employed by cults, such as the Unification Church or Moonies, to attract prospects. It was a well-developed tactic of the Russian and Chinese communist parties, which share many of the communal and repressive characteristics of the Christian Right. This intense showering of affection on an individual, as psychiatrist Margaret Thaler Singer described in her 1996 book Cults in Our Midst, is often very effective:

As soon as any interest is shown by the recruits, they may be love-bombed by the recruiter or other cult members. This process of feigning friendship and interest in the recruit was initially associated with one of the early youth cults, but soon it was taken up by a number of groups as part of their program for luring people in. Love-bombing is a coordinated effort, usually under the direction of leadership, that involves long-term members flooding recruits and newer members with flattery, verbal seduction, affectionate but usually nonsexual touching, and lots of attention to their every remark. Love-bombing—or the offer of instant companionship—is a deceptive ploy accounting for many successful recruitment drives.[66]

The new convert is drawn gradually into a host of church activities by his or her new friends, leaving little time for outside socializing. But the warmth and embrace soon brings new rules. When you violate the rules you sin, you flirt with rebellion, with becoming a “backslider,” someone who was converted but has fallen and is once again on the wrong side of God. And as the new converts are increasingly invested in the church community, as they cut ties with their old community, it is harder to dismiss the demands of the “discipler” and church leaders. “Backsliding” is a sin. Doubt is a sin. Questioning is a sin. The only proper relationship is submission to those above you, the abandonment of critical thought and the mouthing of religious jargon that is morally charged and instantly identifies believers as part of the same, hermetic community. The psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton describes this heavily loaded language, the words and phrases that allow believers to speak in code, as “thought-terminating clichés.”[67] “Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior” or “The wages of sin are death” are used, in this instance, to end all discussion.

Rules are incorporated slowly and deliberately into the convert’s belief system. These include obedience to church leaders; the teaching of an exclusive, spiritual elitism that demonizes all other ways of being and believing; and a persecution complex that keeps followers mobilized and distrustful of outsiders. The rules create a system of total submission to church doctrine. They discourage independent thought and action. And the result is the destruction of old communities and old friendships. Believers are soon enclosed in the church community. They are taught to value personal experience over reason, and to reject reason. For those who defy the system, who walk away, there is a collective banishment. The exit process is humiliating, and those who leave are condemned as “backsliders” no longer favored by God.

There is a gradual establishment of new standards for every aspect of life. Those who choose spouses must choose Christian spouses. Families and friends are divided into groups of “saved” and “unsaved.” The movement, while it purports to be about families, is the great divider of families, friends and communities. It competes with the family for loyalty. It seeks to place itself above the family, either drawing all family members into its embrace or pushing aside those who resist conversion. There are frequent prayers during the seminar for relatives who are unsaved, who remain beyond the control of the movement. Many of these prayers, including one by a grandmother in my prayer group for her unsaved grandchildren, are emotional, and it is not unusual to see saved Christians weeping over the possible damnation of those they love.

This control, while destructive to personal initiative and independence, does keep believers from wandering back into the messy situations they fled. The new ideology gives the believers a cause, a sense of purpose, meaning, feelings of superiority, and a way to justify and sanctify their hatreds. For many, the rewards of cleaning up their lives, repairing their damaged self-esteem, and joining an elite and blessed group are worth the cost of submission. They know how to define and identify themselves. They do not have to make moral choices. They are made for them. They submerge their individual personas into the single persona of the Christian crowd. Their hope lies not in the real world, but in this new world of miracles. For many, the conformity, the flight away from themselves, the dismissal of facts and logic for magic, the destruction (even with its latent totalitarianism) of personal autonomy amount to a welcome and joyous relief. The flight into the arms of the Christian Right, into blind acceptance of a holy cause, compensates for converts’ despair and lack of faith in themselves. And the more corrupted and soiled they feel, the more profound the despair, the more militant they become, shouting, organizing and agitating to create a pure and sanctified Christian nation, believing that this purity will offset their own shame and guilt. Many yearn to be deceived and directed. It makes life easier to bear.

The most susceptible people, we are told in the seminar, are those in crisis: people in the midst of a divorce; those who have lost a job or are grieving for the death of a close friend or relative; those suffering addictions they cannot control, illness, or the trauma of emotional or physical abuse. We are encouraged to target the vulnerable. In The Varieties of Religious Experience, William James wrote that those who experienced dramatic conversions might have been born with a “melancholy disposition,” a chronically “divided” mind—or else, he suspected, they had drunk “too deep of the cup of bitterness.”[68] It is easier to bring about a conversion when the person being proselytized is in crisis. Indeed, the goal of the conversion is to generate a sense of crisis by stressing that all who are unsaved are lost and in desperate need of help.

When he speaks, Kennedy exudes the oily charm of a traveling salesman. He is meticulous about his appearance: never a hair out of place, his face tanned to a leathery brown and his suits finely cut. He talks in a low, sonorous voice, one he uses every Sunday when, decked out in his robe and academic hood, he stands behind his massive mahogany pulpit at the start of the service and announces, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it,” at which point the thunderous organ erupts in pulsations that rock the church. He is a rigid fundamentalist, determined to defend and prove the truths of the Bible through what he sees as intellectual, rational and scientific argument. His sermons can often be pedantic, filled with windy discussions about what he says are historical or scientific facts that illustrate the inerrant truth of the Bible. He is one of America’s most public and vocal dominionists.

Kennedy was born in 1930 in Augusta, Georgia, and raised in a neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago by a glassware-salesman father, rarely at home, and an abusive, alcoholic mother. It was not a happy childhood. Kennedy moved with his parents to Jacksonville, Florida, while he was in high school and by his own admission spent most of his time surfing and water-skiing. In his early 20s, he taught the fox-trot at an Arthur Murray Dance School in Tampa. He met his wife, Anne, there in 1952. But the official literature reads, “It all began on a Sunday morning in 1953, when he [Kennedy] was startled awake by a preacher’s stern question on his clock radio: ‘Suppose you were to die today and stand before God, and He were to ask you, “What right do you have to enter into My heaven?”—What would you say?’”[69]

Kennedy explains he was unsure of his answer. He says he went to a bookstore and bought The Greatest Story Ever Told, the 1949 novel by Fulton Oursler that chronicles the life of Christ. Kennedy had little experience with religion. He did not attend church regularly. The book, he says, opened his eyes to God, and he enrolled in seminary. He, unlike some of his charismatic or evangelical counterparts, did real academic work. He studied at Columbia Theological Seminary and the Chicago Graduate School of Theology, and received a PhD from New York University.

He began modestly with a small church, affiliated with the Presbyterian Church in America, which split with the mainline Presbyterian Church over what the schismatic sect branded its liberal theology. It had fewer than 100 members. But Fort Lauderdale proved to be fertile ground for the young preacher, with families moving in droves into sprawling new developments. The population influx helped swell his congregation, although the church literature portrays its growth as the result of successful proselytizing. He slowly built a massive multimedia empire. Kennedy’s weekly broadcasts of The Coral Ridge Hour can be seen on more than 600 television stations and four cable networks and heard on the Armed Forces Network. It is the third most widely syndicated Christian program in the nation, reaching more than 3.5 million people. His radio show, Truths That Transform, is on more than 744 stations, six days a week.[70] He runs a lobbying group in Washington called the Center for Reclaiming America, as well as the Center for Christian Statesmanship, which evangelizes those who work in Congress. He hosts monthly luncheons, for members of Congress and their staffs, which feature conservative speakers. Kennedy believes that “the Christian view of morality and life is the one that should prevail in America.”[71] He is fond of quoting John Jay, the Chief Justice of the first U.S. Supreme Court, who said that “God in His providence has given to us a Christian nation, and it behooves us as Christians to prefer and select Christians to rule over us.” Kennedy argues that this “was the Christian perspective of most of the founders in the beginning of this country.”[72]

“Our job is to reclaim America for Christ, whatever the cost,” Kennedy has said. “As the vice regents of God, we are to exercise godly dominion and influence over our neighborhoods, our schools, our government, our literature and arts, our sports arenas, our entertainment media, our news media, our scientific endeavors—in short, over every aspect and institution of human society.”[73]

Kennedy is opposed to abortion, homosexuality and the study of evolution. He rails against the values of the Enlightenment. He says that theories of evolution were the basis for Nazism, communism and fascism and that “these are the views of men that have resulted in millions and millions of people dying.”[74]

He once told a reporter he’d never had a gay friend, adding, “I believe one was working at the dance studio [where he worked in his 20s], but I couldn’t tell for sure. They are very good at blending in.”[75] Still, despite having no personal interaction with gay people (he says only ex-gays are members at his church), Kennedy formed Worthy Creations Ministry, a branch of Exodus International, in 1998. Worthy Creations preaches that homosexuality is a sickness that can be healed.[76]

The cultural decline in America is the result, he says, of straying from Christian values. In The Gates of Hell Shall Not Prevail: The Attack on Christianity and What You Need to Know to Combat It, a book Kennedy wrote in 1996, he writes that although the United States was once a “Christian nation,” that is no longer the case because today “the hostile barrage from atheists, agnostics and other secular humanists has begun to take a serious toll on that heritage. In recent years, they have built up their forces and even increased their assault upon all our Christian institutions, and they have been enormously successful in taking over the ‘public square.’ Public education, the media, the government, the courts, and even the church in many places, now belong to them.”[77]

The goal is not simply conversion but also eventual recruitment into a political movement to create a Christian nation. But this process is riddled with lies and deception. In the seminar, evangelists are told to pretend at first that they are taking a survey of religious belief to get people to talk and that proselytizers should hide their Bibles so their targets do not know they are being proselytized, and should ignore “No Soliciting” signs, since what they are giving people is “a free gift.”

Kennedy begins to talk about the godless character of liberal churches. He dismisses the members of these churches as “nominal Christians.” Referring to a potential convert whom he calls Scott, Kennedy tells us that since Scott had previously attended Grace Baptist Church, the word “grace” being a popular term within the Christian Right, he was probably a real Christian.

“Suppose we’ve got a lot of liberal churches in this area, and if you just named a church in this area that you go to, probably 90 to 10, I could tell whether or not you’re a Christian,” he says. “And how could I do that? Simply because these liberal churches don’t preach the Gospel. I can tell you a big liberal church in this area where you can stand outside the church, Sunday morning after service, and say, ‘Excuse me, sir, I’m lost, I wonder if you can tell me how to get to heaven.’ And I would venture to say that 98 percent could not tell you, and that’s because the pastor is a liberal and he doesn’t believe in heaven. He doesn’t believe in salvation; he probably doesn’t believe in sin. Certainly doesn’t believe in hell.

“There are millions of people in this country who attend church regularly,” Kennedy tells us, “trying to live a good life and follow God’s teachings, and yet somehow—now underline this next phrase—the church has failed to communicate to them how they can know for sure that they have eternal life and they’re going to heaven.”

At the Evangelism Explosion workshop we must write and rewrite our personal testimonies and practice delivering them in front of our assigned prayer partners, who critique them according to the manual. The testimony is an illustration to the nonbeliever that the converted are absolutely certain of eternal life and have been freed from all human anxieties. The testimony, we are told by the instructor, must state explicitly that the fear of death has been banished forever. We must describe moments in our lives when death appeared certain and we felt at peace and certain of eternal life. The testimony has to stress and repeat this total certitude of our belief in eternal life and freedom from fear. We turn our testimonies in for correction by the instructors to make sure our essays have not deviated from the two approved outlines of conversion, and we rewrite them when they come back with “errors” marked in red.

Freedom from fear, especially the fear of death, is what is being sold. It is a lie, as everyone who works to write and rewrite their testimonies has to know on some level. But few people would have the firmness of mind to admit this in front of other believers. Such an admission would be interpreted as a lack of faith. Yet creation of this internal conflict is also part of the process, for it fosters a dread of being found out, a morbid guilt that we are not as good or as Christian as those around us. The process, from its inception, is not only dishonest but cruel. The dissonance between individual sensibility and the group does not go away with conversion or blind obedience or submission. Belief systems that preach a utopian and unachievable ideal drive this angst underground, forcing the convert to measure him- or herself against an impossible ideal. This system ensures continuous feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, guilt and self-loathing. That many converts feel deep remorse for past actions, for mistakes and cruelties, for the despair that has gripped their lives, only makes them more insecure.

The proper form for a conversion testimony is detailed for us in the Evangelism Explosion workbook:

Stage 1: What I was before. “Select one life concept such as loneliness, strife, guilt, fear of death, emptiness, rejection, insecurity, depression. Then include it (only one life concept per testimony) in an opening statement, saying, ‘Before I received eternal life, my life was filled with a paralyzing fear of death.’ Next, move from the general statement to a specific illustration out of your own life experiences. Give concrete details to make your illustration come alive.”[78]

Stage 2: How I received eternal life. “At this point, you may want to say something like, ‘Not many months later, a friend shared with me the most wonderful news I’d ever heard—that God had provided eternal life for me and what the conditions were to receive that life. As a result, many things changed in my life.’”[79]

Stage 3: What eternal life has meant to me. “At this point, you may want to share the life concept in reverse. If you selected fear of death as your life concept, you will now want to speak of courage in the face of death. If you chose the concept of guilt, you may now want to speak of forgiveness. The reverse of depression is hope; of emptiness, purpose; of rebellion, obedience, etc. Then you will want to illustrate the reverse life concept with another illustration from your experience. For instance, you may want to say, ‘The fear of death is now gone, and in its place is courage when facing death situations or thoughts about death.’”[80]

“As you prepare your testimony,” Kennedy says, “realize that you are fashioning an evangelical tool, so that you will be a more proficient witness.”

There are two possible types of conversion experiences, the class is told: a childhood conversion and an adult conversion. Those who have experienced childhood conversions are told by the instructors not to state in the testimony that they were converted as a child. It will hurt their credibility with adults.

A childhood conversion testimony starts with the sentence “I’m glad I have eternal life because it’s given me the certainty of knowing where I’m going when I die. And because of this, I have no fear of death.”

The instructor gives us an example of an effective childhood conversion testimony:

“‘Not long ago we were driving north on Interstate 57 during an ice storm that put a sheet of glazed ice on the highway…. We were easily easing along at 25 miles per hour, looking for a place to get off the highway to find shelter for the night, and as we were driving we came alongside a semitrailer truck.’ They’re painting a picture here. ‘The wind was blowing very hard, and the trailer truck became like a sailboat, catching the wind.’ Got this picture? ‘Whoa. The truck was gradually being pushed across the center line, and steadily toward the car. There was nowhere to go. We couldn’t go to the right because we’d run into the truck; we couldn’t go to the left because we would eventually end up in a ditch with the truck on top of us. And as we waited to see the outcome, our tragic injury seemed certain. My whole life came before me, and yet God gave me complete peace in my heart, knowing that even in light of this almost certain tragedy, I knew for certain that if I were to die, I’d go to heaven. What a joy and a difference that made as I faced that danger. And it’s the same today. I know that if I were to die right now, I’d go to be with God in heaven.’

“See?” the instructor goes on. “He captured your attention with a story, and that’s what we’re wanting you to build into your story, because all of you have that. I teach my trainers that they should be able to write a testimony like that. As they’re listening in the introduction, the Lord will capture them with something in their own story with which they can build a testimony.”

The adult conversion testimony, however, is different, although it too focuses on overcoming the fear of death. A stocky instructor recounts it for us:

“‘Before I received eternal life, I had a fear of death and dying.’ Same concept: the thought of death terrified me. ‘I had no idea what lay beyond death’s door for me. When I was in college I was living in a small home alone. One night, a terrible storm arose with wind gusts over 50 miles per hour. Kind of like Wilma down here; she was packing some heavy winds. The wind was so strong that the rain was pouring horizontally across the ground, our little mobile home was rocking on its concrete block foundation, and a bolt of lightning struck a tall oak tree right next to me. I was frightened, and I set up near to the sofa, fearful that I was going to die. Not many months later, a friend shared with me something very wonderful, and I received eternal life. Many things changed in my life. And now that I have eternal life, the fear of death and dying is gone. Not long after I received eternal life, we were driving north on Interstate 57 during an ice storm that put a sheet of glazed ice on the highway.’…Same illustration, only in the life of a person who’s accepted Christ, you know? And what happened before and then what happened after. ‘As we waited to see the outcome, death or tragic injury seemed certain, and my whole life came before me.’”

The class has their workbooks open to the chapter “Sharing Your Testimony.”

“Now here’s not how to give a testimony,” an instructor says. “‘I received blessing when I became a Christian! I received deliverance through the Sinners’ Prayer! I was unsaved and needed to be saved! My conversion happened when I put my faith in Jesus Christ, my savior, who died for the sins of those who trust Him. Praise the Lord! Hallelujah! Amen! I received salvation when I believed the Gospel and was washed in the blood of the Lamb, and I was born again when the Holy Spirit spoke to me at the altar of God. I lost all my friends and I lost my job, but God has looked after me ever since, and praise His name! The trials and tests are unbearable, and I just hope I can hold out until the end, and then maybe I’ll be able to go to heaven!’

“You know,” he says, “really, all of those things are true. All of those things are true of what happens in our lives. ‘The blood of the Lamb,’ that’s a great, great phrase. ‘The Gospel,’ ‘washed in the blood of the Lamb,’ ‘born again when the Holy Spirit spoke to me at the altar of God.’ What’s wrong with those statements? Way too churchy. Now you think how lost people think, and they don’t think that way. They don’t understand that. That is a jargon, and they just don’t have any clue…. We use phrases like that and toss them back and forth, and a lost person thinks we’ve dropped off another planet. So what we want you to do, we want you to go into your prayer groups and we want you to talk them through your story.”

The class of 60 evangelism students, many of them pastors, breaks up into preassigned prayer groups to practice their personal testimonies again.

We are told to always emphasize the positive and to find common interests, experiences, or viewpoints that will allow “your prospect,” as the potential converts are called in our manual, to identify with us. We are told to pepper our talk with uplifting thoughts, such as the comfort we have of going to bed every night and knowing that if we do not wake in the morning we will be in paradise with God. We are instructed to paint detailed pictures of terrible personal tragedies that have been solved by God. As an example, the manual quotes a parent saying that they had “a Christian son killed in Vietnam” but they are at peace with the loss because the parent knows that, since the son was a Christian, he has eternal life, and the parent will be reunited with him in heaven. Our testimonies and conversions must be sprinkled with words like “love,” “peace,” “faithfulness,” “hope,” “purpose,” and “obedience.” But the core of the message, the point we must impart to the potential convert, is that conversion has obliterated our fear of death, not only for ourselves, but the fear we have of losing those we love. This is what is being sold. And we, as the salespeople, are meant to stand as proof that humankind’s deepest fear, the fear of nonbeing, the fear of death, can be banished from life.

Two women from the church walk up in front of the group to role-play the conversion process. One sits in one of two green leather chairs on a raised platform. The other stands and pretends to knock on an imaginary door. The woman in the chair gets up to greet her visitor and welcomes her inside. They sit. The evangelist exchanges a few banalities about how nice the house looks and compliments her hostess on her taste in home furnishings. She “makes a friend.” She then gives her personal testimony. After the testimony, in quick succession, she asks the two questions that have to be asked early of every potential convert. The class has been cautioned that “when two people are present, begin by asking the person who seems least likely to have the correct answer.” The goal is to elicit incorrect answers, answers that allow the evangelist to push home the message that time is running out, sin is accumulating. The gift of eternal life waits to be taken, but without salvation everyone is damned to eternal punishment.

“‘Have you come to the place in your spiritual life where you know for certain that if you were to die today you would go to heaven, or is that something you would say you’re still working on?’” the evangelist says, repeating verbatim the first question.

“I would say I am still working on it,” the other woman answers.

The evangelist launches into the second question.

“Suppose you were to die today and stand before God and He were to say to you, ‘Why should I let you into My heaven?’ What would you say?”

Her mock recruit fumbles, talks about having lived a good life.

The evangelist repeats the answer, because, as the instructor has told the group, “this will help preclude the prospect saying at the end of the Gospel presentation, ‘I’ve always believed in Jesus Christ and trusted Him alone for salvation.’”

This is an important moment, we are told, because the conversion process depends on potential converts saying they are not sure they will be granted eternal life and they have not placed their total trust and faith in Jesus Christ for salvation.

“When you answered that first question, I thought I had some good news for you,” the evangelist says, lifting the sentence verbatim from the manual. “But after hearing your answer to this second question, I know that I have the greatest news you have ever heard.”

The workbook, lying open in front of the onlookers, instructs the evangelist to say this sentence with “great enthusiasm,” since, the workbook adds, this “precludes a hostile reaction.”[81]

Heaven, the potential convert is told after the questions are asked, is “unearned, undeserved, and unmerited. It’s free.” But it can come only through a commitment to Jesus Christ.

And then the discussion in the conversion process turns to sin. The evangelists are told to disabuse converts of the notion that sin is limited to robbery, murder, adultery or other specific acts. We are informed that sin “is anything that doesn’t please God or is a transgression of His law.”[82] Sin, the convert is to be told, is “the fatal malignancy which infects the soul of the entire human race.”[83] The convert is to be told that there is no escape from sin and that even the most righteous commit innumerable sinful acts.

This definition of sin is a subtle and pernicious twist to the traditional Christian concept of sin. As defined by Paul in his letters, sin is a state of being, a split between our conscious will and our real will, between us and something strange and alien within us. Sin is not, as Kennedy claims, a scorecard of rights and wrongs. For Paul, as well as many theologians such as Paul Tillich, there is no action, no matter how moral and good, which is totally pure or moral, totally free from sin. Sin is, rather, a way of describing our estrangement from others and ourselves, from what Tillich calls “the ground of our being.”[84] It is estrangement from the origin and aim of life. When we carry out acts that further this estrangement, when we violate our relationships with others and with ourselves, we sin. But Kennedy paints sin as something quantifiable, as if there were a digital counter that recorded one sin after another and stored the information in some heavenly bank account.

An instructor turns to a church member and illustrates how to speak about sin to a potential convert:

“Suppose I could get to the point where only ten times a day or five times, or let’s say three times a day, maybe one attitude [of] sin—jealousy or anger or bigotry—maybe one thing…slips from my mouth that’s hateful,” he says. “And maybe I miss doing something that I know I should do, like help my neighbor when they’re having a special need. What do you suppose would happen if I got that good? Man, I’d practically be a walking angel! But do you realize that at the end of the year I [would] have a thousand violations against God’s law? And if I live to be, well I’m 59 right now, so I’d have 59,000 violations against God’s law. What would happen if I died right now, or not died right now but stood before a judge right now with 59,000 traffic violations? Think what would happen. He’d say, ‘This is a habitual offender; let’s get him off the road.’ And he’d basically take my license and I wouldn’t be able to drive. Well, imagine standing before the judge of the universe with 60 or 70 thousand violations against God’s law. And that’s at the very best, that’s at the very best! But what we’re really trying to say with this is, you know, not only does a little add up to a lot, but our sin problem is serious. And then you can move right in.”

At that point the pairs form again to practice delivering the message about sin.

After the practice session, the instructor asks: “Why do we put the three-sins-a-day illustration in there?” Several people call out answers.

“A little bit of sin turns into a lot of sin,” he says. “All right. It’s that multiplication again.”

The point the evangelists are instructed to make is that eternal life cannot be achieved through good deeds or even a good life. It is impossible to earn your way into heaven. We must accept that we have sinned, will always commit sins, and ask to be born again so Jesus will take our sins upon Him. Once this is done we can learn to live a new way, a way that, while not totally free of sin, allows us to live a life approved by God, a life in which, with the help of the church, we learn to reject sinful acts. The believer can learn to condemn and avoid sinful acts—acts defined for him or her by church leaders as anything that doesn’t please God or is a transgression of His law. The leaders determine these acts, rousing the believer against what they label as sins, such as abortion or homosexuality. The emphasis, once the conversion is made, is on acts, acts that please or displease God. The believer can delineate these acts only with the aid of church leaders. There is a calculated destruction of individual conscience. All must submit to the will of those godly men who define the communal good. Sin, in short, is anything the leaders do not like.

“Because He is a just judge, He must punish our sins; His law declares that our sins must be punished and that He ‘will by no means clear the guilty.’ There is no doubt about this!” the instructor tells us.

The potential convert is to be told, finally, that Jesus came to earth and died “to pay the penalty for our sins and to purchase a place in heaven for us” and that “to receive eternal life you must transfer your trust from yourself to Jesus Christ alone for eternal life.”[85] The convert is asked whether he or she is willing “to turn from what you have been doing that is not pleasing to Him and follow Him as He reveals His will to you in His Word.”

The evangelist and convert bow their heads and pray, with the convert repeating each line after the evangelist.

“Lord Jesus, I want You to come in and take over my life right now. I am a sinner. I have been trusting in myself and my own good works. But now I place my trust in You. I accept You as my own personal Savior. I believe You died for me. I receive You as Lord and Master of my life. Help me to turn from my sins and to follow You. I accept the free gift of eternal life. I am not worthy of it, but I thank You for it. Amen.”

When this prayer is over the believers are told, “Welcome to the family of God.” They are told to read a chapter a day in the Gospel of John and that they will be visited again in a week to talk about the Bible. They are encouraged to pray because God “promised to hear and answer our prayers.” They are told to find “a good Bible-believing church and become a part of it.” They are told to join a Christian fellowship group. And they are told to witness to their families. With this, the process of deconstructing an individual and building a submissive follower is begun.

The goal is more than building the church; it is building a Christian America. Kennedy talks often about the recruitment of legions of new believers to the political as well as the religious arena. He claims to have brought in millions through Evangelism Explosion.

Kennedy insists that America was founded as a “Christian nation.” The denial of the Christian roots of the nation, he says, is a “great deception [that] has been used to destroy much of the religious freedom and liberty this country has enjoyed since its inception.”[86] And Kennedy’s crusade is well funded and well organized. He is backed with grants, often for millions of dollars, from conservative trusts such as the Orville D. and Ruth A. Merillat Foundation and the Richard and Helen DeVos Foundation, which has over the years given nearly $6 million to his church organizations.[87] The drive to bring in new souls is also an open drive to broaden the political base of the movement and impose a theocracy.

The prayer partners are told to separate into clusters. Those in the room take turns practicing their testimonies in front of their group of three or four, with the other members critiquing the performance. The final version of each participant’s written testimony is to be turned in the next day. My prayer group has three other people, including one of the few African Americans, a thoughtful man who grew up in the church and was converted as a child; a middle-aged man who overcame drug and alcohol abuse as an adult through his conversion; and a grandmother, who said that as a child she had a morbid fear of death that was overcome only when she was saved and assured of eternal life. I pair off with the grandmother, who is chatty and friendly. We read our testimonies, trying to get them exactly right.

A woman from the church tells us how to share the Gospel with a person who suffers from dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. She heads teams that go into 24-hour nursing homes and assisted-living facilities.

“These precious people are basically confined to these types of facilities,” she says. “Now they say by the year 2025, there will be two seniors for every teenager on the face of this earth. And with multiplication and with people living longer, in the United States they say pretty soon there will be about 50 million people that are alive [who] will end up spending their final years in some type of facility. So this is an untapped resource.

“They’re always there,” she tells the group. “And so we get to go back and we get to see Miss Mary, week after week after week, and share with her.

“The other thing that we’re dealing with is different forms of dementia,” she adds. “The most common form is Alzheimer’s. So for most of us—and I mean, I forget things easily—we have to go back and repeat ourselves. But that’s OK. Maybe the first week we’ll just get through an introduction and maybe share our testimony, maybe the two questions. The next week we’ll go back, we’ll pick up with Miss Mary, maybe we’ll have to refresh her memory.

“One thing that we get a lot with the elderly,” she says, “they are so works-oriented because of the culture in which they were raised and having gone through the Depression. So we really have to talk about eternal life as a free gift. That has to be emphasized over and over and over.”

Disruptions, reluctance to accept the message, open hostility and interruptions during the evangelization process are always blamed on Satan, part of what is described to us as “spiritual warfare.”

“The devil is so obvious,” an instructor says. “I mean, he’s so easy to figure out.”

The instructor recounts the story of a house visit. The evangelists were sitting in the living room of a woman who asked the team to convert her unsaved husband. At the moment the evangelists were about to get him to accept Christ, the phone rang.

“It was an old-fashioned message machine where you could hear the person,” the instructor says. Through the loudspeaker on the machine, the group heard a child call out, “Daddy, Daddy, I know you’re in there.”

The group sat and listened to the plea of the child. Finally the father said, “‘Excuse me,’ and he walked over and just clicked it back off,” the instructor tells us. “He came back over, and my trainees at the time were just praying so hard, great drops of blood…that that guy could receive Christ. We got ahead of the distractions.”

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roseblushwrites · 8 months ago

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Extremely Optional Marigold Tav Lore

I got an incredibly kind comment on one of my First in My Heart fics yesterday that was asking for basically any details about the Tav I write in all my Gale stories (so far 👀). I will acknowledge that yes this character is mostly supposed to be a stand-in, I don't want to step on anybody's interpretation of her or ability to project whatever vision they like to imagine when they read my fics. But there is a version of her I am picturing when I write, so if you would like to know more about how I think about her, that's what this post is for ☺️

First, a disclaimer: the boring truth is that I don’t have a ton of things fleshed out about her. Most of what I’ve put thought into about her is the stuff mentioned here and there in the fics—she’s a monk, she was raised in a Torm temple but isn’t a believer in that faith, she loves flowers, and she lived in Baldur’s Gate until getting tadpoled at the start of BG3’s story. But here's what I do have about her:

She’s a human from a town in the Cloud Peaks, a southern mountain range

She grew up in a Torm temple, where her mother worked as a gardener in exchange for her daughter getting to have an education. Her biological father was never in the picture and she has no siblings

Her mother died when she was 14, and after that she was raised by a Torm monk named Eirik. He never required her to convert to his religion, but instead taught her about the importance of loyalty and being true to one’s self. She was so filled with rage and grief after her mother died, and he taught her how to take all of those feelings and release them through her monk training. Eirik is still alive and she still exchanges letters with him, though they aren't as close as they once were

When she left the temple in her early twenties, she went to Baldur’s Gate to seek her own fortune and spent years doing odd jobs and bounties to get by, occasionally joining a short term adventuring party here and there, but never anything too intense. She was definitely in a rut of her own making, just kind of listlessly getting by. Getting tadpoled was objectively terrifying but also was the wake-up call she needed to stop going through the motions and start living her life, and to chase down what she really wanted (which, aside from the whole “saving the world” thing, was a relationship with Gale)

At the start of BG3, she’s 35 (she and Gale are the same age)

Marigold loves flowers because they remind her of her mom, but she’s never had anywhere that she could nurture that interest or grow her own garden—they’ve just been something she appreciates everywhere she goes

She is a total cat person

She does not want to have kids. What she went through when she lost her mom was so traumatizing that she doesn’t want to put her own child through that when she dies, however old she is when that happens

Sexually (I made this character up to write smut about, after all) she likes being on top and being in control, but Gale is the only person she’s ever been with who makes her feel comfortable enough to relinquish that control on occasion. She likes to fluster and tease him, she loves going down on him, and she really loves all the little noises he makes when she’s taking her time with him. She also loves being spanked, and she loves being surprised by all of Gale's creative, sexy, magical ideas

Personality-wise, she’s not exactly shy but she is kind of closed off until she gets to know people. She kept to herself a lot pre-game, and she didn’t have a lot of friends in Baldur’s Gate before getting tadpoled. Her beliefs in the Torm ideals of loyalty (again, the ideals, not the actual religion—she wasn’t a fan of the gods even before the events of the game) make it so that she’s afraid to get too close to people, because what if she gives her loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it? It just made her very wary of strangers and mostly keep to herself. Opening up to the tadpole crew was a big deal for her. Besides Gale, she’s closest with Shadowheart, but she really loves all of them. Once she gets close with people, she's very sarcastic and sassy

And now here are a few screenshots of her (and Gale of course)—I have never used mods for Tav appearances, so she is built with the default character creation options. I have played her through several different playthroughs with different hair and classes and outfits but she always has this face (which I initially chose because I think she has Rachel Weisz vibes):

(Sometimes she has the neck tattoo, sometimes she doesn't--depends on my mood 😂)

And here are a couple bonus pictures of what she looked like when she was a rogue during our evil playthrough (she and Gale both became gods), and also what she looked like when I made her the Dream Visitor when I was playing as Gale:

(Dream Visitor still has the two-toned bob because we did this right after the evil playthrough and I was still really vibing with that hair choice lmao. But "canon" Marigold has the wavy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.)

Again, just to reiterate, you do NOT have to picture her like this when you read my fics, I intentionally do not describe her physically in any of the canon-verse stories because I don't want to take away from anyone who wants to think of their own Tavs when they read. But this is what she looks like in my head when I'm writing about her.

Genuinely honored that anyone cared enough to even ask me about this, hopefully this was interesting! 🥰

#tavkarios: first in my heart #bg3 #tav lore

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lowduckcap · 11 months ago

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Transformers Idea

Transformers Deserters

I am one of the few who remember what Cybertron was like before the so called “great war.” If that doesn’t make one feel old, I don’t know what will. I was a simple courier. I would drive from one city to the next one over. Neither of these cities lasted past the first year of the war. I remember that I used to look forward to a particular drive. There was a sort of unofficial military base where flyers would go to practice special maneuvers. This was for show mostly. Some people like to show off during special occasions like holidays or whatever and make it more enjoyable for others. There was one jet called Air Hammer. She was beautiful. Even though I was far off during my runs, she had so much personality while flying that I felt I just had to meet her some day.

Then the war started. I saw her get blasted to bits in the air and I just ran. I ran so hard and so fast that I could have sworn I burned out a few parts. When I finally got to town, everyone was panicking. I didn’t know where to go. Then I caught sight of someone with a sense of purpose to them and I followed that unit. He lead me to an underground train system. We got out of there before whatever insanity was melting away the station. Like I said, I was already hurting at this point, so when this runner’s buddies jumped me before I got to the next town’s station, I couldn’t do much about it. From what I found out later, the whole thing was an organized strike. The one I was following was a sabotage that allowed the Seekers to tear through the sky without an early warning system.

I was at the mercy of terrorists. Fortunately for me, I was seen as so pathetic that they thought they would try to convert me. If it didn’t work out, they could shoot me at any time. I imagine that’s what they thought. They told me about the oppression of the bots over the cons. They told me about the sacrilege of the false Prime. They went on and on telling me all kinds of propaganda and horror stories that there the system’s fault. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what I thought. I didn’t want to die. If I didn’t agree, they’d consider me bot to break for the cause. So, I joined what was called at the time “The Rise.” Then some started calling themselves the Ascenticons. Then the media labeled them the Decepticons and that stuck for some reason.

To be fair, they did have some points. Cybertron was structured like a massive machine. If you didn’t fit, you would either be forced to fit or put away so far it didn’t matter if you disappeared. Not so bad with the go alongs like me, but if I was just a bit dumber, or slower, or weaker, I could… I’ve seen the records. I know these terrorists weren't lying. That helped with my conscious as I was repurposed as their courier as well as an expendable goon when needed. After a while, my dumb luck of surviving through the war lead to me joining a crew. Back in the day, joining a crew meant that Megatron thought you were more useful that to be blown apart as cannon fodder in the front lines. It meant you had a job to do and you were on your own. Whether it was going to alien planets to try and find a game changer or set up a base for one of the really special Cons.

I should probably mention that Burnout is not my given name. The Cons gave me it after I was initiated. I’m not telling you my real name. I’m saving that for after the war. Anyway, the crew I was a part of was lead by true believer called Salvo. Say anything critical of the cause in front of him and you’d have to go to Pileup for repairs. We were sent to ship graveyard. For some reason, a sizable bubble of space between Omicron and Lithone’s solar systems cause catastrophic system failure. Only Salvo would be crazy enough to volunteer for this research mission. Could be a weapon thing or a trade route thing. I didn’t care. I just went along with orders. So, very obviously, something went wrong. You ever hear of the Vok? They’re basically energy monsters with a weird mad scientist compulsion. That’s what we found. That’s what knocked us out of the sky.

About twelve minutes after we enter the danger zone we all start to unclench. Then there’s a very loud, very artificial sounding scream and the face of a Vok overloading the lights. Next thing I know everything on the ship is broken. Anyone who isn’t unconscious in reeling in pain. Lights are flickering. The sound of the ship’s metal bending and breaking is the only thing I can hear. Then the lights go out and eventually everything calms down. The typical Con doesn’t much care for alien life, but I think Cons and Bots alike can all just say the Vok can got to the pit. After a few hours of crawling in the dark we come to four conclusions. The Vok messed us up. We crashed landed. We didn’t know where we were. We were most definitely not were we were supposed to be. By the time we were able to climb our way out of the ship we could see stars and not a one made sense to our navigator Roadster. Or Road-Star, he went back and forth during the trip.

Now, I know I don’t have to tell you where we landed, but at the time we were kind of freaking out. The ship was no longer functional as a ship. We couldn’t even send a distress call. We could just barely take care of our wounded. Now we get to, as the humans say, the meat of the matter. The Vok didn’t just throw us at this mud ball for a laugh. They gave us a sickness. We didn’t realize this for a few years. We just thought Scrapper didn’t know what she was doing. She made a kind of artificial energon, so we had fuel and were grateful, but she wasn’t our first choice for repairs. Our actual medic, Oilslick, got knocked out hard in the crash. It turns out the Vok made it so we would have diminishing returns with our fuel intake. No matter what we did, every time we refueled, we would get less out of it. So after being stuck for hundreds of years, we… changed, to survive.

Then comes the recent days. All of a sudden, everyone and their electrician is playing soldier, waging war on this middle of nowhere planet. We’ve been attacked by Cons, Bots, and the natives. The way I see it, you caught me fair and square. For all the good it will do you. But thank you for listening to my little sob story. It’s been a while since I’ve been asked to talk so much. Some scam with a radio show. Our first contact even.

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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

#bnha 323 #uraraka ochako #rat principal #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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doufuhua · 4 years ago

Text

Resource tips when playing Genshin Impact, things the game won’t tell you.

I see a handful of new players, *cough* my mutuals *cough*, making mistakes when it comes to saving their resources and wasting their time by staying in a low world level.

Increasing your world level is always a good thing, when you increase your world level you have a better chance at getting larger and more better quality enemy drops, rewards from bosses, and artifacts. I understand there may be the fear of enemies in-game being too strong for your parties to handle, but players agree that accumulating your exp past the limit, like say AR25, is wasting your time, mora, and resin. Spending your resin at AR25 with accumulated exp, you are getting very low quality rewards in return with your world level 1 cap, when you could be getting much better rewards if you remove the cap and were in world level 4 for example. The jump in between enemy levels from world level 1 to 2 or 3 is not a huge gap to be honest, it’s not more than your characters can handle at level 40-50, it will take a little longer to defeat an enemy camp, but your party will survive. So, always remove your world level cap when you get the chance. If enemies really are difficult for you, co-op with someone at a higher AR, some are even willing to do the work for you because most high AR players are at endgame, bored with nothing to do, have your co-op join on and ask for help in your profile status. If the idea of co-op makes you feel uncomfortable for whatever reason, you can descend one world level in the menu, but I find that when I ascend, not once have I considered going down one level, even when my party is 20 levels lower than enemy bosses.

(One of the things I regret doing while playing this game was not following the advice from above, I was AR25 accumulating a lot of exp and not ascending my world level. When I ascended my world level, I believe the cap was 3? is where I stopped. I realized the enemies were not as difficult to fight as they were in world level 1. I’ve been leveling my characters accordingly equal to the world level, by the way, farming for exp books is what you should be focusing on when you’re a lower world level, I will elaborate that on another point. My party at level 50 were actually fine against enemies at level 62 and above, if you fight smartly, dodging and using your elemental reactions correctly, you can defeat them. I lost some hp between each character and the fights took longer than usual but that wasn’t a big deal, upon realizing that, I then realized that I wasted my whole time staying at AR25. It was like a moment of clarity, “oh my god, I stayed AR25 for maybe 2 months for no reason at all...I could’ve gotten more and better materials all this time and level my characters even faster.” So after that, I kept increasing my world level, but every 1 or few weeks, because I was dumb, didn’t listen to any advice, and didn’t farm enough exp books for more than 1 party when I should be when I was a lower AR, I needed to farm more exp for at least 2 or 3 parties. So you see, I wasted time and energy grinding, trying to catch up at higher world levels because I stayed way past than I should be in world level 1. It’s unfortunate when I see players in forums saying they don’t want to ascend because they don’t want to deal with the difficulty, or sometimes there are some arrogant players even boasting staying at a lower world level, asking higher AR players, what’s the point of ascending. Maybe when I was in world level 1, I probably wouldn’t care and maybe even agree, but now that I’m AR54, I realize how wrong that mindset is, it felt really sucky realizing I wasted free time staying at AR25 when I could’ve been like AR45, because now I have to play catch up, get characters to level 70 or 80, so that means wasting more time again to farm on top of already wasted time, it’s like starting the game all over. The game is so much funner when you’re at a higher AR, it feels really nice being rewarded with high quality loot, and if you’re like me, the challenges makes the game more interesting, especially when you have figured out the mechanics by now.)

Focus on getting materials and not artifacts when you’re below AR45/world level 5. When you’re at a low AR level, you should prioritize your daily resin to farming mora/exp leylines and materials for character ascension/talents/weapons. You’ll realize the higher you upgrade your characters, the more exp and mora you’ll need to upgrade all ascensions. Like the chart says in the link, the chances you’ll get any high quality artifacts is extremely rare to impossible at lower world levels. At world level 6-8 (the average that most players playing since launch are at), no one is using 1-3 star artifacts (they’re used as fodder for 5 star ones, so save your 1-3 star artifacts and don’t level them), even most 4 star artifacts stay in their inventory. Every AR45+ player are equipping 5 star artifacts on their characters, because they give them the best stats boost for their dps carries at endgame. Supports can make use of the 4 star artifacts however, if you don’t have enough 5 star ones, because they don’t stay on the field as long as dps characters do, but when you do get enough 5 star artifacts for your supports, replace the 4 stars. I say artifact farming should be reserved for when you get to AR45. When you are at AR45, you unlock the restriction that allows you the chance to get 5 star artifacts. Note that the link in the first bullet point says you’re guaranteed at least one 5 star artifact, whichever artifact you’ll get will also be random, so you may not get the exact artifact that you’re looking for, at that point you just have to try again, domain farming is just like gacha. Players would argue whether you should start farming at AR45 or AR50, I am of the opinion that you start farming at 45 for a couple of reasons. First, you get 5 star artifacts early, second, even if your haul from farming are undesirable artifacts, you can use them as fodder for your eventual perfect 5 star artifact with the right stats, and you’re gonna need a lot of fodder to enhance the perfect one. You’re gonna be farming artifacts for quite awhile which I will explain in the next point. (tbe)

Save your fragile resins for artifact farming, save as much as you can because farming for them sucks so bad (rng). (tbe)

Prioritize what you should be leveling for your characters. What I think people don’t realize is, talents are very important to level up maybe more so than leveling your character’s levels. Leveling your characters only upgrades their base hp, def, atk, and special stat, pretty basic and standard. However, leveling your talents, determines how much dmg your character is outputting with their auto attacks, elemental skill, and burst. Everyone has their opinion but my belief is the order should go: ascend character but do not level to max -> level talents to max (at AR35, if not AR35, level weapons then talents) -> level weapons to max -> level artifacts (at AR45, if not AR 45, skip this) -> go back to leveling characters in order to ascend, and then repeat. As far as character role priority goes, I think everyone is aware you should invest in dps/hyper carries -> dps/sub-dps -> supports. (tbe)

Don’t max every stat for your characters, ie. character levels 90/90, talent levels 10/10, especially if you’re f2p, it is very mora costly and spreads your resources thin. You don’t need to be maxed out in order for your characters to be strong or stand a chance against enemies. As you can see from the second link, the power difference between a level 80 character vs. a level 90 character is a small increment, depending on the character’s multipliers, their increase in damage from 80 to 90 ranges from 1-4%. It doesn’t make a huge difference in gameplay. Stat increases start to slow down or get smaller when your character is ascending towards levels 70-90. Most players, especially f2p, who are trying to save as much resources as they can, invest in at least 8 characters/2 good teams to level 70 or 80 all the way towards endgame, because spiral abyss requires 2 teams. So f2p players have to spread out their resources evenly to 8 characters. If you are trying to get every character in your roster to reach level 90, you will burn out your resources very quickly. Say you’ve been playing and farming materials since launch and you’re leveling characters to 90, you most likely will get about 4 characters maxed while everyone else is too low level to make any damage. Another thing about ascensions is just that it is so costly, it costs up to hundred thousands of mora, on top of that, you spend more mora per level up and you have to do it for 8 characters, a few million mora can evaporate fairly quickly when you factor in crafting, forging, buying ingredients you can’t find in the wild, enhancing weapons/artifacts, and upgrading talents. For point of reference, at AR54 my dps characters are level 80/90 and my support characters are level 70/80, talent levels 6-8 for all (at AR54-55 however, you should have talents level 8/8/8 for dps or support at least, that is a good stopping point), most artifacts (5 stars) at level 20, weapons at level 80 or 90. My teams can take on enemies 10 or 20 levels above them just fine, it may take longer to kill an enemy but it’s more fun than one-shotting in my opinion. Talents are the same as ascensions but they are even more costly than ascensions, more time consuming to level up because they require enemy drops from weekly bosses, and the drops are rng, you’re not guaranteed the exact material you need for a specific character, it may even take weeks until you get the right material (in the 1.5 update however, there will be a converter given to players who want to exchange a material they have for something else, but there is no further info about this yet). The unfortunate thing about this game is that there is too much rng factoring into chance, this is the most common complaint in the community and even though many have sent feedback about this, nothing much has changed since launch, it’s just something you have bitterly swallow. Talents are still very important despite all this, don’t neglect them (Tip: whenever a character banner comes out and they allow you to have a trial with them, you should check their character screen, take a look at their stats, artifacts, weapons, talents, that’s usually a model you should aim for. A perfect example, in Xiao’s trial, Mihoyo made him level 80, gave him talent levels 8/8/8, and gave him 2 Viridescent and 2 Gladiator 5 star artifacts to fight level 90 enemies for testing, and that is the exact set I see a lot of Xiao users in-game and on youtube used after his trial, they all just followed what Mihoyo set up for him). Always max out your weapons, there is no downside to this, your characters gain stat bonuses from them and get stronger, the best thing about it is that you don’t have to spend resin for it, you just have to mine ore as a daily routine. Take advantage of the adventurer expeditions, always keep on top of it, and always assign characters to get ore or mora.

There are some exceptions to maxing out your characters, however. Some people have their favorite characters up to level 90 with crowned talents (level 10), that’s totally fine, mainly the reason they would do that is because they love this particular character a lot, they love their playstyle and don’t plan on ever benching them soon. Youtubers like to show off their maxed out characters as a flex, you don’t have to follow their actions though, it’s not mandatory. Only max out a character because it’s personal for you, don’t think it’s like “oh I have to reach the max because that’s required to play the game,” it’s not that. Another reason for maxing is that maybe this character is a hypercarry and their multipliers are too good to ignore if they were at 90, for example, Hu Tao is a special case, she is a hypercarry and has the lowest base stats with average multipliers I believe, of all released characters, but her Staff of Homa makes up for that by giving her an insane crit damage boost (62%), but for a Hu Tao player who doesn’t have Staff of Homa, the sound of her at level 90 to give her a boost sounds appealing to them. If you’d like a model to follow by, the recommended levels I suggest for endgame would be - DPS: level 80/90 (level 80 ascended), talent levels 8/8/8 at least; 9/9/9 if you can, weapon level 90/90, 5 star artifacts at maxed level (look for crit rate/damage stats on each artifact). Supports/Sub-DPS: level 60/70 (level 60 ascended) or level 70/80 (level 70 ascended) respectively, talent levels 6/6/6 (supports); 7/7/7; 8/8/8 (sub-dps), weapon level 90/90, 5 star artifacts at maxed level (sub-dps), 4 star at maxed is ok (supports), but majority should be 5 stars like 1:4 or 2:3 (look for crit rate/damage, energy recharge, elemental mastery, and depending on what the character scales with, attack, hp, and defense stats). Follow what suits you best by taking a look at the first link.

Prioritize your support/sub-dps characters over dps characters. (tbe)

#genshin impact #原神 #genshin impact tips #gi #long post #艾美

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13atoms · 4 years ago

Text

An Artifice in Silver - Part Two

A/N - Part 1 was the angsty part of the challenge, written by @wonders-of-the-multiverse, so read that first!! It’s amazing!

Here’s my attempt to make the ending to this fic fluffy.

WARNINGS - Some death and Cyberman conversion are mentioned.

PAIRINGS: Dhawan!Master x Reader

WORD COUNT: 10,323 words

Part One | Part Two

Part Two: A Trap

It felt your though your head had only just collided with the ground when you were shaken awake. Your body been moved, swept awkwardly aside as you slept, clearing a path to the rest of the collapsed crowd from the door. Your head and limbs ached from the hard concrete of the ground, the air no longer green with smoke as you squinted to try and make out the people in the rest of the chamber.

All still human.

A few of them were moving, while others were out cold. You could only hope those nearer the epicentre of the gas being released were simply unconscious, their ragdoll bodies making you wince as they were shaken, loved ones and strangers alike desperately trying to wake them from their unnatural sleep. You could see the horror on the survivors’ faces as they picked over the group, struggling to regain movement in their own aching limbs even as that human instinct to help kicked in. Everyone looked worse for wear.

Motionless Cyber units now stood centurion around the room’s locked doors, terrifying even in their stillness. They appeared to be without instruction, frozen in place, but very much still functional. What was wrong with them? You knew the answer. Your mind drifted back to The Master.

Where the hell was he?

How could he do this to you?

To any one of these people?

A stranger filled your vision, and you felt panic surging through you instantly, heart pumping enough adrenaline to power your chemically-weakened muscles.

“You alright?”

The woman had the authority and certainty of a someone medically trained, a kindness in her eyes even through her fear. She grabbed at your shoulders, checking your vital signs, moving her hands to watch if your eyes tracked them. You groaned. It was all too much, too intense, and you tried not to see rude as you flinched away.

“I’m fine thanks,” you dismissed, peering past her.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the sheer number of people in here.

With a nod she scurried away, back to the rest of the room. They had no idea what was happening, peering up in fear at the frozen metallic claws, at the empty faces of the Cybermen.

You had been so close becoming that. Rotting flesh, trapped inside of a walking tombstone, at the whim of the hivemind which controlled these creatures. You shivered, noticing one frozen in place a few metres behind where the Master had been. They must have encroached on the halted conversion room whilst you’d been asleep, creeping in like demons in the night. Fear gripped you at the idea of those monsters stepping over your unconscious, unguarded body, preserving your form only for its use to them as a puppet.

Since you’d taken those casings apart, you’d been terrified of them. Of the fate which befell those trapped inside, stripped of their humanity. None of those people inside were any more or less worthy of life than you, no one had saved them. They were undead, beyond saving but not yet released from life.

You shuddered.

Your legs continued to shake as you clambered to your feet, tiptoeing closer to one of the Cybermen, expecting it to jump back to life any moment. One question wouldn’t leave your mind: Why were you still human?

You suspected the Master’s involvement but, from the devastation on his face as the gas descended, perhaps he hadn’t had as much influence as you’d thought. With another glance back at the door, you reminded yourself that your worst fears had been realised: he was still gone. Only a frozen monster in an otherwise empty corridor loomed back at you, still locked away by the thick doors which had separated you from him.

They must have closed again after Cybermen entered the chamber, and you knew you couldn’t open them. Cybermen were far too methodical to allow your escape.

Nothing added up. Especially that you were alive without The Master’s involvement.

Had he left on purpose? Assumed you dead? Given up on you?

You couldn’t bear to think about the worst case scenario: that he wouldn’t come back for you. Was he already running, a million lightyears away? Had the Doctor gotten to him?

Had he gotten to the Doctor?

Dwelling on your fears did nothing but make you freeze.

You needed to do something.

There were still people who needed help, you could help them.

But you couldn’t be drawn away from the door. For a sickening moment you wondered if you had imagined him, the way he trembled, begged for you to fight off the inevitable. Perhaps induced by your fear, had you imagined the one person in the universe who could comfort you?

You longed for him to come back, to tut at you for being so scared and tease you for not having a respiratory bypass system.

Instead, he was gone. You were trapped. The noise of the crowd had gradually increased again, raising to a murmur as whispers and hushed sobs of children echoed off the walls. Tones were hushed, everyone terrified of waking the machinery again. Of restarting the horror. Every movement in the room spooked people, and the crackle of an overhead announcement system made people huddle together, whispering frantically as you all anticipated a robotic voice.

‘You will be converted’ still stung fresh in your ears, that sound which had followed you, been offered as the only explanation for what was happening.

That soulless reading of a death sentence still loomed over everyone trapped here.

You tried to stand strong in your position – if nothing else you could be a barrier between the crowd and whatever came through this door – even as freshly-dried tears made your eyes ache.

When a Yorkshire lilt called your name through the speakers, and you smiled.

“Here!”

The group of people backed away from you, watching with equal fear and curiosity as you desperately shouted up to the ceiling, hoping she could hear you.

“I can open one of the doors for a moment, need a power surge and an external battery, it’s a whole thing. Can you see me?”

You scanned the perimeter of the conversion chamber, and spotted movement on the far side of the room. A few of the crowd moved to let you through, whispering, and you could have cried with relief. Her mane of blonde hair was visible through the clear panel of a door, and she waved to you manically as you jogged over it. It was a harsh contrast to how you’d spotted The Master. This time, your relief was warranted.

Unable to hear her, you relied on trying to understand how she pointed frantically to the ground at your feet, before crouching as the played with wires sticking out of something which looked suspiciously-bomb-like. You mirrored her pose, hidden from each other, now below the glass of the window.

You could hear muttering behind you, the shudder of your own breath, as you waited.

There was no rejecting the Doctor’s help now, no matter where your loyalties or personal grievances lay. With the Master gone, she was your only way out.

You had to trust her.

With a gut-wrenching clang the door suddenly shuddered and rose upwards. The thick metal looked too heavy to stop if it fell, but you just held your breath and rolled underneath, trusting her yelled command of:

“Quick!”

She scrambled to pull you clear of the door as it slammed closed like the heavy drop of a guillotine blade, making you cry out as it shook the ground. You had barely made it. That impact would have been fatal.

“Doctor!”

She was already stood, hands on hips. You found yourself left shaking on the ground. She was already on to the next problem.

“I hope that didn’t rewake the system.” She mused as she picked at the smoldering wires, seemingly unaffected by your near-death experience.

You were panting, staring at her in shock. While you’d realised a long time ago that she wasn’t any more careful with your wellbeing than the Master, you couldn’t believe her complete nonchalance. Were The Master in her shoes he would be dragging you back to his TARDIS, apologising for putting you in the situation, his bravado stripped the second he’d seen your wellbeing at stake. He’d be all gentle hands and mumbled reassurance, fury at every single person responsible for the construction of the machinery which had scared you so much.

The memory of his face through the door of the conversion room made your chest hurt, your eyes sting, and you knew he’d never forgive himself for being so reckless. For putting you at risk.

When you looked up, expecting a concerned look at the minimum, you saw the Timelord’s spot vacated. A rat’s nest of wires were the only indication she’d even been beside you. The Doctor was already walking away, shoes clicking on the metallic floor of yet another identical corridor. The Cybermen here were still too, making you hug yourself and run to keep up with her.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he ground out.

The Doctor couldn’t stand not knowing. She consulted her sonic screwdriver with a scrunched-up face, holding it to her ear, scanning one of the stationary suits as you finally caught up.

“Where’s the Master?” You demanded.

“What?”

“The Master.”

Her face turned dark, and she scowled.

“Of course he’s involved in all this. I should have known. Right, um…”

With another wave and buzz of the sonic screwdriver, she scowled at the result, then at you.

“Got him.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have told her that he was here. Would it put him at risk? Would it put her at risk? You couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. They would have met eventually, dragged together like unwilling magnets. They always converged eventually. And you really needed to see him.

The Doctor took off running, backtracking occasionally as she followed the trace of him the sonic had picked up. You tried in vain to remember these featureless corridors, should you need to navigate back alone. It wouldn’t work. This facility was endless, an economically designed rabbit warren marked with ruthlessly minimal symbols which you couldn’t discern meaning from.

You wouldn’t be able to get out of here alone.

You spared a thought for the poor souls still trapped in the room you’d escaped, cowering under those metal claws and eyeless Cybermen, herded here like trembling sheep.

As you ran after the blonde Timelord the corridor suddenly opened to a large hangar-style door, like the hotwired one you had barely made it under. Seeing the metal above you made you shutter and halt at the threshold, but adrenaline forced you onwards. You cared more about what was inside, who was inside.

You could see him. Hunched over a computer, Cybermen shrunken at his feet like dolls, the Master was in a state of mania as he ripped the room apart.

Seeing him The Doctor gasped and tugged you around a corner and out of view of the room. You went to whisper a protest, but found her lean hand clapped over your mouth, barely touching but enough to stop you giving away her hiding spot.

“Just trust me,” she insisted. “Stay here.”

She grabbed your hand, squeezing it as though you might be less inclined to follow her somehow.

You couldn’t. Despite everything, you felt the draw of the Master, and she tugged your arm to hold you from straying too close to him as you peeked around the corner, just watching him.

His booming voice was unmistakable as he shouted into the room, but his face was hidden from you. The control room of the underground building was sparking and torn apart in places, The Master’s precise tapping of computer keys was interspersed with the ruthless smashing of server racks as he threw them to the ground, scattering the technology. His dismantling of the room was equal parts strategic and uncontrolled destruction, and you worried for the blood seeping from his knuckles and forearms, his jacket strewn aside and sleeves rolled up.

As he took another break from the computer system to punch at a glass pane, you couldn’t let him hurt himself anymore. You surged forward from your hiding spot, feeling the Doctor trying to hold you back. Adrenaline and happiness to see him was all which powered your body.

Calling to him, you imagined his excitement at realising you were alive. Maybe he’d stop smashing. Take you to safety.

“MAST–”

The Doctor grabbed you around the waist, pulling you against her body, muting you with a single hand clamped vice-tight over your mouth. For a moment the pair of you waited in silence, shocked by each other’s actions in equal measure.

“I don’t know what he’s done to you, but you need to stay away from him.”

Her accent grew stronger as she whispered, and you frowned. Her hand allowed you to breathe through your nose, but was tight around your jaw, her grip as strong as the Master’s.

“This is between us. You need to go back to the TARDIS.”

Not her TARDIS, you were sure of that.

You grunted into her hand, making her yell in pain as you bit down on the flesh of her palm, wriggling to get free. It didn’t even matter who she was: you refused to be manhandled. Your eyes flashed to the corridor, hoping The Master had noticed you, run to your rescue.

No footsteps came.

With a sigh, her hands found your temple, and your body weakened.

“I’m sorry, it’s a dirty trick. He’s done worse, I’m certain.”

You wanted to cry when you realised she was right. But not for the reasons she thought.

Her TARDIS was a mere few-minutes’ walk from where the pair of you had hidden, and she half-carried you the whole way, her mouth set in a grim line which terrified you more than any time the Master had ever shouted around you. You wanted to struggle, to fight her, but your body was too weakened to do anything.

You couldn’t even cry out, forced into obeying her, muscles made limp by her touch on your mind.

Setting you on the ground in the console room, she finally uncovered your mouth and dashed to the doors, calling back to you. As quickly as you had lost it, you suddenly you regained your strength, able to run at her.

“Stay in here.”

“DOCTOR!”

She darted out of the time ship just in time to escape your fury.

The TARDIS doors slammed closed, locking in an instant as you rushed to try and tug them open. It was no use, your whole body weight against the wood couldn’t move those doors.

You looked up at the ceiling of the sentient ship, hoping she might take your side, only to be met with the gentle hum of the time rotor.

“I need to get out,” you begged. “Please!”

Your exit remained barred.

A blue-tinged screen on the console flickered to life, and you left your post by the doors to peer at it. You could hear muffled voices outside, the screen showing a mute overhead view of the Doctor and her best enemy.

“Please,” you whispered to her, stroking the console. You hoped she was like the Timelords who piloted her, using the touch to tune into your heart. “Let me talk to them.”

There was static, then a click, and you rushed back to the doors. They were still locked.

As you spun to the console in confusion, two familiar voices echoed through the ship’s speakers.

“Is she in there?”

It was him, voice desperate, demanding. The Master.

“No.”

The Doctor was a weak liar at times. He’d see through her. You pounded your fists at the translucent glass of the doors, then held one palm flat against it, begging him to notice you.

He did.

“Doctor!” He taunted. “You lied to me!”

“Stay away from her.”

Glancing back at the monitor, you could see how the Doctor’s body blocked his access to the door, positioning herself between the two of them.

“She wants to see me.”

“She doesn’t.”

You wanted to scream, object as The Doctor stood cross-armed guard between him and the ship. Your words couldn’t permeate the doors.

“Is she okay?”

The feed showed how his attire was destroyed in places, how he slumped, and something else too…

“You’re crying!” The Doctor declared, shock clear in her voice.

The Master didn’t hesitate, taking a long stride towards her, making The Doctor jut her chin out.

“Is she ALIVE?”

You didn’t need the audio feed to hear his yell, and you could see how the blonde Timelord recoiled.

“Obviously!”

He relaxed a little, taking back control, but you could still see how anger dripped off him. His words escaped him as a growl – frustration and fear a melting pot in his voice.

“You have no idea what could be in that stuff she breathed. You haven’t even checked her over, Doctor.”

“Oh, as if you actually care.”

One of them would snap, the Master’s snarling voice met with a harsh laugh from the other Timelord. One of them would just throttle the other, pull the TCE or a gun from some deep recesses of their pockets, or snap the others’ neck. One of them would survive, pulling you into their arms over the broken body of the other.

You couldn’t bear it. Tension seeped through the doors, through the silence of the TARDIS speakers and the bluelight of the screen.

“I care so much it frightens me. Can you imagine that, Doctor? That it scares me?”

He got closer to her face, almost spitting from anger.

“You’re lying,” she growled.

“I destroyed the Cyberium.”

In the grainy monitor you saw her take pause, inspecting his face for a moment, like she’d be able to see whether the Cyberium had left him from nothing but his panting and the whites of his eyes.

You’d heard about it in vague terms, the Cyber AI which he’d absorbed. You’d seen how he avoided the species like the plague as you travelled, the way he fought with it inside his own head sometimes.

Even when it seemed to cause him unbearable pain, he’d promised you it wasn’t that bad. Only in the quiet moments, when he thought you couldn’t see, did you catching him muttering to himself with his eyes pressed shut.

“You what?”

The Doctor looked disbelieving.

“I followed it. I obeyed it, helped it, and this is how it rewarded me. So I killed it.”

Speechless, The Doctor just stared at him.

“I’ll give you the command codes if you like, just let me take her. Please.”

“Have you hypnotized her?”

The Doctor’s new line of attack made you wince, spitting out her words like poison. The Master held his hands up in a surrender, a small silver box tucked under one thumb.

“No. I swear.”

“Let me talk to her first.”

For a moment, the Master seemed to look straight through the monitor, directly at you, and you swore he could tell you were watching. You moved closer to the screen, arms folded nervously as his eyes flickered back to the Doctor.

“Have it your way. I’ll be in the ship’s command room.” He turned to walk away, but you heard his voice still, steady through the speakers. “If you dematerialise, Doctor, I will hunt you down. And everyone left here will die.”

He marched off and you watched on the monitor as he left, longing to run to him as much as you wanted to kill him. The Doctor’s image paused for a moment, and you could see her pacing outside the TARDIS doors. Distracted by the live feed, you jumped when the doors finally banged open. The screen went black, and you silently thanked the ship for being on your side.

“Let me go.”

You told her firmly as she trudged towards the console, playing with one of the instruments like she was toying with just piloting the ship away.

“I will.”

The pair of you stood in silence for a moment, and you longed to say more, but what else was there to say?

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay away from him?”

You were already looking at the door, wondering if you could remember the route back to the smashed control room alone. The Doctor walked towards you, hands awkwardly behind her back, and you felt a pang of longing for what could have been if she was a little more honest, a little more open.

Her voice was desperate, soft, and it made your heart ache for the happier times you’d spent together. Before the pain which surged back and forth between you, the harsh words and the abandonment. You’d hurt each other irreparably. You couldn’t be happy with her and the fam. They would never be enough.

Despite everything, though, you didn’t want to hate her.

“I’ll always remember the adventures we had together,” you promised her.

So much had gone unsaid earlier, in your anger at her for dropping by unannounced and whisking you away like she still had a guarantee you wanted to travel with her. Facing the realisation that this really might be it, you wanted to hug her.

It was strange, wanting to leave her, and yet being so devasted about it.

“What is he, to you?”

She looked afraid to ask it, and you were sure she wouldn’t like your answer. With a sigh, you saw no sense in lying to her.

“I think I love him.”

The drop of her face was enough to confirm it, that there was no getting out of this without hurting someone.

“No mind control,” you promised.

“You can still stay. He’s dangerous.”

Her words were half-hearted. She knew your choice. You shook your head, and she finally left her comfortable spot, rounding the physical barrier of the console so there was only a few feet separating you.

“I know.”

For the first time since you’d known her, she hugged you, awkward and all misplaced limbs. You accepted it, hugging her tightly back. Her face was hidden from you, and you held her as long as she’d let you, hoping you were imagining the ragged breaths which caught in her throat.

“Will he look after you?”

“I think so.”

She nodded against your shoulder, letting you go.

“Thank you, for everything.”

You meant it. For the adventures, for the chance to get more from life than Earth could give you, for the friendships you’d shared with the fam, and for the chance to meet him.

Perhaps she already regretted that last gift.

“Let’s get going, then!”

Her chipper tone was mismatched for the somber mood as you stroked the console goodbye one last time, mumbling your gratitude to the impossible, ancient ship which had first shown you the beauty and terror of this universe. The Doctor strode out the door like this was any other adventure, and you almost expect to be met with the surface of an unknown planet, just one more time.

She led you through the corridors in silence, and you still shivered at the Cybermen as you passed them, recalling the horror concealed inside these metal soldiers.

With a quick instruction to wait for her, The Doctor darted off to check a rack of servers. This was it. Her easy out. She knew you wouldn’t wait.

You kept walking, unexpectedly recognising where you were. He wouldn’t be concealing anything in the corner of a cramped storage room. He would be at the heart of the ship. Waiting for you.

You were right. The doors to the control room hissed open as you approached, revealing him stood in the center of the room. He’d cleaned up, put his jacket back on, brushed his disheveled hair back and lost that snarling, wild-animal demeanor he had been overcome by outside the conversion room, and while he’d spoken to the Doctor. Like the best of his disguises, composure covered his true feelings as he waited for the pair of you, distain on his face and his hands casually strewn in a trouser and jacket pocket.

When he saw you approach alone his performatively curled lip dropped, face slackening as he rushed towards you, open concern on his face. When you didn’t reach out to embrace him, and he stopped, deflated a few feet from you. He tried to lighten the mood, his features picking up into an unnatural smile.

“I told you I’d get you out!”

“You didn’t.” You told him flatly.

He reached for you, and you crossed your arms over yourself, resisting his offer of affection. You wouldn’t go back to him without an apology, if you could help it.

“You left me there.”

“You’re here, you’re…”

He trailed off at the Doctor’s appearance, barging flustered into the room, muttering that she’d ‘told you to wait’. At her entrance the Master wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you tightly to him. You tried to get away, and he wouldn’t release you.

This was a show, meant only to remind the Doctor her friend had chosen him over her, and you hated it. You didn’t want to help him hurt her.

“Don’t touch me.”

He ignored your snarl. You kicked at his foot, and he broke his grip, allowing you to retreat from the two Timelords.

“Lover’s tiff,” he smiled apologetically to The Doctor, reaching out his hand for yours.

When you retreated further away from him again, he froze. He offered his palms up apologetically, and you noticed they were still littered with cuts, some particularly brutal looking. You suspected the smashed-up control room around you could answer for that. He caught you staring, open horror on your face, and shoved them in his trouser pockets.

“It’s okay,” The Doctor’s Yorkshire lilt tried to settle you, and she approached you from the other side like a scared animal. You recoiled from her too, and the Master stepped in front of you.

“You brought her here!” He scoffed to the other Time Lord. “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me!”

The Doctor was acting like the hero, as usual, treating The Master like a teacher calming a mid-meltdown child. Her soft voice and outstretched palms didn’t seem quite so sincere, on the receiving end. You could understand The Master’s anger, as her gentle voice tried to placate him.

“I brought you what you want, we can trade.”

Suddenly, pieces clicked together.

“You said you didn’t know the Master was here,” you frowned.

“Did I?”

You turned on her.

“This was on purpose. You brought me here on purpose?”

From the drop of her jaw, you could read that you were right. At least a little bit. You felt your throat tighten with tears. The Master growled.

“How dare you drag her into this!”

“What? Into your plan?” You caught yourself getting hysterical, but you didn’t care. The Timelords glanced at each other, herding you back towards the glass projection which covered the entire back wall.

“You were supposed to be on Earth! If you had stayed, like I told you –”

Under your glare, he fell silent.

The Doctor, ever playing at being a peacekeeper, tried to step closer to you, only to be matched by the Master. You had nowhere left to go, backed against the dark glass wall of the bunker as they looked between you and each other.

“Doctor, did you… know the Master was here.”

“Yes.”

She had the decency to sound remorseful. You thought back on when you first landed, how quickly you’d lost her, been swept up in the horde of people shepherded towards the conversion chamber. You remembered how you’d feared for your life, the heartbreak on the Master’s face as he’d almost watched you experience a fate worse than death.

How she’d suddenly decided she should have a heart-to-heart with you, the second the Master left you on earth.

“You used me.”

They played this game, and you were a pawn in it. She’d brought you were, let you follow her out of the TARDIS, to play with the Master. Just so she could be the savior, and he could play at matching all of her light with his dark.

“Give me the codes, and this can all end,” she spoke to the Master, refusing to relinquish any of her control as the two of them trapped you. “I’ll let you leave. Everyone downstairs lives. The Cybers get destroyed.”

“You’re monsters,” you whispered.

The two Timelords glanced at each other, not meeting your eye.

“Darling… ” The Master began. You cut him off.

“Don’t.”

“The Cyberium in my head, it was too much. I couldn’t handle it, and if I did this, I could find a way to get it out. I needed their technology, their trust. I’m sorry, love.”

You winced at the pet name. He’d called you that in bed, once, and you’d felt like the happiest person in the universe. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I hope it was worth it.”

Even The Doctor wasn’t speaking. You glanced at her, trying to read anything but shock on from her expression. Following your eyeline, the Master seemed to jolt at the recollection she was even there. Both of you startled as he shoved a hand into the inside of his waistcoat, rummaging.

He threw a small silver communicator underhand to The Doctor, and she barely caught it, inspecting it with unguarded horror.

“Take this. You can dismantle the conversion facility with it, get the people downstairs out.”

She was already at the computer console, sneaking wary glances at the pair of you as her hands flew across the keys, computers still a little scorched from The Master’s earlier go at them. With the second Time Lord out of the picture, The Master turned to you.

“I was destroying this place. For what they did to you.”

“Why did you leave me?” you demanded, “down there?”

“I had to be here, to stop the gas, to freeze the hivemind. I’d already destroyed the Cyberium, I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, the pain in his eyes seemed so real, and he held eye contact with you like you’d never seen before.

“She was never meant to bring you were. I swear, I’ll kill every one of them myself if I have to.”

“Those people down there, they’re just like me. You were going to kill them?”

“They’re not you–”

“Believe it or not Master, I’m human. I’m the same as them. I know you hate it, but I’m the same as them.”

“You’re not–”

“I am! And you were willing to let them die.”

The tremble of his hand as he reached for your cheek gave away his fear, and you recoiled, wincing as your head collided with the hard glossy wall. The Master flinched too, dropping his hand.

“Think how many would have died if the Cyberium had taken over my mind. Taken my ship. Had you.”

The timeline was confusing. Upsetting. Too much to think about. You frowned as you tried to think about it.

“That’s why you dropped me home.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you see me losing control like that. I thought I could come back when it was all over, if I could get my mind back.”

The Doctor was working noisily, and an alarm started going off as she hacked further and further into the base’s system. Outside, you heard a ringing as a Cyberman crumpled to the ground.

“We need to leave.”

As angry as you were, you nodded quickly, letting him guide you out of the room. As you passed, the Doctor called your name.

“It was the only way, I’m sorry. I had to show him what he was doing…”

Her face was truly devastated, for the brief glimpse of it you caught, but you couldn’t forgive her. The Master’s arm found your waist, guiding you away from her quickly, and you let him.

Betrayal had rooted deep in your gut, making you want to nauseous as you looked at her face. All your history together, and she had knowingly dumped you in the middle of a crowd to be converted into Cybermen. Just to hurt The Master.

You saw those blank creatures, their masks hiding the faces of real people, who had loved and been loved, had dreams and wants and needs.

She’d told you it was the worst thing she could imagine. That she’d lost friends to that cruel death and would never risk losing another. At the time your heart had ached for her, for the suffering she had been through, her only crime trying to do the right thing. Apparently she didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

The screeching of collapsing metal ricocheted off the bare corridors, and the Master moved the two of you faster.

You screamed as a Cyberman moved beside you, an electrical twitch before it collapsed to the ground in a pile of loose metal, and the Master’s arm tightened around your waist even more protectively.

You couldn’t move. Your feet were stuck to the ground as you saw the unnatural way the creature fell, the skeleton inside so decomposed the usual flexibility limits of a human body were far exceeded.

Almost pulling you over with his momentum, the Master stopped beside you. He followed your stare towards the horrific sight beside you, and made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat. With a gentle hand he guided your head away until you couldn’t see the creature anymore and the vision was replaced with his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Against your better judgement, and despite everything you’d been through, you hugged him. In the corridor as the base started to crumple around you, you couldn’t help unravelling at his touch, his head against yours as he pulled you tightly against him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes as you pressed your face to his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“No.”

Deep red lights illuminated the corridors around you, and you felt his sharp inhale of fear.

“Talk later. We need to run. Now.”

The Master struggled to navigate the corridors, swearing to himself each time he reached a junction, and dragging you in the right direction after a moment of panicked, hitting-his-own-head thought. It brought you some small measure of comfort, in the midst of this horrifying day, that he couldn’t have been here long.

Lungs aching, you fought to keep up with him. Even the Master was stumbling, unused to running for this length of time, and he shot you looks of concern as your human body needed to wheeze for breath. The collapsed bodies of Cybermen and the screaming of alarms were enough to keep you moving as the very structure itself rumbled. The burning pain in your muscles could wait.

You noticed the Master cursing up at the ceiling level above, where the Doctor still resided, muttering. What was she doing?

Finally you let yourself slow at the sight of his ridiculous outback shack. It was completely out of place and blocking a walkway. That stupid ship. You loved it.

It was facing the wrong way, and you had to use the back porch steps to clamber up onto the structure, faltering as the comfort of being near the machine finally let your adrenaline crash. He half-dragged you to keep up as you both rounded the veranda, throwing the doors open and firmly pulling you inside. He rushed to the console as the rumbling of breaking concrete and collapsing earth followed you into the ship, and you didn’t have the heart to care about the destruction happening outside.

The Doctor could handle the people who were trapped. She always did, their savior no matter the cost.

The moment the TARDIS’ doors closed, you fell into that old rickety sofa, and sobbed.

The Master piloted in silence, and once the murmur of the ship engines had stopped, he paced towards you awkwardly. He crouched to sit himself on the low table opposite your curled form, clasped his hands, and bowed his head. He let you cry yourself out, staring out as the windows at the vortex – empty and filled with flashes of colour all at the same time.

After a while he left, coming back with water and tissues, and you took them gratefully.

A few sips of water left you with enough voice to speak, albeit tremblingly, as he watched you worriedly.

“Do you think the bunker collapsed? After we left?”

“Probably. I think she got them out though. The computers could open the doors to the surface.”

“Good,” you said firmly.

“Good that they got out, or that the building collapsed?”

“Both.”

He chuckled, pulling your clenched hand away from your face. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, keeping them held to his lips. His hands were warm against your fingers as he held them, leant forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, lips surprisingly soft.

You knew he could check the fate of the bunker collapse. Future archeologists would have found it, if no one at the time recorded its outcome. But you didn’t particularly care for the truth. This ending was nicer.

Even after you fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable with him holding your hand away from you, he didn’t let go. You noticed the marring on his hands, already scabbing a little, and turned onto your side to touch the wounds.

“Do these hurt?”

“A little. They’ll heal up with some sleep, though.”

You laughed hollowly. Of course, a nap could heal wounds which you would need stitches for. He smiled sadly against your lips.

“Did you get hurt, at all? I was worried about the gas.”

“I’m a bit bruised, but I’ll be fine.”

The fall and the running made your muscles ache, but the main hurt wasn’t physical.

She’d betrayed you.

“She asked me to leave with her.”

He bowed his head, lips moving against your knuckles as he spoke.

“You said no?”

“Duh.”

He smiled.

“Thank you.”

You shrugged, not totally forgiving of him yet either. The energy had left you to fight. All you wanted was a bit of peace, convalescence before this inevitable game started again. The reckless travel, fighting over how much damage to cause, and the sex he didn’t care about.

How much longer could the two of you keep this up?

You wondered if you’d ever regret the decision to stay with him. When death stared you in the face again? The next time he forgot how human you were? At the pull of the TCE’s trigger, as he killed someone without a second thought?

Maybe then the Doctor’s different-but-equally-grey morals might seem more appealing.

Perhaps if you’d begged her to let you rejoin the ‘fam’, the Doctor might not have used you as a bargaining chip.

“When I saw you through that window… I realised you mean more to me. More than I’d ever expected.”

The admission would have made you swoon, on another day, but you just threw your head back against the wicker armrest, emotionally exhausted.

“I mean it.”

He was watching you for a reaction, and you rolled your head to face him.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“You must be shattered, love.”

You could only nod, and he dropped his forehead to the hand he was clutching, a silent apology.

“What can I do to help? I need you to tell me. I’ve been alone too long, and I’m not good at this stuff –”

His breath was hot against the skin of your hand. It made you shiver.

“I just want a shower. And to sleep. We can talk in the morning I just… I’ve had a long day.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t a surprise to you, his capacity for tenderness, but you hadn’t seen it this exposed, this prolonged, before. He seemed to move a little easier than he had in the last few weeks, his mind not drifting so far from where it ought to be tethered.

You wondered if he’d ever tell you how badly the Cyberium had affected him.

“Sorry.”

Maybe he knew what your apology was for, maybe he didn’t. Nonetheless he shook his head, helping you up, his hands held out in a silent offer for support walking should you need it. You took your own steps, legs trembling a little from overexertion as you walked alongside him towards the corridor which housed both of your rooms.

“Wait a second,” he murmured, leaving you so he could check a screen, humming at whatever he saw.

Like he’d never left, he was back, arm held out for you to take. You laid a hand across his elbow lightly, not to lean on him, but to be near him.

“What was that?”

“Just checking you’re okay.”

At your puzzled look, he continued, tone dismissive.

“The TARDIS checks your vital signs. That green gas was nasty, unknown, I just wanted to check it didn’t need any immediate attention. Seems like it just knocked you out. How are your muscles feeling?”

“Exhausted, obviously. I think I’ll ache tomorrow.”

He hummed in agreement as you reached your door, surprising you when he opened it for you and followed you inside.

“High lactic acid. Blood-oxygen’s a touch lower than I’d like, too.”

You frowned.

“Do you really measure all that stuff on me?”

“Is it creepy? I hoped it wasn’t. I just… it’s not exactly intrusive, better than a checkup or whatever. It lets me know you’re not about to drop down dead.”

He moved around your room as he spoke, collecting pajamas and your hairbrush, various other bits and bobs you might need in an overnight bag. When he caught you watching him, confused, he walked back to the door. Your possessions were bundled against his chest, secured by one of his hands.

“Come use my bath. There’s some soaks that should help you recover.”

The shake in your legs wasn’t just from the running as you crossed the corridor, surprised by the realisation his door appeared to be unlocked. It was barely six feet from the entrance to your room, but you’d never seen this door open.

You had assumed his room was always locked. When he was in there, absent from the rest of the ship, it meant he wanted to be left strictly alone. Going inside, even with his hand guiding you, felt forbidden.

He’d always fucked you in your room. It was easier for him that way. It allowed him to leave the second he was done, if he wanted to. Even when the pair of you got more comfortable, laying together, spending more time intertwined just reading or watching movies, his space was off limits.

He didn’t miss the way you halted at the threshold, looking around at the curiously designed space. The furniture didn’t match the room, you noticed. Colourless walls were contrasted with a regal four-poster, antique bookshelves stretched high towards an iridescent crystalline ceiling, futuristic inlaid lights illuminated the messiness of a hand-carved oak desk.

Old and new clashed, everything regal and big, but barely filling the oversized space.

“It’s a bit weird,” he conceded, “you can stick to your room if you like.”

“No, no its fine. Just not what I expected.”

He set your things on the bed, and you picked over the sweats he’d brought, clutching them to your chest.

“What did you expect?” he grinned.

“I don’t know. Versailles? Or some kind of BDSM torture chamber?”

With a laugh he appraised the room, biting his lip in amusement.

“Are you disappointed?”

You found yourself grinning too, as he shucked off his coat and lay it over the desk chair.

“A little.”

The newly formed tension between you had felt like a lead weight, and you only realised when it was broken. You bounced on your heels as much as your injured muscles allowed, and let him lead you to the bathroom.

“Don’t change yet, I’ll just grab some shower stuff!”

More classic, the bathroom was all marble, the space dominated by an oversized claw-foot tub. For a moment you realised the pair of you could fit in there comfortably, before brushing the thought away. Exhaustion was making you hazy already. You’d just fall asleep.

Plus, you remembered, you were mad at him.

Ignoring his warning you started to strip off, left in just your underwear by the time he appeared in the doorway with an ‘oh!’

“Its fine. Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you pointed out.

He still looked sheepish.

“Rub this on anywhere that hurts before you get in the water, should stop any inflammation and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Help?”

You were too tired to navigate the pain mapped all across your body alone, and you didn’t want to be without company. The screams of the child who’d lost a mother, of the people who’d seen that gas descending, the slamming of the door you’d barely rolled under, they’d all find your ears again as ghosts the moment you were without distraction.

Without you stripping off any further, the pair of you managed to apply the chalky substance all over your body, the honey-sweet smell filling the air as his hands cautiously rubbed it across your muscles. You were more slapdash with your own application, and he quietly returned to spots you’d missed, making sure you wouldn’t ache. His attention to your muscles was so tender and careful, you had to keep talking, just to stop yourself choking up.

“I could have used this on the Doctor’s TARDIS!” you had tried to joke.

The other Timelord was far more fond of running, and you’d woken up countless mornings in agony, even as the fun of the day before electrified the atmosphere in her ship.

The Master stayed silent.

On many levels, you felt you understood him a little better now. It had hurt, to be betrayed by her, but you had something in common now.

“Did it hurt to leave her?” he whispered.

The Master’s eyes were on your calf as he kneaded the substance into your skin, but his hands froze at your momentary silence.

“Yeah. It did. Before I realised what she’d done, at least.”

He nodded silently, swallowing. The pair of you froze as you finally put the glass jar down, accepting that this excuse to be together was done. His hands left your skin and he walked to the sink awkwardly, washing his hands in silence.

He didn’t leave, leaning against the counter and watching you.

“Give me a shout if you need me, okay?”

You smiled, suddenly shy, barely recognising the man in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll be just outside.”

Finally, he left. He closed the door with a click, and instantly you felt like an intruder, left alone in his bathroom. It was tidy, but everywhere were reminders it was his space. Aside from your clothes folded messily on the counter, there was only his things. A matte black range of branded products scattered the room, lined up by his toothbrush, on a built-in shelf of the shower. You wanted to investigate them, smell them. See which of them were responsible for the smell you associated with him.

The tub of hair clay by the sink had the lid slightly ajar, and it made you smile as you corrected it. He must have gotten ready in a rush. It was strange, that he’d even wanted you in here, but you hoped it was some step towards real closeness. There was still so much to say, but that was easy to forget when he was there, caring for you.

You’d only left the Doctor because you could see a future with him – something she couldn’t offer you, surrounded by carelessness and lies and three other companions. The Master could offer you more. You could almost picture your own toothbrush, stood up next to his.

You stripped off your underwear and left it on the countertop, foregoing the tub for the alluring waterfall shower in the corner of the room. It was easily big enough for four people, all natural-cut stone with a simple pair of dials to control it. Beautiful, and completely to the Master’s taste.

Before you had touched anything the TARDIS started the water, a slow trickle turning into a warm sheet of water which made you sigh at the sensation of being underneath it.

“Thanks, dear,” you mimicked how he spoke to the ship, and she flickered the lights in return.

It was heaven, to finally have every remaining atom of that base, that conversion room, those corridors, swept off your skin.

The products you reached for all smelt faintly like him – a matching suite of mildly citrus-scented body wash and hair products. Exhaustion and the smell made you feel dazed as you rubbed the chalky healing substance off your body. The smell of him made you feel somehow guilty as you tried to clean the sweat and grime from your hair and your face. His senses were so attuned, you wondered if it would freak him out. Or whether he’d like it, to have you smelling of him. Like a claim.

If he was still outside the unlocked door the thundering of the water hid any noise he made. You rolled your shoulders and turned the heat up, letting the heaviness of the water rush over you, waiting for this day to make sense.

You had no idea how long you stood there lost in thought. The Master’s voice dragged you back to reality, calling your name worriedly through the door with a rap of his knuckles against the wood.

“Are you okay?”

“All good!”

Calling back, you quickly rinsed your hair before shutting the water off, suddenly driven back to motion by his concern. Back in your early days together he’d often overestimated how much humans could withstand, lamenting the ‘wasted’ hours of sleep you wanted, or the frequency with which you had to eat. He’d gotten better recently. He was aware of how exhaustion affected you, appreciated that you couldn’t walk or run forever. It had amused you when he started carrying food and even occasionally arranging places for you to stay overnight, should your travels require it.

On a fundamental level, he had started caring for you more.

The Master had never gone to this extent, though. Or perhaps you had never needed his care as much. The scans his ship seemed to run on you proved he’d at least been checking your body was okay all this time.

Maybe he’d always just checked your health and opted to let you heal alone, before today.

A deep burgundy towel hung on a heated rail beside the shower and you grabbed it, careful not to slip as you wrapped the material around you. It was oversized, thick and soft, and you couldn’t help the jolt when you felt the warmth of it on your bare skin and remembered it was his.

Even though he’d been inside of you, gotten to know you, you’d never been allowed to know him back. Not really. This felt like a start.

You had to brush the thought aside, drying your hair as best you could without a hairdryer, pulling on pajamas and leaving the wet towel back where you found it for the ship to deal with. It took a moment, and a deep breath, for you to finally emerge from the steam-filled room.

The Master was sat on his bed, reading some book from his collection which was quickly strewn onto his desk as you approached.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks. I think I’ll still ache tomorrow.”

He looked a little sheepish.

“Hopefully not. That stuff’s pretty good, usually.”

You stood uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for some cue from him on where to go from here. He turned down the bed, silently pulling the covers aside for you to climb in. Then he looked at you expectantly, as if you were obviously supposed to just clamber into his bed. You were surprised, but all too grateful for the comfort.

“Really?”

He left your question unanswered. You settled beneath the sheets, and The Master watched you as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“Do you want me to…”

He was mid-thought, it seemed, asking you if he should leave his own bedroom. You spoke over him.

“Can you stay with me? Just for tonight. We’ll forget it ever happened tomorrow if you want.”

He faltered, still watching you curiously. You wondered what his plan had been, if not to stay with you.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see those fucking metal claws, the insides of those creatures, I –”

Without a word he stripped off his jacket, boots and waistcoat.

“I just need a shower. Give me five minutes.”

You nodded, wrapping the covers around you and trying to get comfortable. You’d never had ‘sides of the bed’ - he’d never stayed long enough to designate those - but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were in the wrong place.

It was stupid. To be having casual sex with the man, to trust him with your life, and not even feel entitled to be sleeping in his bed.

Something had to change.

The Master was barely gone two minutes, emerging from his shower with a towel slung around his hips. He rummaged through his wardrobe before tugging free a pair of checkered pajama trousers, glancing to check you were still there before silently returning to the bathroom to change. You looked away at his half-nakedness, hoping he hadn’t noticed your breath hitch.

The two of you were a mess.

His awkwardness didn’t escape you as he rounded the bed, shirtless and with wet hair.

He climbed in beside you, careful not to touch you, and you tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, letting him pull the covers over himself and refusing to let your bodies roll together, even as the mattress gave. To your surprise, he lay out to mirror you, on his side behind you.

If not to the distance between your bodies, he could be chest to chest with you.

“Comfy?”

You nodded against the pillow, hands self-consciously tucked away in front of you. You could feel it when he spoke, the whisper of his breath on your neck. His head rested inches behind yours, intimate even as the pair of you didn’t touch.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, nose close to your freshly-washed hair.

You laughed.

“I smell like you, of course you like it!”

That got a chuckle out of him, and you could feel how his body moved the mattress as he exhaled.

“Are you cold? Your hair’s still wet.”

You shrugged, and he brought his arm around you, resting it on you without pulling you in. He made a noise of contentment as you shuffled closer into him, letting him hold you more easily.

With a gulp, you hoped his closeness to you would stop him from recoiling at your question.

“Before you dropped me off… when I fell asleep…”

“I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“So, you did do it.”

“You wouldn’t leave otherwise. It is not safe for humans around Cybermen,” he trailed off.

The question you wanted answered was obvious, hanging in the air, making you tense.

“Its not okay, to mess with people’s heads like that,” you chided him gently, with no anger in your tone, nothing to make him explode at you like he had before.

“I… yeah. I know.”

You frowned, even as you knew he couldn’t see you.

“The Cyberium… it made me not trust myself. It was relentless, talking to me. Muddling my thoughts with the AI…”

“You were scared.”

“I was furious. It made me volatile.”

His face buried into your neck. As though this was the most natural thing in the world, you found yourself trusting his touch. You brought a hand up to stroke his hair as he mumbled against your skin.

“I was scared. It threatened to hurt you if I didn’t do what it wanted. I didn’t sleep for a month, couldn’t let my guard down, knowing it might use my body to hurt you. It was trying to get to me.”

You found his arm where it was strewn across your side and covered it with your own arm, squeezed his hand in comfort.

“You should have told me.”

“How could I?”

Without a response you fell silent, thumb tracing the hairs on the back of his hand.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, someday. You shouldn’t have been there. I promise.”

He blamed the Doctor, beyond all anger, he was just upset with her. You could never hope to understand the length and breadth of their tumultuous relationship. It would take a human lifetime to comprehend the bond between them – two near-gods who had been stuck in a game of cat and mouse for their whole lives.

“She used me.”

“I wish she hadn’t.”

Without seeing each other’s faces, it was easier to talk.

“Would you have stopped it, if I hadn’t been there?”

“Eventually. I wanted to destroy the base properly. I wanted a plan. I hate the Cyberium for what it did to me. It should have been power, knowledge, and instead it tried to steal what I knew, take my body for its own. The things it showed me… how it threatened me… I couldn’t let it take what’s mine.”

“The TARDIS…” you realised.

“And you.”

You nodded abruptly at his words.

One thought wouldn’t leave your mind: those people around you, he would have let them die.

Collaterally to you, he’d saved them.

And maybe that could be a start.

“Is the Cyberium totally gone now?”

“Yep! Transferred it to the supercomputer on the base, and then destroyed the machinery. Tricky to hide my plan from the AI, but I managed it.”

You couldn’t help smirking at his brag.

“And how do you feel?”

“Glad to have my mind to myself again,” his tone flattened.

It was hard to believe everything fell together, just like that. It still felt so unfinished, so… unhandled. In the minutes you were alone the feelings of betrayal, the sheer enormity of your ordeal, had felt so unmanageable. Now, you felt ready to heal.

Beneath his hand, your stomach gurgled loudly, and you cringed at the noise.

As you were about to apologise, the Master spoke.

“Wait, did you eat today?”

You frankly had no idea how long today had even been. You shook your head with a confused frown, realising that now the adrenaline had left your system, you were damn hungry.

He clambered out of bed, and you pulled the duvet aside to follow him, your muscles protesting at even the idea of walking to the kitchen.

“No, stay there, you need to rest. I’ll be quick.”

True to his word, a plate of food was dumped on your lap in minutes. Some of it not quite fit for human consumption, but most of it your favourites.

He clambered back into bed beside you. He used his body to prop you up comfortably. He picked off what you didn’t want, chatting away about nothing in particular, and something scarily like peace settled over you. That twinge of panic, the fear his mood would flip on a dime, ebbed further away every time he made sure the blankets were covering your feet. With every second he sat beside you, sneaking bites of your food and laughing when you spilt crumbs on his covers, your resolve grew.

You’d stay.

Maybe you imagined it, but he seemed so much happier in his own head. The dark moments when he wasn’t paying attention never appeared, the mental war he was fighting never sneaking outwards to play across his face. Every laugh felt sincere, every word authentic.

When you were done eating the Master cleared the plate, and you took it in turns to brush your teeth. He went first, and when you took his place in the bathroom you saw a brand-new toothbrush sitting innocently beside his at the sink.

The sight made you feel dizzy, even minutes later when you re-emerged into his darkened bedroom, taking your place once more in the bed. The image of those two toothbrushes side by side was burned into your mind. He pulled you to his shirtless body wordlessly, no hesitations this time, whispering a goodnight as the room fell into pitch-blackness.

You needed to rest.

Each time you closed your eyes, you tensed up. No matter the comfort, The Master had gone still beside you, but you were certain he was still awake.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere near the Alzarium Galaxy, I believe.”

“How far–”

“Half a universe away, I promise.”

You closed your eyes again, feeling him breathe behind you as you tried to push the image of that collapsed Cyberman from your mind, the screams, that crying, motherless child. You’d seen horrors before, but rarely as the victim of them. Never so close.

Suppressing tears, you opened your eyes, staring into the darkness of the room.

“I can’t sleep.”

He hummed sympathy, pulling you tighter to him and brushing his nose against your neck. You sighed into him, trying to close your eyes again, unable to keep your mind from straying.

“Help me?”

You could talk more tomorrow, when you’d rested and had some distance from everything. But as you fell asleep, dreamless as the Master’s hands cupped your temples, you knew you were home.

#13atoms #fic #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #dh!master #dh!master x reader #but I loved writing this!#Angst Challenge

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bookersebastien · 4 years ago

Note

Thoughts on the concept of time and the old guards relationship with it

ohh patrick this is super interesting

andy’s concept of time has changed a lot over the years, she’s over 6,000 years old and time hasn’t meant the same to her consistently over those years. she doesn’t remember a lot of her earlier life, not her family anymore and that is something that comes with time. to her she seems to have accepted it to some extent at least, she’s lived long enough to get to that. she spent thousands of years on her own, i don’t think during that time she had any much concept of time not when she was by herself moving around from place to place. but then found quynh and i think she became much more aware of how much time was passing, she became aware of the years together with her, especially after being alone for so long, or she’s at least aware of how long it’s been, maybe not the years but she understands that it’s been a very long time. and this is only multiplied after lykons death because now there’s an unknown time limit on their immortality and she becomes more aware of the time she has had with the two of them and aware of time passing because she could die any day. however, i don’t think she was that scared of the death after a few hundred years after lykons death because she knows roughly how long shes’s been alive, she knows that if she dies she’s already done so much there’s a sort of acceptance there. and then when quynh is gone, time is all she has to remember her, all she has is her memories of her and she’s suddenly aware of how much time she spent with her and doesn’t know how to feel, to have someone gone after spending thousands of years fighting side by side with them. time is the only concrete thing she has as a reminder of exactly how long it’s been, because to her it feels much longer than it has actually been. like she said, it’s what time has left behind, and to her time has left her behind and taken so much from her already

this was getting long so i’ll put a cut

send me thoughts on ______?

booker feels so much of time, if that makes sense. he feels every minute and every second pass, he remembers every moment since he woke up hung from that tree and it’s because he’s never wanted the life he ended up with so he’s conscious of how much time is passing, time he never wanted to have. he loves his immortal family, but he never wanted this life and yet he’s stuck with no choice but to live it despite the numbers of times i think he tried to end it. he feels the days and weeks, but to him it feels like longer, 200 years can so easily feel like 500 and living to 900, much less 6,000 sounds painful and almost impossible despite that he knows it’s not. time to him seems to move so fast yet so slow, he can so easily remember the early days of his new life, like it was yesterday, but it feels like forever ago, like another lifetime and in some ways it was. he’s changed, the world has changed. time is a cruel joke to him, meaningless in a way it only can be to someone who’s immortal but he find himself burdened by it, carrying something most would kill for, yet he’s died for it. it’ll take a while, some self-reflection, less booze and definitely some therapy for him to see time as anything else but a reminder of all he’s left behind

quynh, quynh who has lost 500 years of her life drowning in the ocean, has probably the weirdest relationship with time. she had thousands of years by andys side, felt invincible and then she got to see what having so much time really feels like every time she drowned and every time she woke up with booker’s image in her mind. she may have not realized how much time had passed but once she comes back she’s almost hyperaware of time, but unlike booker who mostly wallows in each passing day, quynh will take her chance to enjoy the time she was given back now that she’s free of the iron maiden and free to be with her family and her love again. time is precious to her now and she doesn’t want to waste any time she may have left, especially now that andy is mortal

joe and nicky are probably well aware of time, not in an exact way but they know it’s been a long time. they remember the time they met, they remember what the world was like. time to them is a gift, they’ve been given their soulmates and all this time to enjoy each other, it’s not something they will take for granted in any sense. they’ve been in love for over 900 years, and it’s certainly felt that long but in a way that they only want more, whatever the universe will give them they will take it as long as they have each other. not to mention how real time became once andy told them about lykon, he died before joe and nicky so the only way for them to know was when andy told them (or quynh but i think it was andy). so they make the most of every moment because after thinking they would live forever they know now that this life isn’t permanent and there’s no warning when it will end either, enjoying the ones they can and helping out where they are needed

another note about nicky is that time to him is a way to repent and make up for what he has done in the past. it probably took him decades to fully shake himself of his former beliefs but they’re always in the back of his mind, not as something he still remotely believes in but as a reminder of the person he was and the person he wants to be. so this time, this gift he has, this life he was given, to him is a way to help and he is grateful for it (also i’m talking about his belief in converting and killing people over the ideals of christianity not his faith as a whole - i still think he holds some faith but i am not the person to discuss that)

and nile who probably has the most “normal” concept of time. she’s been immortal for what? like a week? her immortality hasn’t really set in and no matter the ways in which she dies and has died, and no matter the utter and complete proof she has in the rest of the guard, she isn’t going to feel the immortality, not until maybe a few decades down the line and she’ll look at herself in the mirror and see herself just as young as the day she died. in the present time, she’s only been alive for what 27 (?) years, she feels the years pass just as we do, feeling like they’re going a bit faster every year. to her time is elusive, she hasn’t grasped yet what it means to really live beyond your years. she’s made some kind of peace with the idea, but she hasn’t live long enough to really see time as anything but no matter how much she prepares herself for the future. she probably feels weird about time now, knowing she has so much of it but knowing her life can’t be spent the way she would’ve liked to spend it as an immortal because there are dangers, some you run from and some you save others from. so slowly her relationship with time will change, but right now i think it remains something mysterious to her

#ask #andy-the-scythian #the old guard #tog hcs #tog meta #usrbkr hm #andromache the scythian #sebastien le livre #nile freeman #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #quynh #patrick tag

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

Text

Eitr | Chapter 12

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter

LATER THAT DAY

FORANGAL CASTLE, SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Sigurd gazed down at his hands, staring blankly into the distance as his mind tore itself apart with guilt.

His clothes were still stained with numerous splatters of Gjuki’s blood, and even though Aegenwulf finally decided to spare his life, Sigurd remained trapped in a pit of remorse, suddenly feeling an urgent desire to return home.

...What had he done? What had the Saxons turned him into? Was his mind even his own anymore? What would Eivor think about all this?

Only a handful of weeks had drifted by ever since Sigurd first washed up on Agenbury’s shore, and yet, the man felt as if a lifetime separated him from the past. He hardly recognized himself anymore after everything that had occurred, and considering how things were unfolding so far, part of him wished Edlynne had left him at the river.

He didn’t deserve to be here, or in Valhalla. Backstabbers such as himself belonged in the darkest depths of Helheim, and Sigurd had no idea how he was going to face his brother once all this was over.

He wanted nothing more than to reunite with the fragments that remained of his family, but in light of recent events, Sigurd was now beginning to question his true motives, and how much survival really meant to him.

It would’ve been a dream come true to see Eivor’s face again, that much was true, but what would it matter if Sigurd didn’t even return as the same man? His brother was fighting to bring back the sibling he grew up with back in Fornburg, and yet, Sigurd felt as if he had become a total stranger.

There was barely anything left of the person he once was, and with Algar’s influence constantly digging deeper into the ealdorman’s mind, Sigurd didn’t even want to think about what he’d have to do to survive in the future.

Things were bad enough as it was. Any worse, and all Hell would break loose.

“Sigurd.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, the viking suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in his chambers and spotted Edric standing in front of him, trying to get his attention.

His brow was furrowed deeply in frustration, and judging by the weary look he wore on his face, Sigurd assumed he had just walked away from some sort of argument. Probably with Aegenwulf himself.

Sigurd glanced up at the man, still somewhat lost in shock. “...Edric? What are you doing here?”

The Saxon frowned in sympathy. “I apologize for intruding like this, but there’s something important you need to know. A decision was made after you left the throne room. Before I tell you about it, though... I wanted to see how you were doing first. That trial was just...” Edric sighed in disgust, “...well, you know.”

He took a seat next to the Norseman, bowing his head low in exhaustion.

“God, what an absolute mess. I knew my father had changed, but I never realized just how unhinged he was. What on earth was he thinking? Forcing two men to fight like a pair of animals. Jesus... if the Danes didn’t hate us before, they certainly will now.”

Edric turned to Sigurd, switching to a gentler tone. “I’m so sorry, Sigurd. If I had known what my father intended, I would’ve stepped in sooner. I would’ve tried to speak with him. I would’ve--”

“--You’re not to blame.” The viking replied, his voice cold with anger. “You did everything you could.”

The other man let out a breath. “Maybe. I just wish it would’ve been enough. I mean, I’m glad to see you alive, but... my God. That poor man. What was his name. Gjuki? What the hell did they do to him?”

“I feared he had already been killed,” Sigurd admitted. “But now, I’m starting to think that would’ve been a better fate.”

“No one deserves what he went through,” Edric agreed. “I still can’t believe my father would allow all this. He used to be so kind, and compassionate. He was always a firm man, but he never indulged in such cruelty. What’s happened to him?”

It didn’t take long for Sigurd to provide an answer. “Your father is no more than a pawn for Algar to use. You wish to eradicate the corruption in Wedenscire? You must get rid of him first.”

Edric picked up on his tone. “Why? Have you learned something?”

The viking nodded. “Before Gjuki drew his last breath, he revealed to me what he found in Algar’s crypt. Apparently, the man is part of the Order of the Ancients. His alias among them is The Colossus.”

Edric displayed a puzzled look. “The Order of the Ancients? I’ve never heard of them. Have you?”

“Yes, actually. Though, my knowledge on them is far from abundant. Before my clan was attacked, my brother pursued some of their members who were operating in Lunden. I also know there are many others spread across England and Norway. They worship a god whose name I’ve never heard, and their motives remain a mystery to me. I have no idea why they would be interested in your father, or how Gareth is connected to all this.”

The nobleman slid a hand down his face. “Christ Almighty. What has my family gotten itself into? I’m not familiar with this organization, Sigurd, but I’ll do whatever I can to learn more about them. If they’re as widespread as you say, there must be something we can find. Something that can put Algar down for good.”

“Just... tread carefully.” Sigurd warned. “Gjuki was on the same path as you before Algar captured him. I don’t want you to share his fate. There’s also the fact that he’ll likely be even more protective of his secrets now that someone has infiltrated his crypt.”

“Of course. I’ll be as discreet as possible.”

The viking decided to switch topics. “Well, enough about that. I’d rather not spare another thought on that bacraut after everything that’s happened. You mentioned you had something else you wanted to discuss?”

Edric sighed. “Right. You’re not going to like it. It’s... Bishop Hundwerth.”

Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What has he done now?”

“He insists that you convert to Christianity. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but I’m afraid Lady Moira’s voice overpowered mine. My father’s decided that you’re to be baptized tomorrow morning, and recognized as a man of God.”

“But I already proved my loyalty,” the other man argued, his tone sharp with bitterness. “Wasn’t that the whole point of pitting me against my own friend? Or was that simply for their entertainment?”

Edric shared Sigurd’s annoyance. “That’s not how the bishop sees it. In his eyes, the only thing you proved is that you’re willing to murder one of your own if it means saving yourself. You may have given your word that you won’t betray us again, but for Hundwerth, the word of a pagan holds little merit. He’d rather trust the promise of a Christian.”

The Norseman rose from his bed, pacing around the room. “So it’s not enough that they torture my people and force me to slay them? Now I must also abandon my gods?”

The Saxon bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Sigurd. The unfairness of this situation isn’t lost on me, but I’m afraid there’s not much else I can do. My words seem to fall on deaf ears nowadays.”

“...It’s not your fault. You’ve already done more than enough for me.” Sigurd placed his hands on his hips, gazing out the window. “I suppose there’s no use in fighting it now. I’ve seen the kind of punishment that awaits me if I resist. I do not wish to leave my gods behind, but...” his voice softened with heartache, “...if this is the cost of survival, then... I’ll do it. I need to get back home alive. I need to see my brother again.”

Edric’s head jerked up in confusion. “Your brother? I thought he was dead.”

“So did I, but Gjuki informed me of his survival not too long ago. He was the only thing keeping us in touch. Now that he’s gone, I’m at a loss as to how I’ll contact my brother again should the need arise.”

The young man stood up from the bed and stepped behind Sigurd, resting an affectionate hand on his arm.

“...We will get through this, Sigurd.” He whispered reassuringly. “I know it can be easy to forget, but you’re not alone in these walls. You have Edlynne, Joseph, Raedan... and me. We’re here for you.”

The viking held onto Edric’s hand and turned around to face him, finding a sense of solace in his words.

“Thank you, Edric. These are dire times, but your kindness won’t be forgotten in the days to come.” Sigurd pulled the young man close, pecking a kiss on his forehead. “I’m glad I have you at my side.”

Edric smiled in his embrace, resting his head on the man’s chest. “As am I.”

Falling into silence, the two of them simply stood there for a moment and savored each other’s company, attempting to cling onto any shred of comfort they could find. The entire castle had descended into disarray after Aegenwulf’s unpopular decision to spare Sigurd, and with Bishop Hundwerth preparing for the upcoming baptism, it seemed like peace in Forangal was naught but a distant memory.

There was arguing, debating, contempt, scorn -- and seeing as how Gjuki’s head was now displayed on a pike, Edric imagined that the war with the Danes would only erupt.

It was Hell on earth inside Forangal’s walls, but with Sigurd there to protect him from any threats, Edric was able to feel some sense of security. It meant nothing to him that the man was a Dane, or a pagan rather than a Christian. He knew Sigurd to be good at heart, and frankly, despite what he expected, he trusted him more than his own father these days.

He only prayed that the tides of fate would be merciful in the near future. If he were to lose Sigurd to the chaos that was beginning to unravel, Edric didn’t know how he would proceed. That man was the only one willing to help him look into Gareth’s death, and if his instincts were correct, then Algar was at the center of it all.

He would need all the help he could get in order to take that beast down, and if that meant they had to fight for just a little longer, then Edric was willing to endure it. He just didn’t know where to start.

~~~~~~~~~~

TWO DAYS LATER

ELMENHAM, EAST ANGLIA

Galloping towards the longhouse at full speed, Broder frantically stormed his way back to Eivor as rain heavily poured down from the clouds above, shrouding everything in a bleak darkness.

He had been running for his life ever since Algar cornered Gjuki at the crypt, and with the majority of their group now lying dead in the mud, Broder had no intentions of returning to Wedenscire until Eivor himself marched for the gates of Forangal.

He hated the idea of leaving Sigurd behind to deal with his troubles alone, but considering how erratic the ealdorman had become recently, Broder was no longer willing to risk it. Not on his own, at least.

He saw for himself what the Saxons did to Gjuki, and how they treated his corpse. He may have been eager to help Eivor reunite with his brother, but Broder had his own siblings to look out for, and the last thing he wanted was to end up being a mounted head for some Saxon nobleman.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Yanking on the reins of his horse, Broder came to a screeching halt as the animal’s hooves went dragging through the mud, causing the steed to let out a panicked neigh. His body was aching terribly with fatigue thanks to the long journey, but even then, the viking refused to take a break. His mind had been trapped in a perpetual state of alarm ever since Gjuki’s death, and he was adamant to get the news back to Eivor.

Rushing to the entrance of the longhouse, Broder trudged through the storm and practically bashed the doors open, ignoring the curious stares he received from scattered civilians.

Even though the rain had washed away most of the blood staining his armor, he still remained quite a sight to behold and traipsed through Elmenham’s fields like a walking corpse rising from its grave.

Once inside, Broder spotted Eivor conversing with Oswald and Valdis as the three of them discussed the war, clearly devising some sort of plan. Their voices were nearly inaudible underneath the relentless howls of the wind, but in spite of the interference, their heads still jolted in Broder’s direction upon his obtrusive entrance, causing them to let out a unanimous gasp.

“Brother!” Valdis greeted with relief. “You’ve returned.” Her expression instantly dimmed. “...Are you well? You look awful.”

The man jogged up to them, doing his best not to collapse on the spot.

“Eivor...!” Broder exclaimed, somewhat out of breath. “There you are. I... I...”

“Easy, drengr,” Eivor said in a calming tone. “Slow down. Tell me what’s going on.”

Broder took a moment to get his bearings, finally recovering from the treacherous ride home.

“...Gjuki’s dead, Eivor.”

Valdis’ eyes widened in horror. “What? What do you mean he’s dead? What happened?”

Broder decided to spare them the details. “We were searching a hidden crypt in Wedenscire, not too far away from Forangal. We thought there might’ve been clues inside, and there were, but...”

Eivor urged him on. “But what?”

The other man shook his head in regret. “It was the ealdorman’s housecarl. An argr snake called Algar. He captured Gjuki and slaughtered the rest of our men. I was the only one who managed to escape.”

Oswald caught onto his last words. “Wait, he captured Gjuki? So he didn’t kill him immediately?”

“No,” Broder confirmed. “Algar took him to the dungeons.”

An alarming thought struck Eivor’s mind. “Wait, what about Sigurd? Where is he now? Is he alright?”

A dour look spread across Broder’s face. “He’s alive, but... Gods. It was madness, Eivor. When Algar took Gjuki in, it didn’t take him long to realize that he was working with Sigurd, so the ealdorman held a trial. They were willing to spare your brother’s life in spite of his crimes, but he had to do something in exchange. He had to kill Gjuki.”

Eivor froze at the news.

“...Sigurd... killed him?”

“Yes. He did not wish to, but the Saxons left him no choice. It was either him or Gjuki. He chose to comply in the end.” Broder turned to his sister. “...I tried everything I could to save him, Valdis. I did. But it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

The woman crossed her arms, trying to hide her pain. “I--” she choked up, “--oh, Gjuki...”

Broder hesitated to get the last part of his report out. He hated to constantly be the bearer of bad news, but he knew it was necessary.

“...There is one more thing, Eivor. While we were in the crypt, we learned that Algar was part of the Order. There were a series of letters between him and some of the other members in their organization, but he’s burned them all now.”

Oswald paused. “A member of the Order? In Wedenscire? Are you certain?”

“Indeed. They call him The Colossus.”

Eivor mindlessly clenched his fist in response to the report and brought his attention to the king, unable to conceal the fire raging in his eyes.

“Oswald, we must march on Forangal now. We have enough allies.”

The Saxon hesitated. “You’ve rallied a decent army, Eivor, but I’m still not certain if it’ll be sufficient. Forangal is a hefty fortress armed with many defenses. If we’re not careful, it could result in total obliteration.”

“We don’t have time to forge anymore alliances!” The viking argued. “Sigurd needs us. Now. Those Saxons have already butchered Gjuki, and they have the Order among them. It won’t be much longer until my brother is the one on their chopping block. We need to get him out of there as soon as possible.”

Oswald remained unswayed. “I understand your urgency, Eivor, but we must approach this realistically. Not many people walk away from Forangal with their lives, and for good reason. We only have one chance to do this right. Better to wait a little longer and ensure we’re prepared, rather than march straight to our deaths.”

The king turned to Broder. “You were there, Broder. What’s your opinion on the situation in Wedenscire? Can Sigurd afford to wait?”

The man furrowed his brow in uncertainty. “I... I don’t know, my lord. It’s difficult to say. He’s managed to survive thus far, but his captives have become unpredictable recently. Relentless. They’ve even forced Sigurd to convert to Christianity.”

That took Oswald by surprise. “What? When did this happen?”

“Just after Gjuki died. I overheard the nobles in the castle speaking of a baptism before I left. One of them was against the conversion, but the rest decided to go through with it.”

Eivor’s expression flattened with frustration. “You see? We must go now. Before they try anything else. I’m done cowering in the shadows.”

“But what if--”

“--Eivor’s right.” Valdis jumped in. “Those people are animals, Oswald. You’ve seen for yourself what they did to the Raven Clan; what they did to Randvi. If there’s any chance we can save Sigurd from the same fate, we need to take it. We’ve idled for long enough.”

Oswald was at a loss for words. “...I really don’t know how this is going to work, you all. We have enough forces to put up a decent fight, but... assaulting Forangal Castle? That’s a completely different story.”

Broder offered his own thoughts. “Do not be so quick to dismiss the unlikely, my lord. It happens more often than you think. Those are Gjuki’s words. Not mine.”

“Have faith in our strength, husband.” Valdis continued. “We are warriors. Drengir. Children of Odin. We were born and bred for this sort of thing. We will not fall so easily to these Saxons. Let us go.”

Oswald fell silent at his friends’ arguments and sighed in defeat, conflicted on what to do next.

On one hand, he sympathized with Eivor’s eagerness to storm Forangal’s gates, but on the other, he honestly didn’t know if their soldiers could survive such an endeavor. Their army was just large enough that the plan could’ve succeeded with the help of a miracle, but despite his youth, Oswald was world-weary enough to know that battles typically didn’t favor the disadvantaged.

Anything could’ve gone wrong during this assault. Aegenwulf could’ve had more forces than they anticipated, an ambush could’ve stopped them along the way, or -- worst case scenario -- Sigurd could’ve already been dead. There was an abundance of unknowns lurking around the corner, and with so many risks obscuring the path ahead, Oswald wasn’t sure if war was the answer. At least, not for now.

Still, he feared what could’ve happened to Sigurd if they waited too long. Based on Broder’s report, it sounded like the man was going through hell at the moment. If there was any opportunity for them to rescue him from Aegenwulf’s clutches, Oswald felt complied to seize it.

Eivor did the same for him when he was taken prisoner at Burgh Castle, so it only seemed right to return the favor.

“...Alright, you three.” Oswald finally agreed. “We’ll march on Forangal Castle as soon as we are able. Eivor, summon your allies. Tell them to meet us here. When they’ve arrived, we’ll begin making our way to Wedenscire. In the meantime, the rest of us will focus on the assault. My troops are yours to command as well.”

The viking gave him a firm nod. “Thank you, Oswald. I won’t fail you.”

“I have confidence in your abilities. I just hope that it’ll be enough. As for the rest of you...”

Oswald linked his hands together behind his back. “Get some rest. And prepare as much as you can. We don’t know what sort of resistance we’ll face in Wedenscire, but I think it’s safe to assume that our forces will be stretched thin. Do everything in your ability to ensure you are ready for this assault, and keep your guard up. We have evidence that the Order of the Ancients is involved now, so Lord only knows what Algar will have up his sleeve.”

Broder stepped in. “I’ll join the assault too.”

“No,” Oswald refused. “you need to rest. You’ve been through enough.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty, Gjuki is dead because of my incompetence. Out of honor, I cannot simply sit by and watch while your people risk their lives for a mistake I made. I’m still here because of that man. This is the least I can do for him.”

The king decided to grant him permission. “...Very well, then. I expect to see you at Forangal. As for you two, spread word of the assault to our soldiers. I want them to be prepared as well.”

Eivor nodded. “As you wish.”

“Good. Then let’s get to work. Sigurd’s life depends on our efficiency, and there’s no telling what will happen once Aegenwulf realizes who’s behind the assault. From what I understand, the man is growing more and more unstable by the day. Brace yourselves for anything... and may your gods watch over you all.”

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #male oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

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If Bombshells ever returned, maybe to explore the aftereffects of the war. Here are some superheroines and supervillainesses that could join the fight into the new era. The Cold War.

Jesse Quick; Jesse would totally join the families providing their homes to the displaced Jews of Europe while at the same time protecting her city from all sorts of crime. But her storyline might come with learning that in her need to help everyone and solving everyone's problems since she has the technology and the privlege, well... kinda appears as a white savior. At least to Lisa Snart which brings me to...

Golden Glider: Well I think we can all guess that Lisa has a Jewish-like last name and while her big bro, Captain Cold, Leonard was working with the Nazis, I am so arguing that he was just conveinately converting in order to save his skin and his sister's. Anyway with her brother in jail and Europe in shambles after the war, Lisa can travel to America with other displaced Jews. Some families were kind enough to "foster" these peoples which is where Jesse comes in. Well Lisa isn't the type to accept the "pity" and dislikes how priviliged a life, Jesse leads. Then comes a whole new yet classic Flash vs the Rogues rivalry.

Nyssa ah Gul: How can we forget another misplaced Jew. Well not Jew but Ra ah Gul's other daughter, Nyssa, whose entire adopted family died in the concentration camps while Ra was off whatevering with the Lazerus Pit. But since Ra's long gone from the picture, I suppose Nyssa will have to seek answers from Talia about why she didn't try to help her or contact her after finding out they were sisters.

Mya: Meanwhile after WWII, India is revving up for a revolution after being used and abused by the British Empire in a war they didn't even want to be in. And after being in the war, STILL treated like second class citizens. That's why Myra, prodigy of Shiva is up to lead a revolution for her people.

Gypsy: Let’s not forget about all the other groups that Nazis were prejudiced against. Cynthia Reynolds or "Gypsy" as the SS slurred against her and her Romanian family. But with Europe's landscape in disarray, Cynthia can use her earth-bending powers to help and educate people that she is more than the fortune telling, pick pocketing stereotype that the world believes.

Volcana: Now I know we didn't really get into Italy's part in WWII, but someone with volcano powers would totally be working in Italy, specifically Pompeii. The one issue is that, like in her origin story, she was working for Mussolini against her will and the Italian still wants their "super weapon" under lock and key in case of WWIII.

Thorn: Meanwhile the late 40s-early 50s is totally not a time to be woman with a mental illness. Especially when the "understanding" doctors try to lobtomize you. So Roselyn Forrest's double personality disorder is a big problem in her life. Especially since her second personality is a scythe weilding maniac and her uncle wants to put her in an institution. Added to the fact that she is still suffering under Irish discrimination. Hopefully the Batgirls can help, not only change child labor laws, but views on mental illness too. Giganta: A gorilla turned into a girl. Why shouldn't that be an experiment by the crazy Americans or Russians in a way to beat each other as the world superpower. Well technically the Russians wanted to send a gorilla into space and beat the Americans, but they thought a woman astronaut (or as they called cosmonaut) would make them look better. (All true look up Valentina , first woman in space). But besides being part of the space race, Giganta can bring spotlight to Africa where she was born, and which is being divided by the major world powers for exploitation.

Crimson Fox: Constance D' Amis, French heiress would be part of the small army of woman workers during the YALTA conferance trying to get their say into how to rebuild Europe for the benefit of all. Who knows, maybe she even talked to Selina Delgatti. Hey French heiresses and Italian heiresses must know each other. Plus she expels hormones that can make anyone under her thrall which leads me to...

Queen Bee: Another pheromone expelling woman. A villainess though. Africa wasn't the only one being exploited and colonized. The former Ottoman Empire was being exploited for its oil and Lebenon is taken over by the French (Basically ample reason for Constance to go to Lebenon and fight Queen Bee). And the former queen is certainly not above going to the Russians to fight the US/Europe to get her country back. Or just team up with Lex Luthor to take down Supergirl and get her country back. I just imagine Lex and --- to be like an evil Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet okay. All suave, witty banter. It makes sense in my head.

Catherine Colbert: A bit like Lois Lane, Catherine is an everygirl. Well if the everygirl was a daughter of an dimplomat and had her sights on making a name for herself in NASA and trying to avoid the pressures of mysgonistic men that woman aren't fit for government. Being told that she is too emotional and should stay in the kicthen, Catherine rebelled by becoming a stone faced, cutting ice queen in the diplomacy track and also a horrible cook. Artemis and Cheshire: I'm taking a bit from the YJ story in that Artemis and Cheshire are half-french, half-Vietnamese. Since their abusive father was loyal to the Nazis, he disowned them and cast off their Vietnamese mother in Japanese concentration camps. While Artemis made it to America and tried to stay on the good ol American democratic way (while fighting petty looters in the streets of Gotham as one does), Cheshire went to Vietnam where she works as an assasin, for the communists and the non-communists. It doesn't matter to her as long as she gets paid. But times are changing in Vietnam as the fights about communism between the North Vietnamese and South escalate.

Lady Blackhawk: Zinda Blake, hero of WWII and the Blackhawk brigade comes home to nothing. No money. No pension. No respect. Life as a veteran has no perks since no one has money to pay in Europe. Plus she'd still be trying to adjust to civilian life after nonstop combat and the inevitable PTSD while the Germany she loved is split into two. Hopefully Rudi and Helen will help to keep her in a safe place until she can get back on her feet. Miss Martian: While I don't know whose in Harley, Ivy and Viktoria's circus, I feel like Miss Martian would find a safe haven there. While she did not experience the WWII, she did experience a similar prejudice and genocide on Mars being a white martian so I bet she can help with reprations. Or just join Starfire on the fire squad...wait nevermind. Fire is Martian weakness. Well at least have her and Starfire being alien girlfriends exploring the strange Earth world together.

Rocket: Again, haven't had the joy of reading the final vol of Bombshells United so I don't know exactly what Bumblebee has been up to nor the racism she had probably experienced. But Raquel would be in a similar boat. An African American teen in an unjust pre-Civil Rights movement society with the added difficulties of teen mom hood. I really want some spotlight on her whether she joins the Batgirls or strike out on her own or helps Icon just like in the comics.

Mercy Graves: Alongside Lex wherever he is, I want a similar debut to what Mercy did in JL. Mercy takes over LexCorps during Luthor's absence, absolutely crushes it and makes it more of a success than Luthor ever did because she is not obsessed with the Kryptonian heroes. Maybe she even teams up with Waller? Who knows? Or even have two heads, Mercy Graves and Lena Luthor, making millions and making plans, evil or no, always ending on top.

Silver Banshee: A woman whose screams causes people to age. How they could NOT use her in a war, I do not know. But I picture Siobhan's arc going something like after her family dies in battle or something or other, she taps into her genetic banshee powers. Fueled with grief/cynicsm/vengeance she travels around the Iron Curtain, causing death since death is a mercy compared to living in destitute misery.

Plastique and Roxy Rocket: One is a Canadian explosives expert, another just really, really loves rockets. Both would be very useful on either side of the Cold War. They're traditionally illanesses so I could see them as double agents like Cheshire, working for whoever pays the most for their time.

Roulette: Roulette’s big thing is gambling on illegal cage fighting activities. Well lets up the ante by having her big gamble being stoking US/Russian tensions. After all the longer the war goes on, the more she gets paid for her information on the other side, her contacts for weapons, her spies etc. She'd be rolling in dough, and loving it even when under threat of nuclear destruction.

Fire and Ice: No idea how the heck they would fit in to a post WWII world. But let's suppose they want to escape Brazil and Antartica respectively to be able to help out in the aftermath after doing nothing during the war. Jessica Cruz and Aresia vs Star Sapphire Meanwhile with Hal Jordan out of the picture, let's have the infamous Green Lantern vs Star Sapphire rivalry again.

Lady Shiva: Street fighter, assassin, mother of the future Batwoman, Cassandra Cain. Lady Shiva must be part of the Cold War. She is bit of a anti-hero so I doubt anyone would know where her loyalties truly lie, but she'd be on the side of whoever her daughter wishes to protect.

Cassandra Cain: The new Black Bat, continue Katy Kane's work, and the Batgirl's work, and all the work that needs to be done after WWII. She's the new heroine.

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whitleyschn33 · 4 years ago

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RWBY Volume 8 Episode One: Quick Thoughts

Or not so quick, seeing how long it took me to write this and how much I ended up having to say. Spoilers (duh) under the cut, as this thing got insanely long.

So we open with a maid scrubbing a floor, a shot that lasted long enough I was starting to wonder where it was going before we cut to Cinder. So, Cinder backstory - interesting way to open the volume, but I’m not sure if it’s a good way. At the very least, I would have cut it a couple seconds, or have it flash between Cinder’s face and the flashback. Same information, but given in a quicker manner that lets us know exactly what we’re seeing instead of wonder who this random maid is for 10 seconds.

Whale aircraft carrier. The design is interesting, if looking a bit too clean for my taste. I would’ve liked to see the bones and muscles of the Grimm incorporated into the design a bit more, the surfaces less smooth and more textured, but it looks good.

Facial acting on Neo is good - I appreciate being able to see what’s running through her head, even if it also makes me wonder why Salem isn’t picking up on the obvious tells.

Emerald and Mercury are back and with new outfits; I can hear the diehard EmMerc fans screaming from here. Would’ve liked a better look at the whole outfits (I don’t think there’s even one close up of their entire bodies), but I like Mercury’s! Emerald’s model feels off to me for some reason, like it’s wider or more padded (?) than before, but it’s not a big deal and is probably just a result of her wearing a jacket now.

Oh, yeah, Hazel got one too, don’t care.

Why does the whale have a screen? A connection to one of those seer orb Grimm?

Cinder is still not interesting to me, but I am curious - can one woman hold multiple maiden powers? What happens if one woman holds them all? If they can hold multiple powers, what happens when they die? Do they both/all go to the same person, or would they split?

I like the Faunus that gives Oscar the soup. His design is pretty cute to me (I think he’s a mole Faunus?), and I feel like he’s based on something, but I’m not sure what. Getting a Narnia vibe for some reason, which I’m always on board for.

How did Ruby know where Oscar ended up? Did he call?

Weiss’s braid looks much better! I’m still not a huge fan of it, but this model is an enormous improvement - it actually looks like hair instead of rope, it’s slicker, and doesn’t look as heavy. Nice job, animators. Blake’s looks better, too, more fluffy, but it’s not as drastic a change to me.

Nice to see the Happy Huntresses actually doing something to help Mantle, and having Joanna(? that’s her name, right?) take charge and be helping Ruby get Oscar back in exchange for their aid is nice. It feels realistic for a situation like this.

And more secret keeping, but in this case, dropping the Oz bombshell would actually probably be a bad idea. There’s enough going on, bringing up Oz being back can wait until tensions aren’t as high.

Why would Ironwood stop evacuation? That makes no sense for his character, and there’s no reason to stop them. Until he gets Penny back, Atlas isn’t going anywhere. Might as well keep evacuating until you can find here, get as many people to safety as possible before getting away. I’d assume the Doylist answer for this is that Mantle still needs to be a factor in any decisions made after this and it can’t be that if we can get everyone evacuated, but that doesn’t make the Watsonian explanation make more sense.

Actually a good plan, getting everyone into the crater if it is in fact warm (why, I wonder? Thermal vents? Heat coming off of Atlas?) solves the cold problem (that people should’ve probably already died from) and having to defend one smaller location is strategically a good option. Corralling people would also make any eventual evac to Atlas easier. There is the small problem of, you know, Atlas literally crushing anyone in the crater if the staff is used on anything else, and Salem is known to be after that Staff, sooooooo -

Okay, maybe a nitpick, but I thought Pierto’s specialty was prosthetics and robotics. Doesn’t seem like something that necessarily overlaps with what’s needed to convert Amity into a satellite. I guess maybe the engine/whatever is going to propel it into the air could be similar to Penny’s boosters/whatever lets her fly, but it doesn’t seem like something that he would be involved in raising Amity. Whatever - I know we need a scientist person to tell these things to RWBY+Co and Pierto is the most likely candidate to be in a position to do that.

It seems like, from Ruby’s dialogue, she both wants to warn the other kingdoms and ask for their help. This has been trampled to death, so I won’t rant, but - there is no one that’s going to be able to help. Argus is hours away, will take time to assemble, and isn’t a very large force to begin with. Mistral is still weakened from V5 and has next to no huntsman, and is even farther than Argus. No idea what’s going on with Vale, but they’re probably still nursing their wounds from the Fall. Vacuo is the only kingdom likely to be able to muster up a force, but they’re on the other side of the map and will take hours, if not days, to get together an army - and that’s if they decide they want to help at all. The other objective was warning the Kingdoms about Salem. Ignoring that Salem is immortal and can just throw as many Grimm as she pleases until the defenses fall, ignoring that the other Kingdoms might not even believe Ruby, what’s to say they won’t go “F*ck Atlas, they’re on their own” and recall every available Huntsman and Huntress to shore up their own defenses? Or what if the other kingdoms just fall into anarchy? Learning an immortal witch with an endless supply of Grimm will come knocking on your doorstep soon tends to cause chaos. Or is Ruby going to leave the whole immortal part out again? I just can’t see what this will accomplish.

Holy shit, it’s actually happening. Dissent from WBY, and it’s coming from Yang of all people - I love it. I wish Yang had gotten to finish her sentence, say something along the lines of “Maybe if we’d told the truth immediately things wouldn’t have gone this way” since that would fit with her “hate secrets” thing she had going on in V5/6, but the fact that Yang is actually questioning Ruby’s leadership and choices - yes yes yes, more of that please, less of the hive mind. I wish it’d come a little earlier, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I’m slightly confused at the sides that Ren and Nora are taking here. I like that we’re splitting them up here (we never get to see them separated, and after last volume, I am more than on board with letting Ren get some breathing room), but Ren going with Yang, Jaune, and Oscar to help evacuate Mantle while Nora goes on the “bigger picture” team to get Amity up and running seems weird considering where they were last volume. Nora was always screaming about how the big picture stuff was hurting Mantle, while Ren was pushing to keep training, keep working, support Ironwood and try and work at the big picture problem, so it would seem like they should be on opposite sides. I’m not saying it makes no sense - I can absolutely see Ren feeling protective of towns under attack from Grimm with no Huntsmen in their corner - but it feels like a bit of a 180 from their last positions.

Did Oscar just call Jaune “John”?

Yeah, if nothing else, don’t let Penny get anywhere near Salem or her cronies. Salem can absolutely not be allowed to get her hands on the Staff, especially with the whole “get everyone to the crater” plan. Squish.

Yang and Blake splitting up, maybe we can actually get some conversations on what the hell is up with them that we should have gotten in V6/V7 instead of petty showing off and Nora projecting.

“But what about Mantle?” “Oh, I’m helping Mantle.” with the same thing you spent all last volume complaining about. Uh-huh, that’s not annoying.

Weiss has an idea on how to get up to Atlas - Winter’s ship, maybe? That one she came in on in V3 was her personal ship, wasn’t it?

Ironwood calls Penny. From the music, it sounds like they were aiming for foreboding and manipulative, but Ironwood just sounds tired, the poor man. Love how Ruby doesn’t even try for a comeback for Ironwood’s argument, really convincing.

Dead Clover, and I hope that he stays that way, because if he’s brought back to life, so much of V6′s themes of life and death and the natural cycle is just going to be spit on (again). Clover is dead, and there should be no way around that save interference from a literal god. Any attempt at bringing him back needs some kind of drawback - some prevision of life, a body that moves but his soul isn’t there, something, please RT, don’t double back on your “Death is permanent” thing again.

And Ironwood did lose his arm completely. It’s an awesome looking prosthetic, but the fact that it’s black when the rest of his prosthetics are silver, combined with the comments made by the CRWBY about Ironwood’s humanity, make me very afraid they’re going to go for some sort of bullshit parallel to Cinder’s black Grimm arm. I do like the orchestral version of Hero playing here, though.

I like Winter’s new hair style - similar enough to her previous one, but looser. Not exactly happy about what that might symbolize, but it looks really good. It looks like she might have nerve damage, though, which would mean she might be off the battlefield until she can get her hands (hah) on some sort of brace to help her move her hands (which might be hinted at in the OP~)

I do really like Ironwood and Winter’s relationship, please don’t f*ck it up, CRWBY.

Is the only thing CRWBY knows how to do to make Ironwood seem like the bad guy shoot people for no goddamn reason? Ironwood was surrounded by loyal soldiers after declaring martial law, there was no reason for him to not just order Slate detained (that one was Slate, right? Not that it matters). The man’s annoying and probably in cahoots with Jacques, but shooting him is out of character, excessive, and makes no sense when he could just be arrested. “It shows he’s slipping -” No. It’s lazy writing meant for shock value and to give characters a reason to go “Oh, he’s going evil now, I better question my loyalty to him” (based on the look Winter and Harriet share) rather than any actual flaw in his plans maybe because CRBY realized that Ironwood’s plans are rational and the best one on the table right now, so they can’t use that to turn people against him. F*ck that.

Salem sends a bloodhound or whatever after Oscar, we already saw this bit in the trailers. No comment.

TLDR: Once again, RWBY sets up a lot of stuff that I find interesting and want to see more of. However, their treatment of Ironwood doesn’t make me optimistic for them to treat him right, and RWBY has a track record of setting up good concepts/plots/characters/arcs and then failing to execute them well or at all. We’ll have to see if V8 actually lives up to the promise or falls flat due to the issues that plagued V6 and V7 .

Going to make a whole new list for the OP because dear Lord, this thing is dense.

This song is definitely more in line with RWBY’s usual sound than Trust Love, and I’m all for that. The beat is a little hinky to me - it’s going to take a few re-listens to get used to it - and once again I wish the lyrics were clearer, but I know people that weren’t as happy with V7′s sound will be happy with this return to form.

Establishing shots of Mantle going to hell, nice use of red and contrast, but I wish there was a bit more use of shadow to really sell the red coming from fires and emergency lights.

Ruby standing alone, turning to find the others standing at the ready to fight, but away from her and with their backs turned. Any chance of more dissent? Will we actually get some growth from Ruby, in regards to her leadership in particular? We can only hope.

The four girls, on a blackish/blue background with floating warm lights, with images of their V1 selves in their clothes/hair/weapons. I really love the animation in the portion, the girls look so good. It also makes me wish we’d get some sort of flashback to V1-3, because I want more of their Beacon designs in the new animation style. The fact that this background/setting shows up again later in the trailer makes me wonder if it might be what the interior of the Atlas vault looks like. No basis for that, just a random thought. Couple minor nitpicks, focused on Yang. The fact that she’s the only one not in a more dynamic pose (and this is Yang of all people) seems odd, and the way her hair flows looks weird to me based on the angles and whatnot. Putting her in a different pose like a charge would fix this, letting her hair flow more naturally and giving them the space they need to to add in her past self. Otherwise, gorgeous.

Ironwood with Atlas inside him, slowly being overtaken by the red as he looks up. No real comment other than beautiful.

Clover dropping his pin, with the AceOps and Qrow in the leaves, before transitioning to Qrow taking Robyn’s hand in prison. It looks like Harriet will be taking over as team leader. I don’t have a lot to say here - Marrow’s the only AceOp I’m interested in, and Qrow and Clover’s relationship has never been compelling for me. Robyn, similarly, is not a character I like, so a Qrow/Robyn team-up jailbreak isn’t something that I’m interested in unless Watts is involved. Already teamed up with one villain, Qrow, why stop there?

Oscar in pain holding his head, while Grimm eyes surround him and then Salem with wyvern wings comes out and looms over him preparing to grab him. I like the visual of Salem as the Wyvern at Beacon, but her face looks almost doofy in this shot. I think it’s the lack of expression mixed with the eyes. If she had a more menacing expression, I think this would work a lot better.

The falling weapons of the girls, Crescent Rose with Myrtenaster and Gambol Shroud with Ember Celica. Cue the shippers.

Jaune with his sword in front of his face, pulling it down to be at the ready, with Nora and Ren in the far background, their backs turned on each other but looking sad at their positions. I know Jaune’s thing is probably generic, but it gives me Mulan vibes, which is funny considering. Hey, hint that Martial Arcs will become canon now that Renora is on the rocks? fingers crossed More of Ren and Nora’s rough patch, and I really hope that that gets some focus. Their kiss last volume left a bad taste in my mouth with how it went down, and getting into these two as separate characters and their relationship. Ren not requiting Nora’s romantic feelings towards him would be a really interesting place to go with these characters that everyone’s pegged together since episode 4 (in no small part due to their lack of interaction with anyone else, but I’ll get to that).

Winter and Weiss walking towards each other on the Schnee symbol, passing each other by with Winter getting her new hairstyle and a brace of some sort. She’s actually wearing this brace in the hospital, but on the other arm, while now it’s on the arm she couldn’t bend her fingers with. Interesting, and it looks all looks really good!

The Schnee snowflake falls between Whitley and Willow, before shattering onto a chessboard. YESSSS, Whitley’s in the intro again! That’s more than I could’ve hoped, and I really really hope that him looking contemplatively like that means something - that’s he’s figuring things out, coming up with a plan, something! Still no new design though T-T CRWBY, what do I have to do to get my boy some new clothes?

From the chessboard, Salem rises up, turning the other black pieces into Grimm to attack the white where Ironwood stands. His pieces turn to dust, the board blowing away entirely. Nice callback to V1. Ironwood stands alone - no allies, and no space to move forward. He’s a king with nowhere to move - check or checkmate.

Smug Watts hacking while leaning against a mirror, rotates to show Pierto doing the same, his reflection looking over its shoulder at him, then a pan to Penny to show the same thing before the mirror breaks. I’m not sure what this might symbolize. Inability to trust yourself, maybe?

A snowflake flies through the air and lands in Ren’s palm. It turns into a flower petal, (or scraps his hand, I can’t quite tell) then Yang, Jaune, and Oscar join him, Ren smiling to Jaune. Another flower petal flies by to transition to Nora, who reaches out but can’t catch it, looking dismayed until RWBP comes in to join her. I assume the symbolism is straight-forward - the snowflake turns to a petal when caught by Ren (lotus guy), then flies to Nora who can’t catch it. Really living for the Ren focus in the op~

Pans to a shot of the whole group in the middle of everything - Atlas and Mantle overrun with Grimm on one side, Salem’s whale and Grimm army on the other, and Amity in the middle, which Penny flies up to hover below. Penny is going to be vital to launching Amity, and probably for reasons other than the terminal.

Then Ruby and Yang looking at each other with a smile and nod before the girls jump into fighting some Grimm. Interesting bit when the volume opens with the sisters starting to have disagreements.

The entire thing freezes, Cinder strolling cockily past the crew to walk in front of a bored/disgruntled Neo and Emerald who starts to wave but looks dejected when Cinder ignores her. Not much to say here - I don’t really like the freeze frame for some reason, no idea why. This also doesn’t give us any new info on the dynamics between these three characters.

Cinder grabs her Grimm arm in pain as fire flares up behind her, transitioning into Merc, Tyrian, Hazel, and Salem with the lamp in her eyes, transitioning to the lamp and staff twirling around each other, both emitting smoke like they’re being used as they come together. I wonder if this means that the last question and the Staff are going to be used, and maybe together? Once again, though - Atlas falling, people in the crater die.

Smoke clears up to reveal Ruby, looking up to Atlas first in invasion mode, then peaceful. Turn to a shot of the group standing looking to the left, Yang and Ruby looking like they’re posed but the others just kind of standing there. It’s a weird shot, and I’m not sure what to make of it, honestly.

The ice breaks beneath Ruby’s feet, sending RWBY falling into a void, their bodies trailing those lights that we saw before. Ruby opens her eyes to see the brightest light, the Staff. She reaches out to it, but Grimm paws and hands drag her down. V6 callback?

The word Happy? flashes only to be crossed out, a sketchy Grimm roaring, then the words Ever then Never as it’s crossed out, with a sketchy Penny lifting her head and her eyes then face going red, then the words After Again being crossed out. I’m not really of the words - I think it’s going for a Happily Ever After Happy? Never Again thing, but there’s no Happily that I can see, and it just kind of comes across as a bit emo to me. I like the sketches of the Grimm and Penny - I think it might be a Wyvern Grimm or something like that, and the red spreading from Penny’s eyes to her entire outline is interesting. I wonder if it’s connected to the Maiden powers and how she’ll use them.

Sketches of RWBY’s weapon fall into the snow, Crescent Rose falling with the tip stuck in the snow, then a flash and a pull out to Crescent Rose in the snow in full animation, framed by the broken moon as rose petals fly by with the “Created by Monty Oum” credit appears. I really like this as a reference to the Red trailer, and compared to the very cluttered ending shot of V7, this is a nice change of pace.

I like this OP. It’s definitely above V7′s for me, with a good song and some beautiful animation in it’s visuals. If I had to criticize it, I would say that it feels very long and cluttered. My breakdown of the opening feels as long as everything I mentioned in the actual episode. I realize one was going almost shot by shot, while the other summarized, but the point still stands that this things feels longer than it needs to be (I’d have to check time stamps to see if it is actually significantly longer).

A more promising start, all in all, than I’d hoped for. Things irritate me for sure, Ironwood’s treatment, Ruby’s plan, all that stuff, but I know I would have those bones to pick going in. The shake-up of the usual teams and the promise of inter-group conflict is enough to get me to want more, and I look forward to seeing how my favorite characters will be utilized.

What are your thoughts on the episode? Reblog and comment down below, and we’ll start a convo.

Until next time~

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby volume 8 #rwby8 spoilers #rwby 8 spoilers #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xioa long #episode breakdown

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dragonagecompanions · 5 years ago

Note

In DAI, hypothetically speaking, what would you think would happen if the Inquisitor was a powerful enough mage or whatever to keep both the chargers and qunari alive during Bull's quest? Or more importantly, what do you think would happen come the final dlc- would Bull still betray the player, abandon the Qun or make something up so he's far away from all of that and wont have make a choice or something?

Settle in Anon, because these are my favorite types of asks and I love you for it.

To really give this amazing submission justice, there are two sub topics that really tie into it. They are part and parcel of how Iron Bull reacts either way, and its part of why I think he is such a dynamic character.

The first -and overarching- component is the Qun itself. Right, wrong or indifferent the Qun operates on a very strict guideline of indoctrination and inbred loyalty. They mold children to the Qun from birth, denying the potential failings of parental units for the firmer guiding hand of the Tamassrans. By the time a child is ready to step into their rule their life is the Qun, bound up intrinsically to those ideals and beliefs.

And if they ever fail, there is re-education or Qamek, for in theory the Qun waste nothing. A mindless slave still sweeps or bakes.

It makes these children stronger in the Qun. And yet in some ways it is the Viddathari that highlight this training. We see it on the Storm Coast with Gatt (though it is also important to keep in mind that when working with kabethari (anyone not of the Qun) we are never given an expectation of honesty from the Qunari- and it highlights what makes the Qun so dangerous. People who come willingly to the Qun are likely running from something much worse. The idea of government mandated equality, and being treated as useful and of value for perhaps the first time in their lives builds a deep loyalty in these converts. And the Triumvirate knows it.

The second component is the Ben -Hassrath themselves. They are trained and chosen almost from birth for their skills in policing the population and working amidst the Unenlightened when needed. It almost guarantees a life far from Par Vollen, if you are not a reeducator. They need to be the charismatics, the missionaries, the people who can walk far from home with the absolute driving faith that they are right and you just don’t get it yet. The kind of faith that will either move mountains or make mountains of bodies-- and the Qun is good at both. To be a part of the Ben Hassrath you have to be unshakeable. And in my opinion placing the Iron Bull there was the first misstep by the Qun. A sword reforged is never as strong, and they sent a weak blade far from the blacksmith

And that might not matter for some or even most of those stationed amongst kabethari, but for some there must be a temptation. Something drives the Tal-Vashoth away, and it does it in large enough numbers that even those unconverted into the Qun are aware of this subset of the society.

These are people who saw something more than the Qun and wanted out, and were willing to throw their whole lives away from before that moment to get a piece of something more.

And there in the middle of that is where we find The Iron Bull. A valued member of the Qun, a Hissrad trained of the Ben-Hassrath who was so well trained and toing the line that when he felt his mind began to slip he reported to the re-educators himself. But he’s been away from Par Vollen for a long time, and he’s been surrounding himself with people who aren’t the same as him and building himself a little world that isn’t as every day orderly and tidy as the Antaam would be.

And if he ever gets those pricklings of doubt that he’s been far from home awhile, well-- they sent him to spy. Picking up those traits are natural, and he’ll shed them like a good Ben-Hassrath when he goes on to the next assignment.

And a decade of good companionship and good food and good sex without the strict rules and codes of the Qun are nothing to set aside. So when the Inquisition timeline finally comes up, you have an Iron Bull who is basically Qun in theory. And good as he thinks he is- and likely is- surely those people reading his reports in Pal Vollen could see it.

And so they build a trap, and so we come at last the idea of what happened on the cliffs. The game puts the decision into our hands, and Iron Bull abides by it either way. If we save the Chargers we are proving our own weakness, yes, but also the elements that I think the Iron Bull is falling in love with. Individual loyalty and merit and being able to see more than the black and white of the world. And if we sacrifice the Chargers its true that we are the chaotic, morally bankrupt and as wasteful as he was ever taught about the south-- and there is no one left to keep that in check.

The whole thing was a test for The Iron Bull, and while we are the ones answering the question it still tells the Qun what they want to know.

So if the Inquisitor can save both the Chargers and the Dreadnought on the Storm Coast? It merely delays things. I do not think it fixes anything else with the Qun, and there will be more tests in the future. But if the Inquisitor can save both and is willing to do so then I believe that will be as fracturing to the Iron Bull’s training as anything else. Because the Qun were willing to waste lives, despite flying in the face of their Creed and ideals. If that crumbles, everything else comes down too.

TL:DR - Unless the Chargers die, the Iron Bull was already walking away from the Qun and the Inquisitor lights the way.

-- Mod Fereldone

#dragon age #the iron bull #demands of the qun #mod fereldone does a rant

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solalunar-eclipse · 4 years ago

Text

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 2

Chapter title: Escape (from the city)

Word count: about 3500

Some small word choice has been edited.

If you’re here from the updated first chapter, please scroll down to the bolded line! The story continues there.

Previous | Next

Rouge looked out the window cautiously, sliding along the wall and peering around the window frame. She snapped the curtain shut a second later, spinning to face the others. Her eyes were wide. “Crap. They’re here. G.U.N. is here. They want the file- and us, probably. Chaos...I wonder if they want to ‘disappear’ us like in those spy movies.”

“Now who isn’t helping?” Omega said snarkily, aware that Shadow seemed to be on the verge of an actual panic attack.

Rouge glowered at him, before ignoring his comment entirely. “Alright, we probably have a few minutes, max, before they break down the door and try to get us. Omega, start packing. We need nonperishable food and water in case we can’t show ourselves in public, and we’ll want money. Hang on to our office supplies, too- we might need those. I am going to talk to Shadow and try to help him out a little. Good? Be ready to go in five.”

She sat Shadow down on the couch. His body was shaking slightly and his breathing was unsteady.

“Okay, hon, what’s got you so stressed?”

He shivered silently, refusing to speak- he could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

Rouge rubbed his back cautiously. “Talk to me, Shadow. Just talk. We can work on solving everything later, but you’ve got to get it out there so that I can help. Please?”

Shadow gave in. Again. His friends were far too good at getting him to open up- words spilled from his mouth faster than he could say them, crashing into each other. “It- it all started when I had to carry the guns again- they were barely tolerable during the invasion, but now all they do is remind me of that day- I can’t help but remember that it was them who did it all to me…”

His voice was tight, but he fought past it. “It makes me sick thinking about it, and the idea that they could do that again. But- they have the power, I don’t want everyone to hate me...what if- what if they do it, tell the world lies about me to retaliate for outing them, and Tails, Silver, Sonic can’t look at me the same? What if they believe G.U.N.?”

Rouge kept her hand on his shoulder, not sure of what else she could do. The bat knew she had only scratched the surface of his struggles, and it was already painful for her to watch. “They won’t! They would never, I can tell you that. Right now, though, we have to focus on making sure we get the word out about this so that G.U.N. can’t do it again, alright? One step at a time. Then we’ll deal with whatever comes next. And I promise Omega and I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

“If you say so...okay.” Shadow sighed. He could deal with this more later. Right now, the agents were here, ready to hurt his friends. They had to run, and Rouge and Omega would support him through everything. That could hold him together. For now.

Omega appeared in the doorway. “Are you ready to go? I do not wish to be turned into scrap metal.”

“Yes.” Shadow said, his voice slightly stronger. “Let’s get out of here.”

------------------------------ STORY CONTINUES HERE ---------------------------------

The three jumped into the high-tech convertible from earlier- now plus two impressively packed suitcases- and peeled out of the garage at full speed. Rouge was driving, since Shadow still wasn’t at a hundred percent. They could all hear the G.U.N. agents shouting behind them as they drove wildly away, but Rouge forced herself to focus on the road despite them.

The hybrid picked up his phone, knowing what he had to do next. It didn’t make this any better, though.

He dialed the number.

“Hello. This is Shadow.”

“Hi, Shads! What’s up! You busy?” an instantly recognizable voice chirped.

“I am in fact busy at the moment. That is why I am calling.”

“Aw, really?” Sonic sounded disappointed. “I was gonna ask if you could come over and race.”

“I’m afraid I cannot. Rouge, Omega and I are currently trying our best to not be captured by about twenty angry G.U.N. agents, so racing is… not an option right now.”

He heard a gasp from the other end of the line. “What?! Wait, what happened? Is there anything you need?”

Shadow smiled faintly- that was Sonic, always looking out for others. “Omega stole some files on my sister and her death. We spoke to G.U.N. beforehand, and they refused to do anything about their actions or even admit wrongdoing, so. We’re calling them out on it by finding proof of what they did.”

“They wouldn’t apologize? For that?!” Sonic yelled. “Jerks! I can’t believe you work for them!”

“Well, I strongly suspect that we are all fired, so that solves that problem.” Shadow replied dryly.

“Good! But you should’ve quit- show them who’s boss! If you need a place to stay while you’re taking them out, you can come crash with us, y’know.”

“That is a kind offer, Sonic, but I’m afraid I must turn you down. G.U.N. is already going to come in and question both you and Tails, and I don’t want you getting in any more trouble than you need.”

Sonic groaned. “Ugh, this whole thing sounds like one of those overly complicated super-secret missions you guys always go on. Or used to go on, whatever. There isn’t any butt-kicking in any of this- wish there was some dude I could beat up and then it’d be fixed.”

Shadow’s smile grew wider. “If only.” Then it faded. “I hope you understand why I won’t be able to tell you where we’re going or what our plans are from now on. The less you know, the safer you are. Despite this, don’t let G.U.N. take you or anyone else anywhere. You might not come back.”

He heard the skepticism in Sonic’s voice. “Seriously? You think so?”

“I know so. Be careful, Sonic. These people aren’t crazy geniuses- they’re ruthless destroyers. Trust me. And...we’re all going to shut down our phones. We could be tapped or tracked at any time. We’ll only call in from public phones or the like.”

“Oh, chaos….this really is serious, isn’t it?” Sonic’s voice was small. “Hang on, put me on speaker.”

Shadow did. “You’re on now.”

“Guys?” Sonic said. “You’re all awesome- I know you’re gonna make them pay. Just don’t die on me, we need you for movie night.” he said, only half joking.

“We will do our best.” Omega replied.

“Tell Knux I love him, ‘kay?” Rouge shouted.

“Will do!” Sonic replied, giggling.

Shadow took him off speaker and told him so.

“Sonic…stay safe. Please. I know you like to be the one who saves the day, but not this time, alright?”

The hero sounded tense. “Fine. But if I don’t hear from you guys for three days, I’m gonna start freaking out. You hear me?”

Shadow laughed bitterly. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. I’d hate to come back and find your house destroyed.”

“Yeah…” Sonic said weakly.

The hybrid sighed. “I suppose I must go now. Tell everyone else, alright? I’ll confirm what you say via text before I shut down my phone.”

“Okay. Bye, Shads- talk to ya later!” Sonic made an effort to sound cheerful.

“Talk to you soon.” Shadow said, and then he ended the call.

Rouge grinned. “Awww, that’s sweet. Done talking to your boyfriend, Shadow?”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Shadow roared, blushing. “We’re only rivals, Rouge, get that idea out of your head now!”

“Suuure~” Rouge said, laughing at Shadow’s embarrassment.

They became serious again quickly, however. Rouge hadn’t quite managed to lose the agents yet. She drove through two alleyways (“I just cleaned the car yesterday…” Omega complained), ran several red lights, and played one horrible game of chicken with a streetcar before they were able to get away.

Shadow had nearly had multiple heart attacks by the time that was over.

He heard his phone ping with a message while he was in the middle of switching off the other two. Of course Rouge had the latest iCall 11, while Omega had a 10 that Rouge had gifted him.

Shadow himself had a Candystripe (shameful, he knew, but they were easier for him to use), and that was at least partly why the group always messaged through Entropy.

He opened it up to see Sonic’s ten texts.

sanic: hey guys shads just called

he & rouge & omega are running from gun

they stole some important files about maria (sorry about the name drop shadow)

& gun got stupid mad

they wouldn’t say sorry or do anything about what they did to her either

so i really wanna beat someone up for that ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭

team dark is kinda scared for their lives now bc of gun so we can’t text them for a while or anything cuz they’re turning off their phones

oh and knux rouge says she loves u

i’d make a joke but tbh i’m actually freaking out a little rn

this sounds crazy i kno but it’s true

milesperhour: Wait, what? Are you serious??

andknuckles: Rouge, stay safe, alright

Don’t get hurt

Shadow smirked. “Your boyfriend wants you to stay safe. He’s worried.”

Rouge blushed. “He’s sweet, isn’t he?”

notclairvoyantjustpsychic: WHAT

CHAOS THEY DID NOT

edgehog: Yes, they did. Unfortunately. I’ve passed your message along, Knuckles. Please don’t scream, Silver.

Goodbye for now. We’ll get in touch later.

Shadow shut off his phone after that, but not before he saw one last private text.

sanic: i’m gonna miss u shads…. T-T

Shadow sighed quietly as he and his friends drove out of the city. He and Sonic had grown pretty close, and the blue hero was the only person outside of Team Dark whom he truly trusted.

He would most definitely miss Sonic as well.

...

Once the three had driven for the rest of the day- Omega took over once Rouge got tired- they pulled off into a small motel out in the plains of the United Federation.

A neon “Vacant” sign flickered faintly as the wind rushed through the golden fields. The sign for Cloud 9 Motel was faded and weatherbeaten, and there was only one other car in the parking lot. The sandstone-colored building was shaped like a blocky U, the front desk vaguely visible through clouded windows.

Shadow walked over to the motel doors and pushed them open, pulling out some money to pay for a room. Omega went with him- the robot needed to charge, and Rouge wanted some privacy for a minute.

The bat found an old pay phone off to the side and took a turn calling Knuckles. She stood there quietly, watching the sunset as she waited for him to pick up.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Rouge?! It’s you?” She heard him shout away from the phone. “Sonic! Tails! It’s Rouge calling!”

She smiled quietly, but couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh. “You’re with your friends, hm?”

“Yeah- we’re figuring out what to do.”

Rouge frowned. “Don’t do anything- didn’t Sonic tell you what Shadow said? This is dangerous!”

Knuckles scoffed. “Dangerous? I led the Resistance against the Eggman Empire! Don’t talk to me about danger!”

Rouge facepalmed. She loved Knuckles so, so much, but he could be such an idiot sometimes.

“Yes, but the difference is, Eggman launched full-scale attacks that you could plan for. G.U.N. will not hesitate to shoot you in the back as you hang out with your friends.”

“People would do that?!” Knuckles shouted. He was still awfully naive about the world, and Rouge tended to forget this occasionally.

“They absolutely would. I need you to promise me that you, Sonic, and Tails will stay out of this.”

“But what about you?” he asked. “And Omega and Shadow?”

“I see you’re even worried about him, hm? Well, don’t worry about us- we’re used to dealing with these guys.” Rouge snickered.

Knuckles groaned. “I don’t hate Shadow, I just don’t really like him either. And he’s in danger too.”

“Thank you, hon.” she said honestly, appreciating that the echidna was starting to care about her friend. At least a little.

“I should probably go soon, but we’re currently at a motel in the middle of nowhere- I can’t tell you which one- and we’ll start planning our next move. Talk to you later, alright?”

“Talk to you later. Love you…” Knuckles said nervously. She could practically hear him blushing on the other end.

“Love you too, Knuckles. Bye!”

She hung up the phone and leaned against the glass wall of the booth, already missing him. He was really such a kind person underneath all that bluster, and that’s what she’d fallen for in the first place.

She looked up, noticing that Shadow left the building. He walked across the parking lot and opened up the door. “You’ll see him again soon, Rouge. All we have to do is get this footage and then we’ll be back home.”

“I know, it’s nothing.” she said softly.

The hybrid stood awkwardly for a moment, before quietly extending his arms. The gesture looked incredibly strange, but Rouge knew what he was trying to do and really appreciated it. She hugged him tightly and smiled. “You’re a good friend, Shadow.”

He held her a little tighter. “Take a look at yourself- you’re willing to go to Chaos-knows-where just to help me find some old video.”

She pulled back and smiled at him. “That’s what friends are for, right? Now let’s go check out that room.”

Shadow scuffed at the ground, sighing loudly. “Before you go in, you should know I used false names for all of us- the woman at the desk didn’t seem to know who any of us were, though she did say I looked like Sonic.” He didn’t seem pleased with that.

“I called Omega ‘Theta’ because it was the first idea I had. I haven’t given you a name yet because I thought you’d want your own…...less lame one.”

“Good...but what’s yours?” Rouge asked, smirking.

“I was on the spot.” Shadow couldn’t meet her eyes. “I used Apophis as my name. The ancient mythical chaos snake. It sounds so formal….”

Rouge grinned but held in her laugh for his sake. Shadow, despite his emo appearance, was definitely a nerd.

“My name should be….Ruby. Like the gem.”

Shadow looked confused. “Why?”

“Because of my name, silly. It means ‘red’ in French, and rubies are red.” Rouge said lightly.

“Oh….I suppose that makes sense.” he muttered, looking a little bewildered.

They went up to the room and discovered that Omega had already plugged himself into the outlet in the wall. He looked up when Rouge and Shadow walked in. “This electricity is subpar, but it will suit my purposes.” he informed them.

Rouge couldn’t help teasing him a little. “What, does it taste bad or something?”

Omega would have rolled his eyes, if he could. “No. It is simply weak and limited so that you organics do not electrocute yourselves.”

The bat surveyed the room critically, noting the lack of certain furniture. “Really, Shadow? You know Knuckles is going to pound you into the ground if he finds out we shared a bed.”

“It was cheaper.” Shadow called flatly from the closet, over the noise of his attempt to put away the suitcases. “We don’t have an endless supply of money, and I can sleep in the desk chair if you have an issue with this.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Rouge replied. “Besides, he knows that I’ve never been into that kind of thing. Or dating you, no offense.”

“Agreed, and none taken.” The hybrid came back out and sank down onto the bed. “Omega, would you mind pulling up the schematics of the G.U.N. facility we’re trying to break into? I know you were heading in that general direction, but where is it, and how would we get inside?”

“Processing. You know, you are very lucky that I downloaded all schematics early on in our work with G.U.N..”

“Very lucky that you got lost once and then refused to have it happen again, you mean,” Rouge shot back.

“We do not speak of that incident. Ever.”

“Alright, alright, now where are we breaking in?” Shadow snapped, his quills bristling. He looked tense, Rouge noticed. She sat down next to Shadow and gave him a quiet look to try and calm him down. He sighed.

“Schematic loaded. Accessing…”

Suddenly, a three-dimensional map of the facility appeared in the room, along with an address in the lower right corner of the display. Rouge patted Shadow’s back once before getting up to survey the map- as a thief, she was the most experienced and therefore the authority on breaking and entering. And stealing, of course.

“So,” she said after a moment, “we’re definitely going in through the side door. While the vents are more classic, they’re also a greater hazard and Omega wouldn’t fit. Sorry, Omega.”

“That is fine.”

“So, we’ll grab a couple of delivery uniforms- and we will return them, don’t worry-” she added, for Shadow’s benefit. She knew he didn’t like doing anything that would hurt people just trying to get by.

“-and then we can get inside through that door. We’ll navigate the halls and head straight to the video storage rooms, which are here.” Rouge pointed to a specific area of the map, which Omega helpfully enlarged. “We’re going to need to split up and search them quickly. Most likely, the video will be on a VHS tape, so that’s what we’re looking for. G.U.N. is nothing if not organized, so they’ll probably just have a box labeled ‘ARK Files’. Everyone clear?”

“Yes.”

“Affirmative.”

“Now then, there are guards on a rotating schedule that pass by the same area every fifteen minutes. We’ll need to avoid them and move quickly, because we don’t want to be seen. I know we could take out two guards if necessary, but we don’t want any of them radioing in to the security center and setting off an alarm.”

“I will remove any threat before it becomes too big to handle, no matter what.” Omega declared.

“I’m not sure that’s the point of a stealth mission, Omega.” Shadow replied, a small smile on his face.

Rouge noticed that this was the first time he’d smiled properly in a while.

“Alright, now let’s get some rest. We’re going to need it for the next few days.”

“The next few days?” Omega asked. “Why are we not attacking them tomorrow?”

“Because they’ll be expecting us tomorrow, Omega- all of G.U.N. is going to be on high alert.” Rouge said, exasperated. “We have to lie low for a while, make them drop their guard.”

Shadow sighed. “I can’t stand waiting, but if it means we’ll be safer, I suppose we have no choice.”

“Good.” Rouge replied, going into her “team mom” mode. “Now. Rest.”

It was strange for her sometimes, being the leader of the team. Shadow and Omega both acted younger than her, even though their ages were incredibly confusing. Shadow was either five, fifteen, or fifty-five, depending on how you counted, and Omega was essentially ageless. Yet somehow she, at eighteen, was the team leader in most situations.

She certainly didn’t mind it, though.

As she lay in bed at night, her attempts to sleep were quickly foiled by the hedgehog next to her. Shadow could not lie still.

“Are you always like...this, Shadow?” she asked, trying her best to be polite.

“...no…” he mumbled quietly, turning away from her.

“This is a really stressful time for you, isn’t it?” she asked gently.

He lay there for a moment.

“Perhaps.” he said finally, his voice flat.

Rouge thought about what to do next.

“Omega, what’s the length of your charging cable?”

“Twelve feet. Why do you ask?”

“Get in.”

Shadow sat up quickly. “Wait- what?!”

Rouge smirked. “Get in, Omega. It’s time for a team hug session.”

Shadow attempted to protest, but Omega climbed onto the bed anyway and lay down on the hybrid’s other side.

Rouge watched Shadow, feeling relieved when he began to relax. Omega’s computers were whirring away softly, providing a steady background hum that pushed her friend to sleep.

He sighed, murmuring quietly. “Good night, Omega. Sleep well, Rouge.”

“Night, boys.” she said.

“I will keep watch while you both sleep. Just in case.” Omega replied.

Shadow’s eyes began to close. “Heh. Thanks…. Omega……”

Rouge shut her eyes as well, pleased with herself. This was her team, and they were going to kick G.U.N. to the curb. But that could wait for tomorrow- right now, it was late, and she could rest. Finally.

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #team dark #scars you can't see #introducing team sonic!#and also silver #shadow likes to pretend he's okay but he's really not #rouge and shadow are 100% ace #also just to clarify sonic and shadow really aren't dating #but they're definitely close to crushing at this point #sol’s fanfiction

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 156

156

At the back of the aquarium was the animal park/zoo. Lance wanted to feed the deers, so they did, his boyfriend would have adopted them all if left alone unsupervised for too long. For someone who hadn’t wanted a cow, Lance was pretty attached to his cow. His boyfriend fawning over everything that moved. Zero fear at all when it came to the snakes, where Keith liked to think he has a healthy fear of them. They did their own thing and he did his own thing. Never the pair to cross paths. How could they have snakes near open pens with pattble bunnies did his head in. Didn’t they worry the snakes would get the rabbits? The pavilion was dedicated to kids more than adults, Lance seemed to fit right in. Keith conned into rabbit cuddles. As nice as it was terrifying trying not to drop the rabbit, Kosmo was cuter when he’d been smaller. Lance just as cute as he smiled up at him holding his own rabbit happily. The rabbit in Keith’s arms was... he supposed... cuterish... until it pooped and Lance cackled so hard he had lean against the rabbit pen wall. This was why Kosmo was better. Keith taking a baby wipe from a zoo worker to clean up the mess on his hand as the rabbit was half dropped and half thrown the few inches back into its pen. Fuck rabbits and fuck snakes. They weren’t for him. He had Kosmo and he had Blue. That was definitely enough to keep him happy in the fur department.

Stumbling his steps, Keith came to a stop as he held Lance to him. His boyfriend’s colour faded from his face as sweat beads rolled down his forehead. The day wasn’t terribly warm, but the lack of cloud cover and coming out the air conditioning must have been getting to Lance. The pavilion was like a cool oasis before you stepped out into heat and the paths that looped around back to where they currently were

“Babe, want to take a break?”

Expecting Lance to say no, because he was a stubborn idiot about all the wrong things, his boyfriend nodded

“Sorry. I need to sit for a bit”

Okay. He wasn’t going to freak out. Nope. Lance had made it clear he was over being fussed over. A quick scan and he’d found a converted building with a neon sign in the window

“There’s a cafe. Let’s get something to drink”

“Yeah... I need a moment”

Propping Lance up, Keith lead them over to the cafe where he glared a couple away from the only available seats on the shaded veranda of the old building. Sitting Lance down, his boyfriend pushed his chair back, leaning heavily on his thighs as he hunched forward, legs spread as if he thought he might vomit between his feet

“Babe?”

“I’m sorry. Can you get me some water?”

“Yep. Hang on. Don’t move, I’ll be right back”

Grabbing two bottles of water Keith’s anxieties had him practicing what he’d say to the server as he took his place in line. The family at the sandwich counter were fighting with kids over having to eat sandwiches and not cream topped cake. The aircon in the house barely seemed to make a dent, and when he got to the counter he fumbled down both bottles of water, flustered and annoyed over the wait. Paying for both bottles hurt his heart. No bottle of water ever should cost $5 each. That was ridiculous. If Lance hadn’t needed water he’d definitely have had some very choice words to say over how they ran their cafe. In his rush to get back to Lance he nearly forgot his wallet, then bumped squarely into some kid that started crying. Apologising to the cranky mother who rushed to her precious darlings side, Keith had had enough of crowds. Enough of people. Like, couldn’t they see he was in an obvious rush? Or did they expect him to make Lance wait, then would complain if Lance threw up in front of their kids? People were too damn complicated. He should have been paying better attention to when Lance stopped laughing and started stumbling.

Lance had stripped off his jumper and used it to cover his belly as he leant against the veranda railing in his chair. His boyfriend still looked ill, but at least he was upright. A few people were glancing in his direction. Keith resisting the urge to snap at them for staring. If they were going to state they could at least offer assistance

“Babe, I’ve got the water”

Raising his head Lance blinked at him, a smile slowly coming to his lips

“Hmm... what? Oh. Thanks...”

“Are you okay? You don’t look like you feel very well”

“Just a little faint. And a whole lot of thirsty. Why do you smell funny?”

Keith handed Lance his bottle of water, using himself to shield Lance from those staring. Raising his upper slightly, Keith didn’t want to think about whatever had been on the kids hands, or on its face. He was going to be a horrible parent. What kind of person felt icky about a strangers dirty kid? Kids were dirty creatures

“Bumped into a kid. More like they bumped into me. I have no idea why it was on the loose”

“You were rushing, weren’t you?”

Sprung. He couldn’t help but rush. Ten minutes in a line of people who felt as frustrated as he did then turned out to not be able to make their damn minds up either. Then again, the cakes did actually look good. Maybe had Krolia not given him food poisoning he would have picked a slice to share with his boyfriend

“Maybe?”

Lance sighed, cracking open his bottle of water as he did. His boyfriend realising he was watching him

“Come sit down already. I’m alright. I’m feeling better in the shade”

“You said you felt faint. If this is too much...”

How often did Lance feel faint? Often enough to hide it from him?

“Keith, sit down already. It’s hotter out here than I expected. That’s it. I’m fine”

Keith didn’t quite believe Lance as he sat across from him. They’d done a fair bit of walking. The complex deceptively large inside with the outdoor area feeling more like an after thought. Still, this was closest thing to an actual zoo in the area. It made sense why it’d be so popular with families

“You’re frowning. What’s on your mind?”

“How often do you feel faint?”

Lance sighed at him

“It’s okay. I’ve normally had a nap by now and I didn’t sleep that much last night. But I’m fine now I’m sitting. You should drink your water or you’ll end up dehydrated”

“Are you you don’t need it?”

Lance rolled his eyes at him

“Babe. You’ve got to relax. Besides, my bladder is like the size of a walnut these days. I’ve already had to pee like three times. It’s repetitive”

“Was it because of the water?”

Maybe the sound of running water or being surrounded by so much of it was making his boyfriend pee more?

“Nope. I know what you’re hinting at and no. Seriously, they don’t over exaggerate this peeing thing. Everything’s all squished up to make space for these two”

“I’m sorry”

Lance sighed at him again. Replacing the cap on his bottle of water as he leaned on the table

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’ve got new dad jitters. I’m enjoying myself, and if it’s any indication by how much these two are moving, they are too. What do you think of this place?”

Keith let Lance have the topic change, sitting back in his chair as he nodded

“It’s cool. I mean. It’s not like hugely fancy, but it’s cool. The rabbits suck”

“I don’t know. I thought they were kind of cute”

“Because you didn’t get crapped on”

“That was definitely an advantage. It’s nice. Just seeing all these people going about their lives. It’s nice”

There was a clear “but” in Lance’s tone

“But...”

“Honestly, a kid tripped and I smelt blood. Kids trip all the time, but it got me wondering how I’d react to our kids”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. It kind of scares me. I mean, I think I’ll be okay. I think it’s just all these extra hormones amping up my senses. I’ve taken care of Pidge and Hunk before, and you without going crazy. I think I’m just over thinking it”

“You wanted to help the kid, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I think I’m touchy because it’s a kid. They’re supposed to be enjoying themselves and not face planting on the walkways”

“They’ll be fine. Seriously though... these kids are scary”

Lance chuckled, his colour still wasn’t improving but if he could laugh Keith would take it as a sign his boyfriend felt a bit better

“That’s going to be us. And we’re going to have two of them. I hope they don’t inherit your sense of direction”

“Rude. I got us here in one piece”

“You did. It hasn’t quite been the same riding around in a car since... you know”

Since Lance flipped a truck to save him and Curtis...

“You still think about that?”

“I think about how damn lucky we were. I don’t know how you’re so willing to get back on your bike after it”

“I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, my accident wasn’t that bad. And I’ve missed my bike. Do you want me to sell it?”

Lance shook his head immediately

“No. No. I mean, I don’t love your bike but you do. I want you to have the things you love. I’m going to have to get used to it sooner rather than later”

“It has been off the road as long as you’ve been pregnant”

“I know. I’m still not sure how we made the twins...”

“When a daddy loves a daddy...”

Groaning at him, Lance’s smile only grew

“When a weird vampire drinks the blood of a weirdo, magical things happen?”

“Something like that. What do you want to do after this?”

Keith had a plan of how he wanted the day to go. First the Aquarium Centre, then out for lunch, then putting on his big boy pants and facing crowds. Lance needed more clothes, especially with how large his stomach was getting. Plus, he wanted to see Lance getting excited over things for their twins. He wanted to check out furniture... maybe choose a theme? That’s what parents did right?

“Maybe take a nap? I know it’s not a very exciting outcome”

“Babe, it’s fine. We can totally head back to the apartment and take a nap. I have no idea how I’m supposed to go back to work with all this time off”

“Does that mean you take a secret nap in the afternoons at the garage?”

Hunk would let him. Matt would see an open opportunity to get up to some kind of mischief. Grease on his hands. A grease moustache. Anything was possible if he let his guard down

“No. But I have thought about it. Then I remember Matt’s there and I think again”

“I don’t think he’d play up at work. You know Rieva tried to pay me rent? I mean, who charges their family rent?”

“Parents?”

Lance shrugged

“Mami never charged me. I told her to put it towards the food bill instead. I’m paying the same amount no matter the number of people in the household”

“You’re using more power and water”

“Yeah, but I’d still rather them save up for their own place or save towards going to see Rieva’s parents. This time last year it was only me and Blue”

“And now?”

“And now we’ve got a whole family in there. I’m so grateful to have met all of you... I’m going to be sad when Curtis leaves for good. It’s not the same without him there”

Keith huffed, hoping his expression seemed as if he was acting hurt

“Should I worry you’re going to run off with him?”

“I don’t know. He does give a pretty good running commentary when we’re watching our shows together. And he’s stopped coming at me with sex toys”

“What am I supposed to tell Shiro when you two elope?”

Lance choked on air, coughing as he shook his head

“I don’t want to die... Shiro would kill me. What about you? Would you stop the wedding?”

“Nope. I’d burn down the church so you couldn’t marry him in the first place”

“Babe, you can’t burn down churches!”

Still coughing, Lance opened his bottle of water again and proceeded to choke on that too. Keith hanging his head, useless against an invisible enemy. He’d gone and made himself upset with his own jokes. Lance was right though. Curtis was into cheesy dramas and Keith really wasn’t. Asking questions only got him glared at as Lance would be forced to spend more time explaining things to him than watching his show. Slowly recovering, Lance wiped his mouth, still coughing slightly as he shook his head again

“I have to pee again. I’ll be right back”

“You’ll be okay?”

Lance gestured towards the sign Keith hadn’t noticed. There were toilets at the side of the cafe

“I’ll be right back. Here, look after my stuff”

Lance’s stuff was his wallet and phone. Keith tapping the screen to check the time and noticing Lance had half a dozen missed calls from Hunk and Matt, his boyfriend’s phone set to “Do Not Disturb”. That couldn’t be good. Pulling out his own phone, Keith opened up his contacts, calling Matt instead of Hunk. Hunk would have been the better one to call, but if something was going on, Matt would be the calmer one to relay information. The call took long enough to connect that Keith was bored of holding his phone to his ear, and a little annoyed Matt hadn’t answered immediately

“Keith?”

“You called? What’s wrong now?”

Okay. He could have hidden someone of his annoyance, but Matt could have also texted whatever was up to Lance

“Oh! Shit. Yeah. Are you with Lance?”

No. He was on a doomed mission to Pluto. Where else was he going to be?”

“Yeah, we’re on a date. What’s going on?”

“His sister showed up here today. No idea what she wanted, but she left in a hurry. Rieva saw her as she was leaving for work”

“Which sister?”

“I don’t know... Rieva said she was pretty shocked to see her, then didn’t look too happy Lance wasn’t home”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nope. She thought I should call you guys and let you know as soon as possible. She said she caught her peaking in through the lounge room window”

That couldn’t be good. What the hell was Lance’s sister doing showing up?!

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll let Lance know. If you see her again, don’t bother asking why she’s around...”

“I know it’s complicated, but you sound like you’re not going to tell Lance. Has something happened?”

Maybe the thought had crossed Keith’s mind, but Lance wouldn’t be impressed if Keith didn’t tell him

“Not that I know. I don’t think it’s a touching family reunion she’s after”

“Hunk said the same thing. Anyway, bro. I’ll let you get back to your date. Are you guys coming home today?”

“Maybe. Lance wants to spend some time with Curtis”

“Okay, well, Rieva put the alarm on. I’ll let you know if his sister shows up again”

“Thanks”

Keith hung up as Matt was saying his goodbyes. Keith now really wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t tell Lance that one of his sisters was snooping around his house. He vaguely remembered Rachel had drug problems, so maybe... she was going to break in? Veronica had kids... what had she done with them? Luis and Lisa hadn’t told Nadia and Sylvio about Lance. Or was it Lisa? Had Luis sent Lisa to ask for Mami’s ring? Maybe Rieva had gotten it wrong and it wasn’t Lance’s sister... but then who would it be? Why would some strange woman who wasn’t Krolia be poking around Lance’s home? Rome better not have reversed their decision. Fucking Matt had ruined his whole mood. Shoved the responsibility on him, and now it’d be on his mind until the end of their date if he didn’t tell Lance about it right now. Keith didn’t want to skip the nocturnal section. He wanted to get his own back over the rabbit incident by teasing Lance over a family reunion with the bats. He missed Lance’s tiny little bat form. With his chubby belly and tiny little teeth as he fed from Keith’s finger. He wished he’d taken video of Lance floating around in the ice cream container in the bathtub. Or with his bubble beard and unamused look... But if he told Lance, Lance would be depressed and worried for the rest of their visit to the zoo.

Waiting for his boyfriend to return, Keith started getting concerned as people came and went from the public toilets with none of those people being Lance. Gathering up their things, Keith ignored the few looks he got as he left the veranda area and turned the corner to head into the public toilets. Stared at as if his arrival was somehow startling, Keith made his over to the three cubicles against the wall. Leaning against the corner as if he was waiting in line, and not waiting to see who came out of which one to determine where his boyfriend was.

Pretending to be polite, Keith gestured to those actually as the two cubicles opened, with Lance in the closest, he was grateful the zoo employed the simple turn locks and nothing fancy as he slipped the edge of one of Lance’s key into the small slit, to let himself into the cubicle. Sitting on the toilet lid, Lance had a wad of tissues to his nose as he cried silently, Keith rushing to lock the door behind him and move to kneel in front of his boyfriend

“Babe?”

Raising his head, Lance hiccuped softly, relief coming into his big blue eyes

“Keith...”

That was all it took for Keith to be wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Lance shuddering as he let out an audible sob

“Babe, what happened?”

If someone had hurt Lance, he was going to murder them very slowly for daring to touch him. Logic out the window, and the numerous other reasons Lance’s nose could be bleeding, out with it

“I’m... I... panicked... and I... my nose”

Lance sounded all stuffy, as he would have if he had a broken nose or a head cold

“Can I see?”

Nodding Lance drew back, Keith cupping his face in his hands as his boyfriend pulled the toilet paper away from his nose

“What happened?”

“I panicked... and bumped a guy who pushed me... and I smacked my face”

Who the fuck shoved someone who’d bumped them by accident?!

“I’m going to kill him”

“No... no... this is my fault”

“Babe, your nose is messed up!”

Why couldn’t Lance admit that he wasn’t to blame?! Clearly the other guy had over reacted

“I... he broke my nose... and my arm... and I... I killed him”

Hang on. What? Keith hadn’t seen any dead bodies in the bathroom. A normal human had a habit of screaming in the face of a discovery like that. The only person... oh...

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay. He’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not going to hurt you again”

“I know... I didn’t mean to panic... the... the basement had a stone floor and it came out of nowhere... and I tried to hide it... but I...”

Lance was starting to smell sweet. The wanker who’d pushed him had pushed him right over the edge. He was lucky Lance was coherent enough to talk to him. Fucking Sendak

“Okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry I didn’t come faster. Does your nose hurt?”

Lance nodded, bottom lip bleeding too from where his fangs had pierced it. Lance didn’t tell him Sendak broke his nose and his arm. Keith wished he could resurrect the wank stain and lop his damn head off for himself

“My whole head hurts. He hurt Curtis and I lost my head. I didn’t... I...”

“Shhh. You were in an impossible situation. You need to calm your breathing down. Can you do that?”

“I can’t smell you...”

Thanks to fucking blood across his face

“I know. I’m here though. Breathe through your mouth. In for 6 out for 12...”

Lance nodded at him, making the attempt

“Good. Good, just like that. Just like that. He’s gone and you never have to see him again... just keep breathing for me”

As Lance kept on with trying to calm his breathing, Keith pulled off a long strip of toilet paper, starting to clean his boyfriend’s face up. Lance would heal, but it wasn’t fair that some douche took his bad mood out on him. Lance’s voice wavered as he mumbled

“Is it bad?”

“I’m pissed as hell, but not at you”

“I’m trying. I am... but... when I saw the floor I panicked...”

“Hey. You’re not to blame”

“I ruined our whole date!”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Nothing at all. You’re okay now. Fuck... I should have come in with you”

“You were on the phone”

Right. Super hearing. Lance had probably heard every rude thing whispered as people watched him recovering. He couldn’t lie. Lance deserved better than a lie, even if this wasn’t the time for the truth

“Matt called. He said your sister came to see you. Rieva didn’t know which one”

Lance’s sharp intake of breath cause Keith to knock his boyfriend’s nose, more blood running from his nostrils in a fresh wave as he hissed in pain

“Sorry! I’m so sorry...”

Lance whimpered as Keith wiped the blood up. Shiro would have once lost his shit over him doing this without thinking twice

“Can we go home? I... want to go home...”

“Yeah, babe. We’ll wait a little longer until your nose stops bleeding. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything? Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

“N-no... I scratched myself... with my nails... I didn’t...”

“Shhh. You’re not to blame and you’d be saying the same thing if our positions were reversed. Can you show me?”

Lance’s nails were long and lethal looking. His boyfriend had scratched up the soft skin of his inner left wristKeith had a fair idea of what happened. Lance would have walked into the bathroom, moving out the way of someone leaving. He’d probably looked down and seen the floor. Feeling himself panicking and his body reacting, his boyfriend would have tried to hide in the first available cubicle, accidentally bumping the guy who’d shoved him out the way. With how good Lance’s memory was, he’d be recalling Sendak’s touch, associating it with the feel of his nose getting messed up and panicked further. When had going to the toilet become so dangerous? People sucked.

“A few scratches but your jumper will hide them. You’ll be okay. We’ll go back to the apartment and we can snuggle”

“I’m so sorry... I ruined our whole date”

“You didn’t. You didn’t do a single thing wrong”

“I must have... he shoved me so hard...”

Why hadn’t he grabbed his fucking gun? Stabbing the guy didn’t seem as good as shooting him in both feet and making the man walk himself to help

“He’s the one with the problem, not you. Let me clean your chin up. You’ve got blood down you front”

Using up most of his bottle of water, Keith got Lance as cleaned up his could. His boyfriend’s scent spiking in waves, Lance not mentioning it so Keith didn’t either. Replacing the toilet paper with a fresh wad, once Lance had his jumper back on, Keith got his boyfriend standing then flushed away all the evidence, careful to triple check there was no split blood on the floor or the door. So much for the peaceful date that they both more than deserved.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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takadasaiko · 4 years ago

Text

Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist (a Veronica Mars oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: When Logan and his Navy buddy get volunteered for the Career Day fair at Neptune High on the same day that Veronica is hired by Principal Clemmons for a case, Logan's two worlds cross with some soul-searching results.

Notes: When I started this series the plan was to keep it as a pretty strict extension of canon, but after going through S4 again I feel like it's more accurate to say that it's a very subtle AU with most of canon intact. Most of the time, you may not even be able to tell, while others I'm going to splinter off a bit more. This is one of those times. I haven't finished the novels yet, but I understand that Logan provides a bit of backstory on how he joined the Navy in the second one. At least in spirit it lined up pretty closely with the head canon I was already getting attached to, so I decided to keep the head canon for this series. I'll try to let you know in any future fics as well if it splits for information I know was provided.

Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist

One of the countless ironies in his life was that it had been his father that had started him on his love of quoting others to find his own way. It made sense, even if he hated it. An actor regurgitating others' words in his own voice and making a mint of people for doing so, but Logan hadn't stopped with movies. He watched everything, read more than admitted to in his younger years, and stored every word, every syllable that he could away in the library of his mind to work into his own vocabulary. He'd honed a quick wit and sharpened his tongue to a razor's edge of protection over the years. It hadn't defended him at home, but it left him ready to take on anyone outside of those walls willing to come at him. Anger had fueled him and made him deadly to the point that he'd driven off nearly everyone that was willing to challenge him for whatever reason.

Almost everyone, and those rare few that had remained had been his saving grace. All these years later he could acknowledge that. Duncan Kane who had been willing to walk off when he'd crossed that line into total jackassery, Dick Casablancas who had done what he could - if he even knew he was doing it or not - by harassing him out of the deep funks he fell in, and that shining beacon of light named Veronica Mars that had reminded him of his own mortality while simultaneously easing the sting of the wounds inflicted by his life. It hadn't always been easy, especially with Veronica. Aaron may have led him to a love of words, but as Logan closed the door to his convertible - tucked in a line of clunkers and high-end cars that made up the Neptune High parking lot - he knew that he never would have made it this far on words alone. He had always craved support. Needed it. And even after Veronica had left, fleeing the black hole that Neptune felt like at times, he'd found it.

He just wondered what kind of quote he could rattle off that could somehow find peace between his then and his now as he stood looking onto the high school that he'd graduated from, the life that he'd left so far behind in so many ways, but he was drawing a blank. No, this was what it was, and really he couldn't even trace it back to a place where he could remember agreeing to this potential powder keg of a day. The order had come down and he'd said yes sir like a good soldier.

"The rest of the squad and I have a bet going on just how much trouble you got into back in the day."

Logan turned to look at Dave Riley, one of the very few people on the planet that he would be willing to die for. He straightened, showing himself to be a good three or four inches shorter than Logan and skinny as hell. His strawberry-blond hair and green eyes that were too big for his freckled face gave him an air of innocence that Logan knew he used to his advantage. That Midwest drawl did it too. People always underestimate him, but Riley had scored even higher than Logan had on the ASTB-E - Aviation Standard Test Battery - which was saying something. He wouldn't have had anyone else watch his back in the air. Thankfully the Navy had agreed when they assigned Riley as his Weapons System Officer.

"Yeah? You really think it's a fair bet for you to weigh in on?"

Riley shrugged and flashed a wide grin that would have put anyone else at ease. Logan knew better. The more innocent he looked, the more shit Riley was likely to pull. "I'm just here to be the honest voice to deliver back anything I learn."

Logan snorted. "Uh-huh."

"Trust issues. You've got them, my friend."

"I've just known you too long."

"Maybe, but you do trust me."

"Doesn't mean anybody else should."

"Maybe I just want to see pre-bottom-of-the-barrel Echolls. They all saw you after you enlisted, but me? I saw you before and it was not a pretty picture."

Logan snorted, the corners of his lips quirking up as he caught Riley out of the corner of his eye. "Weird. See, I thought you were into me, because I kept telling you to fuck off and you kept coming back."

"You wish," Riley chuckled and shrugged. "Seriously though, what was I supposed to do? No telling what you would have done if I'd just left you there by yourself."

"Flunk out and drink myself to death?"

"Yeah, probably."

Logan finally turned to meet those amused, green eyes and his smirk eased out a little. "Rather have you at my back than anyone else."

"Better believe it, brother," Riley answered and reached up, ready for Logan to tap the back of his hand off of his in an old ritual. "You ready to go talk up the Navy to a bunch of teenagers that remind you of yourself?"

"'Originals cost more than imitations.' Suzy Kassem.'"

Riley snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're one of a kind," he chuckled as they started towards the building.

Logan flashed him a broad grin as his gaze swept the parking lot that they were walking through, finally falling on a familiar blue Hyundai that didn't belong there. Or maybe it did. Maybe a student there just had the exact same make and model of car that his girlfriend had. Coincidences happened. Sometimes. In theory, at least.

"Remind me again how we got roped into this?" Riley asked, drawing his attention back around.

"Pretty sure Wallace - Veronica's friend - put in the specific request. He's a teacher here."

"And here I am. Dragged in because of you," Riley sighed dramatically and Logan popped his fist against his shoulder, receiving a shit-eating grin and response dripping with false cheer in return. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"

"Logan!"

"Speak of the Physics teacher and he appears. Like magic," the man in question muttered, receiving a muffled laugh from his cohort as Wallace Fennel broke into a light jog towards them. "I hear we have you to thank for this," Logan directed at Wallace.

"I just put your name into a hat. No clue what had to happen to get a couple of aviators in."

Logan opened his mouth to take advantage of the oh-too-easy joke that Wallace had left open for him when Riley cut him off. "Technically, he's the aviator. I'm the Wizzo." Okay. So maybe he brought some of his Midwest propriety with him. There was a first time for everything.

"The what?" Wallace asked, tilting his head a little to the side in question.

"Weapons System Officer," Riley clarified. "WSO. Wizzo."

"Because we're in the Navy and we nickname everything," Logan popped off and tilted his head towards the man standing on his right. "Lt. Dave Riley. He literally watches my back."

"I shoot the assholes, Echolls makes sure we don't get shot by out-flying them," Riley added.

"So you're Goose?" Wallace asked.

"Yeah… just with less death."

"What do you need us to do, Wallace?" Logan asked, watching students filing in towards their first classes of the day.

"Are you going to hate me if I tell you that I didn't warn Clemmons it was you?"

"Pretty sure if you had he would have shut it down."

Riley straightened, interest piqued again. "And exactly why would this Clemmons fellow hate you?" It took less that two seconds for Riley to turn that inquisitive look on Wallace and, while Logan knew the man had to be able to keep up with Veronica in order to stay in her life as long as he had, it would have been nice to think that he didn't have to worry about fielding questions all day. There was a reason he didn't intentionally connection his life with the Navy to his life in Neptune with the exception of Veronica. Ah well. No turning back now. Good thing he was well versed in pretending things didn't phase him.

"I got some dirt," Wallace offered.

"And here I thought you came along to have my back," Logan grumbled, his glare sliding towards Riley.

"Always, man, but the rest of the squad is relying on me."

"Yeah, when'd you get promoted?"

"Even the squad leader has to own up," Riley teased, nudging Logan's shoulder as he strode forward. "Whatcha got for me. Wallace, was it?"

Logan did not like the look Wallace wore as he said, "How 'bout a trade? I'll tell you about the time Logan and one of the other guys from our class put the lit teacher's car on the flag pole -"

Riley's grin only broadened. "On?"

"On," Wallace confirmed, "if you tell us his call sign. Man will notshare. Can't be that bad, right?"

Logan snorted and started back towards the buildings, hearing a far-too-amused Riley agree to the terms and Wallace's story began. This was going to be a trip.

---------

Some days being a PI was exciting. An unexpected client dropped into the office with an interesting story, lots of holes in it that they didn't think you could possibly discover, and a whole puzzle to solve. And then other days it was your old high school principal who showed up with the Case of the Missing Lockbox. What was in the lockbox, she had no idea, just that it was connected to Career Day - she had zero recollection of having a career day at Neptune High. Wow. - and that it mustbe found.

And it was. Almost before Clemmons had finished rattling off his explanation of just how important it was. There was something in that someone needed and he needed…. Really, she'd lost track. Whatever the reason he wanted it, she found it hidden under a loose floorboard in the gym. The rest was history as soon as he'd signed and handed her the check. As soon as she found where Mac had gotten off to, she had no interest in sticking around.

At least until she spotted a very familiar figure standing at the Navy booth talking to an excitable teen about the F/A-18 Hornets that he flew.

Veronica felt her lips turn up at the corners without permission as she inched forward, waiting behind him until the kid was gone. "Take me to bed or risk losing me forever," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

Logan turned, cringing as he did. "I swear, if I never hear another Top Gun reference today…."

"You can live a long and happy life?" she offered.

"Exactly. What are you doing here? I thought I spotted your car."

Veronica leaned against the booth, never breaking eye contact. "Oh, you know, solving cases. Stopping crime. Paying the rent." She waved the check in her hand in front of him.

"One of the kids steal something from Clemmons?"

"You know they did, but I fixed it." He snorted a laugh and Veronica cracked a full grin. "Wallace rope you into this?"

"He did. I'm a good friend. Please feel free to remind him of that at any and every possible moment."

She felt her playful smile soften a little, but a voice broke in from the other end of the booth. "Hey, V!" Riley called, offering a wave when she looked over.

"Look at you standing on two legs," Veronica returned and motioned at the potential recruits. "Ask him how he broke his leg a few months ago. Go ahead. Ask him."

"You're not helping," her boyfriend grumbled with feigned irritation.

Veronica turned back to look at him. "So you and Wallace are friends now?" she asked, circling back around to their conversation. "I like the sound of that."

"I like Wallace. I may have even won him over with this one. It's Mac I'm hesitant about. What'd I do to her?"

Veronica cringed a little. "I think it was Parker."

"Seriously? She knows Parker broke up with me, right?"

"There was something about me involved, I don't know. She's around here somewhere bolstering the campus security. You'd have to ask her."

"I think I'll leave it as one of life's many mysteries."

She laughed, inching in. Hell, she did love him in those Navy whites. Her hand reached forward of its own accord, fingers touching the fabric there and ready to curl into it to pull him closer to her, but he caught it before she could. "I'm technically on duty."

"You're technically on duty when you get home from deployment and haul me off the deck to kiss me," she reminded him, her voice low and he'd have to be an idiot to miss her meaning. Logan Echolls was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn't one of them.

"They give me some leeway there. Not so much when I'm telling kids why they should enlist."

"You telling them to get shot at for a living?"

"Hey, now. Technically I have never gotten shot."

"And you've jinxed yourself."

"It's really not as likely if they're on the ship," he answered, his smirk more cocky than she would have liked. She knew all too well that they had come under fire.

"You're not funny."

"Seriously? I hear you find me hilarious."

Veronica held his gaze, those perfectly thin lips of his stretched out into a smile that made her want to drag him back to some secluded corner right then and there, but she knew she couldn't. He couldn't. Or wouldn't. For all of Logan's flippancy towards authority in their youth, he'd found something sacred in the Navy. She wasn't sure if it was the authority, per se, or something deeper that was just reflected there. He'd grown up alone in many ways, even before his parents had died, and certainly without the usual limitations that most children received. He had never told her the full story of how he'd tumbled into the Navy of all things, but her working theory was that it had something to do with the structure and direction that it provided.

Whatever the case, he loved it. His job, his squad, every inch of it. He didn't just love it, he respected it, and for that reason he would respect the fact that he was there to represent it. Oh, if only sixteen-year-old Logan could see himself now. What would he say?

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mars," he teased, drawing her attention around.

"There was nothing to say that it was inthe gutter, Echolls," she countered, grinning up at him.

"You need a mirror? All the evidence you'll need for - what do you call it? - a money shot."

Her grin grew as her voice dipped. "Usually fewer clothes for that."

"Give me a couple hours," he promised.

Veronica loosed a laugh out on a breath and leaned against the booth, her gaze drifting out to the crowd of kids. They looked like them years before in so many ways. In others, nothing at all. For the first time in a long time she found herself desperate to see the ghost of Lilly Kane dancing through the throngs of students, laughing and teasing and alive. She'd missed so much.

"So, your buddy Wallace told me about the car on the flagpole incident," Riley's chipper voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "but even as spectacular as that is, it couldn't possibly warrant that look."

Veronica followed where he was pointing to see a very nervous looking Van Clemmons standing with Wallace, the principal's gaze fixed on Logan who was chatting with a student.

"Oh, you know, started a few fights, kept getting charged with murders he didn't commit."

"There was more than one?"

"Well, only one in high school," she answered with a shrug. "Looks like you boys may get let go early. Hiya, Mr C."

The principal looked over on his way to the booth, startled and he mumbled something about a dangerous pair. Veronica snorted a laugh and looked back at Riley. "So how do you like the old stomping grounds?"

"It's an experience. Never thought I'd see kids driving Teslas and Beamers nicer than Logan's to class."

She liked Riley, but she didn't often get time alone with him. She wasn't sure if Logan intentionally kept his Navy and his Neptune life a little bit separate, but she did know that as soon as Clemmons could pry his students away long enough from the Navy table he would politely thank the guys for their time and send them on their way. If she wanted to pick Riley's brain at all, now was a chance she hadn't expected. "You guys met sophomore year, right?"

"Yeah. After you left." His gaze slid over to her. "You fishing for intel, Veronica?"

"Just curious. Tell me you didn't sign on to get a few new stories on him."

"Where Echolls goes, I go," Riley answered with a shrug, but as Veronica waited a little of the mirth washed off. He turned to meet her gaze fully. "A few fun anecdotes are one thing, but this? It changed his life. That's his story to tell, V."

She nodded slowly, turning back to find a missing Logan and Mac having appeared at some point, now patiently waiting with Wallace. Wallace started forward. "Hey, Veronica. Didn't know you were going to be here today."

"Missing something or the other," she answered offhandedly. "Where'd Logan go?"

"Not sure. Fair's wrapping up so the kids can get back to class. Clemmons let you guys go early." Wallace extended a hand. "Lt Riley—"

"Just Riley's good, after the stories I got from you." He happily shook the offered hand, his grin returning. "So if Echolls wandered off, who's the lucky volunteer to drive me back to my car at his place? Unless you have extra keys to the Beamer, V. I'd be willing to slum it."

"But would you be willing to stake your life on it if you wrecked Logan's car?"

"Fair."

"We can take you," Mac offered. "If you're parked at their place it's not too far out of the way."

Veronica shot her a questioning look before filing she dug in her purse for her keys and tossed them at Mac. "You two kids be good. I'll grab a ride home with Logan."

She watched Riley turn a funny sort of smile on Mac who fell into step with him towards the parking lot. She would have to file that away in things to figure out later. For now, she had a Logan to track down.

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

Veronica had been busy chatting with Riley when Clemmons gave them the all clear to head out - not a huge surprise and probably the reason Wallace had tried to keep quiet who he'd managed to snag out of the aviation department to come in - and he just needed a couple of minutes to work through the thoughts that he'd shoved down below the surface since arriving on the campus. The students had been called back into their classes and had left the halls deserted, Logan standing alone on the school crest with one hand stuffed deeply into his trouser pockets, the other holding onto his uniform cap.

He hadn't been here since graduation, not that many people made an effort at returning to their high schools, but Logan had made even less so. Hell, he wouldn't have bothered with his ten year reunion if Sean Freidrich hadn't released those videos of Carrie to his instagram account. He didn't have a lot of positive memories associated with it. Sure, early on he'd been popular enough. Money tended to do that in Neptune, as did prestigious parents. Logan had had both. Funny, he'd still had to face most of the battles that had rolled in alone. Especially the ones that counted for anything.

"Hey handsome," a familiar voice chimed behind him and he felt Veronica's hands touch the small of his back lightly as she circled around, her smile flirty and light. "Deep in thought about all the scandalous things that happened here?"

"Yep. I'm pretty sure we made out in that corner. That one too. Oh, and there's the infamous women's bathroom that you kept dragging me into."

"You liked it."

"I did."

Veronica circled around him and he couldn't help but feel his smile turned a little more real. Well, one good thing had come out of it all. Her.

"What are you really thinking about?" she asked, her tone a little less teasing now and damn her. She did see right through him, didn't she?

Logan felt his smile even out, the weight of his thoughts settling back into place from their momentary relief. He let the feelings roll around in his mind for a long moment until they got enough traction to form something like words. Another moment or two and they even started to make at least a fraction of sense. "I've been trying to reconcile who I was with who I am," he said slowly, tasting each word as it left his tongue to make sure it was the right one that best coincided with the emotions that had bubbled up like a geisser ready to shoot towards the sky.

Veronica was uncharacteristically silent as she settled in next to him, both standing on the emblem in the middle of the hall and looking down the long stretch.

"I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. It's easy to say I was young and stupid, but I think…. It used to be easier to keep it all separated. Even living here, when I dated Carrie…. It was different. She had no interest in the Navy. The two worlds were completely separate. Riles only met her maybe… two or three times."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was awkward and forced. In the end it was just easier to live two lives, but since you came back it's been… complicated."

He could feel her tense at his side and he risked a look. Well that wasn't a happy look. More of a hurt-desperately-shoved-under-irritation look. "Sorry I complicated things," she groused and Logan scrambled.

"That's not what I mean. I mean, it is, but not like that." He pulled in a breath, trying to find a way to express it in a way that she might be able to understand. "I mean I want Riles to know you. I want you to know him. I want to be friends with your friends and vice versa until they're ours. I just… don't know how to do that without opening myself up for a hell of a lot of shit toted out for everyone to see."

There was another moment of silence from her and Logan shifted from one foot to another, feeling exposed. Finally, he heard her draw in a breath. "'Growth and comfort do not coexist.'"

Logan blinked hard. "Ginny Rometty," he cited, surprise lacing the name.

"I guess? You had it as your voicemail one time. One of your inspirational quotes." Her careful smile flooded him with a sense of warmth. "Seemed to fit."

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I get it," Veronica murmured, looking back down the hall. "When I went to Stanford, I cut ties with everything. I didn't want the two worlds colliding. I never dated anyone for long enough for him to feel like he should meet my dad or anything. To come home. Even with Piz who knew so much of it. I just… kept it separate."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think I wanted to be that person."

"I love that person."

A small smile tugged her lips out and she reached for the hand still stuffed in his pocket. "Can I ask you something?"

Funny, that question would have terrified him a decade ago, but he heard his response roll off his own tongue without reservation. "Anything."

"Why'd you choose the Navy? I'm glad you did. I've seen…. What it gave you. What it did for you. I just wanna know how you got there."

Logan pursed his lips and considered the question for a long moment. It wasn't the first time she'd asked and she wasn't the only one curious. Just earlier that day Wallace had tried to press Riley for it. Good man Riley. He'd run his mouth about a lot, but not when it counted, and this did.

And because it counted, he knew Veronica deserved to hear it from him.

"I was okay all summer," he started, feeling a little numb as he spoke. "I thought you'd come back. I thought we'd...do what we did back then. Fall apart, come back, try again."

"I transferred."

"Yeah."

"Without telling you."

"I got the hint," he murmured, trying not to sound too bitter. He tightened his hold on her hand in his. "I never really… learned how to process things, I don't think. Not things that mattered. Hell, my go-to when my mom threw herself off a bridge was to hire my best friend's ex girlfriend to prove she wasn't really dead." A mirthless chuckle left him and he felt her tighten her hold on his hand. "I fell apart. Hit bottom. I was on the edge of flunking out, drinking waytoo much, and then this asshole sat down at my table in the cafeteria and just started babbling on about the design of a jet. Honestly, I was so hungover I couldn't tell you what jet he was talking about. All I remember is telling him to fuck off and he thought it was hilarious."

"Riley," Veronica said softly and Logan nodded.

"Riley. He's a stubborn bastard. He kept on me until somehow we became… friends, I guess? Something close to it. Found out later we'd had a class freshman year. The one Wallace and I had where I lost the bet and went streaking through it?" Veronica snorted a laugh at that. She had rolled her eyes pretty hard at the time. "He saw something, through all the bullshit. I don't know why or how, but he had… faith. Ended up convincing me to join ROTC and it was the first time I think I really found structure in my life. I always thought it'd be exhausting but it was… nice, somehow. Not just some assholes that had no business telling me what to do getting off on it, but these people had my back. I eased off the drinking, got my grades up, and did what I had to to get my wings."

"That's… amazing."

"You hear me say Riley saved my life and sure. In the air, definitely, but before that. He got me in the air."

The bell rang. "I'm glad he did," Veronica said earnestly as the doors started opening all around them and she tipped up on her toes to press the briefest of kisses to his lips before the students started to flood out. "Let's go home."

He nodded, words escaping him in that moment as she took him by the hand and led him towards Neptune High's exit, the chatter following them out.

-----------

It felt like a weight had been lifted off that Logan hadn't even known was there. He had always known what had drawn her into the life she lived, what had driven her to find an outlet for the questions that raged after Lilly's death, but that small, lying voice in his mind had told him that she'd be upset if he explained how he had gotten to where he was. She'd be hurt, thinking that he blamed her for finally scraping rock bottom. Or angry that he had. Whatever the case, it would be his fault and clearly it would drive a wedge between them.

But it didn't. Instead she'd taken it in stride, seeming to be more grateful that Riley had been stubborn enough to help him through it than upset that he'd crashed and burned after she had left. They had both done what they had needed, and they had needed it. As much as they'd loved each other they had been so young and so angry and hurt by the world around them. Jaded and pained in ways they couldn't work through together, not at that point. No, they had had to work on themselves, to find themselves, before they could come back together. And they had. Of course they had. Their story was epic.

Logan pulled the BMW around to park it on the street, brows drawing together at the sight of both Veronica's blue Hyundai and Riley's Mustang. "I thought he'd be halfway back to San Diego."

"Yeah, and I thought my car would be at the office…."

They slipped out of the convertible, finding the steps leading to the apartment empty of waiting guests. Logan heard Veronica's voice and glanced over to see her phone pressed to her ear. "Uh huh. Suuure," she answered with a wide grin. "See you in a sec." She ended the call and motioned towards the beach. "Riley forgot his keys in the apartment and Mac decided to wait with him."

Logan tilted his head and they started the short trek to find his Wizzo and one of Veronica's best friends sitting on a beach towel that must have been in her trunk, deep in conversation. Mac was the first to turn at their approach. "Hi there, Hollywood!" she greeted, her grin quick and mischievous.

And suddenly he knew what the conversation had been about. He locked eyes with Riley whose grin was a bit more sheepish. "Traitor," Logan muttered even as Veronica barked a laugh.

"You finally got it out of him. 'Bout damn time." She turned a clearly fake apologetic look at him. "It's not so bad. You've told me some of the other guys' call signs and they're a lot worse."

"It wouldn't have stuck if he hadn't been such a baby about it early on," Riley chuckled.

"Asshole," Logan huffed without any real spite in his voice.

"Yeah, you love me." Riley stood, brushing off his uniform. "I should head back. Good meeting you, Mac. Loved the story about the scavenger hunt. We should do it again sometime." He glanced back pointedly at Logan. "Cross the streams a little, huh?"

Logan rolled his eyes a little, but he knew the smile inching into place was going to give him away. It was nice to find some weird equilibrium between two pieces of his life. "C'mon. Let's grab your keys."

"Oh, wouldn't you know it?" Riley stuffed his hand deeply into his pocket and returned with his keys. "Oops. There the whole time. See ya next time."

Veronica snorted a laugh as Riley sauntered his way up the beach towards the road. "He's a sneaky little bastard."

"I warned you, " Logan chuckled. "He's been looking for high school stories all day."

"And freshman year of college," Mac offered as she stood, stooping back down to grab the oversized beach towel. "But he does pay well with stories from after you ghosted everyone. How did you stay in ROTC with some of the stuff you pulled?"

Logan flashed her a smug grin and Mac laughed, shaking her head.

"You wanna stay for dinner? We can order Thai," Veronica offered.

"I think we have chicken. I can cook," Logan countered.

"You cook?" Mac asked, the amusement still strong in her eyes. "This I have to see."

"I even know how to wash dishes," Logan countered.

Veronica nodded at the distant figure just reaching the street. "Bet we can grab Riley before he leaves. Swap a few more stories?"

"There's no stopping you now, is there?"

"Flood gates aren't open," she agreed.

"I'll go catch Dave," Mac offered and she was gone before either of them could get a word in.

Logan looked to Veronica, finding those clear and curious blue eyes on him too. "Did she just call him Dave?"

"Pretty sure she did."

"Huh."

They started up the beach towards their friends, Logan risking a glance at the woman he loved out of the corner of his eye and feeling a strange sense of peace washing over him despite what would likely turn into a one-up-manship of stories that evening. Growth and comfort didn't coexist, it was true. It had nearly killed him to find a way to survive everything life has dealt him, He couldn't go back and change the past, and he didn't think he wanted to. Without the struggles he faced, he never would have grown like he had, and that growth had brought him here. It had brought him back to her, and for that he would endure any pain.

-----

Notes:

Hat tip to @his-beautiful-girl_Beautiful_Girl for the Suzy Kassem quote and all of the fantastic folks in the VM Fic Club that were willing to help me find the best quote to use there 3

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMFanfic #VeronicaMarsFanfic

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