#thereby being less likely to be injured in the head

[an-absolute-nightmare]

i do not understand why all of a sudden american and dutch people are engaging in heated helmet discourse on this goddamned hellsite (is that redundant?) but by god is it riveting. keep the roasting coming. none of you are getting anywhere or convincing the other party of anything at all but you sure are coming up with excellent one liners that almost rival you cannot kill me in a way that matters

[keres-nyx]

Mika and Yuu Body Language Analysis

(A conversation between me and a friend where I analyzed the image/scene where the bite scene happens, and they played off it and added more. I also go by Ker so that's me lol)

Mikaela Hyakuya

Mika's right hand being on Yuu's thigh is a sign of vulnerability. This is because he's pressing himself closer to Yuu, willingly putting them into a more intimate position to essentially convey a "I am trusting you with myself" while also sort of a "I am willing myself to trust myself for you." Now, the fact it's a tight grip and not quite relaxed just shows that he struggles to completely let go of it. Which brings us to his left hand. Clutching at the shelf. This side of him shows his hesitance. While he's given in and allowed himself to become a full vampire, it's against his wishes/will. And while he's allowed himself to become vulnerable and trust Yuu, he can't quite bring himself to trust him. Not to mention this scene specifically has Mika facing away from us, almost saying "don't look at what I've become." Going onto his body, he's trying to accommodate Yuu as best as he can. He's not pinning Yuu down or pushing against him, even though he probably has the urge/instinct to. He's resisting the instinct and restraining himself to be as gentle as possible with him. The fact Mika's injured and bleeding as well shows how much he trusts Yuu with himself.

Chrono:

“This side of him shows his hesitance. While he's given in and allowed himself to become a full vampire, it's against his wishes/will.” THIS PART COMES FROM THE FACT THAT THE OTHER TIMES HES SHOWN TO BE HUNGRY, HE TAKES IT. FORCEFULLY GRABBING KRUL'S ARM AND PINNING THAT RANDOM KID DOWN, FOR EXAMPLE.

YUU BEING THE EXCEPTION, HIS FIRST BITE, HIS FIRST HUMAN TASTE (AND WHEN WE KNOW HOW MUCH MIKA LOVES THE TASTE OF YUU IN PARTICULAR) HE STILL MANAGES TO HOLD HIS MONSTROUS APPETITE BACK FOR HIS SAKE (YUU'S) BECAUSE THAT WINS OUT IN THE END. HIS PROTECTIVENESS OVER HIS PREDATORY DESIRE.

Yuuichirou Hyakuya:

Oh boy there's a lot here. Especially seeing the entire scene animated. But for the sake of word limits, I'll do this still frame. Number one: his hand in Mika's hair. He's actively, most likely softly, pushing Mika's head into his neck, thereby pressing Mika's mouth and fangs into his neck more, silently reassuring "it's okay, I'm alright with this." Why? Because as stubborn and naive Yuu may appear sometimes, that boy is awfully and extremely aware of the people around him. Yuu knows Mika hates this. He knows that Mika doesn't want this. But he also knows that he must do this to keep Mika alive. So, just like Mika, he's trying to be as accommodating and gentle as possible. The blood sucking probably feels weird and violating, in a way. Especially because it's against his own nature and instinct, which would tell him to fight Mika off. But just like Mika, Yuu is fighting against his own human instinct. Not to mention his training. And not to mention his hatred for vampires. Yuu's only reaction was the initial bite, the slight wince. (FUCK IT IM TALKING ABOUT THE ANIMATED SCENE.) Immediately after getting bit, Yuu gently lifts Mika and scoots them into a more comfortable and easy position. As he does so, he gently cradles Mika. It would be human nature to squirm and hiss when a vampire is drinking your blood, since blood is your life essence. But Yuu forced himself, forced his body and breathing, to relax. This way, he would make Mika more comfortable and less guilty, even if just a little. He also gently rubs Mika's hair, creating a soothing/caring stimulation, another reassurance. Moving on to Yuu's right hand on the floor, this is also a sign of vulnerability. He could have put it on Mika's shoulder to push him off later, but he's essentially saying "I know I am safe with you, I needn't worry about it." This is also proven with the way Yuu tilts his head back, and let Mika's hand push against his thigh. Adding on: the rubbing could also be seen as a grounding agent. To keep Mika calm and mentally with him.

Chrono:

“This way, he would make Mika more comfortable and less guilty, even if just a little. He also gently rubs Mika's hair, creating a soothing/caring stimulation, another reassurance.” they both take care of each other so wonderfully it's amazing. i worry that i don't depict yuu taking care of mika enough as much as mika does BUT IT DEF GOES BOTH WAYS thats one of the reasons i'm feral for them. they're mutually obsessive and while it CAN be unhealthy, it's ALSO in a healthy way in particular to the way they take care of the others emotional and physical needs since the other cannot take care of themselves. or want to due to their equal self-loathing. i'm getting a lil sidetracked but these soothing gestures he did in this scene, i saw the potential of them BOTH being the caretaker of the relationship. mika just takes his to a greater scale bc like i said, he's nurturing AND his unending loyalty makes him a ferocious protector.

Ker:

“they take care of the others emotional and physical needs since the other cannot take care of themselves.”

THIS. THIS IS THE KEY POINT. THIS PERFECTLY SUMS UP THE ENTIRETY OF YUU AND MIKA'S RELATIONSHIP.

While it could be seen as an unhealthy obsession, this is still good for them. Because they themselves do not believe themselves to be worthy/good enough for comfort. But they do not reject it if it comes from one another. That is the beauty of their relationship. That is the reason Mikaela has not let himself fully die yet. Because he knows. God he knows. That Yuu would never be able to truly live without him. Not anymore. Because was Yuu living before? Even during their separation, Yuu still lived for Mika. He wanted to kill vampires to avenge Mika. For Mika. Yuu didn't truly live, he existed to fulfill something. And Mika is smart, he noticed it. Mika had probably hoped Yuu could move on and live on without him. But deep down, he's keenly aware of the fact that won't happen. Why else do you think Mika asks Yuu to let go of him? Why else do you think Mika isn't the one to leave, if he is so adamant of Yuu forgetting and giving up on him? It's the same reason he's so aware of why Yuu won't do it. Mika feels the exact same way. That's why he asks Yuu to give him up. Because Mika can't give Yuu up either.

*slams table* AHHHHHH

Chrono:

I think mika wanted yuu to hate him. to give up on him, so he tries to emotionally close himself off in that scene and says things that may hurt him even if he would hate to see yuu cry, but he underestimated JUST how stubborn and just how much yuu was willing to cling onto him. that broke him more man.

“you have it just as bad as he does”

Ker:

Absolutely. That's why he tried to hurt him.

They protect each other, no matter the cost. Whether it's themselves, or the world. This has been proven with actions and words from both sides.

Chrono: it's so crazy how they're so different from each other YET share so many qualities at the same time

Ker: the difference is where the desire comes from. For Mika is comes from selflessness, but for Yuu it derives from selfishness. They're opposites. And that's the point of them.

Chrono: like i love how they're both stubborn, how they had their angry phases, how they bring out the best and worst.... but in spite of it all, what really makes me happy, is to see them finally free themselves from the stresses in the life BECAUSE it's just them two. they're laughing again and say what these theorists will about demon mika simply copying a personality yuu simply wants to see... i think their banter and happiness with each other is genuine.

they're also teaching eachother to be selfish / selfless respectively. like mika telling yuu the whole world matters, not just the ones close to you... and yuu teaching mika its okay to chase his own happiness. there will be a way without comprising anyone's own happiness/life. it will simply be harder.

[one-flower-one-sword]

so aside from 2x02, 2x05 is so far my favorite ep from season 2, simply for the fact that we get to see Hua Cheng fight. in previous posts, I've already analysed scenes from the novel in regards to Hua Cheng fighting while blind on one side and the logistics of his disability in general, so now I want to try it with the donghua as well. caveat and disclaimer that while I am disabled myself, I am not so in regards to my vision, so everything I know comes from research I've done rather than personal experience. if anyone reads my analysis and feels like it's wrong or offensive, please do let me know and I will correct it.

I mentioned in previous posts (like this one) that there are several instances where Hua Cheng seems to deliberatley turn his blind side towards people and that the reasons for this vary depending on context. in 2x05, Hua Cheng starts off facing Xie Lian and the others directly after he stood up from where he'd been pushed to the floor by Xie Lian:

while he's talking to them about "Ming Yi" though, he starts walking off to the side while having his blind side facing them completely. here, it comes off as a power move - a way to convey "I don't feel the need to keep you in my line of sight at all since I don't consider you serious threats worthy of my attention", without having to say any of that out loud at all:

while the action is the same, the reasoning behind it as well as the way it comes across seems very different to when he has his blind side facing Xie Lian while he's with him in Paradise Manor's main hall in the previous eps:

Xie Lian sat down first, and then Hua Cheng chose to sit with his blind side facing him. like I've argued in previous posts, Hua Cheng seems to do this when he wants to hide his expression and thereby his emotions from others. in this case, I assume it's for the same reason he withdrew from Xie Lian's touch in the ox cart - he's afraid of getting too excited and making Xie Lian uncomfortable with it. of course, he does turn his head and look at Xie Lian several times during their conversation here, but the point is that this positioning gives him the option of hiding when he feels it necessary - like when he offered the dice for Xie Lian to keep and got adorably shy about it. because while on the one hand this was a strategic move to make the whole rescue "Ming Yi" thing work, it was also a genuine gift he was offering to his god:

back to 2x05 now with a brief word from our sponsors, Hua Cheng's beautiful fingers carressing that sword hilt:

ahem. moving right along

Hua Cheng has drawn E'ming now and this is where I get less coherent because ooohh oh wow look at this. first of I love how casually threatening this comes off. most importantly though please look at the way he's holding E'ming and how it's mirroring and accentuating the angle he's standing at, the positioning of his arms, and the direction his gaze is pointed at. beautiful and deadly, no notes

then Xie Lian starts talking to him again about how he understands now that the fault lies with them but to please make an exception and show mercy, to which Hua Cheng replies in this regretful but resolute tone that there are some things one shouldn't get overly involved in. he's stopped pointing E'ming at them and switched it from his right to his left hand. but his stance has been made clear, underlined by the fact that he's now switched to facing them with his seeing side - he won't just let them leave. since Xie Lian is there, he seems wary about being the one to attack first though. this is speculation, but I assume He Xuan understands why Hua Cheng would rather be on the defensive than the offensive in this situation, hence why he twitches his hand here to remind Shi Qingxuan of his presence and his injured state and spur him into action:

now we've arrived at the parts that really got my heart racing. I'm sorry I'm just like Xie Lian in that regard - I love Hua Cheng and Iove swords and sword fighting. or in this case, fan fighting:

the way he effortlessly snatches that fan out of the air is so smooth and badass. also the way he's holding E'ming behind his back and the scimitar again mirroring the line of his body... *dreamy sigh*

his fighting here gives a nice glimpse into that "arrogant, rebellious confidence" that Xie Lian is going to feel so weak-kneed over in the future. it's also proof of Hua Cheng's skill - he had to make this look real and convincing while also making sure his attacks were of a nature that the others could defend against without too much trouble. while I assume that in the name of authenticity, it would have been okay if Shi Qingxuan and "Ming Yi" got hurt, the same does not go for Xie Lian - hence how broken up and angry at himself Hua Cheng is when that does happen in the end. I could also see him choosing that fan in particular because he knows Lang Qianqiu is on the way and knows his sword can neutralize that fan - and if he's facing off against Lang Qianqiu, that means Xie Lian will be out of the line of fire.

I've hit image limit on this post, so we'll continue in part 2!

[redxluna]

Um, agree to disagree, because, no, the show very pointedly did not try to paint Suleiman in shining colors when it came to the deaths of his family members Even without the unnecessary involvement (and inaccurate) involvement of Hürrem in things, he still comes out looking awful. From him being the one to order the execution of Mustafa’s son to Hatice calling him out for gradually becoming more like their father, he isn’t allowed to be free from condemnation.

With Ibrahim, the matter is meant to be different. Specifically, because, as shown throughout the show, Suleiman didn’t need to “invent” a reason to execute him. As I mentioned before, the blueprint for Ibrahim’s character within the show follows a very distinct retelling of why the matter happened and, in it, he doesn’t come off as any better than he does within the show. Less so, in fact, as Okan Yalabık at least excels in humanizing the role at times and, at others, making it fascinating to watch even when his character is being utter garbage.

The below is taken from the book Ibrahim Pasha, Grand Vizir of Suleiman the Magnificent, by Hester Donaldson Jenkins. Bear in mind that this source is now considered to be an outdated account of what happened, but it is, word for word, what was used within the show.

"Ibrahim, we recall, was born a Christian, and probably accepted Islam only formally and not from conviction. Now and then in his career his Christian predilections appear and always injure his reputation. One instance of this was the case of the infidel Cabyz, towards whom Ibrahim was accused of being over-lenient. Another illustration of lack of consideration for Moslem prejudices was when he brought home from Buda three statues taken from the royal palace and set them up in the Hippodrome. This was in defiance of the Moslem rule, observed literally, to permit the display of 'no images of anything in the heaven above, the earth beneath, or the water under the earth.' Although Ibrahim was supported in this act by the tolerant sultan, it brought down on his head a clamor of horror. He was spoken of as an idolater [...] Ibrahim became less and less careful in religious matters as his power became more assured. [...] On the Persian expedition [Ibrahim] made the grave mistake of assuming the title of Serasker-Sultan. Although as von Hammer points out the title of sultan was commonly borne by small Kurdish rulers in the country in which Ibrahim then was, yet at Constantinople there was but one sultan, and to usurp his title was to lay one's self open to the charge of unlawful ambition. Moreover as Ahmed Pasha had assumed the title upon his revolt in Egypt, the association with disloyalty must have been very strong to Suleiman. There were plenty of courtiers ready to interpret his action thus in reporting to the sultan. Here was a charge that Suleiman could hardly ignore even though he might disbelieve it for a while. [...] On the expedition to Persia the smoldering hatred between the two men [Ibrahim and Iskender Chelebi] broke into flame. When Ibrahim proposed to take the title of Serasker-Sultan, the defterdar attempted to dissuade him and thus aroused Ibrahim's resentment. There was also an ostentatious display of wealth, the defterdar and the grand vizir each attempting to send to the army a larger number of more richly equipped soldiers, and each considering the other's contribution mean. Insults were exchanged. At length Ibrahim accused the defterdar of taking money from the royal treasury, and brought witnesses against him who were probably in Ibrahim's pay. It became a war to the death between the two enemies. Ibrahim doubtless knew that if Iskender lived he himself would be sacrificed. So he accomplished the disgrace and execution of the treasurer but he did not thereby secure his own safety. Iskender Chelebi, accused of intrigues against his master, as well as mismanagement of the public funds, was hanged at Baghdad. As he went to the gallows he sent a Parthian shot at his murderer. Calling for pen and paper, he made a written statement that not only was he guilty of conspiring with the Persians but that Ibrahim was equally guilty, and that the latter had plotted to attempt Suleiman's life, lured by Persian gold. However we may doubt Iskender's honesty in making a statement that would draw down on his enemy his own fate, the Turkish sultan would be unlikely to question it, for among the Turks the testimony of a dying man or one led to execution is of very great weight. In law it outweighs that of forty ordinary witnesses."

The source then, of course, goes on to blame Hürrem of bringing all of this to the ear of the sultan, but the point is that, even had she not done this, a pattern of such behavior speaks for itself and reflects very poorly upon Ibrahim himself.

It feels relevant as well to point out that, in a political sphere as cutthroat as the Ottoman Empire, such executions were not at all out of place. Ibrahim’s stands out, primarily, because Suleiman had previously risen him to such unprecedented favor (similar to Hürrem). It was a way to remove from position a man who had become too dangerous a political and personal threat to keep alive.

Ibrahim was very much not a man without fault in the show and those faults lead to his downfall. It's literally not simple. He was a compelling character, but that, like many of the other characters, doesn't make him a poor innocent with morality above reproach.

Okay I read (nearly) all the text posts in Magnificent Century fandom

And let me tell you What's up with all the Ibrahim hate? He is a cinnamon roll, who is just lost and confused with the power he was given. Just like Hurrem. If there is anyone at fault here it's Sultan Suleyman and not Ibrahim. His unpredictable behaviour (acting like ibrahim was his brother and then unexpectedly playing the ruler card and repeat this cycle like 35 times) is what made Ibrahim an insecure egomaniac.

Sultan Suleyman is also the reason why everyone in his family hates Hurrem and Hurrem is so on the edge all the time (acting like she is the love of his life and then belittling her whenever she tries to express any idea on any matter and cheating on her when she displeases him and repeat this cycle like 35 times) Wake up people Suleyman is the real villain. Ibrahim and Hurrem are just victims.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

[i-am-a-whimsy-boy]

Five. Straight. Miles. With. No. Breaks.

Nobody asked for more of me ranting about Murdoch's lack of health and safety awareness (part one here), but we're doing it anyway because I thought about this way too much and posting this gives me the illusion of that being productive. (There's a TL;DR at the end for anyone who doesn't want to read an essay today.)

Let's talk about season 1 episode 6, "Let Loose the Dogs" and how Murdoch put George in a situation where he could have very easily injured or even killed himself and Murdoch did not consider the danger here at all.

In this episode, Murdoch needs to figure out if it's possible to run from a pub to the scene of the murder in nine minutes, and, in order to do this, he gets George to make the run five times in a row and averages the time. We know it's an eighteen minute walk to the crime scene from the pub, meaning it's roughly a mile, and George runs this five times. What I'm saying is, Murdoch essentially made George run five miles straight all in one go.

In fairness, this might not be crazy intense for an in-shape person, but I have the athletic ability of a doorknob, so this seems absolutely terrible to me in the most ideal of circumstances, which, I don't believe George was running in. Regardless, if we assume his average time is around nine minutes, then he was running for somewhere around 45-50 minutes straight, likely pushing himself to run faster in order to get a faster time or to impress Murdoch. If his endurance isn't above par, that's quite a lot of prolonged physical activity, even if he was drinking water and taking breaks, which he probably wasn't.

This is a bit of speculation on my part, but since we don't see a water jug anywhere with Murdoch, I'm willing to bet that George wasn't drinking water at all during his runs. Without water, your body can't make sweat to cool you down and release some of the heat produced when you exercise. I'm sure we all know this, but it's vital to stay hydrated, especially when you're going to be exerting yourself. More speculation, but Murdoch definitely values efficiency, so I'm assuming he made George run from the pub to the bridge and back and counted that round trip as two separate runs, thereby cutting out the time needed to walk back and start again. We only see the tail end of George's final run, ending at the bridge, so we don't know if Murdoch gave him any breaks, but knowing Murdoch, he probably kept break time to a minimum, if he thought about getting George to take breaks at all.

Resting when you're exercising or otherwise exerting yourself is important to avoid injury and to allow your body to cool down, especially in hot weather. Season 1 of Murdoch Mysteries takes place during 1895, and judging by the weather in the episode, it's during early to mid summer. I'm going to say early July. The Government of Canada has historical weather data available going back to the 1840s, and in July of 1895, the average temperature in Toronto was around 19° C, with a high average of 24° C and an extreme high of 32° C (source). Temperatures also averaged in the higher range in the first week of the month (the 4th through to the 8th had highs of around 30° C with almost no rain, and that extreme monthly high of 32° C happened during this week). Caution is recommended in 25° C weather to avoid heat exhaustion and heatstroke. 30° C and above is considered dangerous. George was sprinting five straight miles with no water and no breaks: definitely not exercising caution. In heat like that, especially with no breaks or water, it wouldn't be very hard to contract heat exhaustion or exertional heat stroke, both of which can be very dangerous, and the latter can even be fatal. Exertional heat stroke happens when your body produces more heat than it can lose because of overexertion or high temperatures, and the high core body temperatures it causes can very quickly start damaging organs, including the brain and the heart. It's a medical emergency. Since George is constantly moving and producing heat and he has no water for his body to make sweat with, he's practically begging for heat stroke.

This whole thing seems incredibly dangerous to me and I'm honestly surprised the poor guy didn't collapse.

I really want to know what Murdoch would have done if he was sitting there on the bridge waiting for George to finish his run and George just didn't come because he passed out somewhere over the course of the run. Murdoch didn't have anything with him other than a pocket watch, a notepad and a pencil. Best case scenario, he could have submerged George in the creek that the bridge went over in order to cool him off, but if he had collapsed earlier in the route, he wouldn't have any realistic cooling methods available other than, like, fanning with his hands or that notebook he had, which would have been much less effective than water. A person can survive with a core temperature of around 40° C for about thirty minutes before serious organ damage starts setting in. I'm not convinced Murdoch could have cooled George down fast enough to avoid that. If George had gotten heat stroke, I'm willing to bet that he'd probably have died.

Even if George didn't get heat stroke, he still could have gotten really painful muscle cramps or gotten hurt in other ways. I was in a lifeguard training once and I wasn't super well hydrated and I got a leg cramp bad enough that I couldn't walk, let alone swim. I was having problems with my leg for days afterward. George could have gotten a similar cramp, and, if one had struck while he was running, the resulting fall could have injured him further, especially since he was running through the woods. Who knows what he might have hit his head on had he fallen?

I realize that, if George had said to Murdoch, "sir, I need a break," Murdoch would definitely have let him take one, but George isn't very good at advocating for himself. He tends to do what he's told and not question it or ask for anything different. George just takes things in his stride, even when he gets the short end of the stick, and I don't think he would have asked for a break if he needed one. Regardless, George shouldn't have had to have asked because Murdoch should have planned for breaks. It shouldn't be a surprise to Murdoch that people need breaks when they're exerting themselves.

The most annoying thing is that Murdoch compensated George's running times for exhaustion, meaning that he knew George would get tired and he knew he had to tweak the calculations in order to get an even average. You know what would have made Murdoch's averaging even better, and would have eliminated the need to compensate at all? Having a larger goshdarn sample size. If Murdoch had gotten multiple constables to make the run and averaged all of theirs, he'd have gotten a more even and realistic average and he wouldn't have had to take exhaustion into account. There's a reason most scientific studies are based on a sample of the population and not case studies of single individuals: because it's better and it represents the population as a whole better. I bet Murdoch could have rounded up five constables and made them run a mile with no trouble at all. Some of them would probably have enjoyed it! But no, for some reason, he has to torture George instead.

It's like Murdoch is unaware there are literally dozens of other constables at Station House Four at his disposal.

TL;DR: Murdoch made George run five straight miles with no breaks in hot, summer weather when he could have gotten better results with more constables; George could have gotten seriously ill, hurt or killed; and I am questioning my sanity.

[samshogwarts]

My Wizarding World Vampirism

How Vampires work in my AU

Vampires have been around for ages and in various forms and tales. Of course there are also vampires in the world of Harry Potter, but they never appear in books or films. There are fan theories that Draco Malfoy or Snape are vampires.  But this is only a theory.  According to JK Rowling, vampires have more weaknesses than strengths in her world and she has not had any vampires in her story because there are enough vampire stories. Still, my Harry Potter OC Samantha O’Connell is a half-vampire and her family, the O’Connells, are vampires. And who cares about the Canon? XD

So I invented my own vampirism and I want to explain that today.

If you have any further questions about vampirism in my AU, or want more information about my vampire OCs, you can ask me these questions at any time via the Ask Box! ^^ I'm looking forward to your feedback!

How did vampires come about?

Nobody knows that exactly anymore. Vampires have been around for millennia. According to an old legend, they came about when a magician made a pact with demons. Depending on the story, these demons are also angels. In fact, their origin is unknown and even vampires do not know how they came about.

What are vampires?

Vampires are magical, human-like beings that feed on blood and thereby acquire special abilities

Vampires have fundamentally enhanced senses.  Most vampires have a particularly strong sense. But every vampire can train and improve his senses.  Like the ability to heal, this happens through increased use of the senses. An example: if a vampire focuses on his ears, he hears better. The more often the vampire does this, the better his ears get (a bit like in Skyrim). Vampires are also very fast and are naturally good at sneaking and camouflaging themselves.

Healing skills

Just like the senses, the increased healing abilities of a vampire can also be trained. But it will be painful. Because the ability to heal can only be trained if the affected vampire is injured.

How do vampires do it?

Just like house elves or goblins, vampires have their own kind of magic. You can also call it blood magic. That's why vampires have to drink blood. Vampires can convert drunk blood into magical energy, which also serves as life energy. Vampires use this energy to use their special abilities. So you can see the drunk blood like mana points in a video game.

What happens when a vampire runs out of blood?

The less blood a vampire has in his body, the wilder he becomes. Only through hard training can vampires stay calm. Every vampire has some kind of little demon in their head that is wild and is actually what a lot of non-vampires only see. A dangerous monster that wildly attacks people and magicians to drink their blood and acts barbarically in the process. In this rage mode a vampire uses 100% of his abilities, is not responsive and attacks almost everything and everyone. Only by knocking out the affected vampire and the subsequent supply of blood can the crazy vampire die. Or you kill this one.

Amount of blood

The more blood a vampire uses for his abilities, the faster the blood will of course be used up.  Over time, however, vampires learn to regulate the amount used. Most adult vampires can go days without drinking any new blood.

Nutrition

As already indicated, vampires mostly only feed on blood. As with human food, vampires also have preferences for certain blood types. Blood group 0+ is Hel O'Connell's favorite group. According to her own statement, the blood doesn't even taste that different, but it just feels "better" when you drink it. In addition, vampires perceive their favorite blood group better than others. Some assume that this is also a kind of instinct so that vampires don't get too much in their own way during their "hunt".

Still, like mages and muggles, vampires have to drink. Most vampires drink tea or water because it is easy to digest. But of course there are also coffee lovers and vampires who drink alcohol.

Alcohol usually doesn't have much of an effect on vampires, as the alcohol isn't actually absorbed into the body due to their blood magic. However, if a vampire is really drunk, it takes a long time until he is sober again.

Eyes

The condition of a vampire can be read in his eyes. Usually vampires have bright red eyes. As with humans, the red tones can differ here. If the eyes pale, the vampire is sick or his blood supply is running out. The darker the eyes get, the angrier the vampire and the more active the inner beast is. Black-eyed vampires are completely enraged and uncontrollable.

In order to keep their identity a secret from Muggles, vampires can “deactivate” their vampiric side. The eye color changes and becomes “normal”. Most vampires still have extreme eye colors such as ice blue, emerald green or a very strong brown.

Deactivated mode

Vampires in deactivated mode reduce their senses to a minimum and are then at normal human level.  Most vampires hate this condition. According to Andrew O'Connell, "It's like wearing sunglasses in a dark room with your nose taped up." Many vampires cannot understand how people with such bad instincts get along.

Teeth and ears

A vampire's ears are usually a little longer and tapered to a point. Some vampires claim that you can tell a vampire's purebred by his ears.

And what would a vampire be without his fangs? From the time when most vampires were human hunters, vampires have their sharp canine teeth. With these they cut into the skin and veins of their victims in order to get the blood. So it is by no means a kind of straw. Through their blood magic, vampires are able to change the size of their upper fangs. But this is used less and less nowadays, as very few vampires are human hunters. Most vampires find their pointy canines even more of a nuisance. According to Dr. Matthew O’Connell has about 2,300 visits to his hospital each year in which vampires have injured themselves with their own fangs. Most of them bite their tongues. There are also around 250 patients in his hospital who regularly have their teeth grinded. But due to the regenerative abilities of vampires, the patient's teeth “grow” to a point again.

Basically, a vampire's fangs grow back and are even used in some potions. Similar to blood donation centers in the Muggle world, there are tooth donation centers for vampires in the magical world. But only very few vampires go there, because vampires don't like going to the dentist where your teeth are pulled. According to a statement by Hel O'Connell, the worst part of a visit to the dentist is the anesthetic. With most vampires, this does not even last until the start of treatment, which is why visits to the dentist are usually very uncomfortable for vampires.

Vampires and magic

Most vampires can only use their own blood magic. Only in very rare cases does a vampire also have magical abilities like witches and wizards. That is something very special and mostly the affected vampire is not a particularly talented magician. So Matthew O'Connell is a genius for many of his kind. He had good grades at Hogwarts and rumor has it that he was even able to summon a Patronus before his wife died. Which is rare even for wizards and witches.

Lifespan

In general, wizards and witches live longer than normal Muggles. It's similar with vampires. Depending on how a vampire feeds, it can extend its lifespan extremely. If a vampire drinks the blood of living people directly, it extends his life. If the vampire kills his victim in the process, this extends his life again a lot. An example of this would be Loken O'Connell, Samantha's grandfather. His exact age is unknown, but it is more than 350 years since he and his wife were supporters of the Jacobite Wars. According to their own statement, they both gave up manhunting before their first children (Andrew and Helga O'Connell) were born.

How do you become a vampire?

Basically, you have to be born a vampire. However, there is an old and very frowned upon way to become a vampire. By drinking the blood, or rather the plasma of a vampire. In the plasma there is the so-called vampire poison that is even used in small or diluted quantities for magic potions. However, in concentrated amounts, it can turn a human into a vampire. However, most of the people who tried this went nuts after the transformation because they completely underestimated the influence of the wild vampire side. Most of the known attacks by vampires are actually from these transformed vampires. This is where most of the stories come from the wild monster vampires.

Just about any vampire in the world would refuse to turn a human into a vampire. Incidentally, a vampire's bite does not turn people into vampires.

Disadvantage

While vampires have unique abilities, there are some disadvantages to being one. First there is the little inner demon. Every vampire has to constantly fight against this in order to keep control over his actions.

Another disadvantage is the permanent overload of the perceived stimuli. Vampires can hear the heartbeat of others and, depending on how well their senses are trained, they perceive even more. Most vampires suffer from migraines and have regular headaches.

Another disadvantage is human food. A vampire is basically able to eat human food. However, most vampires are not used to it and quickly get stomach pains and digestive problems. It also costs a lot of energy. If a vampire has too much or too heavy food, he will quickly get tired and fall asleep.

The next disadvantage would be a permanent iron and magnesium deficiency. Most vampires have to take additional medication to compensate for this and have circulatory problems. Many vampires are therefore considered to be grumpy in the morning or late sleepers.

Bad immune systems - most vampires have bad immune systems and get sick easily. Long-term vaccinations or medication work very poorly or not at all.

You could also say the effectiveness of your blood magic is a disadvantage. While most magical beings can move things with their magic, or even make themselves disappear, vampires always have to use their bodies in combat and have no magical projectiles.

Everyone has to decide for themselves whether the pride of a vampire is a disadvantage. Most vampires, however, have a very strong sense of pride that even makes them seem vain to some.  Vampires are also very stubborn and often cling to old habits and customs. Rules and honor are usually very important to a vampire. Nowadays there are only a few exceptions that live on the wild side of being a vampire.

Circulatory problems and an increased sensitivity to heat and warmth are also normal for most vampires. In other parts of the world, however, things look different, among other things.  Vampires come in all colors, sizes, and shapes. Except for their significant features, vampires are no different from Muggles or wizards.

Probably the biggest disadvantage is the discrimination in the wizarding world. Vampire hunting was legal for many years, and even after that, vampire murders for many years were punished with very mild or no punishment. To this day there are illegal vampire hunter groups who hunt vampires and their families and call them monsters. Often vampires are viewed as inferior and, like many other magical beings, are excluded from the wizarding society. There are even bars, restaurants etc that refuse to serve vampires.  In addition, vampires rarely get jobs in the wizarding world or are promoted. Therefore, many vampires prefer to live in the Muggle world or are self-employed. To this day it is also forbidden to keep one's identity as a vampire secret.

Half vampire

Despite everything, wizards or muggles can get involved with vampires and have children. Then these are the half-vampires. At birth you can immediately determine which side of the half-vampire is dominant based on the color of the eyes. For example, Samantha O'Connell was born with green eyes. Say her witch side is more dominant than the vampire side.

Half-vampires basically have to fight harder with their inner demon. Mostly this becomes active during puberty in half-vampires, with a non-dominant side. The triggers are usually strong emotional feelings. Half-vampires are able to eat human food normally without the side effects. For this, their vampiric instincts are usually not very strong or need to be trained more.  Depending on the dominant side, the other side is weaker.

In fact, full vampires rarely discriminate against half-vampires. Most vampires view half-vampires as half-finished or very weak vampires. Most vampires believe that half-vampires simply have the disadvantages of both races and have no real talents.

Prejudices and clichés.

Here are a few more typical statements about vampires and how I interpret them in my AU:

Vampires and garlic.

Vampires have a heightened sense of smell and, like any stronger odorous spice or food, garlic smells rather unpleasant for many vampires. It's the same with everything else that smells strong. Still, there are vampires who can't live without a good garlic dip.

Daylight is deadly

Due to the bright daylight, the many noises of today and other reasons, many vampires like to stay in the house and only go out when necessary. Therefore, especially the European vampires are often very pale. This is why the rumor arose that vampires hate sunlight or it is even dangerous for them. In fact, vampires can be found all over the world and in all cultures. In fact, there are sun worshipers among vampires too. An example of this would be Aeryn Duncan, who is known for lying in the sun for hours to achieve the perfect tan.

Crucifixes injured vampires

There is freedom of religion among vampires. Most vampires, however, are more likely to describe themselves as atheists. Nevertheless, there are definitely religious vampires in all possible religions in this world.  However, the fact that a vampire was injured by a crucifix has never been documented. There are stories, however, that Hel O’Connell once threw a cross in the head of her father and it left him with a bump for 2 hours.  To this day, however, neither have made a statement on this story.

A wooden stake in the heart kills a vampire

All my vampire OC: Who doesn't?!?! O-o

So, that was my Info Post about how Vampires works in my AU. Like I said, I am totally curious for your Feedback. My Ask box is open. The O’Connells and I are looking forward for you ask and feedback^^

[tsarisfanfiction]

End of Blue: Chapter 1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy, Tracy Brothers

Thunderbird One’s dead in the water.  Scott Tracy isn’t responding.  Rescues never feel the same when it’s one of their own they have to save.

~~~ Once again, you can all thank, or blame, the wonderful @gumnut-logic for this thing.  Two seemingly unrelated vague conversations have ended up culminating in one of my specialties - yup, another Scott!whump, as though I haven’t written enough of these already (no such thing as enough!).  Not sure how frequently this is going to be updated - or how long it’ll be.  I know what Chapter 2 is going to do and I know there will need to be at least one more chapter after that, but muses do weird things.  Title has been snaffled from Beast in Black’s “End of the World”, make of that what you will.

“Gordon!”

John appeared in front of him, looking not quite his usual calm self.  For John to be showing that, even to a brother who’d learnt to read his nuances, meant that something was very, very wrong.

Gordon’s hands inadvertently tightened on the controls of Thunderbird Four as he held the sinking ship steady while Alan did the evac in Thunderbird Two.  This sounded like terrible timing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, skipping all the quips he’d make if it was just a regular check-in.  The loss of John’s fantastic poker face and resulting prickles down his spine told him it was far from one.

“How long until evac’s done?” his space-residing brother asked.  An unusual question from their Eye In The Sky, but with Thunderbird Five under annual maintenance, the ginger didn’t have all his usual data.  Not even half of it.  Maybe that was causing the panic, but it was just that – annual. Nothing unusual, if universally disliked.

“Alan’s clearing the last of them now,” he said.  “But I’ve been asked to hold the ship steady until the GDF get here; they’re suspecting something’s-”

“Screw the GDF,” John interrupted, and woah something was really niggling him if he was getting that obviously frantic.  “The first instant you can let go of that ship, get the hell back to Two.”

That was not John-typical at all.  Gordon’s squid sense almost exploded.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “John, where do I need to be?”  He was running through scenarios but he couldn’t think of a single reason John would be hurrying him like this.  Not unless-

“Thunderbird One’s down.”

Shit.  “In the ocean?”

“North Pacific.”

That was the other side of the world.  Two hours, easy, until they got there, and they didn’t even have Virgil to get all the juice out of his ‘bird, what with the collection of broken bones he’d acquired on the last rescue.  Gordon forced his hands to relax before he inadvertently gave Four a command he didn’t mean to.

“Scott?”  Thunderbird One was watertight, she should be able to hold out as long as she wasn’t too deep.  As long as whatever had taken her down hadn’t compromised that… What the hell even took her down?

“Not answering.”  John always looked a shade or two off through the holograms, but Gordon suspected that this time the too-pale skin wasn’t entirely a trick of technology.  “Too much of Thunderbird Five is still offline; I don’t have telemetry.  Brains and EOS are working as fast as they can, but it’ll still be a few more hours before she’s fully back online.”

Gordon was just grateful enough of her was online to register One’s crash.

“Have you told Alan?” he asked.

“He knows you need to get to the North Pacific yesterday,” John answered.  “Not why.”

Alan was going to be furious at being left in the dark, but Gordon understood why.  He’d have to fill him in on the flight over.

“We’ll get there,” he promised, because there wasn’t another option.  They had to.  “Give me updates as you get them.”

“F.A.B.”  It was a reluctant acknowledgement, but they both knew John was almost useless until Five was fully online.  “I’ll update Tracy Island.”

Gordon did not envy him that task one bit.  Virgil was going to freak out.  Badly.

“That’s the last of them, Gordon,” Alan broke in.  “John says-”

“On my way,” Gordon interrupted – okay, so he was a little frazzled, too.  Sue him.  It wasn’t every day he had to rescue his eldest brother from an unplanned watery landing.  “John told me.  I’ll fill you in on the details when we’re on the way.”  He released the ship and shot back towards his floating module as fast as Thunderbird Four could handle.  “Don’t wait for me to get out of Four.  Grab the module as soon as I’m docked and go.”

“What about the crew? We need to drop them off, remember?”

Gordon had forgotten about the crew.  “Any of them need the hospital?”  A high-speed spin and he was in position for the cable to draw Thunderbird Four up the ramp.

“No, but-”

“Then they get a joyride in Two.”  Clunk, and the docking began.  Maybe he shouldn’t be authorising a nice round trip for a bunch of sailors, but it was already a two hour journey and they had no idea how badly Scott was hurt, or what sort of damage One had taken.  Gordon had salvaged downed planes before.

They weren’t pretty.

“Gordon, what-”

“Module’s ready for retrieval,” he interrupted, mostly because he didn’t want to answer the inevitable question just yet.  “Haul me up and punch it.”

“F.A.B.”  Alan sounded far from happy, but the familiar noises and rocking sensation of module retrieval began.

Despite his instinct being to run straight to the cockpit and fill Alan in, thereby making sure he was indeed going as fast as Two could go, Gordon took his time with his post-dive checks.  Thunderbird Four needed to be in top condition for the next rescue, and he refused to jeopardise Scott’s safety by fluffing the checks on the ‘bird that was going to save him.

She was, thankfully, just fine.  No warning lights, no errors, scratches or scrapes.  Thunderbird Four was more than ready for the rescue.

Now they just had to wait until they got there.

“Explain,” Alan ordered the moment he entered the cockpit.  The rescued crew were also looking at him attentively, although thankfully none of them seemed to mind the detour.  Gordon ignored them as he sidled into his seat and began checking their flight data.

Alan was a good kid; he’d heard punch it and taken it for the order it was.  Thunderbird Two was travelling at top speed, hurtling through the skies towards her drowning sister with everything she had.

Still, there was always room for a little more, and Gordon flicked a few switches.

“Gordon!”

“Thunderbird One’s down,” he admitted.  Behind them, he heard the unified gasps of shock from their passengers.  “John can’t raise her, and we have no telemetry.”

“In the ocean?” Alan asked. He didn’t sound like he believed it. Gordon just hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.  Hell, he hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.

“Yup.  No more data, no idea why, no contact.  We just know she’s down.”

Despite already reportedly being maxed out, Thunderbird Two sped up.  Gordon knew Virgil hated it when Alan or Scott treated her like their own ‘birds and pushed the limits, but he suspected they might get a pass this time.

Speaking of their grounded older brother…

“Gordon, Alan!”

Virgil looked awful. The pyjamas and general ‘injured person’ vibes – including at least one visible cast and general mummification by bandages – aside, it was entirely too obvious that he’d been filled in on what little they knew.

“Receiving you, Virgil. Any way this girl of yours can go any faster?” he answered.  “Alan’s trying, but he’s not you.”

“Hey!”

“Make sure you get there in one piece!” Virgil demanded.

“That’s the plan,” Alan promised.  “Anything from Scott?”

Virgil’s face tightened, panic and frustration both clearly etched onto his face.  It hurt to look at – Gordon knew he wanted nothing more than to be where Alan was right then, getting every last scrap of speed out of his ‘bird.  Gordon wanted him there, too, and not just for piloting.  Virgil would have a plan, but most importantly, Virgil had the best medical knowledge.  If Scott was hurt – not really an if if they weren’t getting any contact from him – Gordon wanted the best man for the job.

The best man was currently stuck in the infirmary with too many broken bones to be of any practical use even once they got Scott home.  Gordon and Alan were just going to have to make do with their lesser qualifications.

“Nothing,” Virgil growled, as though the word physically pained him.  It probably did.

“Maybe he’s just out of range while Five’s down?” Alan suggested hopefully.  They all knew that wasn’t likely, but Gordon wasn’t going to be the one to shoot it down.  Not when he wanted to believe it, too.

“I’ll try pinging him from Two,” he said instead, both for something to do and in the vain hope that Alan might be right – never mind that geographically they were further from Tracy Island than Thunderbird One was and their comms were working fine.

“Is there anything we can do?” the ship’s captain asked from behind them.  “I know we’re not you guys, but if there’s anything…”

Gordon was so glad they weren’t kicking up a fuss.

“Accept our apologies for the extended trip,” he shrugged.  “Otherwise, there’s not much anyone can do until we know more.”  He opened the line to Thunderbird One.

It connected.  Normally, he’d call that a good start.  Now, it just filled him with dread, because it meant comms weren’t down.

“Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two,” he called.  “Scott, are you receiving?”

Silence.

On the other line, Virgil looked almost as pale as John’s normal holographic visage.  Whether that was the pain from his injuries, or something less physical, Gordon didn’t dare guess.

“Scott!” he tried again. “Thunderbird One, do you hear me?”

Nothing.  Not even a flicker of visual or a semi-conscious groan of pain. Nothing at all.

The thought crossed his mind that Scott wasn’t even in her.

“John, how soon before you get the cameras back online?” he asked.  The ginger head popped up to accompany Virgil’s over the dashboard – Gordon’s earlier observation had been right.  Their faces were both the exact same pallor.  It wasn’t a good look on either of them.  Beside him, Alan wasn’t looking too hot, either.  He didn’t dare think about his own appearance.  “If we can’t raise him, we can at least try and see what we’re dealing with.”

The line had connected, and he hadn’t heard water.  Hopefully that meant she wasn’t leaking and Scott was still comfy and dry, but Gordon wanted to be sure.

Needed to be sure. The rescue would be a lot more complicated without that sort of information.

“Cameras are online, but Thunderbird One’s are turned off right now.”  John’s face was the picture of frustration, and he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding it in his voice, either.  “It’ll take a little longer before I can access them to turn them on, but EOS is making it a priority.”

Scott never let any of the rest of them turn their internal cameras off.  From now on, Gordon was going to enforce that rule for Thunderbird One, too.  If John and Virgil didn’t beat him to it.

Beside him, Alan was sitting in silence, staring ahead as though if he glared at the world hard enough, he could discover the secrets of teleportation.  Gordon really wished it worked that way.

Sadly, teleportation didn’t exist, and they were having to do things the slow way.  Not that Two was slow, but she certainly wasn’t fast enough.  Not today.

The minutes crawled past like hours.  With Alan firmly in control and channelling Scott’s inner-speed demon as much as the big green ‘bird would allow, there was little for Gordon to do except periodically try to hail Scott, getting ever more concerned as silence persistently responded. He could understand a black-out for a few minutes, but it was – he checked the time – at least an hour since John had contacted him and there was still nothing on the other end of the line.

Virgil was still there, hovering in his bed-bound state and periodically throwing his own frantic calls Scott’s way. Gordon hadn’t even tried to tell him to leave it to them, reminding him that there was nothing he could do.

No-one knew that better than Virgil, after all, and his frustration at his helplessness was steadily mounting the longer the silence persisted.

With no solid information on what they were going to find – external access cameras, which Scott hadn’t turned off, were merrily showing nothing but water and the occasional sea life investigating the strange intruder – Gordon turned his time towards planning.  Plans for an intact Thunderbird One, plans for a leaking Thunderbird One, plans of extraction depending on the severity of Scott’s condition.  He might be going in blind, but he wasn’t going to be going in unprepared.

“Coming up on the co-ordinates now.”  Alan broke through his planning – this scenario involving Thunderbird One somehow stuck and unable to be airlifted – to give him the heads’ up.  His younger brother had been far too subdued the entire flight, and Gordon just hoped he’d be able to keep it together a while longer.  Thunderbird Five wasn’t online enough to have remote control access yet.

And she still didn’t have telemetry, which John was panicking over more and more as Scott continued to be non-responsive, or control over Thunderbird One’s internal cameras.

“F.A.B.,” Gordon responded automatically, getting up from his seat and heading straight for the module and his Thunderbird.  She was just as he’d left her – fully prepared for the next dive – and he settled into the cockpit with ease of experience.

This was just one more rescue.  One with limited information and a brother’s life on the line, but still just one more rescue.  He could do this.

He had to do this.

Pre-dive checks were completed, all systems green and raring to go.  He wondered if she was as anxious to get to her sister as he was his brother.

“Ready for module deployment,” he reported, and barely a moment later they were falling, crashing into the water and rocking for a moment before they stabilised.  “Alan, see if you can get a scan of Thunderbird One’s condition.”  It wouldn’t be as good as a Thunderbird Five scan, but immediately overhead, Thunderbird Two should be able to get something.

Thunderbird Four slid out of the module and under the surface to the tune of his brother’s “F.A.B.” Nose pointed down and sonar active, he pushed her as fast as he dared towards the location they had for the downed Thunderbird.  It wouldn’t be exact – Thunderbird Five’s maintenance downtime crippling the accuracy – but Gordon had enough faith in it to trust that he was at least in range.

Sonar registered the craft just as Alan called him.

“Scans show one life sign,” he said, and Gordon knew he wasn’t imagining the relief in his younger brother’s voice – mostly because he felt it, too.  One life sign meant Scott was alive.  Whatever state he was in, he was alive.  “But Thunderbird One’s been taking on water.  Scans suggest she’s half-flooded.”

That was not such good news. It had to be a small leak, if it was only half after two hours, but with Scott still not responding, he had no idea if his brother was wearing his helmet.

Flooding also meant she was going to be heavier to lift, but the amount of water meant it would be too risky to deploy the tube to link the two craft and attempt to evac Scott into Four. He sent one more ping at the downed Thunderbird, hoping against hope that Scott would answer this time.

He didn’t.

Getting visual on her was a muted sort of relief.  On the one hand, Scott was found, but on the other, Thunderbird One was not supposed to be nestled on the seabed.  It just wasn’t right.

Her wings were still closed, implying she’d been supersonic, and the nose cone was crumpled from the impact with either the water or the sea floor.  Perhaps both.  Gordon suspected that was the source of the leak, but he was more interested in the way she wasn’t entirely belly-down.  Rolled ever so slightly on her side, he should be able to get some sort of visual through the viewing window.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” he belatedly reported.  “Her nose is damaged but otherwise she doesn’t look too bad.  She’s not quite belly-down, so I’m going to go EVA and see what I can see through the viewing window.”

He just needed to see Scott. See that he was okay, see if he had his helmet on and if it was intact.

“Be careful,” John warned. “Your suit won’t hold for long at those depths.”

That was normally Virgil’s line, but Virgil had gone silent.  Gordon would worry about that later, once Scott was safe.

“I just need to check his condition,” he said, tipping backwards into the airlock.  “I won’t be long.”

Compared to Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One always seemed small.  Somehow, in the wide expanse of the ocean, she looked big.  Crashed machinery instead of sleek ‘bird.  The thought made him shudder as he pushed through the water, heading straight for the panel of window he could see.

Thunderbird One’s emergency lighting was on, dim and shrouding most things in shadow.

It was enough to see that Scott was slumped in the pilot chair.  Definitely unconscious, and also not wearing his helmet, because that would have made Gordon’s job too easy.

It wasn’t enough to see why.

He banged on the glass, in case the vibrations could do what persistent comms couldn’t and rouse his brother.

Nothing.

The water was up past Scott’s boots; Gordon couldn’t see how far but his brother was at least partially submerged.

“Alan, we’ll need the lifting bags.”  There was no way he could safely get Scott out until they were on the surface.

“Coming down to you now.” It was Virgil who responded, deep voice full of determination.  Gordon suspected he’d demanded the remote controls for them.  “How is he?  Can you see him?”

“I can see he’s still in his seat,” Gordon answered.  “Not wearing his helmet, so I can’t evac him until she’s lifted with all that water in her, and still not responding to anything.  It’s too dark to see anything else.”

“Any sign of what brought them down?” John asked.

“Nothing,” Gordon admitted, and that concerned him, because what could bring One down – especially with Scott piloting her?  “Only damage I’m seeing so far is from the landing.”

“Lift bags incoming,” Virgil warned, and he looked up to see the yellow bags descending.

With one last look at his unmoving brother, eerie with the emergency lighting playing over the water inside, he peeled himself away from the viewing window and swam up to meet them, making sure they were firmly attached to the Thunderbird.  No room for error.

“Ready to deploy.”

He swam back to Thunderbird Four, slipping back inside and into the cockpit to watch as the bags inflated and slowly, slowly, peeled the downed ‘bird off of the sea floor.

The ascent seemed to take forever, and Gordon kept pace the entire time, peering through the viewing window as best he could to keep an eye on his brother.  There was no movement at all, no reaction to the way his Thunderbird was rising back up to the surface.

If not for Alan’s report of a life sign, he would have been fearing the worst.  As it was, he was still terrified that something was badly wrong, although with Thunderbird One mostly intact, he wasn’t sure what. There shouldn’t have been anything to knock him out.  Certainly not for this long.

The moment they breached the surface, he latched on to her with Thunderbird Four’s arms and once again left his ‘bird.  Gecko gloves gave him the grip he needed to scramble up to Thunderbird One’s dorsal hatch, and with a quick manual override – that thankfully worked – he dropped down into thigh-deep water inside the Thunderbird.

“Scott!” he called, ignoring frantic demands from his brothers that he update them.  He’d update them when he knew what was going on himself.  Thunderbird One rolled gently with the water she was floating on, somewhat stabilised by Four but not entirely.  Not until clanks told him Alan had fired grapples to lock on.

He waded his way towards the pilot chair, eyeing the way Scott was slumped and already mentally running through all the possible reasons for his unresponsiveness.  A hand on the shoulder of the seat – not his brother until he knew injuries – and he pulled himself the rest of the way until he was in front of Scott, and-

Oh shit.

He must have said it out loud, because suddenly there were three brothers in his ear – loud and frantic – but he only had eyes for his white, white brother.  None of his theories, his suspicions, had been right. Not even close.

Blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Scott’s abdomen, but it wasn’t those that had Gordon’s teeth grinding in a mix of fear and fury.  No.

It was the knife buried hilt-deep.

tbc...

[transformersvn]

Thoughts on Transformers: War For Cybertron - Earthrise

My thoughts on this are less cohesive than last time, so I hope you're ready for a long ramble as I try to figure out exactly what I think about the series.

Tl;dr - still looks really pretty, but Siege’s weak writing hasn't improved.

Spoilers below the cut.

Earthrise generally suffers from being part 2 of 3. It's focused on getting characters from point A (Cybertron) to point B (Earth) and doesn't really do much in the meantime. You could've cut episodes 4 and 5 and it wouldn't have affected the plot all that much.

Megatron and Optimus

They need to stop having fights. It'd be best for their characters and the plot if they hadn't spent several minutes pointing guns at each other and saying that *this* time they were actually going to kill them. Just follow through already and if you can't then keep them apart until the climax.

Optimus getting distracted by Cog running up and going 'Optimus! What are you doing?!' was stupid. Cog should've been glad that Optimus was finally at the point where he wouldn't sacrifice every last Autobot to save Megatron if given the opportunity.

Them being trapped together was pointless and stupid (aside from that one screenshot we all made). Megatron's point that Optimus keeps screwing up and it's Megatron who pays the price was interesting - but it was surrounded by so much nonsense that it fell flat.

Speaking of…

Autobot Decepticon teamups

Are they trying to lean towards ending the series with mutual cooperation and peace? Their 'we all need to work together' moments were always horribly shoehorned and the Autobots didn't once try to put measures in place to defend themselves when the Decepticons inevitably betrayed them.

I like hero/villain teamups, but it doesn't work if the heroes are stupid about them.

Scorponok fight

There is a big room with a big enemy in. The Autobots have shut themselves in a corridor on one side of the room. They need to reach the other side of the room without getting killed. Whose idea was it to try and kill Scorponok instead of just evasive maneuvers to the other side of the room?!?

To be fair, Optimus did try and run distraction, but Bumblebee decided that was a stupid plan and standing still and shooting at the enemy - that none of their blasters had even scratched - was a better one.

It was a stupid fight. If they wanted a Megatron/Optimus moment so badly then, hey, the Autobots have rigged the station to blow and the Decepticons don't know that - have Megatron set off an explosion by accident and trap him and Optimus (who could've been diving forward to try and stop Megatron, thereby getting close).

The Dead Universe

You could've replaced this with Optimus getting a vision from the Matrix and Megatron having a short visit from future!Galvatron. It wasted time that could've been spent on actual character development.

Skylynx had about 3 lines that he just repeated variants of the whole episode.

Was it clear to anyone who hadn't seen the 1986 movie exactly what the Megatron/Galvatron link was? They were pretty vague about it.

Also, if Skylynx's advice made Optimus go 'hmm, yes, I should stop looking back and actually kill Megatron to prevent my own death', then Galvatron's advice to Megatron should've made him go 'I don't hate Prime this much/if he’s dedicated all his effort into stopping Prime and still failed, there must be another way'. I suppose, he didn’t kill Optimus when given a perfect opportunity, but that also just felt like an extension of their endless *points gun* “one-liner” *tables are turned* cycle.

Elita

Poor, poor, badly written Elita. She can't get anything done without Jetfire - the big strong man - questioning her or being the one to save the day, or making a desperate plan to try and fight their way out of captivity when they're going to be sacrificed, but we never see their escape attempt.

I don't think she acts like someone who is on a doomed planet. Breaking into prisons camps makes less sense than trying to find a way to fix things. Let her fail, fine, but give her a fighting chance to try and reignite Cybertron or, say, find someone who is rumoured to be able to create synthetic energon - which could've been a reason for prison breaks at least.

And it was probably meant to be read differently, but Elita's silence over her name when Megatron called her Ariel to her face, versus Optimus snarling that ‘her name is Elita-1!′ when Megatron used 'Ariel' around him, kinda makes me wonder whose decision it was to rename her.

Cog

They don't get to make me sad about a character death when that character had previously stopped Optimus from finally trying to kill Megatron and also failed to just bloody shoot Deeceus. And had he really taken the enemy ship? Really?

Misc

We never found out why the station was trapped halfway through the Spacebridge.

Optimus's voice actor still sounds like a bad Batman when he's angry, though he might've gotten away with it if Megatron's voice actor didn't have such a good "Prime" snarl.

Everyone is miserable, which isn't necessarily a bad thing in a series about the struggles of war, but when it's aimed at kids you have to ask the question: are they enjoying it? It is fun to watch?

Ultra Magnus's head was sort of flagged up as important - specifically its location was noted by Elita - but never appeared again once Megatron left Cybertron. Did he take it with him?

For having such a hard-on for the 1986 movie, their decision to have Megatron beg for mercy (something quite out of character for this version of Megatron) and not include Optimus's 'you who are without mercy now plead for it?' line was a weird whiplashy moment.

Showing Glavatron and Unicron in the trailer when they literally appear for one episode and five second respectively was seriously false advertising. When did people forget that watching a trailer is supposed to give you an idea of the type/style of plot the media is supposed to deliver?

The editing is bad in several places. There were often moments where there would be an explosion in place A, then it'd cut to a battered character in place B getting up in a ruined room, making it look like they'd been in said explosion. Confusing in a series where palette-swapping and similar character designs already make it difficult for newcomers to tell what's going on.

The velociraptor-bot at the end looked like 90's CGI and I really hope Kingdom doesn't all look like that.

If Hot Rod doesn't show up and get the Matrix in Kingdom I'm going to be severely disappointed.

Starscream really likes speechifying to a tiny audience. He makes his bid to become leader in front of a nameless Decepticon, Soundwave, Ravage, and an injured Megatron - who promptly shoots him. I have to admit that he’s probably the character they did best by, his coup moments were pretty good and captured Starscream as we all know him.

Like the question of what exactly was under siege in Siege, Earthrise only gets to Earth at the end of the last episode.

Wheeljack felt weirdly useless. He didn’t get to go through with his plan of blowing up the station and couldn’t open a pair of blast doors that Soundwave had 0 problems with. After not being the one to fix the Spacebridge in Siege, he’s not feeling much like an engineer.

You had to guess motivations and plans and fairly often piece things together backwards after the fact. Having an idea of who everyone was made that easier for me than for non-fans, but I still ended up running on incorrect assumptions about what people were going to do and why.

...

So, there you go. I guess I’m still going to watch Kingdom when it comes out, but I think I’ve lost all my optimism for it being any good.

[lildarkchapel]

Careless (Hux x reader)

hey guys so this is my contribution to @lovermrjokerr ​‘s writing challenge in celebration of 8K followers! Enjoy :)

Prompt: "Don't you see? I did it to protect you!"

Fandom: Star Wars

Words: 1406

Warnings: Angst

**********************************************************************************

You felt the ground shake underneath your feet. The sound of various blasters and buzzing lightsabers kept ringing in your ears from one corner of the wood to the other. This wasn't just a battle, it was war. You quickly jumped to the side to avoid getting hit by one of the hissing rays while cursing angrily. This wasn't your fault. Yes, after all it was your mission but it would've went just smoothly if Ren hadn't interfered again. He knew that you were perfectly capable of executing this order on your own but that would've meant that he had to admit that you were as nearly as strong as him by now. Deep inside you both knew that in fact you had already outplayed him. You were younger, more focused and less of a chaotic mess than he was. Not that you didn't like or in a way looked up to him - he was your mentor after all and taught you the ways of conquering the galaxy. Still you would've hoped that he’d finally accepted you as a coequal fighter and not just his apprentice. You sighed before repelling one of your enemies with your own lightsaber again. Why couldn't Ren be more like Hux? You snarled. The general was calm and most of the time highly willing to cooperate with you. In a way he also was some sort of mentor regarding manipulating people and earning respect on the ship which was pretty useful in the First Order actually. Especially at the beginning of your apprenticeship you were more than thankful to have him by your side. But maybe he was just decent towards you because he hated Ren from the bottom of his heart and wanted to mess with him. Why did this thought hurt you in a way? Another blast that snapped you back into reality. You growled and killed the piece of scum that had dared to attack you with one hit before he could even react. Before you had left Starkiller Base you had told Hux - just like Ren - to stay there and let you do your job. And the general had fucking stayed there like he was supposed to. Why did Ren have to leave the bridge and thereby reveal them to the Resistance fighters that had sieged this planet for months now? Hux had told you once that it was pointless to try and talk to Kylo Ren civilized as he had a unique ability to assert himself. Well maybe not these exact words but more like "He's a huge child with the ego of a space princess" but you knew what he had meant. You chuckled. Hopefully the general was alright and not the victim of one of Ren's short circuit tantrums again...why did you keep thinking about the red-haired man anyway? You should certainly stop as it could easily distract you and imperil the mission... While still being kept in your thoughts you suddenly saw a burst of light from the corner of your eye. It was too late to move. You quickly closed them and waited for the blazing pain to hit you. So this was the end of your promising life just because you had been careless? How unfortunate. You couldn't even say goodbye...Instead of feeling pain you heard someone moan weakly followed by a drop right in front of you. Your eyes widened with horror as you opened them again and saw a slim figure curled up into a ball on the cold ground next to your feet. It was Hux.

“No!”, you desperately screamed out before feeling all your emotions erupt at once. You couldn’t stop yourself from going berserk. At this point you didn’t care about this mission or Ren any longer. They should lose and get killed, it didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was Hux. The next thing you could remember was you dragging the injured general back onto your ship, while being covered in your own blood as well as the blood of Hux and those doomed fighters you had killed on your way back.

Oh, they would all definitely pay for this.

**********************************************************************************

Hux slowly opened his eyes while groaning with a raspy voice. A relieved sigh escaped your soft, pink lips. You could tell that even though the medics and droids had done their best he was still in pain. Slowly you reached out to take his hand carefully. The ginger flinched at your move and stared at you with sad greenish eyes. He then quickly turned away to not meet your gaze any longer. You could tell that this whole situation was highly embarrassing for him but he had to face this conversation now. You had enough questions after all.

“Hux…”, you spoke softly hoping that he’d pay attention to you again.

“What?”, he hissed before facing you again. Seeing him like that you felt your emotions overflowing you again. Tears filled your eyes and you tried your best to hold them back. You were so fucking scared and hurt. You didn’t ask him to nearly kill himself for you and now he acted that harsh towards you again. You didn’t understand him…bloody hell you didn’t even understood yourself!

“Why did you do this, you idiot?! I told you to stay on board!”, you cried out sounding more vulnerable but also aggressive that you’d planned. Hux growled before jumping off of the sickbed. Quickly he grabbed your chin before pushing you against the cold metal wall of the med bay.

“What do you think, y/n?” His angry face was just inches away from yours before he pushed you away again. He still felt dizzy. Groaning with pain he sat back onto the edge of the bed, his hands buried deep in his tousled red hair. Even though you had already seen him wounded you had never seen him that hurt before.

“Don't you see? I did it to protect you!”, he mumbled underneath his breath almost too quietly for you to understand.

“What do you mean…?” Did he try to tell you what you thought he did? Of course you had felt it in the force that there was something special about the general but you had never dared to enter his thoughts simply out of respect towards him.

“I did it to protect you!”, he screamed out again, loud enough for the whole ship to hear it. “I…I have the urge to protect you, y/n. Since I got to know you I tried my best to keep you away from danger…but then Ren he… he followed you…I was already so scared that I could lose the only thing that brings me joy in this universe…I knew he’d fuck it up, this imbecile! So I had to ensure that no one would hurt you…then I saw that scum aiming towards you and you didn’t react…it was a panic reaction…you can’t die…no…” Hux felt a deep sob escaping his dry throat. This was so embarrassing. He had made a complete fool of himself in front of you. He was weak. As if you’d ever like him that way, especially after today. He shook his head and silently cried while looking at the grey floor tiles between his feet. He didn’t even notice that during his rant you had begun to cry as well. It was from joy.

“Oh you stupid, reckless but loveable creature…” you knelt down before him and cupped his face into your hands so that he had to look at you. “I was so fucking scared to lose you myself. Never ever do something like that again, promise?” He nodded weakly.

“Good.” You dried the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs before placing a soft, gentle kiss on his pale lips. A small smile spread across his face – it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.  You chuckled and leaned your forehead against his.

“I’m a big girl I can take care of myself, Hux.” You chuckled.

“I know but allow me to still protect you.”, he whispered against your lips before softly kissing you again.

“You’re an idiot.”, you laughed quietly.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

“Apparently.”

A feeling of pure happiness rushed through your whole body. You’d make sure that no one would ever dare to hurt him again. One day the two of you would rule over the universe - you were sure about that.

[dnd5a]

Chronicle Entry LC515 – 31/08/1202: Heroes

This Chronicle entry, recorded by Senior Officer Pale, recounts his experiences with the recent attack on the Astral Fortress

After some degree of pestering from a multitude of both my betters and adjacents alike, I have decided it best to recount my actions from the attack from some weeks ago.

I was already awake when the attack started, making personal notes of my studies. The crash resounded throughout the building, sending rubble flying all about the place. The wall opposite myself collapsed, covering by wardrobe in, at minimum, two-hundred pounds of rubble. Arguably the best possible outcome, as were it destroyed, we would have some 379 undead clawing their way across the fortress.

An enormous, white, scaly leg stood atop the ruins, before a howling wind filled my ears and a biting frost caught me. A quick assessment proved that this situation was A) involving a white dragon, and B) bad.

I always have a contingency plan for all manner of things, attacks on the fortress included, and whilst I was not specifically prepared for an ancient dragon, the general plan still applies. Gather my juniors, make for the Bridge Between Worlds, and operate it for an escape. This assumes that fighting is not an option, which give the following assessments, makes that assumption applicable:

The surprise nature of the attack.

Milk’s habit of late-sleeping and need for prayer to prepare her magics.

Frostbite’s rather obvious repertoire of spells.

Twist’s lack of ability to deal with flying enemies.

Huck’s general inexperience with combating nonhumanoid opponents.

Whilst there are a variety of reasonable points to contradict this assessment, I had only the time for half a debate with myself before I was to be pulverised by several dozen-tonne dragon, so understandably I went with my initial conjecture.

Pushing my way out of the front door, I could see several severely injured senior officers laid in the halls. I hadn’t my usual undead entourage, nor my case, and thus any attempts to rescue these individuals would’ve simply resulted in another corpse, that being my own.

Once outside and thoroughly out of breath, I could see the full scale of the beast, and my calculations were reasonably accurate. It was some 64 feet snout to tail-tip, and likely weighed in excess of 29 tons. I must give some credit to the building’s designer, as even whilst structurally compromised, to say the least, it held it shape quite remarkably.

As predicted, my junior officers had successfully followed my escape plan, and were able to meet myself at the end of Argentum Row, all bar Huck.

___

“Took you long enough,” Call remarked.

Call has always been difficult. We don’t often see eye to eye much down to that reason.

“I’m terribly sorry, I was too busy almost being crushed by an ancient dragon,” I replied. Somewhat unnecessarily aggressive, I understand, but my faculties were not quite up to standard in that moment.

Milk cut in, a stammering shiver to her voice “Have you seen Huck?”

“I have not, no. I had a feeling the boy wouldn’t be able to keep up with the plan.”

“A shame,” Frostbite said, a smirk to his sunken, skeletal face, “may he rest in peace, I suppose.”

“He most certainly shall not!” Milk snapped. A rare sight, but proof of her integrity. “We have to go back for him. He’s just a boy!”

“T-then a boy he shall die! I’ve no patience for his idiocy.” Frostbite replied, somewhat disarmed by Milk’s aggression.

___

Now, I have received much criticism in the past for my apparent, ‘cowardice,’ from within the company and without. However, I raise that much of this criticism has come from so-called ‘heroes,’ fools who jaunt their way into mortal danger for some nebulous ‘greater good,’ only to die like fools.

Heroism is a convenient luxury for some, those with the tenacity to be struck down and stand again. Whilst many members of this company would likely call themselves heroes, or at least aspire to be one, I would counter that they are simply blessed with the fortitude to be a fool with little consequence. I have no such fortitude, and thereby I have no time to be a hero. The boy, Huck, is a fine young man and an upstanding soldier, but I will not die for him. I came here to live, and thus I refuse to die on any but my own terms.

___

“Please Pale, we have to help him.” Milk implored, ignoring Frostbite’s provocation.

“I agree. He might just be held up somewhere, and if we can help him, then it’s worth the time,” Call agreed, looking off towards the carnage.

___

They were fools. We were underprepared. I had few spells and no servants, Milk was very likely without spells entirely, and Call quite possibly was too. I was half-considering simply grabbing them all and leaving.

___

We argued for another 10 seconds, before falling rubble forced us to move some 21 paces east. When we stopped, Twist finally spoke up.

“I have his scent, he’s close.” She showed little emotion on her face, but her nose had a very consistent success rate of some 98%.

“If he’s close, we can save him!” Milk shouted. She was crying now, and whilst that was not uncommon, nor did it have much affect on my views, her crying would certainly impact her concentration on the task at hand.

“Fine. We will fetch the boy.”

“I knew you were good,” Milk sobbed, rushing forward and invading my personal space with an embrace. She knows it very much makes me uncomfortable, yet she does it anyway.

“I’m going to disagree with you there, but regardless, can you please stop so we can move. We’ve been stood around for some twenty seconds now and any longer will spell our deaths.”

___

We raced towards the junior officer’s quarters, Twist transforming into her alternate form to improve her scent-trailing abilities. We moved passed many dead, and witnessed the likes of Feather and Whisper attempting to face the dragon head on.

See my latter analysis for the opinion I hold of their behaviour.

Upon arrival, with aid from Twist pulling rubble away, we found Huck, unconscious and bloody in the rubble. I checked him briefly. His wounds were largely superficial, but the head trauma he had suffered could be serious.

I hadn’t the time to check him over again before a great wave of frost filled the street behind us. It would have hit us too were it not for Call. He took the brunt of the assault, before collapsing on the ground, his hands quickly blackening.

“I told you this was suicide. Just be glad that wasn’t us.” Frostbite chuckled.

With a swift crack and a loud crunch, Frostbite was sent reeling to the floor. Milk stood, based on the sound and the blood, one to two of her knuckles clearly broken, before rushing to Call’s side.

As Twist hoisted Huck onto her back and Call laid on the ground, minutes away from losing his arms to the cold, I had to make a decision.

Mustering my most powerful magics, I opened a gateway to a demiplane on a nearby wall. This was to be my final escape plan if all went wrong, but I had a different idea.

___

“Milk, I need you to bring Huck and Call inside. Frostbite, move people in the street towards the entrance, they’ll be safe in here. Twist, go back to my apartment and fetch my case. We’re turning this demiplane into a medical centre.”

___

I spent the remainder of the time inside the demiplane. The dragon came for us on a number of occasions, but by that point we had people to defend the entrance and stop it from collapsing, but it was still risky. If the demiplane collapsed, we would all be trapped, permanently, but it was a gamble I was willing to take. As to why I was willing, I am unsure. Perhaps I’ve been exposed to so many fools with illusions of heroic grandeur that they’ve started to rub off of on me. Whilst it’s improbable, Milk certainly seems to think that’s the case.

I treated the dying and the dead, some being individuals I knew. Not something I wasn’t used to, but an unpleasant experience for Milk, no doubt.

In conclusion, the attack took place over less than 20 minutes, giving me more than enough time to vacate the demiplane with my patients in toe before it collapsed. Huck has suffered a severe concussion, but it seems to have inflicted no lasting damage, whilst our timely medical attention has saved Call’s hands, though has put him out of commission for some weeks at minimum.

I am no hero, nor would I ever aspire to be one, but I can provide assistance were appropriate and reasonable. Milk insists that makes me one, but written definition shows that it requires a ‘compulsive bravery,’ that analytic rationality would quash.

[girlnavy180152]

Don't top your trees the buds at the tips

Don't top your trees  

 The buds at the tips of shoots in trees are hormonally controlled. Those on lateral branches are disciplined to grow outward, toward light (phototropic). Those on tree tops are obsessed to grow upwards against gravity(geotropic). When i want to buy an iphone topping cuts are made and the geotropic buds are removed, the switches the hormonal signals to the buds at the tips of the upper lateral branches to start thriving against gravity. Some species of trees will also trigger dormant buds that lay under the bark (epicormic) of the tree to release and develop geotropically, known as watersprouts. 

 Either type of newly recruited geotropic buds will grow many times faster than those of the original top, frequently quickly reattaining the height of the original top. The result is letter new top far larger and such more dense than the original. At this point, any benefit of the topping cut is undone and the original issue is more of angstrom unit problem than before.... but it gets worse: 

 Trees are rarely capable to close off wounds from superior cuts fast enough to stop decline fungi from entering the open area. As the newly recruited tops bend upward and put on rapid growth, the area around their point of attachment to the trunk becomes more decayed inside, thus weakening the new tops' attachment, already weak because of the two 90-degree turns from the stem. 

 The obvious consequence of many large new tops with weak attachment points is a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree that can become very hazardous. 

 Accordingly, many of our municipalities forbid topping in their tree bylaws, unless it is for hazard reduction linear unit previously topped trees. 

 Don't mess soil or other debris over your tree's root system  

 Tree roots require air to survive. On the other hand, too much beam will desiccate roots and kill them. As roots grow outward, they a delicate balance of air, moisture, and nutrient supply in the soil, with the fine absorbing roots being found in the top a few inches. When extra soil is over a tree's rooting area, it decreases the amount of oxygen that can get to these roots, much killing them. This also renders the lower soil environment more favourable to root decay fungi which, in real infections, can cause the entire to fall over. Adding as pocketable as two inches of soil to the rooting area can be sufficient to kill a mature tree. 

 Don't over prune your trees 

 While some orchardists rely on onerous pruning to maintain a heavy yield, this is not a worthy practice for most homeowners. Orchard trees are grown specifically for fruit output and not for aesthetic value. Such pruning practices severely reduce a tree's life expectancy, compromise structural form, and come at heavy maintenance cost collectible to excessive sprouting. Heavy fruit crops are a symptom of stress, and such trees are pruned so atomic number 33 to stress them. 

 Trees for ornamental value, as is the case in most yards should commonly not have more than 25% of the leafy area removed in adenine year. Keeping within such limits, piece making proper cuts, can keep amp tree healthy and maintain an piquant form. This can be done while, at the same time, maintaining A decent yield of fruit, if thusly desired. Pruning is all about balance. 

 Don't fertilize unless you separate your tree needs it 

 Any nutrient becomes toxic when there is too much of it in the soil. Because trees are much longer-lived than most other garden plants, they keep a delicate equilibrium between beginning rates and other physiological functions and moisture and nutrient levels in their environment. Upsetting this balance by adding concentrated nutrients can have unintended and unwanted growth reactions in trees. If a tree shows symptoms of alimentary deficiency, it is best to eff the soil tested before trying to amend the soil. If fertilizer is required, it is best to utilise an organic form, in which nutrients are released at a slower value and are therefore less likely to cause fertilizer burn than a a posteriori variety. The easiest way to amend your soil, is to a tree to take back its own nutrients, by allowing leaves to compost themselves on-site. 

 Don't playing period water your trees 

 While trees do need water to survive, excessively much water can kill them. Roots need access to air through begrime pores, which can be cut inactive by oversaturated soil. Roots in oversaturated soil will eventually die. Wet conditions are also very favourable to numerous of the fungi responsible for Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree decay, especially for root rot fungi, which can result in the integral tree falling over. 

 Don't catch in over your head  

 If you are considering working on your trees and something seems unsafe, it probably is. There is A lot of weight involved and nucleotide lot of forces at play even off in fairly small trees, and many a homeowners are seriously injured or frightful yearly when trying to do knead they are improperly equipped for. If unsure, call an expert. 

 If you are considering working on your trees and aren't familiar with right pruning techniques, trees' growth responses to pruning or damage, or the inevitably and limitations of the particular coinage of tree in question, it is wise to call an expert. Short-term savings on doing work one's soul are often dwarfed by the long-tem cost of attempting to repair type A tree from improper pruning. 

 Do know the species of your trees, and the personalities of those specie 

 Each species of tree has its own specific needs and habits. Knowing these ahead of time container help you avoid actions that aim harm your tree, or prevent you from planting the right tree successful the wrong spot in the number 1 place. Western redcedar (Thuja plicata) has a shallow, spreading root system that allows its roots to survive the wet environments it grows in naturally. This species would be inappropriate for a fast-draining hilltop, or a place where heavy traffic is expected play the rooting area. Most birches (Betula spp.) are likewise adapted to surfactant growing sites, often naturally growing creeks or in gullies. This is one reason we see a heap of otherwise beautiful birch trees successful Vancouver planted in fast-draining lawns with dead tops. Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii), the bearer of our provincial flower, is very sensitive to damp conditions and stagnant airflow, and will oftentimes quickly die in such conditions from dogwood anthracnose. 

 Knowing the attain mature size and spread of deoxyadenosine monophosphate tree is of utmost importance metal choosing its planting location. Every year, we are called to remove other beautiful, healthy trees, that have been planted in the wrong spot and are damaging buildings. 

 Do complex trees in appropriate spots  

 This goes along with knowing your species... We are surrounded by restrained rainforest full of beautiful trees. Where there is room for them to grow, large native species such Douglas-fir, western redcedar, western hemlock, M fir, and bigleaf maple can symbolise marvelous assets to a yard. The same goes with stately exotic trees such as black walnut, beech, operating theatre elm. However, property owners frequently don't take mature form into consideration planting seedlings, or allowing naturally trees to grow in place. 

 A bit of planning while adenine tree is small can reduce the need for expensive removals down the road, along with the loss of an otherwise beautiful tree. Trees that grow large also tend to farm surprisingly rapidly. 

 Do water your trees if they need it 

 Trees growing in our region jazz acclimatized to our rainy environment. Established trees should have no problem dealings with a week or two of drought when we do get sere breaks. However, prolonged droughts can unnecessarily stress your trees, reducing their vigor and thereby reducing their resistance to pathogens. Trees benefit most from occasional (no more than twice a week) deep watering than from regular tender bursts with a sprinkler. They coiffe not like their trunks being sprayed directly by a sprinkler, rather fat-soluble vitamin gentle soaking of the soil close to the root area, ideally with letter of the alphabet soaker hose. Watering is most trenchant in the evenings, as during the day much of the water is effectively lost to evaporation before ancestor can absorb it. 

 Do suffer limbs pruned back from your theater  

 It is beneficial to prune tree limbs growing towards walls and roofs early on to found a form that will require lilliputian maintenance in the future, and allow for adequate clearance from buildings. Branches future day within 3 ft. of roofs Oregon eves invite squirrels and rats onto rooftops, where they can gain right inside through roof vents, often nesting in attic space. This is letter of the alphabet common problem in the Greater Vancouver area. 

  topping cuts are made and the geotropic buds are removed, the switches the hormonal signals to the buds at the tips of the upper lateral branches to start thriving against gravity. Some species of trees will also trigger dormant buds that lay under the bark (epicormic) of the tree to release and develop geotropically, known as watersprouts. 

 Either type of newly recruited geotropic buds will grow many times faster than those of the original top, frequently quickly reattaining the height of the original top. The result is letter new top far larger and such more dense than the original. At this point, any benefit of the topping cut is undone and the original issue is more of angstrom unit problem than before.... but it gets worse: 

 Trees are rarely capable to close off wounds from superior cuts fast enough to stop decline fungi from entering the open area. As the newly recruited tops bend upward and put on rapid growth, the area around their point of attachment to the trunk becomes more decayed inside, thus weakening the new tops' attachment, already weak because of the two 90-degree turns from the stem. 

 The obvious consequence of many large new tops with weak attachment points is a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree that can become very hazardous. 

 Accordingly, many of our municipalities forbid topping in their tree bylaws, unless it is for hazard reduction linear unit previously topped trees. 

 Don't mess soil or other debris over your tree's root system  

 Tree roots require air to survive. On the other hand, too much beam will desiccate roots and kill them. As roots grow outward, they a delicate balance of air, moisture, and nutrient supply in the soil, with the fine absorbing roots being found in the top a few inches. When extra soil is over a tree's rooting area, it decreases the amount of oxygen that can get to these roots, much killing them. This also renders the lower soil environment more favourable to root decay fungi which, in real infections, can cause the entire to fall over. Adding as pocketable as two inches of soil to the rooting area can be sufficient to kill a mature tree. 

 Don't over prune your trees 

 While some orchardists rely on onerous pruning to maintain a heavy yield, this is not a worthy practice for most homeowners. Orchard trees are grown specifically for fruit output and not for aesthetic value. Such pruning practices severely reduce a tree's life expectancy, compromise structural form, and come at heavy maintenance cost collectible to excessive sprouting. Heavy fruit crops are a symptom of stress, and such trees are pruned so atomic number 33 to stress them. 

 Trees for ornamental value, as is the case in most yards should commonly not have more than 25% of the leafy area removed in adenine year. Keeping within such limits, piece making proper cuts, can keep amp tree healthy and maintain an piquant form. This can be done while, at the same time, maintaining A decent yield of fruit, if thusly desired. Pruning is all about balance. 

 Don't fertilize unless you separate your tree needs it 

 Any nutrient becomes toxic when there is too much of it in the soil. Because trees are much longer-lived than most other garden plants, they keep a delicate equilibrium between beginning rates and other physiological functions and moisture and nutrient levels in their environment. Upsetting this balance by adding concentrated nutrients can have unintended and unwanted growth reactions in trees. If a tree shows symptoms of alimentary deficiency, it is best to eff the soil tested before trying to amend the soil. If fertilizer is required, it is best to utilise an organic form, in which nutrients are released at a slower value and are therefore less likely to cause fertilizer burn than a a posteriori variety. The easiest way to amend your soil, is to a tree to take back its own nutrients, by allowing leaves to compost themselves on-site. 

 Don't playing period water your trees 

 While trees do need water to survive, excessively much water can kill them. Roots need access to air through begrime pores, which can be cut inactive by oversaturated soil. Roots in oversaturated soil will eventually die. Wet conditions are also very favourable to numerous of the fungi responsible for Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree decay, especially for root rot fungi, which can result in the integral tree falling over. 

 Don't catch in over your head  

 If you are considering working on your trees and something seems unsafe, it probably is. There is A lot of weight involved and nucleotide lot of forces at play even off in fairly small trees, and many a homeowners are seriously injured or frightful yearly when trying to do knead they are improperly equipped for. If unsure, call an expert. 

 If you are considering working on your trees and aren't familiar with right pruning techniques, trees' growth responses to pruning or damage, or the inevitably and limitations of the particular coinage of tree in question, it is wise to call an expert. Short-term savings on doing work one's soul are often dwarfed by the long-tem cost of attempting to repair type A tree from improper pruning. 

 Do know the species of your trees, and the personalities of those specie 

 Each species of tree has its own specific needs and habits. Knowing these ahead of time container help you avoid actions that aim harm your tree, or prevent you from planting the right tree successful the wrong spot in the number 1 place. Western redcedar (Thuja plicata) has a shallow, spreading root system that allows its roots to survive the wet environments it grows in naturally. This species would be inappropriate for a fast-draining hilltop, or a place where heavy traffic is expected play the rooting area. Most birches (Betula spp.) are likewise adapted to surfactant growing sites, often naturally growing creeks or in gullies. This is one reason we see a heap of otherwise beautiful birch trees successful Vancouver planted in fast-draining lawns with dead tops. Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii), the bearer of our provincial flower, is very sensitive to damp conditions and stagnant airflow, and will oftentimes quickly die in such conditions from dogwood anthracnose. 

 Knowing the attain mature size and spread of deoxyadenosine monophosphate tree is of utmost importance metal choosing its planting location. Every year, we are called to remove other beautiful, healthy trees, that have been planted in the wrong spot and are damaging buildings. 

 Do complex trees in appropriate spots  

 This goes along with knowing your species... We are surrounded by restrained rainforest full of beautiful trees. Where there is room for them to grow, large native species such Douglas-fir, western redcedar, western hemlock, M fir, and bigleaf maple can symbolise marvelous assets to a yard. The same goes with stately exotic trees such as black walnut, beech, operating theatre elm. However, property owners frequently don't take mature form into consideration planting seedlings, or allowing naturally trees to grow in place. 

 A bit of planning while adenine tree is small can reduce the need for expensive removals down the road, along with the loss of an otherwise beautiful tree. Trees that grow large also tend to farm surprisingly rapidly. 

 Do water your trees if they need it 

 Trees growing in our region jazz acclimatized to our rainy environment. Established trees should have no problem dealings with a week or two of drought when we do get sere breaks. However, prolonged droughts can unnecessarily stress your trees, reducing their vigor and thereby reducing their resistance to pathogens. Trees benefit most from occasional (no more than twice a week) deep watering than from regular tender bursts with a sprinkler. They coiffe not like their trunks being sprayed directly by a sprinkler, rather fat-soluble vitamin gentle soaking of the soil close to the root area, ideally with letter of the alphabet soaker hose. Watering is most trenchant in the evenings, as during the day much of the water is effectively lost to evaporation before ancestor can absorb it. 

 Do suffer limbs pruned back from your theater  

 It is beneficial to prune tree limbs growing towards walls and roofs early on to found a form that will require lilliputian maintenance in the future, and allow for adequate clearance from buildings. Branches future day within 3 ft. of roofs Oregon eves invite squirrels and rats onto rooftops, where they can gain right inside through roof vents, often nesting in attic space. This is letter of the alphabet common problem in the Greater Vancouver area. 

[hysteriium]

Karma’s a Bitch; {1}

// Deal With the Devil // 

Steady hands met with the flesh of a tense bicep. An arm you knew by now would never relax despite your genuine reassurances.

With one scarred, blind eye and the other distant, refusing to look at you, it was always difficult to tell if he was in the present moment; aware. Or, if the infamous man was miles away, thinking — perhaps about what he’d do to you now if you messed up.

Though, maybe that was your anxiety talking.

Michael definitely wasn’t the nicest patient, there had been plenty of incidents over the years. Fatal ones. Yet, much to doctor Sartain’s persistence, Michael remained in the facility. It wasn’t ethical, but hey, you needed to get paid and so you tried your best to please everyone. Do your job for your boss, Sartain, and take care of Michael, since you were the only nurse who he allowed near him.

You wouldn’t say Michael trusted you. You figured he was quite unacquainted with the notion, yet you knew that he at least tolerated you. Seeming as you hadn’t been slammed against the wall, your brains splattering and contrasting against the blinding whiteness that coated the entire facility, this was a clear fact. A morbid, gory masterpiece that would almost belong in a museum; its message loud and clear.

With a gentle hum, you wrapped the measuring instrument around his arm. It wasn’t a daily process, but one that had to be performed every so often. It was a strict regulation with patients, especially with precious Michael (as your boss would so kindly emphasise), to ensure each patient was fit and healthy.

As you sat across from him, your gentle humming signified your distance from present-tense, your mind flickering elsewhere — dangerous. As your movements went into automation, you were too dazed to notice Michael slowly moving his head towards you; expression vacant, with no evidence of a human being residing within the flesh. It was only after completing the small task of writing down Michael’s scores when you stopped. Michael’s comparatively larger hand had halted you, your pen falling to the ground in a series of taps. It was a firm grip; you could never envision the man being gentle. It was a hold that signified if you made it difficult, there’d be no hesitation in ending your pathetic, significantly weaker, life.

Steady heartbeats morphed into that of panic, a hammering stampede. Taking in the new bits of information, you looked down at the man sitting before you, his gaze spilling into your own with such intensity it was hard to keep your eyes from saccading away. It had the capacity to turn even the hardest men into stone, like that of the great gorgon, Medusa. A flame lay within those dead eyes, ones that harboured the burning desire to kill.

“M-Michael?” Your voice came out as a pained whimper, and if he hadn’t had any indication you were bat shit terrified before, (which you doubted), he sure as hell knew now.

He could smell fear from a mile away.

His grip tightened at the sound of your small voice, the pullback of his arm forcing you closer to him with your faces mere inches apart. The action forced your eyes shut, and you felt your face involuntarily scrunch up in fear as you waited for impending doom. The atmosphere was suffocating, your body hot and tingling with adrenaline as the laboured breathing of your former patient, and soon to be murderer, triumphed. Its flow tickled the base of your neck, strands of your hair softly swaying against his harsh respire.

When you mustered enough courage to look, with the seconds speedily turning into minutes, you opened one glassy eye, tears pricking at the corners and threatening to spill. You weren’t sure which was more horrifying; getting hurt — and perhaps murdered by Michael — or the absence of pain that virtually seemed impossible to associate with the infamous man.

Then, as unexpected as it was abrupt, his strong hand released you.

Curious beyond articulation as to what the fuck happened, you didn’t need to be assaulted twice to know when to scramble out of there. Speedily you exited. Shaking hands collected your equipment before locking his cell. With no interest to look behind you, into the small window his cell had, you failed to witness his gaze still upon you, remaining that way until you completely vanished from view.

But, although you couldn’t see it, you sure as hell felt it.

——————

It had been days, perhaps a couple of weeks, since the incident and you hadn’t been back to see Michael. Despite your bosses protests and his covert empty threats, he was unable to get you back to your regular routine. Treating regular, less murderous patients was now your daily experience, and to be honest, you were much happier.

Living was currently an attractive state of being to you, so you were trying your best to avoid anything that could potentially endanger that. With Michael being the angel of death, it was obvious you would avoid him at all costs.

As for Michael, ever since the incident, he had been attacking the new nurses sent to him (attacks that hadn’t resulted in deaths, yet), or remained as uncooperative as possible. You’d be on shift, minding your own business until the piercing shrieks and cries of Michael’s next victim filled your ears. After awhile it became routine, and you instantly knew where the source was. You’d often see nurses with bruisings on their body, arms, legs, cuts from where he dug in his nails — and most commonly, bruising around the neck. It was particularly heartbreaking, especially since you had been one of the lucky ones; to put up with Michael for such a long time and to be able to continue on your day without an incident was a luxury. You weren’t entirely sure why that was the case. Either way, it didn’t stop the injured nurses' filthy looks whenever another staff member was assaulted, as if you had something to do with it; as if you had some kind of hold over Michael.

No one could control Michael, he was his own person.

Perhaps the violence was his silent protest to get you to return, you weren’t sure and you didn’t want to know. What you did know, however, was that Michael’s poor behaviour only worked to exacerbate the doctor's desperate pleas to return to Michael. He didn’t want the state to get any ideas, and he wanted to keep Michael in his clutches for as long as he possibly could. It was his primary objective, as he had once so nicely conceptualised. Sartain, someone you’d describe as a borderline madman, was still convinced he’d get groundbreaking research from Michael.

Delusional.

You were in one of the equipment rooms, ready to attend to another patient when Sartain strode in, his long lab coat floating in behind him. He made his way to you in long strides, eyes hard and focused with determination, peering into your own like an owl on cocaine.

Without even hearing him speak, you knew what this was about.

“No—“

“Hear me out, (Y/n)!”

“I’m not doing it—“

“He’s attacked another one miss (L/n). They’re transporting him in a few days and I need to know this won’t end up in failure. I need you there.”

You froze, biting your lip in thought, the bitter, metallic taste of blood only seemed fitting as you crossed your arms, contemplating the pros and cons.

The doctor not receiving an answer, interpreted your silence as a small victory, choosing to elaborate.

“He’ll be incredibly secured, chained up and driven in one of our busses. Nothing will go wrong, I can assure you that.”

You definitely needed a chance to think about it. Were you really going to endanger the lives of others just for your own comfort? It was a difficult decision that needed careful thought.

“I’ll be raising your pay, and it’ll be the last time you get to see Michael.”

Nevermind.

“Resorted to bribing now, sir?” You finally spoke up, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He shot you a playful smile, “so I’ll take that as a yes?”

Releasing a sigh, you slowly nod your head, barely believing what you were agreeing too.

“Okay, yes. Only if you’re certain it’s safe.”

“Utterly, and completely.”

As his smirk widened, happy at his win, you couldn’t help but feel like you were making a deal with the devil. A deal you felt you’d totally, and wholey, regret.

If only you knew how right you were.

* 

* 

*

*

* 

Hey guys! This is my first three-shot / miniseries? Idk what to call it lmao. But I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy with how some of it turned out, I hope my characterisation of Michael is somewhat realistic. I don't particularly believe the narrative that he's completely unfeeling and further, incapable of feeling. I certainly do think due to the environment he grew up in (in the sanitarium), he was unable to really express and develop said emotions. With the added mixture of Loomis, and his psychobabble (he really needs his licence revoked), I really don't think that helped him lmao and this obviously added to the myth of 'The Shape'. Although Michael's emotions would be hard to access and even draw out in the first place, I still think it's possible that he'd feel some sort of affections for someone? It'll be very hard though. I also believe if he were to start feeling things for someone, he'd definitely be very confused, and it would lead to a lot of emotional outbursts, particularly anger - rage even - because of how unfamiliar it is; also due to how anger and rage are so "normal" for lack of a better word, he'd try his hardest to regress/revert back to some sense of familiarity. Though like how it is for most, repression of emotions really doesn't work, and this would thereby manifest itself as intense bouts of possessiveness and jealousy. Idk that's just my opinion and my own interpretation, I could be really fucking wrong lmao but I guess that's the beauty of writing. Anyway, Jesus, I'm rambling, I'll be surprised if anyone even reads this lmao. Thank you for reading if you did, I love you and I hope you enjoy!

[jaebaebie]

Why Us? Why Now? Why Ever?

In a post apocalyptic world where walkers took over the living, Era realised that she was different from every one else. Wanting to uncover the reasons to her differences, she embarked on a journey to the West where she met a few Strays,, including a man named Hwang Hyun Jin who, just like her, was cold, hot headed, and full of distrust. She thought they would never get along, but what happens when the two cold hearts start to melt?

STRAY KIDS ZOMBIE AU // WUWNWE MASTERLIST 

Chapter 5 ~ “Till we meet again, my Era.”

prev // next

The five of us were squeezed inside an army van. HyunJin took the wheel, with Minho beside him. I sat at the back with Han and Levi , one of the other guards who often patrolled with Minho. Surprisingly, Camp Miroh was able to repair some of the army vehicles that were dispatched when the apocalypse hit. Thereby allowing them less time for walking and more time for doing what needed to be done.

I looked out the window, killing time as I enjoyed the breeze of the wind touch my face. We drove past old and run down shop houses, whose glass windows were shattered from the numerous attempts of break ins by desperate customers. 

“Don’t stray too far from the group. Stick with Levi and be back at the meeting point as soon as possible.”

Han instructed, earning a nod from me.

The past week in Camp Miroh was filled with the company of new friends and the occasional bickerings with Hyunjin. Chan still ordered for Hyunjin and I to go hunting together until Hyunjin had truly mastered the skill, so being alone with him every day of the past week had made him slightly more tolerable. Sometimes, I’d even manage to crack a small smile on his face, even if it was a sarcastic one. I had also gotten close with the rest of the boys, especially Minho, Felix and Jeong In, who seemed to worry more about my safety than I did.

It felt nice to have someone to depend on for a change.

As much as I began trusting everyone more, Han was the one I trusted the most. He continued to knock on my door every night, accompanying me to sleep. I argued with him the first few nights that he didn’t have to, but slowly, I got accustomed to it because I liked having him around. I slept better, knowing that he was right by side for as long as I was awake.

My trust for him was the basis of my trust for everyone else. If I could trust him, then I can also trust his friends that he trusts wholeheartedly. Including Hyunjin.

It was no doubt that I was starting to grow attached to Camp Miroh and the friends I was making. I was getting closer to calling it my home. Though, nothing in this world is actually a ‘home’ anymore. I knew I had to leave to go back to my own path. West.

I sighed, feeling my stomach curl into a knot as I thought about where I should be,, and how far I am from it.. how further I am becoming from it the longer I stay in Camp Miroh. Han immediately noticed this, turning to me with the adorable round eyes of his. They resembled that of a puppy’s— soft,, cute.

“You okay?”

Looking away from the not-so-appealing view of abandoned shops, I met his gaze, forming a small smile, “Yeah.”

He nodded, returning it with his signature ‘Han’ smile. The only smile that could possibly challenge Jeongin’s bright one. The only smile that seemed to make sense in the whole entire fucked up universe.

My smile dropped the second I looked away. Just as I did, I caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s gaze through the side mirror. His reflection staring back at me. It lasted for a couple of seconds before he diverted his focus back onto the road, avoiding abandoned cars, blocks of broken cement and dead bodies.

We alighted from the vehicle. The town we were in gave off an eery feeling, sending chills down my spine. Numerous shops were lined on each side of the road, most of its windows and doors shattered. It almost seemed like I was witnessing the post events after the purge- a movie I used to love watching. Walkers usually ‘disappeared’ during the day, so it was usually much safer to venture out during the day. But that didn’t mean there was no risk of running into one, or even a hoard of them.

Hyunjin led the way towards one of the larger retail stores where we began our ‘treasure hunt’ and split amongst our pairs to cover a larger area. I walked past the clothing aisle. Many clothes were still hung up and folded, untouched throughout the days of the apocalypse. Fresh sets of clothing would be nice, but Hyunjin had instructed to prioritise food and water which were much more needed. So I ignored them.

My eyes landed on a glass counter stationed at the back of the store. Walking closer, I noticed that it contained silver necklaces and bracelets which were still organised neatly in display. It sparkled despite the little light in the store, reflecting small fragments of rainbows in different directions. It was a simple silver moon necklace. A small star charm was attached to the chain, to give the impression that the star was almost watching over the moon.

I was stopped from claiming the necklace as my own when Levi beckoned for me.

Levi was with the others just outside the store, standing behind Han who was bent down on the ground. Everyone, except for Hyunjin who was nowhere to be found, had their focus on one thing.

I peeked from Levi’s shoulder as I heard Han conversing with someone who was not Minho Nor Hyunjin. A man. His face was scrunched up in pain as Han examined the clean gash on the man’s arm, extending from his elbow all the way down to his fore arm. 

I didn’t think much of it, simply waiting for Han to finish his business with the injured man on the ground. Minho explained that they had found him stumbling in the middle of the road, pleading for their help. 

I was convinced that the man was just another unlucky victim who got lucky and managed to come across someone as nice as Han. But, the more I watched the unexpected guest, the more I found the scene suspicious. It was an odd and all too ‘familiar’ scene. I began to fade out Minho’s explanation as I observed the man from a distance, zooming in all of his injuries. An entrance that was too deliberate. The cuts on his face and arms were too sharp and precise. The grimace on his face too practiced. Everything was just too perfect.

I was hesitant to stand for my doubts and assumptions until I noticed his right hand. He was missing a pinky. A trait that one of the existing craziest gang was known for. The gang known as the ‘Right Arm’. Members had to cut off their right pinky to pledge their allegiance and loyalty to their leader.

I cocked a gun towards the man, startling the rest of the guys. I hadn’t even realised that Hyunjin was beside me until I snapped out of my thoughts.

“N-no. Please, I need help.” The man pleaded, trembling. He raised his hands up, staring at me with the most tearful eyes. But my gaze stayed hard and cold. Unaffected by his terrible acting.

What a joke.

“Put the gun down. We need to help him.”

I shook my head, taking a step closer towards the two of them, “Don’t believe him, Han.”

The man cowered, dragging himself behind Han with a grunt, “Please! I have nothing. I just need help.”

“Where are your friends who did that to you?” I asked, scanning the environment around us. The Right Arm usually travelled in small groups, intentionally injuring one of their members when another group was spotted. The injured member would then persuade their unknowing prey to bring them back to their base, where the other Right Arm members would follow, attack and raid. An event I was all too familiar with.

“I have no one! I’m alone, I swear!” He exclaimed, making me roll my eyes.

“Bullshit.” I hissed, “Ask your friends to come out of hiding and maybe.. just maybe.. I won’t put a bullet in your head.”

I was prevented from stomping forward by a hand placed on my shoulder. Hyunjin, who stood back this entire time, had finally joined the fun. He had the same dark look in his eyes, glaring at me,, daring me to try and take a shot. I turned to look at Han who had the same look on his face, the usual softness in his eyes replaced with a frown.

“You can’t believe him!” I told them, “That’s how they catch their prey. Pretending to be innocent and injured and then attacking your base once they’ve gained your trust.”

“Drop it.” Han ordered firmly. It was my first time I had actually seen him be stern and harsh towards me.

My shoulders slumped in defeat when his glare didn’t falter. He didn’t believe me, which frustrated me so much because I knew I was right. Every bone in my body knew my predictions were correct. But if Han wouldn’t believe me, then chances are that I’ve lost.

“Lower your gun.” Hyunjin said, and I followed, letting out a huff in frustration as I let my arms fell back to my sides.

The man’s eyes brightened, coming out of his hiding behind Han’s back as he thanked Hyunjin who merely just disregarded him.

Hyunjin also let go of his grasp on my shoulder. I felt completely wronged, but I couldn’t do anything against them. Pushing them further would make the matters worse. Han shook his head, obviously showing his disappointment as I looked away, not wanting to see it.

“I told you, no guns unless necessary.” Hyunjin nagged, causing me to let out a scoff,

“Use this instead.”

The sharp metallic end of the dagger shone under the rays of the sun, blinding me for a mere second with the sudden brightness. My eyes trailed from the dagger to the arm that held it as I turned to Hyun Jin in shock. Who would’ve known that Hwang Hyunjin would take MY side?

“Hwang Hyunjin.” Han reprimanded, but Hyunjin ignored him.

Hyunjin met my gaze, tilting his head as his lips formed a cheeky smirk, “Are you doing it or should I do the honour?”

I felt the corners of my lips curl into a small smile, feeling encouraged that Hyunjin and I had agreed on something for once. Someone believed me,, and that someone, stubborn and uncaring , was Hwang Hyunjin.

“Have fun.” I told him, crossing my arms as I stepped back, letting him take over.

I could hear him chuckle as Han sighed, shaking his head, “You guys are terrible human beings.”

Hyunjin took back his dagger with a stable grip around it before making his way towards the terrified man on the ground. He bent down into a squat, meeting the man’s eye level as he gave him his signature cold glare. Usually, I would roll my eyes at such a scene. This time, I stood back and watched, feeling a small sense of pride when the man trembled under Hyunjin’s stare.

Han didn’t have Chan to back him up against Hyun Jin this time. I was convinced that Hyunjin was even more stubborn than I was, as Han’s voice seemed to go into enter Hyunjin’s ear and immediately exit the other. Minho and Levi stood back all this while, remaining quiet. Minho tried to call upon Hyunjin, but he soon gave up, knowing that if Han couldn’t do anything about it, then neither could he.

“I’m giving you three seconds for you and your ‘friends’ to leave before I slit your throat.”

I watched as the man gulped, distancing his head as far away as possible from the blade that was on his neck. Sweat dripped from the top of his head. Clearly nervous.

“One”

“I told you! I’m not with anyone.”

“Two”

The man frantically looked around, as if some solution was to magically appear in his surroundings. He was breaking. Desperate. But Hyun Jin didn’t budge. 

“Three.”

Just before Hyun Jin could do anything, another two men emerged from a nearby alley, catching our attention.

“Alright! You win!” One of them exclaimed, his hands up in defeat. The closer he walked towards us, the more I internalised his features. He was a middle aged man with eyes that of a hawk’s and a patchy grey beard. His eyes were cold and dark, but they gave off a different aura in comparison to Hyun Jin’s,, an evil one. The feature that really caught my attention was the long jagged scar that extended diagonally across his face, cutting through his left eye all the way to the right side of his cheek.

Hyunjin’s victim scrambled up from the ground, running towards the protection of his own team. Han sighed, muttering out a curse softly under his breath as he stood back up, staring at the group of three in front of us. Hyunjin also stood up, continuing to stare at the man. He was completely unfazed by the appearance of the group.

“We’ll get out of your way now.” Hawk-eyed man announced, giving off a crooked evil smile. Everything about him spelled E V I L .

Similar to the man we had just threatened, the other two were missing their right pinkies.

Minho sighed behind me, “Good call, Era.”

Han nodded in agreement, still refusing to look in my direction. I scoffed internally, he had been glaring right through me just seconds ago and now he couldn’t even look at me to apologise.

At the mention of my name, something clicked in Hawkeye and his eyes sparkled as they focussed on me. He gave me a creepy crooked smile, emphasising the scar on his cheeks and revealing his browned, chipped teeth.

“Era..” He mumbled, “What a lovely name. I’m sure someone would be ecstatic receiving your name as a gift, Era.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, unable to look away because I didn’t want to show him how much it was affecting me. Showing that I was scared meant that he had won. My name as a gift? What was he going on about?

Hyunjin stepped in front of me, breaking the staring contest between Hawkeye and I, “Your three seconds are gone. Leave while you still have your necks.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye nodded, throwing me another smile,

“Till we meet again, my Era.”

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 7

I really did a number on your patience with this one I think ;p. But here it is, the final part. (That’s the intention at least, who knows what will happen in the future). Anyways, thank you all for reading the story, especially if you made it till this one! :) Enjoy! 

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; part 5; part 6

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,643

“Talk to you later Danvers”, you breathe out, closing the door behind you and leaving Alex her apartment in shame and guilt. She sighed agitated and squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of your footsteps fading away. Being aggravated as hell while still seated on the couch with her arms crossed in anger.

“I definitely need something stronger than coffee…”. Alex grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. Or two. Maybe even three. It’s already a total mess at the DEO, with Colonel Hayley parading around, watching over the Director’s every move, and now THIS!? DEO Agents beating each other up, fighting over absolutely nothing. Alex has a soft spot for you, considering you both confessed your long-lasting feelings to one another in front of the bar earlier. But that doesn’t mean she can’t be mad at you. Maybe the alcohol will help her relax from this long, intense day.  

Trying to ease her mind while sipping the red liquid at a reasonable speed; more or less. Finally… some peace and quiet, when suddenly her phone buzzes. The screen lights up and Alex takes a quick peek to see who it is. It’s your name on the phone display. A deep sigh followed by a dramatic rolling of the eyes as she drops back, burying herself in the couch again. She doesn’t even think about picking up. You’re probably calling to apologize, or beg for forgiveness. Why can’t you just let it rest. Alex is not in the mood to handle anything else today. The phone buzzes again. “Ugh, I’ve had enough”. She grabs it from the table and turns the phone off, whereby the silence kindly returns.

After simmering down, and an entire bottle of wine, she decides to call you back. A thorough, flawless speech thought out, ready to be delivered since you've had more than enough time to think your selfish actions over. She lightly regrets playing ‘hard to get’ earlier, though you kind of made her. You were practically an asshole, so it’s your own fault she ignored you. Alex noticed you left her a voicemail and listens to it first. Best case, you came to your senses all by yourself by which Alex would be relieved of a frustrated outbreak on the phone. She puts the phone to her ear. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops while a small gasp escapes her mouth after she’d covered it with her hand. Without hesitation she jumps up from the couch and storms out of the apartment. It’s as if all the alcohol left her system in a snap of a second and she’s never been more focused -or worried- before. Slamming the door shut with a loud bang and while running she dials a number. Hearing it ring a couple of times, after which a person on the other end of the line picks up and speaks:

“National City General, how can I help you?”

///

“Am I ...still alive? …still breathing?”. Vaguely perceiving all kinds of beeping noises and a pungent, hygienic smell that’s hanging around makes you feel nauseous. Carefully opening your eyelids as you give yourself some time to adjust to the bright lights. All too familiar with the place you’re at. “Again? How many times is this going to happen?”. No recollection what time it is or even which day of the week ...or month? Different types of wires are attached to you and fluids with medicine is entering your body through the IV. You try to lift your head up and inspect the room, but it’s hard, almost impossible. Your whole body is aching, muscles are sore, and the pain caused you to let out a deep groan.

Hearing the low sound, Alex promptly jumped up, since she had fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted from the constant state of uncertainty she was in. You take in the sight of her, pale skin, red eyes and it seems she hasn’t slept for days. Now standing beside you at the edge of the hospital bed, she takes your hand and clutches it delicately. You try to speak.  

“H-how l-long... “, stuttering with a dry, hoarse throat. “Have I been on life support? On ventilation?”, you think, feeling your trachea burn and having difficulty speaking. Alex is aware of your struggle and answers: “You’ve been in a coma for weeks now. To reduce brain swelling and give your body time to heal.”

In shock, you gape at her as the color drained out of your face and try to point at your neck with your other hand. “They’ve had you on ventilation, yes. Does your throat hurt?” she caringly asks. You weakly nod at her. Alex averts her gaze towards the bleak hospital floor. “It-it was pretty bad… You were in pretty bad shape ...and had stopped breathing. I-I thought…”. She said with a trembling voice, not able to finish the sentence. You grip her hand tighter with all the strength left and press to her, now with a more audible tone: “I’m still here. Still breathing''. You've locked eyes with her again and watch Alex staring at your poor face. You smile at her, and she matches you by showing a faint grin when you notice she’s desperately fighting back the tears that are heaping up in the corners of her eyes. She leans forward and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead while a doctor enters the room.

“I see you’re fully conscious now. Good”, she says as you and Alex turn to her. “Given your history I don’t have to explain everything in detail to you, sadly. I won’t lie, you have a tough road up ahead”.

Knowing it all too well due to your past experience. You have to go through rehabilitation all over again. Only the thought of it makes you feel even more miserable. However, that’s not all. It’s also the feeling of being weak, helpless, not able to do easy or simple tasks yourself since you don’t have the strength for it, yet. You have to start at square one again, and this time it’s your own damn fault. Alex noticed the sad, hopeless expression and strokes your shoulder gently. You look at her. This time you're not alone, Alex has been beside you, from the moment you were brought in injured up till now.

“I’m not going to leave your side, not ever. I’ll be here with you, every single step of the way”. Those words hit you right in the feels as teardrops started to run down your face. You tried to pull her closer with the little power you have in your hand which Alex was still hanging on to. Luckily she understood the hint and moves closer while she cups your face with both her hands. Brushing her thumbs across your cheeks mildly, wiping the tears away. Bringing her lips to yours, kissing you, slow and passionate, as if she thought this would have never, ever been possible again. You taste the saltiness on her lips, since Alex wasn’t able to hold her tears back any longer. By that time the doctor had left to give you a moment alone and to let it all sink in. However, with impeccable timing Kara barged in and rushed towards you, seeing that you’ve woken up. You and Alex being kinda busy, in a legit emotional sentiment, while Kara swoopes in, now at the other side of the bed. She squeezes herself in between Alex and you to make room and gives you a hug.

“Can’t breathe”, you moan, because Kara her hug is obviously too tight, and not to mention the weakened condition you’re in. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so glad you’re awake”, she apologizes as she quickly pulled back. Kara straightens her glasses and immediately starts to talk, telling you stories about her Supergirl adventures with Dreamer, who you’ve apparently met before, reporter news, how matters at the DEO progressed, about J’onn and his PI office, and many more. It hurts, cause these are all moments you missed out on. Although you love the distraction, not having to think about the obstacles you’ll need to face, and it’s nice to know that everybody is doing well. Being hesitant at first, and undeniably a little pissed at Kara for ruining the moment back there, Alex joins the story telling later on, seeing you enjoy hearing them. After a while she notices you’re getting tired, knowing Kara can be rather overwhelming. “I think (Y/N) needs to rest for a bit”, she mentions and raised her eyebrows as she’s looking at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Eh, yes. Um- I’ll go. See you later (Y/N)! I’ll tell the others you’re awake!”, Kara responds while leaving the hospital room in a rush. “Bye Kara”, you deliver too late, cause she’s already gone, and you turn to Alex. “Something wrong?”. You’ve sensed a weird vibe hanging around the entire time since you’ve woken up. You can clearly see it in Alex her dazzling, brown eyes. It’s guilt. Alex takes a step back from the bed, thereby letting go of your hand, instantly losing her warm touch. She stays quiet, avoiding eye contact as she’s gazing out the window while biting her lip nervously. “Alex, is it about the phone-”.

“It’s all my fault that this happened. I’m the reason you left the apartment and I-I didn’t pick up the phone and I was too late at the hospital and I said those mean, awful words and I-”. “STOP”, you interrupt, now coughing due to the loud voice you had to use, heart rate spiking which is displayed on the monitor.

“It was my mess that caused this. And that asshole of a DEO Agent of course…”, you mutter. You really hate that guy. "I picked that fight and- Wait... what mean, awful words did you say about me?”.

“Ow, um- no, I said some, like, awful things inside my head. Which I deeply regret now-”, Alex confesses while rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “It’s okay”, you chuckle, she's just too good for this world and you probably deserved it anyway. “It’s all good”.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you”. Alex takes a step closer again and pauses. “I thought that ...I was never going to see you again. To speak to you again. To hold you again…. To kiss you again”, she whispers with a quivering voice. “But I’m still here. And you're here. With me. That’s all that matters now”. Meanwhile, you carefully shifted to the left side of the bed, creating some room on the small mattress. Glancing at Alex and making an inviting gesture while tapping on the empty spot with your right hand. You feel her warm body moving closer as she comes lying next to you. Her head resting on your chest and you wrap your free arm around her, wanting to hold her forever and to never let her go. "I've missed you", Alex voices in a softhearted tone and closes her eyes. She’s extremely tired, now finally able to get some well-deserved rest, knowing you’re all right and that everything will be fine.   

“What happened to that DEO Agent anyway?”, you suddenly remember. Kinda hoping he got punished for what he did. “He got arrested for assault and is locked up”, Alex answers directly, her eyes still closed. “Good, he got what he deserved”. It’s quiet again, aside from the occasional sound made by the medical equipment in the room. Breathing frequency becoming slower and slower, relaxing in your arms, dozing off, almost asle-

“Did you guys have game nights without me by the way?”. “Come on (Y/N), you need to sleep”, Alex suggests as she lifted her head up, now staring at you with a commanding expression on her face.

“Copy that, Director Danvers”, you return with a smirk, kinda loving the bossy side of her. She’s right though, you’re completely worn-out and need to recharge. But you can’t help it, wanting to cherish this moment for as long as possible. You grip her tighter, or at least try to, to keep her close, to feel her touch, her warmth, her heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and despite the delay, you’re together, at last.

///

A sudden slip to the right, followed by mean right hook. The muscles in your arms and shoulders are burning. Completely out of breath, deeply inhaling to fill your lungs with oxygen. And exhale again. Sweat is coating your forehead and you wipe it off with your arm. You’re a total mess. Only one round to go and then you’ve reached the goal. Throwing a sprint of punches, as fast as you can, it’s mind over matter now. Stopping at the sound of the timer reaching zero, you’re finished. Removing the boxing gloves to grab a towel from the floor nearby to clean yourself up.

“Okay, that’s enough for today”, you pant, weary from the intense workout on the heavy bag. It's been a rough couple of months, you've had extensive rehabilitation training, needed time to heal and were not spared of the pain that came along with it. Giving up was never an option, but becoming your old self again is highly unlikely. The damage has been done, you can't change the past anymore. But you've made peace with it, well, sort of. Luckily you've had tons of support. Friends visiting at the hospital and swinging by your place frequently once you were discharged. It feels so good to be home again. 

While unwrapping your hands, you hear the doorbell of the apartment buzz. Looking up in surprise, who could that be? You rush to the door while throwing the boxing wraps aside, nearly tripped over them, and unlock it. Standing in the doorway, you feel your heart rate rising again, now for a different reason. Still happens every damn time. A satisfying smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.    

“Hi, forgot the keys again?”, you laugh, lifting up your eyebrow as you smoothly lean against the door frame. “Yeah... but I brought some take-out with me”, Alex counters, pulling up her right arm to show off the bag which carries a delicious scent with it. It would be outrageous to deny this offer of course.   

“Permission hereby granted”, making a humble bow and a gesture with your arm to invite her in. “Also cause I’m literally starving”. Rubbing your stomach with your hands, only being a little dramatic, and you close the door behind you. "Easy (Y/N), you're not turning into Kara are you?".

“Ha. Ha, funny", you sarcastically return."But I’m gonna take a quick shower first. Don’t you dare eat it all Danvers”. Alex placed the food on the kitchen counter and shrugs her shoulders while raising her eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I need something in return then”.

"You sure? You don't want me to shower first?", you assure, still being kinda sweaty with a specific smell that goes with it. Alex walks to you and throws herself into your arms while you place your hands on her hips, her arms resting on your shoulders. "Absolutely sure". Pulling Alex closer and wrapping your arms around her waist as you press your lips onto hers, giving her a desirous kiss. You have to admit, the years of denying and avoiding your feelings for Alex makes you feel utterly stupid, looking back now. Seriously, you were an idiot. A wide smile appears while kissing Alex, because you've never been happier.  

"I love you (Y/N)", Alex softly speaks after she pulled back. "I love you too Alex". Her forehead is resting against yours. "And I'll never stop, as long as I’m still breathing”.    

[hecallsmehischild]

Flailing Toward the Center

I want to sit down and say a thing before I forget. The thing is probably more relevant to any Christians following me, but I don’t think it’s exclusive, so take what you will.

I’m doing a study with Sergey. It’s a crash-course version of Henry Blackaby’s Experiencing God, which I have tried twice before and frozen up on because I got stuck in my thinking early in the study and couldn’t progress. Sergey is really good at helping me unstick, so we suggested this to our small group, who chose the crash-course (shorter, condensed) version called Seven Realities for Experiencing God by Blackaby.

In doing this study, I quickly ran up against one of my major sticking points. Whether because teachers have explicitly said this, or because I absorbed the principle through osmosis growing up in the Church, the idea seems to come over and over that in order to know where you are with God, or get closer to Him, one must “pray and read the Bible.” I have been told this since practically nursery age, and as I got older I grew ever more frustrated, mostly because I didn’t really understand what I was reading when I did read, and in prayer I rarely heard back from God (though I have, at times, heard Him for sure, other times I’m not sure it was Him, and many times for sure I heard nothing). I also internalized the idea that “doing something for God” was paramount to being in the center of His will. Whether that was going to another country to serve and plant churches, or volunteering at a camp to cook and clean in “behind the scenes” service. “Doing something” was how you minister and be in the center of God’s will, and it had better involve a lot of people being on the receiving end of your doing something. Or, so I internalized.

One of the study’s questions, today, brought that idea screaming to the surface. “How are you developing a God-centered perspective, spiritually preparing yourself to join God’s work? Identify a time and place in your daily routine that you can spend in prayer and Bible reading.”

I most certainly don’t read the Bible every day, and prayer is usually very short, and not about what might be classed by the outside world “important.” Sergey and I thank God for each other, for the good things in the day, and pray for a very short list of people at night. There is no hours-long intercession, and I can’t remember consistently enough to pray through long lists of people each day, even if that is what I think they need. And I don’t usually sit down and ask God about His day either, in the sort of conversational way I wish I could, because I’m afraid I won’t hear back. And what am I doing? I make crafts, keep working toward this house being fixed properly, clean when I have the energy, cook, sometimes cook to share with friends/neighbors, write when I can pin the muse down, read a lot. Not exactly large-scale service. And even though I finally found a translation of the Bible that I can comprehend, I still do not read it often.

So when I read that question, I gave an internal sigh of guilt, felt my little stab of failure, and said, “Nothing. I’m not really doing anything.”

Sergey looked at me, a bit incredulous. “Really? We’ve been reading all these books (Case for Christ, Divorce & Remarriage in the Church, Case for Creator, Faith by Scalia, Mere Christianity, Problem of Pain, and more) and doing courses (Bart Ehrman’s courses on the New Testament) and studies (we did a study about engagement years ago and now are doing this one) and praying over each, inviting God to show us where the truth is, and that’s nothing?”

He has a knack for putting things into perspective. By my reasoning, he said, any cook enrolled in cooking school should just drop everything they’re doing and volunteer at a camp, no matter their skill level. He pointed to Scalia, whose work we have recently read and are still reading, who spent most of his life practicing and teaching law before he became a member of the Supreme Court. “Was that a waste? Are people who are learning and preparing not at the center of God’s will? Do you think they didn’t wonder what on Earth they were doing, and when the real work would begin?”

He has also reminded me, in the past, that just because something I do affects only a few people, that doesn’t make it any less valuable or important in God’s eyes. I would say as much myself to anyone as long as they are not me, because I hold impossible, fear-based standards for myself. I am grateful to have someone who reasons out why it applies to me too.

He continued, saying that most teaching is given by teachers, and if you see the world through your gift, it’s easy to slip into the fallacy of believing (and thereby teaching) that your gift is the Main Way of communicating how one stands in the center of God’s will, because for that person THAT IS how they stand in the center of God’s will.

Even I know the plan is wildly different for each person. I just don’t stop and think about what “wildly different” means very often, because there’s a mental list of Most Common And Acceptable Paths running through my head, and none of them look like what I’m doing. What I’m doing feels like random flailing. I’ve never fit in the boxes, not at church and not anywhere else. I could hang onto the edges, but even that has often injured me, and fitting myself in the boxes in church and society has produced long-term damage that I’m still working through.

To those who find themselves in the center of God’s will through the standardly understood means, this is no slam against you. I am glad you found the way. But to those who have always struggled to figure out why the standard ways aren’t working for you, to those laden down by guilt about not “doing something for God,” maybe He’s preparing you where you are. And maybe what He will invite you to will not weigh as heavily on your shoulders as you fear it will. Maybe it looks like a variation of the things you are doing right now.

{conversations have been dramatically reconstructed, I have crappy recall for precise wording but great recall for the spirit of what was said.}