#you already know what to do. cecil sweep

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 160 - The Weather

I'm going to catch up if it kills me. Here's the rest of these~

No man is an island. Some men are fjords. Most men are oxbows. All men are ravines. Welcome to Night Vale.

A cold front is sweeping through NV, knocking out power and getting to as low as -30F as terrible winds gust through the town.

There is an emergency announcement which interupts Cecil (not that he seems to notice, apparently telling everyone what he saw in the mirror as a child that led him to not looking in mirrors ever again - and we miss it) from the National Weather Service who may also those who huddle in the vacant lot outside the Ralphs, having visions as they stare into the barrel filled with paper they've lit on fire.

Because we're already talking about the weather, it's instead called Sports: “Suspension of Disbelief” by Victory Soul Orchestra

John Peters, you know, the farmer? orange grove is full of giant oranges now and they no longer have any extradimensional properties. He's worried about his crop of invisible corn though and considers raising cattle for meat - but only in a way where they die naturally of old age first as JP has recently become a vegan.

Cecil thinks cold brew (coffee) is gross.

The Private Land Development company wants to start building houses in Radon Canyon to help with a sudden boom in NV's population. They want to call the development 'The Final Destination'.

This is strongly opposed by the EPA as the canyon is filled with topic blue coloured gases and they fear what could happen if the ground is broken for development purposes.

There is going to be a Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza at the NV Harbour and Waterfront Recreation Area which is going to involve blowing up cars that were impounded for having overdue state inspection stickers and a preformance by Michelle and Maureen's newly formed folk/trance band The Fun-tastics.

Bob Strum from Old Town states that no number can be below zero.

Reyna Guerrero asks what they can do to prepare for the cold and Cecil gives some advice, which is mostly sound till he suggests setting basically anything on fire to stay warm and panicking if the power goes out.

Cecil has a little space heater under his desk.

Mike Rhyner, director of operations for the NV power plant says he doesn't even know what kind of power the power plant produces and nothing is labelled either, so they can't get the power back on until they figure it out.

Just knowing you're listening somewhere out there in the cold dark has kept me warm. Stay safe, wherever you are. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. 

Proverb: What idiot called it Snowpiercer instead of Chris Evans’ Polar Express?

[thevoiceofnv]

"Oh, you already make me happy," Cecil tells this stranger before he can stop himself, an automatic confession.

It's true, though— this exquisite creature makes him so very, very happy. Him and the beautiful coat he keeps wrapped around himself, the pelt that Cecil can't help but admire, eyes flickering over the spotted pattern that adorns him.

His skin— equally patterned, equally beautiful— is traced by Cecil's eyes in shapes before he finds his chin, the cut of his jaw, the scruff on his cheeks, the curves of his lips, and up towards his eyes—

And he's never fully understood the obsession humans have with each other and their appearances. Not until now.

Now, he understands.

And, even still, he's desperate to see more— because he knows there is so, so much more to this person than meets the eye—

Carlos.

His name is Carlos, and Cecil has never heard a more wonderful name.

Names aren't real, but they have powerful all the same.

Cecil claims one of Carlos's hands in his, sweeping into a low bow, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. He's seen humans do it— though he doesn't quite remember when, or where— and he hopes Carlos will appreciate it for what it is. For what he means.

"Carlos," he echoes. "Beautiful." Another kiss to the back of his hand. "I'm Cecil."

They sound perfect, a matched set. Cecil kisses his hand one last time before straightening up again, standing taller over Carlos rather than bowed before him.

"I haven't even encountered someone like you." It's a bashful admission. "I keep to myself a lot. I shouldn't, but... I suppose I got used to it."

Maybe that won't be happening so much anymore now, though. Not with the temptation of Carlos out there.

[ @dr-carlosrobles — ]

Cecil just likes to feel the rain, sometimes.

He is so horrendously old— older than the winds, the storms, the rains under his command. There is so much he has done, and still he feels a lack.

It is not unlike the vacuum he first awoke in, this feeling. It is an untethered feeling, unanchored. He feels tossed on the waves his own storms create, and still no closer to steady ground for it.

Flat on their back in the sand, Cecil sighs, eyes wide open, staring upwards into the storm clouds they've gathered over themself. Over this section of the beach, it pours; a storm rages, and Cecil, spread starfish on his back, lets himself absorb the sand, lets the waves lap against them as high tide comes in, lets lightning crackle and snap down into the ocean with every flash of their tattoos and heavy rumble of thunder.

They just feel this way, sometimes. It's better to let it out like this than keep it in too long.

The air pressure changes on the beach. Cecil feels it— of course, he feels it. He feels every lick of wind everywhere, every change in temperature, every shift in density; the air, the winds, the clouds, the storms, the weather, the rain, the lightning, the thunder, the magnificence, it is all theirs.

Lifting her near-nonexistent head, Cecil blinks through the driving rain in search of the source of the shift. She doesn't need to have a human body— or a human name, or anything human at all, really— but, it's something to do. And it all feels far more properly theatrical when she's fling out on the sand physically, not just metaphorically.

There is a shape down the beach, it realizes.

It'd thought this stretch was empty, remote; that's why it came here, specifically, when it realized it had to release: to hide. It'd hate to hurt somebody who wandered over just because it doesn't have control.

Cecil begins attempting to calm the storm, to quell it, to stuff it back away for now. It's an effort; he sits up in the sand, fists gripping the wet granules in gritty palmfuls, and concentrates, scars and tattoos and markings flashing with each bolt of lightning, head pounding with the rumbling thunder, until the rain has begun to subside, his emotions compressed backwards— and the weather with it.

With this lessened rain, Cecil can see so much more.

He can see a… a person.

A person?

He thinks they might be a person. Maybe.

Are they, though?

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Pavlov’s Mice and Cameo

So thanks to Tumblr nerfing my ability to make an admittedly absurdly long post combining the previous episode rewatch with this one, I had to do this entry in two parts.

But at least now we’re in for the real treat: The first episode in airing order that’s animated by TMS Entertainment. And hey, even the Animaniacs show itself seems to acknowledge that this is special, because theme song rhyme is…

We're Animanie! Totally insane-y!~

Pinky and the Brainy!~

…which hasn’t been done since their debut. So this is gonna be fun.

Might as well get this out of the way, then, since this episode obviously involves Ivan Pavlov. I think most people who know of Pavlov through cultural osmosis pretty much know him as just “that one scientist who got dogs to respond to the sound of bells as if they were being offered food”. This is what happened, but it’s only part of the story. In reality, Ivan Pavlov was doing research on the physiology of digestion in dogs and he noticed one day that the dogs he was studying started to drool in the mere presence of the lab technician who regularly fed them even if the technician didn’t have food with them. Pavlov developed a way to redirect the dogs’ digestive juices outside of the body so that they could be measured, and then he ran some conditioning experiments to see if he could get them to salivate in response to external stimuli that had nothing to do with food, like ringing a bell.

The year in the title card, 1904, was the year Ivan Pavlov was awarded the Nobel Prize for the previously mentioned experiments, which he published the results of in “The Work of the Digestive Glands” in 1897. Basically, by 1904 he was done with his work with dogs and he moved on to experimenting with mice…at least according to this article in National Geographic by Virgina Hughes.

With that, let’s begin the episode proper.

“At the dawn of the 20th century, Russian scientist, Ivan Pavlov, trained animals through his technique of conditioned reflex” says the narrator as we zoom in on a laboratory with Pavlov and our lovable mouse duo.

“Time to earn your dinner, my little mousey friends!”

It’s interesting how Pinky is the one that flinches uncomfortably at the loud sound of the gong while Brain simply snaps into his conditioned response. And that response? Uhhh…

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout.~”

“This is my handle, this is my spout.~”

(Is he…you know…?)

“When I get all steamed up, hear me shout!~”

“Tip me over and pour me out.~”

Oh no… This is a cute and funny scene and all, but when you know about Brain’s canonical issues with how he hates not being in control of a situation and all the traumas he’s endured (for those of you not in the know, yes, Brain does have a lot of trauma in his backstory that we learn about much later, both in the 90s spin-off and the reboot) regarding both general control and losing family and friends…there’s a bitter tinge to this scene.

He’s so embarrassed and humiliated.

He takes the cheese but he is positively fuming with rage, and I can’t exactly blame him from what I know about him.

This is made all the worse by Pinky’s innocent reaction to Brain’s little song and dance.

“Hahahahaha! Wonderful! Hahaha! EGAD, Brain, I could watch you do that dance all day! Haha, narf!”

For Pinky, this is harmless silliness and he gets to see Brain sing and dance and “have fun”, which is not a usual occurrence. But for Brain? Well...

“You have watched it all day, Pinky. Sixty-one times, to be exact. It’s a conditioned reflex to that infernal gong.”

“I’m powerless to stop it!”

Well, Brain, at the very least it’s not like you were a part of a more inhumane experiment like one regarding, say, learned helplessness or anything. …Oh wait. Whoops. (For those sensitive to animal abuse, I suggest refraining from clicking on the second link, and caution against clicking on the first if even more clinical text descriptions of such would upset you. The third link is spoilers for the reboot.)

All that aside, it seems like it’s Pinky’s turn. He gets the more traditional bell chime for his stimulus.

And the result is him going into an uncontrollable and very enthusiastic Slavic folk dance.

With violent results. I hope you appreciate that last screencap, as the animation goes by so quickly I had a lot of trouble isolating the part where Pinky kicks Brain and he goes flying.

Pinky is all too happy to get a reward of cheese, his favourite food, for doing something that he has no memory of.

“What’cha doin’ over there, Brain?”

“Contemplating your afterlife, Pinky.”

That’s not exactly fair, Brain, you know he has no control over this. To Brain’s credit, though, he doesn’t bop him or anything for kicking him involuntarily.

Pavlov leaves, playfully saying that he hopes the mice dream of cheese tonight, and the mice are immediately down to business.

“At last, he’s gone.”

“Now we can begin our conquest of the world!”

We’re already back to it being “our” conquest of the world, eh?

“Behold my latest creation, Pinky: The Vacuum-o-nator.”

Brain has never been good with naming things, has he? At least, not so far. I wonder if this will continue throughout the franchise?

Pinky is certainly very happy and impressed, though.

“It uses reverse air pressure to vacuum everything toward it.”

You know, I was just about to roast Brain for thinking that making a very odd version of a vacuum cleaner was such a brilliant thing, but then I remembered that this takes place in 1904. The vacuum cleaner as we know it was “invented independently by British engineer Hubert Cecil Booth and American inventor David T. Kenney” in 1901 according to Wikipedia, and portable vacuums were available to the general public starting in 1905.My apologies, Brain, that actually is very impressive.

Although, this all hinges on if the viewer considers episodes that take place in the past and/or at different locations than Acme Labs California to be mere Alternate Universe/What If? stories or Brain and Pinky using some kind of time machine to go to a different place and time for these episodes. (Before you tell me that this is just a cartoon and sicc the Please, Please Get a Life Foundation on me, I do this to have fun and maybe educate myself and the reader along the way. I promise I have a life. Barely.)

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Pinky?”

“Uhh… Yeah, Brain! But where are we gonna find rubber pants our size?”

Pinky, that’s… Listen, folks, don’t make the same mistake I did and google “rubber pants”. It’s not what you think it is. You will be disappointed.

BONK!

Seems like you’re enjoying yourself there, Pinky.

“No, Pinky. We’re going to use the Vacuum-o-nator to steal Russia’s crown jewels!”

Man, the animation for even this one small proclamation by Brain is so, so good. Brain standing authoritatively and holding the pen like a scepter or spear, the grand sweep of his arm as he says “no”, the serious and slightly menacing expression on his face, a violent and grabby swing of his arm on the word “steal”,  and a dramatic point and look up towards the sky when he finishes. TMS does great work, folks.

“Narf! Genius, Brain!”

Look at Brain’s satisfied smile at Pinky’s simple compliment. Remember what I said earlier about Brain going through his explanations to show off to and  impress Pinky? At this point I’m absolutely convinced that that’s why Brain turns up the theatrics more than necessary when going through his plans. After all, Pinky is (oddly and rather sadly) the only one in-universe who thinks Brain is a genius and a good person.

…Of course, the effect can sometimes be lessened by subsequent innocent bumbling.

“Turn it off, Pinky.”

He says this so exasperatedly yet so deadpan at the same time, it’s great.

“Oh! Right-o!”

Even Pinky immediately knows that he fucked up.

“Zort! Whew! Wild hairdo, Brain! Heh heh, I like it.”

He even pets Brain’s “hairdo”, aww. And though I personally could take or leave the ‘do, I like the pointed, sharp look this mishap’s given to his ears.

BONK!

“Now I feel cleansed.”

Okay, this one might have been a little too much, Brain.

“But Brain, aren’t the crown jewels always guarded by giant Cossacks?”

Well, Pinky, from what I know Cossacks were usually used extensively in the police force and as border guards during this time, so I guess that’s possible?

Brain picking the lock with the pen is a fun little detail.

“Don’t worry about the guards… For tonight, Pinky, at precisely 1 am, there’s a total lunar eclipse. “

Again, this is probably not a thing the average person could look up quickly and easily in the 90s and the writers most likely didn’t care about accuracy here, but there were no total lunar eclipses in 1904. There were some penumbral lunar eclipses in March and September of that year, though. Just a fun fact for you folks.

“The Earth’s shadow will completely cover the moon, blacking out all of St. Petersburg for a period of 30 seconds.”

Brain…?!? Brain, how did you get the diagram on that piece of paper to animate like that? What kind of Harry Potter-style magic bullshit is this?

I know this is a cartoon and all and I’m not truly upset but this honestly came out of nowhere and made me do a double-take.

“In that brief time, we will sneak past the Czar’s guards under the cover of darkness and steal the crown jewels…for he who controls the jewels controls Mother Russia!”

More dramatics!

“But…I thought your mother’s name was Désirée?”

I love Brain’s pose here. Very grumpy and sassy.

As for Pinky’s comment: We do get to meet Brain’s parents way later in the spin-off, though neither are addressed by any name. I’m taking this joke as canon anyway because it’s funny.

Well, well, well… Looks like we’re shaking things up a bit with an inking instead of a bonk. That’s gonna be a pain to get out of his white fur, though.

“Soon, Pinky, I will rule Russia…so from now on, call me Czar.”

Another sassy hand-on-hip pose.

“Right-o, Brain!”

“—eek! Czar Brain!”

“Come along, Pinky… Conquest awaits!”

Nice to know that despite the inking, Pinky’s still following him anyway. Plus he’s doing it with that fond look on his face again. Hmm…

What follows is a cute and ingenious sequence of Brain launching Pinky and himself through an open window via the spring force of a mousetrap. It goes by very quickly, but I just wanted to highlight a few things I managed to notice while pausing through it. Kudos to the animators again for these little details.

Pinky’s the one that wraps one arm around Brain’s shoulders so that Brain has both hands free to spring the mousetrap properly and so that they’ll be launched together.

Interestingly enough, Pinky’s the cautious one who braces for impact right away while Brain gleefully flies through the air with his arms outstretched.

The “camera” changes perspective and while Brain is still boldly flying forward with confidence, Pinky is still worried but has now opened his eyes as they fly towards the window.

Pinky’s still holding onto Brain and the Vacuum-o-nator as tight as he can. As they get closer to the window, however…

…Pinky seems to realize he’s going to smash into the wall above the window if he doesn’t let go, so he lets go of Brain. Brain doesn’t realize where his trajectory is taking him.

Pinky angles himself downward and through the open window, but it’s too late for Brain.

WHAM! RIP, Brain.

But his pain is not done! It looks like Pinky’s landing was in the soft snow. Meanwhile, Brain slides down onto the window and through the opening, only to bash into the lid of a garbage can, much to Pinky’s concern.

Then Brain falls headfirst into the snow.

And finally, Brain is clonked on the head by the same garbage can lid, which makes a loud gong noise. Someone get this poor mouse some Aspirin.

But since there was a gong noise, you all know what that means!

Cutely, Pinky joins in on the dance in the middle of it.

“Ha! Oh that was fun, Czar Brain! But let’s give it another go, right? Only this time with feeling!”

Man, that side-eye at the beginning from Brain…

Pinky’s body language is great in this episode, too. The gleeful flapping of his arms and feet and the “with feeling” gesture are fantastic examples of his more open and energetic nature coming through.

Oh hey, there’s that one shot of Brain being ticked off used in the spin-off theme song! I can’t exactly blame him for his anger here. He just went through a lot of pain in a short amount of time and was then involuntarily made to humiliate himself. Pinky doesn’t mean to be mean here—he genuinely wants to have some sing and dance fun with Brain—but it’s gotta sting to have the humiliation highlighted.

Pinky still doesn’t deserve a bonking for it, though. But it’s slapstick, so he’s fine.

Heh, “deliveries to rear” indeed.

Oh, are those jingle bells on a sleigh that I see?

Uh oh…

“No, Pinky… Not now!”

It cannot be stopped, Brain. He must dance!

Another quick detail as Brain launches himself at Pinky’s midsection to either topple him over or hold him still to get Pinky to stop.

Alas, Pinky’s dancing is too strong.

OUCH!

The face of regret.

His punishment is swiftly thwarted, though.

“…That was unpleasant.”

They take a different and more uneventful ride on a hay wagon to the palace.

I love the exaggerated perspective going on here.

Peekin’.

“We made it inside, Brain!”

“…’Czar Brain’.”

“Czar Brain.”

He says it so quietly and sweetly, aww.

“Yes, Pinky. There are fleeting moments when I even amaze myself.”

I…don’t know if it’s much of an accomplishment yet, Brain. Settle that ego down a bit.

Oh, that’s some classic Looney Tunes-style sneaking animation there.

Wait, why is the door to the treasure room just open behind them? Czar Nicolas II, what gives?

Speaking of…

Hello, Czar Nicolas II. I hope you’re enjoying your “eclipse party”. You only have another 14 years or so to live it up, after all.

“In just a few minutes, it’ll be totally dark and scary. OooOOoo!~ But don’t anyone touch me, I have cooties!”

I, uhhh. Okay, then.

Same, boys. Same. Best to get down to business.

“Behold the crown jewels of Mother Russia, Pinky. World conquest will soon be ours!”

Again, world conquest is “ours” and not just Brain’s. Also you can just tell Pinky’s thinking “I’m going to wear so much of this jewelry!”

“Now, Brain?”

“Not yet. Wait for the total eclipse.”

Speaking of…

“Complete darkness, Pinky. Start the Vacuum-o-nator…”

“NOW!”

That gonging noise is an interesting choice for a chime. Surely this ornate clock is only an omen of good things for our duo.

Pinky, you’re swooning again. And Brain…

Oh no.

Another clock! Who’d have thought Russian nobility loved clocks so much? This one has a more pleasant bell chime, though.

…Oh NO!

Well, looks like things are going to hell pretty quickly.

Goodbye, boys.

Goodbye, Czar Nicolas II! You might wanna look out for a man named Grigori Rasputin in the future, okay?

Nice hat, Brain.

“Whu--? The eclipse is over? Narf! What happened, Brain?”

BONK!

“Zort! I mean, Czar Brain.”

“We failed again, Pinky… But just wait until tomorrow night!”

“Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night, Brain?”

“What else, Pinky?: Try to take over the world!”

It was a nice try, boys, but honestly I don’t know how you were going to fit all those crown jewels into that tiny improvised vacuum bag, anyway.

One last cute little detail in this episode is our mousey duo jumping up with enthusiastic determination in front of the silhouette of the moon on the last note of the theme reprise. One day, you guys. One day…

Oh! And before I forget, have another short cameo from “Plane Pals”. It’s a tiny one.

Pinky and the Brain steal a sheep off of an airplane. For what purpose? Who knows? But that’s it. I’m kind of wondering if the writers wanted to make a running joke of them making cameos to steal random things for world conquering purposes and just sort of gave up.

Anyway, so ends our recap for this post. It sure was a long one, but what can I say? There were some very cute details that needed to be shared. Have we learned anything new this time? Well, I mean, besides historical trivia.

Brain thinks both he and Pinky are great actors, despite his own near inability to lie and keep up an innocent pretense. Oh, he can be sarcastic, sure, but he can’t seem to manage to stop himself from revealing that he’s out for world  domination whenever he has an audience.

For the first time we see Brain’s annoyance and humiliation resulting from him being a lab mouse. Though it’s on the more subtle side at the moment, Brain seemed extra grumpy and violent during that last     episode because of the conditioning he’s unwillingly gone through. I’m     curious to see if there are any more examples of this before we reach an  episode touching on his origin story. Or…one of his origin stories, at     least. There’s around four of them last I checked and all but one of them  can reasonably fit into the others.

Pinky is truly beginning to show how much he adores Brain, which is nice. Beforehand we knew he was down with his world domination plans for whatever reason and also that he thinks Brain’s plans are great and ingenious. Now, though, we’ve gotten to the point of him literally swooning at Brain and his plans. Something’s definitely brewing there.

Next time: We get some more substantial cameos, join our mouse duo on a Fort Knox heist, and meet a new character that is both pretty important to the “lore” of the show going forward…but also doesn’t appear in person after their introductory episode until the very end of the Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain spin-off run.

See you then!

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Porcelain

This is part one of a series of stand alone one shots taking place in the 1940s

Carlos gazes around the dimly lit club, glass of wine in one hand. He does a full sweep of the room from his spot in the back. Finally his eyes land on the stage. It's towards the end of the night and there's one final performance.  This was the whole reason he came. It was also the reason most of the women were here. 

The lights on the stage flicker on and out strolls a man who needs no introduction. Cecil “Porcelain” Palmer.  He was tall and pale as snow with neatly combed hair that was just a few shades darker than his skin. The single splash of color were his eyes, dark blue, nearly purple like the midnight sky and deep as space itself. He was dressed in all white, as always during performances like this. A single gaze from the man had the entire audience under his spell. 

Carlos takes his first and single sip from the glass before sitting it down. He leans forward and folds his hands, tipping his head with a small smile when Cecil makes eye contact and licks his bottom lip. The music starts and Cecil’s voice, soft and deep, is alluring. It’s enough to put even the strongest will in a trance. Carlos doesn’t focus on the words though, he’d already heard any song Cecil will sing because he sings a lot at home.  Carlos could sit for hours and watch Cecil preform. It was like he had spent his entire life on the stage..

Cecil doesn’t move much, instead treating the song as if it were a hidden conversation with a secret lover. Maybe, in a way, it was. Carlos quirks a smile when Cecil made eye contact and winked. He then notices a girl near the front swoon a little. How predictable. 

Cecil performs two songs as he always does. Afterwards, he flashes a charming smile before disappearing off stage. 

Cecil comes back onto the floor a few minutes later. He gives women clamouring for his attention a patient and kind smile but never stops for more than a moment. He only stops when he gets to Carlos. He slips into the booth next to him and smiles when Carlos offers him the glass of wine.

“Thank you.”  Cecil smiles  and takes a sip. 

“What happened to your coat?” Carlos asks, noting the stain on the sleeve.

Cecil hums. “A man threw his drink at me because he thought I was trying to take his girl. When I told him she wasn't my type he got mad because he decided to take that as me calling her ugly. He called me a 'Fairy Boy'." He shrugs and takes another sip of the wine. "He then threw someone else's drink at me but by then I was walking away."

Carlos gestures at the man behind him. The man approaches and Carlos speaks softly to him. The man nods and walks away. 

"It'll be taken care of." Carlos smiles and rests one hand on Cecil's leg. 

"You didn't need to do that." Cecil protests but doesn't try to hide the smile on his face. 

"Didn't I?" Carlos grins.  He then becomes more serious when another man joins them. 

Cecil sits up straighter and tilts his chin up just slightly.  He can feel the man staring at him but pays him no mind. Carlos, however, did notice because the hand on Cecil’s leg disappeared. Cecil kept his expression schooled but did feel a burst of disappointment. The feeling is gone when Carlos puts an arm around his waist and pulls him closer. It was a bold move to do in public and it sent a tingle of excitement up Cecil’s spine.. Carlos’ hand once again rests warmly on Cecil’s leg, higher this time. 

Cecil knows to stay quiet during meetings like this, not that he cared much about them. This was Carlos’ business and Cecil knew he would be the center of Carlos' attention later. He silently sips the wine and gazes at the man Carlos was meeting with. He had a very familiar face.  His dark hair was slightly messy but those eyes were unmistakable.  An unusual shade of green. 

Cecil sits the wine down and leans closer to Carlos. He presses his lips just under the shorter man’s ear and gives a gentle kiss before whispering,

“That’s the man who threw his wine at me.”  

Carlos’ gaze flickers to the man across from him to Cecil and back again. "I see." He levels his gaze at the man. "What's your name?"

"Brooks. Tyler Brooks." 

"And you're here to try to find a way to settle a debt, correct?"

"Ye-es." The answer was drawn out and almost a question. 

Cecil gives an amused smile. He's scared. How cute. 

Carlos brushes a lock of hair behind Cecil's ear because it had fallen out of its place. "You aren't exactly in my good graces right now Mr. Brooks."

"Please! I'll- I'll get the money. I'm good for it I swear!"

"Mr. Brooks calm down." Carlos interrupts with a bored expression on his face. "I'm not going to waste my bullets on dirt like you. I'm giving you an ultimatum."

"You-what?"

"An ultimatum. You have twenty four hours to have my money."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will work for me until you pay it off. Which is under my digression." And with that, Carlos flags down a waitress, paying the tab and leaving a large tip before taking Cecil's hand and standing. "You have twenty four hours."

[austarus]

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 4 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell​ and @countlesswells​

** *Insert angel face emoji*

Word Count: 7267

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 5

‘Systems Online,’ a pop-up signal had indicated on the tablet you held with flashing red and white lettered lights. But the adrenaline in your veins would not subside. Taking in a breath of rushed air, you walked towards the monitors on jittery feet with the notion of checking on Nash. Looking back up at him, his eyes were shut, and his lithe body was reclined in the chair with machinery hooked up to him. You dread ball up in the pit of your stomach as silence hung in the air.

“Did it work?” Ralph questioned, glancing to everyone then back to you; confusion written on his face.

“Is there something that should have happened?” Barry followed up beside Ralph.

“Well if there was a big bang sound, followed by multiple spontaneous sparks flying everywhere and the room’s electricity short-circuiting along with small fires combusting from the machinery then we’d be in trouble.” You watched Nash’s neurological and physiological vitals rise and fall within homeostatic values on the monitors. Normal. Stable. “I- According to my theoretical calculations- yes, I’m getting science-y right now-,” you exhaled while you gestured with your hands as you spoke, “each psyche that had manifested itself into Nash’s being should have effectively split from his psyche and returned to their respective bodies in each dimension harboring a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Harry and the others hypothesized that their bodies must be unconscious, but alive in order for their psyches to remain intact within Nash’s mind.” The others looked unsure. You rubbed your exhausted eyes. “It’s just like how when you and Iris used the Mindscape Machine to enter into Nora’s mindscape when she went into Grace’s mind. Sherloque said you both would enter with your psyche’s and they had to be intact in Nora’s head in order to ensure you’d be able to return to your bodies unharmed. If the psyche is harmed and killed in any way, then the body essentially dies,” You took a step towards them away from the monitors with the tablet held close to you. “The reverse should be correct as well. If the psyche is absent from the body, the body must be preserved at stable levels in order for the psyche to return and realign itself in its proper body. That’s what we’re relying on. Hopefully they all made it back to their respective bodies.”

“In this case, it’s the multidimension of Wells,” Chester interjected, lowering his voice to a whisper. “So freaking cool.” Allegra rolled her eyes as she continued to cross her arms.

“Nash would have felt the absence of a Wells in his psyche if another doppelganger’s psyche had deteriorated due to its unconscious body not surviving. Wolfgang would be able to pinpoint who it is because he has a neurological roster of the Council of Wells that he had implemented into his own mind, therefore his own psyche.”

Iris spoke up after you finished, running a hand over her forearm as she resisted the urge to itch the patch of skin. Side effects from remaining in the Mirrorverse for too long. “So, they get back to their bodies. Then what? How are they going to get here?”

“Each Wells should be able to use their intelligence as well as tapping into their own resources on their Earth and use the dimensional coordinates they have to get relay their dimensional coordinates and the states of their Earth’s back to Earth-Prime,” You answered in a heartbeat with a snap of a finger. “Sherloque, Harry, and Wolfgang should be coming as soon as they wake up. They work fast and everything.”

“Ugh,” Cisco groaned in irritation, throwing his head back, “not Herr ‘off-you-go’ Wells.” The rest of us giggled at impending misery. “I swear if he makes one snide remark.”

“Wait, how do you know if we’ve got all the Wells and their dimensions? Is there some sort of algorithm the satellites are tracking?” Kamila added from beside Cisco. You watched his eyes melt a bit at the fact that she takes interest in understanding his areas of expertise like how he does to her photography and artistic nature.

You gave Cisco the honors of explaining that one. He turned to his lovely girlfriend. “My babies up in the heavens, god bless my mechanical genius, are calibrated with the finest technology to identify any molecular or subatomic shifts produced by any wave of dark matter or antimatter.” Kamila grinned at him as he continued. “But we won’t know for certain until Grumpy Cat, Tea Leaves, and Herr Prim-Posh Pants summon themselves through to correctly calibrate the DCP (Dimensional Communications Projector) to the actual dimensional values. You know, the Wells touch and all. God, but I swear if they break anything-”

“-They’re not,” you giggled as you cut off your annoyed friend, “I already told Harry that this area would be a ‘No Throw’ zone. The guys know better than to throw things that aren’t theirs too.”

“What about Nash?” Cecile pointed at the unconscious man.

Right, this part. “I will stay here to monitor any changes to his vitals until he wakes up. I already have a universal blood sample from our very own speedster in case Nash’s body were to start entering a state of flux. Barry’s cells should be able to repair any damage in Nash’s body if that were to happen. Just like he did to Ralph.”

“But Ralph’s body is pure elastic. It can bend and readjust itself to anything. Nash’s human.” You make a very excellent point, Cecile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already run tests on myself and Cisco in order to ensure that the small blood transfusion would work on non-metas.” You fist-bumped your bro, who nodded approvingly. “Tiny increments should be able to do the trick.” Cecile nodded at you, giving you a motherly proud look before it contorted into a pointed one. You knew what she was going to say, but before she had a chance to say it the meta alarm went off.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave things to you,” Barry smiled at you, before nodding everyone to the direction of the door.

“Don’t die out there,” you teasingly yelled at their retreating figure.

“We’ll try not to.”

“And Barry, you need to do a prognosis physiological and biochemical report on your body from using the artificial Speed-force. Can’t have you losing your speed halfway through the day.”

“Yes, mother, I’ll be home before dinner to do homework,” Barry snickered, as he waved you off as he left with the others.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your antics with him and the others. Taking a seat in front of the monitors, you gave Nash another look. No matter how many times I can joke around with the others, I still feel the weight of their lives on my shoulder. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as your eyes flickered onto the screens. You need to wake up soon Nash. Running a hand through your hair as you set your head against your arm which leaned on the metal table. I need to know I didn’t kill you.

***

An hour had passed, and you felt your head was down to its last brain cell. You blinked slowly as you laid it against the cool metal. Nash was still unconscious, and you were starting to get worried. His vitals were still substantially at equilibrium. You shut your eyes for a moment. Allegra strode in with an annoyed look on her face as her eyes landed on Nash then to you.

“I don’t get why you care about him,” her rushed voice caused you to lift your head up. She continued while you quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why you’re wasting time watching over him. I mean after everything he’s done to me and the rest of us. Hell, he took your boyfriend away from you for some shit myth-busting. How is it that you still try to make yourself available to help someone like him?” It pisses me off and so does his existence!

“Allegra, Nash’s a human being too.”

“Ugh, whatever.” The young adult padded over to where some tech lied in attempts to obtain the thing that Cisco had described he needed.

“Ok, no. I can’t do this today.”

“Excuse me?” she narrowed her eyes at your change in tone. What’s got her panties all in a sudden twist?

“I’m am so tired of your bullshit attitude towards him,” You threw out, standing up from your chair with flared nostrils. “Your incessant whining when we don’t tell you every little detail about us, and how you treated the rest of us like dirt as if we haven’t been trying to stay by your side.”

“I haven’t-”

“Do you honestly not remember the way you treated Joe and Cecile? With rudeness and hostility and utter venom? When they had tried to get you to trust them to keep you safe from your cousin? How you were so pissy at Iris for not telling you about Team Flash? How you sneered and lashed out at Frost for trying to help you with your boy problems? We’re just going to sweep all that under the rug and call it a day?” You rhetorically asked with utter frustration. “And Nash, what is your problem with him? That he didn’t tell you that his adopted daughter who died right in front of him is your doppelganger? That’s your reason to emotional and mentally abuse him?! Boohoo, he didn’t tell me the truth. I’m a journalist I have to know the truth.”

“I don’t know wh-”

How can one person be so selfish? “Yes, you do. I’m a family practitioner, I know the signs of abuse even if it isn’t physical. 1) The silent treatment you give him whenever he tried to approach you to see if you were alright or if you needed help. 2) Not taking any responsibility for your toxic behavior towards him. 3) Pushing him to the point where he questions himself and his sanity because of how much you openly despise him. 4) Leading him to believe almost everything that goes wrong around you is his fault when it’s not. That’s gaslighting. 5) Using shame and his guilt to make him feel worse about himself regarding problems he already deeply regrets and works every day to make up for it. 6) Appearing indifferent when he’s clearly hurt/sad/upset. That’s called lack of empathy. And 7) ignoring him when he’s trying to express his feelings or trying to explain himself to you, but obviously because of all of the above you never gave him the fucking chance.” I get that her upbringing was rough but isn’t it hypocritical of you to pry at everyone’s hidden secrets when you have some of your own. We barely know anything about you other than the CCPD records and your meta abilities.

You had taken a few steps closer to her, seething and seeing red. Allegra struggled to retaliate, “I didn’t know-“

“No, you clearly didn’t because every time he tried to talk to you, you always shot him down harshly. Nash tried to give you time and space, always hoping that you would be ready and one day just listen to him. Do you not know how hard it is to wake up every morning to see the doppelganger of your dead child? Do you not understand how hard it is for him to relive the memory of her death over and over again? How much grief he’s carried in his heart and all of a sudden, by a stroke of chance his daughter’s doppelganger is part of Team Flash on this Earth?”

“…”

“You call yourself a journalist, but only when you don’t get what you want. You used that card so many times against Iris, especially when you snooped on her computer and found out about the crisis.” You took in a breath from your heated speech to calm down. Your headed started to pound even more Never in your life have you gotten this ballistic. You counted to 10 and regained control of your breathing and your tongue. Allegra was downright speechless, stunned in her spot at your ebullient words. “I’m not sorry for everything that I’ve said. You needed to hear it to wake up from that closed off and childish world you live in. Because whether you like it or not, he’s family too. And he’s here to stay, just like you. That’s the truth. You have trust issues, even when you’re with us. All of us. You doubt yourself and hesitate. That’s another truth. And you just use him as a punching bag to let out your frustration and pent-up annoyance on someone who only wants to protect you. Penance for not being able to protect his own daughter.”

“I didn’t ask for him to protect me. I’m not helpless.”

“We don’t ask for a lot of things in life to happen, but they do so anyway. Barry got struck by lightning. Frost and Caitlin watched their father die. We’ve lost so many precious souls. But life goes on. Is Iris helpless when Barry saves her? Is it true when vice versa happens? Frost distracts the baddie in time for Cisco to work his tech magic. Is he helpless? Is Ralph helpless when Sue took down those assassins even though she knew he was Elongated Man who is more than capable of handling a few bullets?”

“I- No?”

“Having another person around isn’t a sign of weakness, but strength. Surrounding yourself with people who love you, who you can call family isn’t an exhibition of helplessness. Allegra, you have a home now. A family that will always want the best for you whether you choose to trust us or not. And no matter what happens, Nash’s resolve is to ensure your safety even though he knows you are your own person. For his dead daughter’s sake. That’s how he believes he can redeem all that he’s done. Is that wrong?”

“But he manipulated me and then basically started the crisis.”

“Then I guess you don’t know the full story about that either,” you mocked her. Some reporter, huh. “First off, Nash told you about Team Flash before Team Flash told you about Team Flash. Why? I can only assume that he wanted you to know before you found out the hard way. Meaning if something where to happen to you unexpectedly like Blackhole targeting you because of your affiliation with Iris. He wanted you to already be aware of them and to know who to go to in case things got rough. Secondly, he gave you the push you needed to not fear your powers. To trust yourself. He foresaw that you’d need your powers and so would the others. So, where in all of that does Nash win and leave you for ruin like Eobard Thawne has done to the others? Was it wrong for Nash to indirectly help you in his own awkward bargain-y kind of way?”

Allegra ran a hand through her hair as you spoke, wanting desperately to prove you wrong that Nash was just using her. “It’s just… weird. I’m her doppelganger, I’m my own person. I’m not… her. I don’t even know her name.”

“Her name is Maya and if you asked Nash, he’d be more than willing to tell you about her, and you’d see for yourself that you and she are not the same.”

Allegra nodded at your words, looking as if she would contemplate it. You hoped anyway. The man didn’t need to be broken further. “How do you know all this?”

“It’s honestly pretty simple to push his buttons a bit before he spilled his pent-up feelings to me after we exorcised Eobard out of him. And I’m pretty sure Harry’s been giving him hell for Nash’s unsuccessful attempts with talking to you.

“Who’s he again?”

“An evil murderous speedster that has a thing for ruining Barry’s life and ensuring his existence in the timeline. Not the first time that’s happened, but the crisis allowed for us to do an exorcism was very… eye-opening.” You grinned mirthlessly to yourself causing her to smile a bit. You sighed and took a seat, gesturing for her to take it. Rubbing your eyes, you spoke up, “Nash isn’t the only one.”

“I don’t understand”

“4 years ago, Zoom was terrorizing Earth-1 and Earth-2. A speedster that could breach back and forth if all 52 breach-points weren’t sealed. It was terrifying to say the least. Barry, Cisco, Harry, and I breached over to Earth-2 with a 24-hour time limit in saving Jesse. She’s Harry’s daughter. His pride and joy, his one weakness but his true.”

“You sound like she’s yours too.”

In a way, she kinda would be if- “She’s a brilliant young soul who rivaled her father in intelligence and had a high-spirited personality. Later on, she was accidentally gifted with speedster abilities when Harry and the others tried to regain Barry’s speed. Abilities that Harry still dreads to this day because he’s an overprotective grouch. You’d like Jesse if you met her. Any who, I’m going off topic-” You laughed to yourself. “We had a strict time limit to find her before Zoom and his meta-minions expunged us off the multiverse. And Barry, he went undercover after kidnapping his nerdy doppelganger- “

“-so, Barry basically kidnapped himself- “

“-Yeah. A lot of weird shit goes on with us, but those are all stories for another time.” You waved the thought off before continuing. “So, he was undercover, and he met up with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers on Earth-2’s Jitters. Barry couldn’t help himself when it came to protecting them when Earth-2 Killer Frost and her boyfriend crashed the little party in search for Barry and us. In the name of Zoom, they were sent out to kill of the breachers. Barry got involved when we were supposed to be incognito getting in and getting out. He sped E-2 Joe to the hospital and E-2 Iris away before she could shoot at E-2 Killer Frost. Even though, Harry told him that these doppelgangers were not his Iris and Joe, that he shouldn’t get involved with the people there. Barry saw the differences and, I kid you not, yelled at Harry that even if they were doppelgangers, they were still his Joe and Iris. He had a sense to protect them, just like Nash does for you.”

“That’s…”

 “It’s a lot, I know. We’ve all been through a lot in these past 6 years. Just… just think about it. Give Nash a chance to talk to you. To explain everything to you from his point of view. Because deep down, he knows you are your own person, but that you’re special just like Maya. Just as what Barry saw on Earth-2 with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers. Lives worth risking for.”

You watched as Allegra took in a breath, really letting everything sink in before nodding at you. The gem that Nash had given her was still in her jacket pocket. It amplified her UV powers into mentally confusing the person in front of her. She fiddled with the tech in her hands. “I need to go give this to Cisco. He’s probably wondering if I drowned or not.” You nodded at her with an understanding smile as she retreated out the speed lab. Sighing harshly, you allowed the tension to leave your body as you reclined back in your seat. You shut your eyes. I hope I made the right decision to speak my mind to her.

“Didn’t think you thought that highly of me.” Your eyes fluttered open as you took a sharp intake of breath. Nash chuckled to himself at your dismay. His head felt incredibly murky as he blinked the dark spots away. He remained reclined as he rolled his head to the side, the feeling of his limbs returning to him as he urged his fingers to twitch and curl.

“Nash?! You were awake the entire time?!” Nash just smirked languidly at your embarrassed outburst, ignoring the slight throbbing sensation in his head. “Why didn’t you chime in?”

He watched you slowly sit up with worriment. Nash noted your continued exhaustion. “I was intrigued on what you had to say on my behalf.”

“Worried I’d tell her to UV your existence off the planet?”

“No, you wouldn’t do that.”

“And how do you know that? I can be pretty mean.”

And pretty bossy when you berate me for running into danger. But in either case, still pretty. “I understand. But then the question begs, why would you go to such great lengths to defend me?”

“I didn’t defend just you, Nash.”

“But almost the entirety of the conversation revolved around me and how I felt. My regrets and intentional self-punishment. You could have told her that you didn’t care and that she could continue to give me the cold shoulder… but you didn’t. Isn’t that right, little lady?” Nash coyly mocked you, causing you to roll your eyes at the Wells doppelganger. “Like you said, I’m a human being as well.”

“And a dumbass,” you muttered in a hushed voice to yourself as the taller man moved to stand up, he swayed not quite oriented yet. You were on your feet at once to steady him back into his seat. “Let’s do a couple of tests before you do any gallivanting across the city.” You checked over the monitors, noting that some vitals had dropped below normal which could be due to him waking up from the psyche-neural mental surgery.

“Do you want to take Barry’s blood?” You held up the syringe of speedster blood O-.

“Pass. I’m not a vampire.”

“I know you’re not a vampire, you idiot! This should speed up your body’s biochemical processes for you to retain homeostatic levels and for your mind to reorient itself to the psyche-neural splicing.” Nash stubbornly agreed to the blood administration. He rolled up his sleeve while you pulled out the necessary equipment to work your medical magic. You were just about finished when the geological myth-buster spoke up.

“Thank you… I owe you a favor.”

“Huh?”

“I said, thank you.”

“Sorry, just one more time. I don’t- I don’t think I… caught that correctly.”

“How does Harry even put up with you?”

“You can ask him yourself when he gets here,” you responded cheekily with a huge toothy grin on your face. You won’t lie and say that your heart didn’t jump that Harry would be coming soon. “Now what’s this about owing me a favor?”

Geez don’t smile like that at me. Nash pushed away those pesky thoughts. “I honestly really hoped you wouldn’t catch that, but,” He paused for a moment to collect his words as he sat up, now not taking for granted the silence within his own mind. “After you put the Psyche Segregator on me, I realized something. The favor you owed me, protecting Allegra, it’s… a favor without an expiration date.”

“So?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I did not do the same.”

“I’m not following.”

“Gods! What I’m saying is, that I owe you a lifelong favor. But only one.”

He owes me a favor. A lifelong favor. A favor that’s lifelong. A favor that doesn’t expire. An expirationless favor. I get a lifelong favor. A dumbass owes me a favor. “…”

“What’s it going to be?”

“… I can’t think of anything right now.”

Nash only blinked at you. “Seriously, you can’t come up with something in that ditzy head of yours?”

“Hey, I take great offense to that!”

“Good, it’s the truth.”

You put away the medical equipment and disconnected the screens that held his vitals. While you were up, you gave him a water bottle and some food to help with the dizziness. Nash felt his strength return to him as the blood transfusion allowed his body to work faster in restoring itself. “You never told me; did it work? Are they…?” You trailed off pointing to your head as he stood up.

“No mo-”

Swouush, swooush

The crackling sounds of atoms and the fabric of this dimension cut you off. You turned around to see two breach-like holes open up in the middle of the speed lab, familiar and friendly faces exiting safely. They pocketed their newly synthesized dimensional extrapolators.

“Vhy don’t you take ein gut look, schatz?”

“Oui, we’d be more zhan ‘appy to answer zhat for Nash.”

You greeted them cheerily with a hand wave as they approached you and Nash. Wolfgang nodded at you before making a beeline to where the DCM remained. Sherloque tipped his hat to you before nodding at Nash.

“You guys made it safely.” :D

“Zhat we did, petit fluer. A few bumps on zhe way, but nozhing eizher of us could not ‘andle,” Sherloque piqued up,

“Then that means-,” You pulled out caramel vanilla flavored chap stick out of your pocket and applied it to your lips. Your heart waited in anticipation not even wanting to waste time to even fix your hair. Harry will be here soon. The boys just watched you carry on with a dumbstruck smile on your face as you stood in place and waited for a breach to open up. Wolfgang resumed working on recalibrating the DCM for the others.

“Did you just put on chap stick?” Nash asked with quirked eyebrows and an incredulous look.

“Well, yeah? When I see Harry, I’m going to wanna kiss him, duh.”

“You didn’t get enough from-”

“-Sherloque, don’t-”

“-when you were making out wizh ‘arry in Nash’s ‘ead?”

You shut your eyes and groaned, blood rushing up to your face as you covered it with your hands. “They did what?? Seriously, in my mindscape?” Nash’s flare-up caused Sherloque to snicker as he smirked at your bashfulness.

“Ja, zhey did zhat.” Wolfgang sighed, pulling up new schematics one the computer screen. He worked diligently with any piece of technology at his fingertips. “Alzhough, Sherloque vas zhe unfortunate one to valk in on zhem. Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht.”

“Oui, zhey were getting very ‘ot and ‘eavy zhat it took Wolfgang and moi to interrupt zhem from what people on zhis Earth would say ‘rounding zhe bases like deux ‘ormonal teenagers.”

“Sherloque, stop! Please!”

Your cheeks were on fire and you know they could see the colored hues. Sherloque and Nash continued to tease you while you attempted to ignore their playful jabs. No Harry yet. It’s been… 15 minutes. Don’t panic. He’s ok. Probably held up or something at his Labs. He’s ok and he’s with Jesse. Just breathe. “I-I should probably run some small physiological diagnostics on you guys since you just crossed over and we don’t know if the dimensional travel will negatively impact you or not.”

“Great, she gets nervous and all of a sudden to distract herself, the little lady wants to run tests.” Nash facepalmed while Sherloque just gave you a look.

“Hey, I’m not nervous! How many times are you going to offend me today?”

“As many times as necessary.”

“Everyzhing zhat you’re doing right now are common gestures of being nervous. You keep playing wizh your fingers and biting on your bottom lip. You did zhat last year whenever we were discussing Cicada.” Sherloque added much to your chagrin.

You pouted with crossed arms. “I don’t do it often.”

“Yes, you do.” Both Nash and Sherloque responded simultaneously and you felt yourself shrink a bit under their combined blue gazes. Before you could say anything, Wolfgang let out low whistle. The three of you turned to him as he began to speak.

“Systems are all online und fully functional. Zhe ozhers should be sending us zheir dimensional coordinates und ve can commence vizh zhe cataloging soon.” The German man continued speaking as he finished typing up a few more algorithms on the computer. “I’ve already uploaded ein copy of zhe roster from my mind zhat vay ve could check zhe ozher Vells off Stück für Stück.

You nodded at Wolfgang’s words, but felt your stomach squeeze in your lower abdomen. “What about Harry?”

“Ve vill just have to vait until he shows up, schatz.” Wolfgang adjusted his glasses as he gave you a brief glance. You weren’t the only one to notice that since arriving on Earth-Prime that Wolfgang wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Do no vorry, Harry vill come.” Your shoulders sagged at the idea, an action Sherloque picked up on which prompted him to give his two cents.

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise. “(Y/N), Wolfgang ‘ere told me an interesting story about ‘is Earzh and a particular person ‘e ‘ad come across. Say, your doppelganger for instance.” The Frenchman took off his fedora to card his fingers through his dark locks whilst Wolfgang momentarily froze. Nash stretched fully before retreating out of the room, knowing he wouldn’t be needed and wouldn’t allow himself to be psychoanalyzed by the one and only Sherloque Wells. Sherloque smirked as Nash left and Wolfgang’s reaction. Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires.

“Nein, halt- Ich-”

“-He told you or did you deduce it from him like you do to everyone else?” You questioned your friend slyly before turning your head back to the German Wells. “Wolfgang, you knew my doppelganger?”

“Ja, ve… ve used to be close in university.” His cheeks dusted pink as he fumbled about with the wiring of your Earth’s extrapolators. “She vas zhe one zhing zhat remained constant zhrough zhe years.”

“What happened to her? You’re talking as if-”

“She passed avay. Ja, she did. She vas terminally ill… Multiple Sclerozis.”

So that’s probably why he doesn’t like to look at me for too long. “I’m sorry. My brother- he died a few years ago from Multiple Sclerosis too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the family tree even across the multiverse, huh?”

“Ja.”

Ok (Y/N), way to make it super awkward. “I should- leave you to your sciencing. Sorry about that.”

Wolfgang just nodded his head in thanks before sending a glare to the detective while Sherloque advised the both of you to venture out to the breakroom for to make drinks. With a smug look on his face, obviously. Qu’est ce qui retarde ‘arry? The same thought echoed hauntingly in your mind as well. You allowed the French detective to pull you down the corridor for some coffee and tea, but your mind could not for the life of it let go of Harry.

***

You waited. Patiently, if I might add. It’s been 2 days since Wolfgang and Sherloque had popped over. Obviously you had gone home to shower and change before coming back with some snacks. The cataloging was running smoothly. Wells one by one projected themselves over via the DCM and recounted their dimensional coordinates as well as establishing the state of their Earth in this new dimension. But you grew uninterested in the different variations of your boyfriend. Each second ticked away at your heart. Like a fool you’d look up at the different sounds that would come from the center of the Speed Labs only to be met with disappointment. Sherloque eyed you as you waited around like a lost puppy for the Earth-2 man, even at points getting up and pacing. The detective saw the anxiety ooze from you at the fact that Harry hadn’t arrived yet, so he did his best to distract you from your worries and thoughts. But he was running out of stories of Earth-221, interesting cases, and discussion topics to tell.

Barry had sped in a couch for you and Sherloque to sit in as you waited for Harry to make an appearance. The detective calmly sipped at his new flavored tea, one that you had provided. Wild Raspberry Hibiscus. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, willing yourself to be alert. You had already consumed 4 cups of coffee with espresso yesterday, but those sleepless nights were slowly pushing against you. The two of you sat in silence with only the hums of working electricity and noises from the DCM.

“I zhink,” Wolfgang took a step back from the computer monitor, “I should retire for zhe nacht.” The German took off his glasses and rubbing his closed eyes. Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt werden. “I’ve reprogrammed zhe system in order for it to catalog incoming Vells automatically.”

“I’ll keep my eye on it,” Sherloque piqued up, gesturing with his porcelain teacup to the DCM and subtly side glancing at you. Wolfgang only nodded at his doppelganger.

“Yeah, you should go rest. Sorry if it seemed like I was keeping you here,” you stood up and stretched, walking over to the German Wells.

“Nonsense, zhink of it as a favor to Harry,” Wolfgang waved off your statement. You offered your hand to the platinum-haired Wells which he shook gently before bidding your goodbyes to each other as he strode through the dimensional breach. Which reminds me. You scrunched your face and blinked a few times over then turned back to the seated detective.

“Sherloque, you don’t have to say here. You should go back home to Renee.”

“I- Comment puis-je lui dire? … Renee and I didn’t exactly work out. Encore.” You observed him as he set his teacup down, Sherloque chuckled sadly to himself. Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois.

“You deserve better. You really do, Sherloque. Love will find you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, head up,” You found yourself sitting beside the now cynical man as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting hug. “It could even literally run right into you one day when you least expect it. But it doesn’t mean you can run yourself ragged from sleep loss.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly and reciprocating the gesture of affection. You knew he had no problem with loving, it was the fact of having that love fully reciprocated without it becoming superficial.

“I cannot, I promised ‘arry I would not leave your side in zhe case zhat zhere would be some sort of delay on ‘is end.”

“He asked you to do that for me?”

“Oui”

“Do you think… something happened to him?”

“I wouldn’t worry. ‘e’s a capable and determined man, plus ‘e ‘as ‘is daughter wizh ‘im. Now come on, I believe zhe bozh of us deserve a change of scenery.”

“I’m feeling the need for Jitters coffee actually.”

You pulled said man off the couch and moved towards the direction of the door. Sherloque raised an eyebrow at you incredulously as he scrunched his nose in disgust at the prospect of coffee. “Coffee at zhis hour? Its 10 PM.”

“WHAT?”

“Well you’ve been on zhe Netflix entire time, peeping up every once and awhile to see if ‘arry come or not. I’m not surprised you lost track of time.”

“I guess I can drink some hot chocolate from the breakroom.”

“No need to get up,” Nash’s voice caused your head to snap up as he stepped into the Speed lab with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, “I figured you’ve had too much coffee in your clumsy existence within the past 12 hours.” In truth, Nash had made, dumped, and re-made hot chocolate 7 times in the past 2 hours because he had no idea on how you’d react when he’d make it. He had no idea why he impulsively decided to make one of your favorite drinks instead of letting you waste away at the prospect of coffee. The adventurer talked and scolded himself because you clearly don’t need him to help you out. You’re a capable, independent ditz after all with a war veteran of a boyfriend on the way. Although, Harry’s delay did ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of Nash’s stomach. Finally, the myth-buster had made a decision and added some peppermint extract to give it more flavor with some marshmallows. Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyway because… I secretly want to see her smile at me while it lasts. FuCk.

“I resent that statement, but I do thank you for the hot cocoa,” you hummed in contentment of the fresh brew. Nash saw the weight momentarily leave your shoulders and your body visibly relaxed. You saw him eye you oddly but chose to shake it off as you took another long sip. “Mm, I never got to ask, but have you met any vampires?”

“What?”

“Vampires. You said you weren’t one and I obviously know that, but I’m intrigued if you’ve encountered any on your travels through the multiverse. Cisco accidentally met one when he saved Breacher a year ago.”

“Do you always come up with bizarre questions to ask?” Nash poked your cheek as the three of you moved back to the couch. You batted his hand away. Sherloque baby blue eyes followed the banter between

“I don’t know if I should take it as a compliment or a criticism.”

“Take it as you will. I honestly don’t care.”

“Well?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows as you were seated in between Sherloque and Nash on the couch. You blinked a few times and shook your head a bit.

“Well, what?”

“Have you caused any trouble with any vampire?”

“Why is it that you think that I always cause trouble?” Nash countered your question with his own. He ignored the mockingly smug look on Sherloque’s face.

You shot Nash a look before retorting and Sherloque held in a laugh. “I’m not even going to answer that, Nash.” Nash stammered a bit before succumbing to that determined look on your face, the sparkles hidden in your eyes as they twinkled with curiosity.

“There was this one time-”

“-I knew it!-”

“-Would you let me finish before judging?” He lightly scolded you as you took another sip of your hot cocoa, your head started to throb against the hardness of your skull. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” but you did not look in the least regretful, “this was before I met Maya. I had… overheard in a tavern on a dark Earth rumors of the Alexandrite Crown or better known in the dark legends as the Queen’s Crown. A crown thistled with alexandrite gems but infused with Thallium and Platinum. Poisonous according to the naturally occurring substances on that Earth.”

Nash continued painting the pictures to his adventure and his encounter with a Vampire Clan in a clash over the Alexandrite Crown and the mystical way of obtaining Chrysolite in order to cleanse it from the noxious spirit that’s locked away within. You hung onto each word as you pushed away the blurriness in your vision and the hazy state of your mind. With each second your head got heavier, feeling like lead and your eyes threatened to droop, but you needed this distraction from worrying about Harry’s wellbeing. Taking one deep breath, you shut your eyes as your body went out of commission. The geological adventurer breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his voice to a stop as your head gently lolled to the side, resting against Sherloque’s shoulder. Both men observed your breathing pattern relax to soft puffs of air.

“Sleeping powder, impressive and you even stalled until it took effect. Maybe zhere’s hope for you just yet,” Sherloque smugly spoke up as he readjusted you to rest your head onto his lap.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nash narrowed his blue irises at the detective.

“Non, nozhing. What else did you bring?”

“Huh? What-I didn’t-”

“I’m a detective Nash, I notice zhe most miniscule of things. Bring over zhe pillow and blanket you ‘ave ‘idden in zhe vacant room beside zhe corridor.”

“How did you…?”

“Skill, mon ami. Skill. Just because I’m not in your ‘ead does not mean zhat I cannot see zhrough your pure intentions.”

Nash sighed in defeat as he pulled up the blanket and pillow. He first covered you with a fluffy blanket, ensuring that he would not meet Sherloque’s eyes. “She gets cold when she falls asleep.”

“And zhe pillow?”

Nash handed his doppelganger the pillow, who placed it on his lap before setting your head on it to sleep comfortably. “You already know so I’m not going to even say anything.”

The detective quirked a teasing, but knowing eyebrow at the explorer, “Be honest wizh yourself, what prompted you to essentially drug her?”

“Okay, with the way you’re saying it, you’re sounding as if I’m going to do vile things to her. And you know what? I’m not going to even pretend to not be offended by that.”

“Well in reality you technically did drug her, but zhat’s beside zhe point.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well. You know it. I know it. Hell, everyone on Team Flash noticed, but no one had the will to reprimand her to take a day to rest.”

“You mean ‘zhe ‘eart’ to.”

“Whatever!-”

“-Shh!-”

“-The little lady needed to sleep. She can’t be running herself ragged while making sure everyone around her stays safe and healthy.”

“Zhat’s very noble of you, Nash. C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir.” Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter.

“What did you just say?”

“Nozhing!” Sherloque just gave the other man a mysterious smile as he took off his fedora and tossed it onto a spare and vacant table on the side. “You know it’s nozhing to be ashamed of, right? Caring about ‘er and ‘er safety, zhat’s what zhis team does to a person. It doesn’t make you weak. You should know zhat by now.”

“…”

“You just need to know not to tip over zhe line.” Sherloque knew his doppelganger didn’t like being deduced, didn’t like his actions thoroughly analyzed to told what and how he was feeling. But sometimes, he needed a little push in the right direction by the detective in order to fully face the intentions behind his actions. That was one of Nash’s flaws. The ability to push aside all the pain and emotions behind current actions in a little box and thrown out the window in order to press on with the adventures that he lived on. Sherloque had discretely gone through some of his recent memories and noticed it occur with not just you and Allegra, but with the members of Team Flash as well.

“I know what I’m doing,”

“Zhen I believe you have some… patching up to do wizh a certain teenager.”

“She’s not a teenager, she’s a young adult.”

“All in zhe same wizh ‘ow she was acting.”

Nash left with a slight huff as he had every intention of turning in for the night, mentally contemplating a few things. Rubbing his eyes, the explorer took one glance back from where he stood in the corridor. He dismissed the skilled detective’s words, but yours had echoed in his mind. The detective reclined back on the couch, his own mind wandering in the depths of his own nightmares and regrets. He took one look at you before shaking his head. Sherloque smirked as his ears perked up to familiar sounds causing the detective to tilt his head back.

“Eh bien il était temps”

German and French Translation:

Deux - Two

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise - Hm, a distraction seems to be necessary right now

Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires – There’s no harm in sharing some stories.

Qu’est ce qui retarde Harry? - What is taking Harry so long?

Comment puis-je lui dire? – How do I say this?

Encore – Again

Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois – I don’t know why I tried an 8th time.

C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir – It is ironic, no? Even though she cannot be yours your heart can’t help but to secretly desire something dangerous

Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter. – Your logical mind scolded you to relish with your friendship instead. Something you will have to learn to become content with.

Eh bien il était temps - Well it’s about time.

Mon Ami – My friend

Stück für Stück – Bit by bit

Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt warden - It was a tedious task, but it needed to be done

Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht – Thank God I didn’t

Schatz – sweetheart

Petit Fleur – Little Flower

[secret-engima]

What if the Nox Verse Dissidia nabbed an extra person for each side on accident? I mean, Noctis and Nox being two people but also one, mystically speaking, leaves an opening for a really mind breaking issue. Two-is-one-is-two, brothers-but-not, new-and-old-remade, WTH? Well, if things are going to go sideways ANYWAY, might as well make it Memorable. So it nabs Ardyn. And Regis. See? Another mindbending mix of brother-but-not and new-and-remade should even things out. Maybe. At least it's funny?

Pffft THAT WOULD BE HILARIOUS??? That would be HILARIOUS.

-Noctis and Regis are, of course, called by Materia, they are both equally confused and so very relieved to see each other in this strange place, though Noctis is freaking out a bit because DAD IF YOU’RE HERE WHO’S RULING THE KINGDOM and the Champions are very surprised to see a dad-son pair here that AREN’T on opposite sides like Tidus and his dad.

-Regis totally gives Materia a Dadly dressing down on kidnapping people from their worlds and homes without warning or permission, because some of us have kingdoms to run thank you, and the rest of the Champions just stand their being surprised and impressed that this newcomer is LECTURING Materia like she’s a wayward teenager out past curfew. They still end up agreeing to help, mostly because Materia admits she has no clue how to send them back yet.

-Regis takes control of the situation as best he can and keeps Noctis with him when they all go out searching (and is more than a little exasperated because what is, this a story book plot?) and things are going well-ish when suddenly a large red sword slams down at the feet of Regis's group and Noctis and him look up in shock and dread to see Ardyn leering down from above with Nox lounging nearby. Both of them have identical maniacal expressions on their faces and Regis feels a swoop of dread when he realizes his half-brother and eldest son are on the opposite team. He’s seen their spars with Cor. He knows what’s about to happen.

-“Ardyn....” he warns as he pulls a sword free and Noctis curses softly under his breath (and in any other circumstance he would scold his son for that kind of language but just this once...).

-Ardyn’s grin gets bigger and he sweeps his arms out theatrically, “Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Dearest Nephew! Lost, royal relatives! All alone! Without their bodyguards! On the opposite side of yet another conflict! Whatever shall we do?”

-“Ardyn,” Regis grits through his teeth as Warrior and Cecil look between the four in alarm, “do not even think about it.”

-Nox tilts his head and there is Mischief in his son’s gaze as he drawls, “I don’t know, Uncle, whatever SHALL we do?”

-Ardyn adjusts the hat on his head and hums in thought and Regis feels like groaning in exasperation because CLEARLY his half-brother is hamming it up for the unknown audience. CLEARLY. Ardyn is such a drama queen, honestly. Then Ardyn grins, “You know, Dear Nephew, this is an opportunity don’t you think? The two Scions of the Royal house, unguarded out here where no one else from our world is around to know what happens while the two of us, the forgotten, illegitimate children of our generation are also here with a perfect excuse to do battle?”

-Regis can see Warrior and Cecil putting the pieces together in all the wrong ways and sighs, “Ardyn, Nox, I swear to the Astrals-.”

-Nox just laughs and begins tossing one of his kukri up and down, “You thinking what I’m thinking, Uncle Mine?”

-“That I would look quite fetching on my half-brother’s throne? Yes, yes I am.”

-And before Regis can do more than sigh at them, the fight has started.

-Regis is proud to say he holds his own pretty well against the pure manic energy that is his half-brother and eldest son, and he and Noctis work together remarkably well for having never been in the training grounds at the same time before.

-They still lose, because Ardyn is a whirlwind of pure magic energy and Nox is a striking viper and Regis’s knee hasn’t been up for this kind of idiocy since he was twenty-one. Ardyn spots his knee giving out and calls a stop to the fight with a PAINFULLY melodramatic and cliche excuse. Regis isn’t sure what he’s more appalled at, that Ardyn actually said it with a straight face or that it was clear their new comrades BELIEVED IT hook line and sinker.

-Astrals Regis needs a drink.

-Ardyn and Nox casually saunter off and Regis has no energy to explain that no, his half-brother is not actually after the throne and ... debatably not crazy. Neither does Noctis, because poor Noctis had been targeted by Nox almost exclusively and his eldest always did seem to do things overkill.

-Needless to say, by evening, all of Materia’s Champions have heard that their two newest comrades are dealing with an evil uncle that wants to steal the throne and an embittered illegitimate son that the uncle found and has groomed as his weapon and heir against poor Regis and Noctis. Nothing the two say will convince anyone otherwise.

-When the alliance is made and both sides are tentatively ignoring each other for the sake of peace, Ardyn comes over and happily flops down next to Regis, ignoring the way the younger champions all bristle protectively over their new friend with the bad knee. Regis glares at Ardyn, who pouts, “Oh, come now, it was only a little playful attempted murder.”

-“You tried to set my hair on fire.”

-“I knew you were skilled in ice! Nothing would have happened!”

-Regis pinches the bridge of his nose, “Everyone is convinced you’re trying to stage a coup.” There is conspicuous silence and Regis eyeballs Ardyn angrily. The man gives a sheepish smile, “If it helps, I abandoned that plan after Nox came into my custody?”

-Which meant that Ardyn HAD at one point been planning a coup. Lovely. That is not a thought Regis ever needed in his life, “I’m going to pretend I never heard that. Where is my eldest anyway?”

-Ardyn gestures lazily over his shoulder, “Making friends, I do believe we’ll be having company on the way home.” And Regis looks over in dread to see his eldest happily braiding the hair of the extremely deadly, not entirely sane swordsman with long silver hair that Regis has already seen fight once and never wants to actually fight himself. Regis groans and hides his face in his hands, Ardyn pats him on the back with false sympathy, because unlike Regis, Ardyn is having the time of his life.

-“Look at it this way,” Ardyn consoles half-heartedly, “At least we are all together? And in my experience nothing makes for a better father-son or brother-brother bonding experience than facing down the end of all life and reality as we know it and slaying said end of all life in a dramatic and bloody encounter.”

-Regis ... has nothing to say to that really. All he can do is stare at Ardyn through his fingers in the silent wonder of WHEN, exactly, Ardyn faced down another end of all life for the sake of family bonding. Ardyn just grins and doesn’t answer. Because that’s just his half-brother. The other half is troll.

[captain-jinguji]

all the boys including heavens most to least likely to show off for their s/o if they got jealous and what would they do!

Oh this will be fun ~

STARISH + QUARTET NIGHT + HEAVENS MtL to show off to their s/o when they're jealous.

Most

Yamato - oh hell no. Another guy trying to steal you? Not on his watch. Already onto mission "you're not going anywhere."

SYO - eh? He worked way too hard to get you to be his in the first place, no way someone else is going take you away. Shows off his muscles to you and that he's way stronger than any of those guys.

NAGI - but? He's your precious little baby? You're his angel? Absolutely not. Reminds you how cute and sweet he can be by making it all about you.

RANMARU - haha you're cute. Leaving him? Not gonna happen. Shows off his bass skills and what else those fingers of his can do ;3

Camus - lmao no one would dare touch you haha... Unless? So shook when someone actually tries. Reminds you who you belong to by taking you out for extravagant dates and gives you a massage. No one touches you like he does.

Cecil - his princess? Going away? No. Takes you on a little trip to the beach to remind you of all the fun times you had together and how no one else could replace that.

Eiichi - he knows you wont leave him. Still gets worried. Shows off by buying you expensive things and showing you who you belong to.

Van - tries so hard to not be jealous but then he sees another guy hitting on you and it just doesn't sit with him. Shows off by taking you helicopter flying because who else can sweep you off your feet and take you up to the heavens like this?

Otoya - denies it. You wouldnt do that to him. But poor baby just cant shake the feeling :'( so he writes you a song and expresses all his deep feelings in it. He has to let you know that youre the only one for him.

Tokiya - pffff he doesnt need to show off to know youre his. He will just remind you by giving you a wonderful evening ;)

Reiji - He's too old for this jealous streak. Instead, takes you out for a fun day to remind you that no one can make you laugh like he does.

Kira - he might be quiet but that wouldnt take you away from him right? Doesnt really show off, instead sits you down and talks about his worries.

Eiji - poor angel doesnt know what to do? Doesnt want to dictate your life but will most likely also sit you down and talk about his worries.

Ai - shocked? You were his ride or die? You wouldnt do that to him, would you? Might keep it to himself until you force him to tell you.

Ren - doesn't get jealous. He gets that he cant be the only man in your life, but if it ever does go too far, he will just talk with you about it.

Shion - gets more upset than anything. Doesnt wanna talk about it and ultimately just tries to disappear. Don't let him though, make him talk about his feelings.

Masato - much like Shion, he gets more upset than anything. Doesnt want to dictate your life and realizes that you probably deserve better. Please dont let his thoughts get to him.

[fuckyeahtx]

Late in the afternoon on the last Monday in June, 430 Democrats, who had paid up to $100,000 each, clicked into a private, Texas-themed Zoom call organized by Joe Biden’s campaign. They were greeted by former Planned Parenthood chief Cecile Richards, whose mother, Ann, was the state’s last Democratic governor. They heard from Julián Castro and Beto O’Rourke, and they were treated to a performance by Willie Nelson, who sang a song with his son Lukas called “Vote ’Em Out.” It began, “If you don’t like who’s in there, vote ’em out. / That’s what Election Day is all about. / The biggest gun we’ve got is called the ballot box.” And they heard from Biden, who — just four days after a Fox News poll showed him narrowly ahead of Donald Trump in the state no Democratic nominee has carried since Jimmy Carter — told them, “I think we can turn Texas blue.”

From Amarillo to Brownsville to Beaumont to El Paso, you could practically hear the sighs: Here we go again. Texas Democrats hear a version of this overture in every election cycle as outsiders swoop in citing statistics about demographic shifts. The national party has long regarded the Lone Star State’s 38 electoral votes as the just-out-of-reach golden key to perpetual success.

Still, the ex-VP is now basking in a double-digit lead nationwide, and we’re improbably entering month 17 of close polling between Biden and the president in Texas, which Trump won by nine points in 2016. The state’s Republican senators are warning that Texas will be “hotly contested” (Ted Cruz) and “at risk of turning purple” (John Cornyn). And after months of bluster from its GOP leaders — in March, Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick said seniors like him would be willing to die to restart the economy — Texas is under assault from COVID-19, and frustrations are turning into fury. Governor Greg Abbott has backtracked on plans for reopening as more than 5,000 new coronavirus cases flood in each day, while Houston hospitals are at capacity and millions remain out of work.

Four months into lockdown — about halfway between being left for dead politically early in the primary and Election Day in November — the nominee and his campaign are still adjusting to political fortunes they can hardly believe all around the country, let alone in Texas. As the summer stretches on, party leaders are starting to work out whether Biden’s lead and Trump’s spiral mean Democrats can afford to experiment in conservative states or if it’s worth shining a brighter light on down-ballot races that could hand a President Biden the Senate.

Of course, no national Democratic group has spent a dime on TV advertising in Texas, and they’re unlikely to. Biden doesn’t need Texas to win the White House. Far from it: Carter is the only Democrat to win there since native son Lyndon B. Johnson. Pro-Biden groups, like the Unite the Country super-PAC, that aim to get him to 270 electoral votes have been spending money in top-tier battleground states like Florida and North Carolina, not Texas, where Trump still has a slim lead in some polls. “If we win Texas, it will be the 350th or 370th electoral vote,” says Lily Adams, a senior Unite the Country official (who happens to be Ann Richards’s granddaughter and Cecile Richards’s daughter). “Not the 270th.”

And Democrats are still haunted by their 2016 confidence, especially in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin. Hillary Clinton’s wasn’t even the party’s only semi-recent collapse; one July 1988 poll showed Michael Dukakis beating George H.W. Bush by 17 points. Trump’s team, meanwhile, insists it hasn’t started fully unloading on its opponent yet. But this year’s race is showing signs of becoming something entirely different: Despite being stuck at home in Delaware because of the virus while Trump soaked up the national attention, Biden held a roughly ten-point lead in national polling averages by the end of June — about four points wider than the margin at this stage of any race in recent history. It would be overly kind to describe Trump as “flailing” as his poll numbers continue to hit new lows amid the pandemic and the protests against police brutality. His answer is to desperately look for a more cutting nickname for Biden, as he’s worried that “Sleepy Joe” isn’t good enough. (The 74-year-old Trump’s allies think their best bet is to portray 77-year-old Biden as frail and deteriorating. When asked by a Fox News producer about “cognitive decline” late last month, Biden replied, “I’m constantly tested … I can hardly wait to compare my cognitive capability to the cognitive capability of the man I’m running against.”)

Biden’s leads in the crucial swing states are more solid than expected — Trump’s campaign team is already worried he may have too big a mountain to climb in Michigan, the site of perhaps his most shocking 2016 victory — but the leads are still smaller than Biden’s apparent national margin. Biden has only recently begun venturing out for campaign events and rarely travels farther than next-door Pennsylvania. Wary of distancing recommendations, he isn’t planning to hold rallies in the fall, and only now, with four months left, is he building up senior teams in Wisconsin, North Carolina, and the like, while his allies pound digital and TV airwaves in those battlegrounds with a barrage of anti-Trump ads.

A Biden sweep still isn’t certain, which is why he probably won’t go all-in on a state like Texas. “My grandmother used to say, ‘You don’t know the size of Texas until you’ve campaigned in it,’ ” warns Adams. O’Rourke’s race against Cruz was the priciest Senate contest ever — and he still lost. But, Adams continues, “what you may be witnessing is a confluence or perfect storm of events that is making Texas more competitive this cycle than any other in recent history.”

Three Democrats independently used the “perfect storm” metaphor in conversations with me to refer to the pandemic, Trump’s plummeting popularity, and demographic shifts that have increased the state’s number of Latino voters and city dwellers. (A fourth called it a “perfect shitstorm.”) While that combination doesn’t yet have party leaders considering Texas a central swing state, it has forced them to shift it solidly into their expanded conversation about electoral battlegrounds, just behind Georgia.

Those closest to Biden have better things to worry about than these debates — like picking his running mate and designing his coronavirus-recovery proposals. When they do get sucked in, though, the pro-Texas-investment arguments usually start by noting that this ain’t the Bushes’ Texas anymore. O’Rourke, whose presidential campaign manager, Jen O’Malley Dillon, now runs Biden’s effort, came within three points of Cruz in 2018. That was just four years after Abbott beat Democrat Wendy Davis by 20 points, and the state’s briskly growing cities and suburbs are sprinting away from Trump’s GOP. Long-term trends have seduced Democrats: The Census Bureau in June reported that Texas’s Hispanic population grew by more than 2 million in the past decade. And the state’s present crisis has only sped things up. It’s the latest stage in a four-month saga during which Trump’s polling has dropped precipitously, but it mirrors similarly dire pictures for Trump in Florida and Arizona. “It’s 24/7, all over the place on TV, on their cell phones, as counties send out emergency texts to every single person in the county,” Castro, the former presidential candidate, tells me. “People are putting two and two together that this is the direct result of a failure by Donald Trump and Greg Abbott.” Whereas Biden has lagged previous Democrats a bit in popularity among Latino voters, Latino communities have been hit especially brutally, causing many to turn hard against Republicans.

The party’s wallet will stay shut for now anywhere but Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Michigan, North Carolina, Arizona, and Florida. Still, before Willie Nelson and his guitar took center stage that Monday afternoon on Zoom, O’Rourke warned that if the vote tally is tight on Election Day, “I believe that the current occupant of the White House — who does not believe in the rule of law, who does not respect the Constitution, who will do anything he can to maintain and increase his purchase on power, will exploit a close outcome to attempt to steal the election.” But, he continued, “the greatest safeguard against that outcome is Texas.”

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Whumptober Day 27

Day 27: Ransom

17.  Ransom: Baz

Fiona

I’ve just settled down for the night. My tea. My bikkies. Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and A Funeral on the telly.

I’ll admit I’m a bit partial to Hugh, but I can’t for the life of me understand why they keep pairing him up with these bloody awful American women in his films. Fiona was a far better fit for him than that wretched Carrie. I suppose it’s all to appeal to American audiences.

Typical.

My mobile rings just as Henrietta spots Charles. Blast it. I like this bit.

It’s Malcolm. I pick up.

“Fiona, it’s Malcolm.”

“So I gathered. I do have caller ID, you know. That’s why I’m bothering to answer.”

“Have you spoken to Basilton today?”

Odd. I thought Basil was in Hampshire with them. I tell Malcolm just that.

“He is. . . he was.” It’s not like Malcolm to stumble over his words. “He went to the Club to play tennis with Dev this morning and he’s not back.”

“Did he run over to Dev’s then?”

“Dev hasn’t seen him. Not since midday.”

“Did you call his mobile?”

“I’ve called. Dev’s called. Basil isn’t picking up. It goes directly to voicemail.” Malcolm’s agitated. I can tell by the timbre of his voice. “I thought perhaps he’d come up to visit you for the night and forgot to tell us.”

Baz would never forget to tell Daphne. He’s conscientious about things like that.

“He hasn’t. I’ve not heard from him. Not since Tuesday.” I click the television off. “I’m sure he’s alright, Malcolm. Maybe he ran into some friends at the Club and they went out.” I can hear Malcolm’s fingers tapping through the line. Another tell of his. “Have you called the Club?”

“I have. Cecil said he saw him leave this afternoon. They’ve not seen him since.”

I check my watch. It’s half past ten.

I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. It’s not as if Baz is a child. He’s of age. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

But he’s not prone to haring off without letting any of us know. He’s meticulous about that. He knows how Daphne frets.

He knows Malcolm worries.

“What can I do to help? I can try to call him, text him? Do a finding spell?”

“I’ve tried that.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“His mobile? Did you try tracking that?”

“He’s turned access off.”

I’m up off the sofa now. Where the hell are my keys?

“I’ll go to the Club. I’ll see if his car is still there.” I find my keys and pocket them, putting the phone on speaker as I pull on my boots.

Malcolm sighs. “Sorry. I thought I mentioned it. When I spoke to Cecil earlier I had him check the car park. His car was still there.”

“Well, I’ll go see for myself if it bloody well still is.” I grab my wallet and I’m out the door a moment later, mobile still clutched to my ear. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

The Jag is still in the lot when I pull into the Club parking area. It’s the only car there.

It’s locked, of course, because Basil is nothing if not a creature of habit. I spell it and open the door.

There’s nothing to see. It’s pristine as always, because Baz is a prat. No papers. No mobile. No tennis racquet, no bag. Nothing.

Where the fuck is he?

I drive to Hampshire. There’s no point in going back to my flat, not until we’ve got this figured out.

Malcolm

Fiona shows up at the door at half-past twelve. She looks as agitated as I feel. Daphne sweeps her into a hug and we all settle in the den. I pour her a whiskey. I pour one for myself as well.

A generous pour.

Daphne sips her Madeira.

“So now what?” Fiona asks, downing half her drink in one swallow.

“I think we need to report him as missing to the authorities,” Daphne says, eyes on me.

“The Normal authorities, you mean?” Fiona asks.

“Well, yes. There’s no magical authority to report him to.”

I’ve often thought it would behoove us to have our own experts for Magickal Law Enforcement. I’m sure there are those who feel that would be encroaching on the freedoms of Mages and some such rot. But in situations like this, the Normal way of doing things is often inadequate.

Fiona snorts. “No authority other than the Mage’s Merry Men.”

That is a sore subject. There is no formal constabulary in the World of Mages but Llewellyn has set up his own corps, under his authority and sole supervision—aptly called the Mage’s Men—who do his bidding and his alone. They’ve already been here twice this summer, looking for banned books and forbidden artifacts. Llewellyn himself showed up the last time. He sat in this very room, drinking tea with Daphne, while his men ransacked our library.

Not that they found anything. I’ve known about their ‘raids’ for months. I was prepared. They found nothing untoward and I could see by the curl of Llewellyn’s lip that he realized he’d been had.

No one crosses that line with a Pitch or a Grimm. I’ll be damned if he gets to paw through our legacy. If he gets to rake through the artefacts Natasha’s family has collected for generations.

I think the fuck not.

Merlin above, I sound like Basilton.

“I wouldn’t even consider informing them.” I lean forward and meet Fiona’s eyes. “This is family business and I see no reason to bring them into it.”

Daphne looks pained. She worries.

I think she worries more about Baz than about the other children. Which is understandable, with all that he’s gone through.

She’s got a soft heart that that the whole world can see.

Not me. I hide mine away, under layers of cool competence, an icy demeanor, a steadfast façade of detachment.

My heart’s gone up in open flames once. I don’t dare let that happen again.

“What do you suggest, Malcolm?” Fiona’s glass is empty. Her eyes are narrowed.

“We may have more luck if we work the spell together?” I dart a glance at Daphne. Her lips are a thin line. She knows what I’m going to suggest. “There are some books, as you know, in the library . . .”

Fiona’s on her feet. “Come on then. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Fiona

The books are old and fucking useless. Malcolm and I try obscure summoning spells, a few dodgy finding spells, and a banned tracking spell. I’ve incinerated one of Baz’s sweaty socks already and we’re no closer to finding him.

I can see the sky brightening when I look out the library windows. We’ve been at it all night, Daphne bringing us tea and biscuits just a short while ago.

“It’s not use. None of these are working.” I lean back in my chair. Bloody hell, I’m tired.

Malcolm frowns down at the scroll he’s perusing. “It doesn’t make sense. These should work.”

“Unless he’s crossed a body of water.”

He’s tapping his fingers again. “It’s not like him, Fiona.”

“I know.”

Malcolm

The call comes in mid-morning. From Basilton’s mobile.

“Basilton? Where are you?”

A gravelly voice answers me instead. “No questions.”

“Who are you?”

“I said no questions.” The voice rasps back at me, more of a rough growl now. “We’ve got him.”

My blood runs cold.  

“Tell me where he is.”

There’s a low grumble, almost like a laugh. “Not yet.”

And then they ring off.

Bloody hell.

I call his number and it goes directly to voicemail again.

I’m pounding on Fiona’s bedroom door a moment later. She opens up, hair in a tangle on her head, eyes narrowed at me.

“I got a call.”

That snaps her to attention.

“From Baz?”

I shake my head and wave my mobile at her. “It was his number but it wasn’t him. Someone has him.”

The color drains from her face. “What do you mean someone has him? Kidnapped? Is that what you’re saying, Malcolm?”

“They didn’t say much. Told me not to ask any questions and said ‘we’ve got him’ and then rang off.”

“Give me your mobile.”  She snatches if from me before I can hand it over.

“It won’t do any good. I tried to call back and it went straight to voicemail.”

“Really, Malcolm, there are times I despair for you. I don’t know what Natasha was thinking.” She pulls her wand out of her pocket and taps at my screen.

There is no point to having passwords around Fiona. She can open any lock, bypass any privacy PINs, crack any code. It’s just one of the unsavory skills she has.

I’m hoping they all come in useful now.

“Back to the source.” She’s tapping on the received call log, on the recent call from Baz’s mobile. My screen glows momentarily and then goes dim. “Bloody hell.” She taps it again with the same result.

She hands it back, the disgust clear on her face.

“What were you trying to do?”

“Trace the location of the call. To zoom in the location of the mobile itself.” She’s tapping her wand against the doorframe. “It usually works, unless there’s water involved or the network is buggered up.”

“Someone has him, Fiona. They have Baz.”

Our eyes meet. We’ve kept this secret—Daphne, Fiona and I. And . . . one more person but he’s no use to us right now. We’ve kept this between us for thirteen years. For Baz’s sake.

For Baz’s safety.

Anyone who has him in their custody will know. Likely not today. Perhaps not even tomorrow, depending on when he fed last.

But it’s inevitable. He can’t go more than a day or two.

I can see it in her eyes. She knows.

Whoever has him will kill him when they find out.

I close my eyes as a wave of nausea hits me. My knees feel weak. I clutch the doorframe to steady myself.

They have my son. Someone has my son.

Keep it together, Malcolm Grimm. I hear Natasha’s voice in my head but it’s Fiona who’s grabbing my sleeve and shaking me.

“Steady now, Malcolm.”

Fiona

I wish I was as confident as I sound.

Malcolm

The next call comes two days later.

Fiona, Daphne and I have had two sleepless nights, endless pots of tea, a myriad of useless spells.

The children are in bed. Fiona and I are poring over near-incomprehensible, dubious ancient tomes when the call comes in.

I pick up my mobile and put it on speakerphone.

“Malcolm Grimm,” is all I say.

“We’ve got him.” The voice is lower this time, gruffer. Not the same person then.

Fiona leans forward and I slash my hand in the air at her. My message is clear: let me handle this.

She slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, brow furrowed, her glare directed at the mobile resting on the table between us.

“Where is my son?”

“For us to know and you not to find out.”

“What do you want?”

The price they name is surprisingly high but not astronomically out of reach. I’ll have to speak with my brother and make a few calls to the bank but I can handle this.

I’ll pay more if needed.

I’ll sell whatever I have. No reservations.

“When and where?”

Fiona leaps across the table to pick up my mobile. She shakes it and then starts shouting. “Listen, you yammering gobshite, I’ll be damned if I pay one cent to get my nephew back. Do you know who you are dealing with? This is the House of Pitch. We never forgive and we never forget. I’ll flay you alive before I barter with you over my nephew. I’ll burn you at the stake if you touch a single hair on his head. You will regret this with your dying breath, which I hope to hell comes at my hand.”

I wrestle the mobile away from her. “Hello? Hello?”

They’ve rung off, of course.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Fiona? We could have had him back by sundown. What part of let me fucking handle this do you not understand?” I’m shouting.

I don’t think I’ve ever actually shouted at Fiona before.

She’s lucky I’m not strangling her.

“Pitches don’t negotiate, Malcolm. We don’t get blackmailed, we don’t bow to terms, we don’t pay fucking ransoms. We never have and we bloody well never will.”

“This is my son’s life you’re playing with. Natasha’s son.” I don’t think I’ve ever been this furious.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified.

“I know that!” Fiona shouts back. “They know that. They’re after something, Malcolm, that’s clear. There’s no earthly reason anyone would want to kidnap Baz. They want something from you.” “Money,” I thunder. “They want money and I’ve got more than enough to spare.”

“It’s not about the money.” She’s pacing the room now. “This has the stink of the Mage all over it.” She glares at me. “You’ve thwarted him at every turn. You’ve defied him publicly. You’ve scuttled his raids. You’re fomenting rebellion among the Old Families.” “You’re the one inciting the insurrection, Fiona, not me. I’ve washed my hands of that.”

“Then maybe they want something from me.” “Money.” I say again.

“It’s not money. It’s power. Someone has a hold over you now, Malcolm. Over the both of us. Fucking hell. Those arseholes have Baz and they’ve got us over a barrel.”

“So we give them what they want. Baz is more important than any of this.” I walk across the room and grip her by the shoulders. “There’s only so much time, Fiona. Only so much time before they know. All they want is money or power or control right now.” My voice drops. “Once they know what he is, it’s over. We’ll never get him back.”

“They wouldn’t dare, Malcolm. They wouldn’t dare.”

Fiona

Malcolm stopped speaking to me. He has no idea how this sort of thing works. It’s not the first time a Pitch has been kidnapped, although it very well may be the last, seeing as Baz and I are the end of the line. Literally.

Pitches don’t negotiate. We don’t pay ransoms.

We get revenge.

We get the kidnapped person back too.

Except for great-uncle Percival, but no one really wanted him back anyway. The fairies actually sent him back but he had the misfortune to run into a pack of nuckelavees on his way home and that was the end of him.

One nuckelavee would have been enough. Those are right bastards to kill.

Malcolm argued with me for days. “He’s the only living heir to of the House of Pitch!”

“I’m aware!”

“He’s my son, Fiona. He’s the last vestige of Natasha we have left!”

“Natasha would never negotiate. She would never bend her will to another.” My voice was ice. “She scraped the bottom of the barrel when she married a Grimm. Farmers and shepherds, the lot of you. What would you know about pride and dignity?”

“He’s my son!” Malcolm had shouted.

“She would have ended him there and then, Malcolm. She would have ended him herself if she hadn’t been bitten. To keep him from becoming what he is. She would never compromise anything, for anyone. And you know it.”

It took us a week to start speaking to each other again.

One more call came in yesterday, with a sum more astronomical than the first, but the caller didn’t seem too focused on the amount. Tossed it off with a laugh almost.

Wouldn’t give Malcolm a time or a place.

The wanker asked, of course. He’d have paid them off the first time they called, if he’d had it his way.

Which he doesn’t, of course. Baz is a Pitch and this is Pitch business. Full stop.

But I don’t think they’re really in it for the money. There’s some other game afoot. Some other purpose to this.

And they know he’s a fucking vampire. Called him a ‘blood-eater’ the last time they called. Nonchalantly dropped it in the conversation.

I told Malcolm that proves it. They’re not going to hurt Baz. If they know he’s a vampire and they’ve not set him alight, they’re not going to do anything to him at all.

This is all bluster and show. It keeps us occupied when we should be planning the Mage’s demise.

I swear it’s something he’s cooked up, to mess with us when we need our focus most. Keeping us distracted while he masterminds another nefarious scheme to decimate our power, divide our forces, subjugate our will.

Honestly, fuck the Mage.

Malcolm

They called again. I kept them on the line longer this time, with Daphne recording the conversation with her mobile.

Fiona

Numpties. Fucking numpties. It came to me when we were listening to the recording for what must have been the hundredth time. Gravelly voice. Slow and hoarse. Raspy and low. Like rocks scraping against each other. Like the crunch of a gravel road.

“Numpties! How the fuck did Baz get himself kidnapped by fucking numpties?”

Malcolm’s eyes had gleamed. “At least we know who has him.”

“Why numpties?”

“I don’t care about the why, Fiona. All I care about is where.”

“London, then. That’s where to find them.”

Malcolm

Daphne tries to keep my spirits up but the despair has set in. The numpties haven’t called in weeks. Baz’s mobile doesn’t even go to voicemail anymore. Just rings and rings and rings.

The last time they called they didn’t even talk about money. They wanted wands.

Wands. Numpties wanting wands. It’s absurd. They’ve hardly any magic to them. What would they want with wands? It’s not like they could even use them. Or effectively burn them to keep warm.  

It makes me think Fiona’s right. That the numpties are just a front, a subterfuge. Something more sinister is behind this. It makes no sense. Why on earth would they kidnap Baz if they wanted wands? I may have magickal objects in my possession but I don’t have wands just lying about.

Fiona’s gone to London again, to consult with her ‘sources.’ I know who she means. I doubt he will be of any help to us. He’s a turncoat, a traitor. A curse to his family and our kind.

I would pay every single one of the Covent Garden vampires any sum they wish, for information. Even though their kind killed my wife. Even though their savagery has marred my son forever.

I don’t give a damn. I would pay the devil himself if he would give me Baz back.

Fiona

I’ve scoured every place that’s had a hint of numpty to it. Abandoned buildings. The closed off lines of the Underground. The seedy steam baths near the docks.

I don’t know where else to look. I do know who to ask.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Nicky.

I’m desperate.

We’ve not heard from the kidnappers for weeks. Every finding spell I’ve attempted has failed.  

He’s got to be near water or underground. That’s the only thing I can think of, that would confound the spells. Running water, a place deep beneath the ground, a hiding place encased in steel.

The last one makes me shudder.

Malcolm has resorted to some questionable practices. I’d not expected it of him. Grimms don’t usually dabble in the darker magic.

I certainly did not expect him to summon a demon. That was two days ago. I thought Daphne was going to drop dead from the shock when the bastard manifested but she stayed by Malcolm the whole time, chanting the incantation just as he told her to.

Not that it helped. The horned nightmare didn’t tell us much of anything.

I wonder if it’s that much harder to track the undead.

Not that I think Baz is undead. He’s just not as alive as one would prefer, for these kinds of rituals.

So all we have is what I’ve been saying. Near running water. Underground. Possibly a metal barrier.

I’ve berated Malcolm enough. He’s proved far more Pitch than Grimm through this whole fiasco, barring the ransom issue.

I’ve got a fair amount of respect for Malcolm, though I’ll die a thousand painful deaths before I ever tell him that. The way he handled the loss of Tasha, what happened to Baz—what he is, what he’s become. It’s not something for the weak of heart.

I criticize Malcolm for being weak.

He’s not. Not really.

If anything, it’s me that’s is. I know what you would have done, Tasha. I know what you would have told Malcolm to do.

And I think he would have defied you, even if you’d lived.

That helps me do it too. I’ve made different choices than you would, sister.

I think they’re the right ones.

Even the one I’m making now.

I’ll find Nicky. I always do.

And he’ll help.

He always does.

I’ll find the bastards who took your boy and I will bloody end them.

[rorykillmore]

some desert mansion headcanons?

it’s around hereabouts on the map! not too far from the border. i also made this post to give people an idea of the surrounding area. it’s in a place called diez coronas which is like.... rdr’s version of monument valley, essentially. villanelle really likes it because it’s SO larger than life (and she seems to have a thing for sweeping, breathtaking landscapes) and one of the most isolated areas on denny, really.

3 stories, 9 bedrooms, 10 bathrooms, with probable room to convert few rooms into either in the WILD event that it was needed. which... quick tally:  eve and villanelle share a room. bor’ka has one (if cecil apps him). the rwbies are each going be offered their own room but there was a possibility that some of them might double or quadruple up, so i don’t know what the exact count for that would be. but even if they Each had their own bedroom, that’d bring the total to 6. fox, lisa, or nat might be offered one, so that’s...  wow damn imagine if they actually do need more space.

villanelle (enlisting eve’s help) has spent the majority of late july and early august interior decorating. if you look at... any of her living spaces from seasons 1, 2, or 3, it’s pretty clear that she has that specific brand of eccentric-chic style and likes decorating with stuff from all over the world, so i’m sure it’s been an INTERESTING process.

team rwby’s rooms are going to be color themed. of course.

it has two whole pools and a hot tub. the ooc reason is just because the house actually had two pools in its listing. the ic reason is because villanelle was like “wow.... this is a really big piece of property :/ better put one pool on either side of it because having to walk the whole way across sounds boring.”

it’s on several acres of land and gated, and the land inside the gate is very... green, compared to the land outside of it. villanelle cheats by making it rain a bit more often than it’d generally be prone to in the desert.  but she’s got gardens to upkeep! yes, she keeps gardens, but when i say she “keeps gardens” i mean that in the like... most villanelle way possible. ie she’s very sporadic about actually nurturing them and mostly just uses her magic instead, she’s impulsive and gets bored very quickly and sometimes will decide to change the theme on the whim (some days it might be a native desert themed garden, other days it might be a japanese garden, other days it might be a tropical garden, and so on). the only real constant is that she likes to add touches that remind her of the people she loves.

villanelle dedicated One Entire Room SOLELY to being a library, and she’s meaning to give it to blake as a belated birthday present. with all the vampire stuff happening she hasn’t had the chance to show her, though.

villanelle’s bedroom, no matter where she’s living, has always been THE most personal space to her. like. she’s lived with people on denny plenty of times already at this point, and shared space in that capacity, but never in any of those times did she like. casually let people into her bedroom. because it’s kind of the innermost expression of her as a person, just as likely to be full of designer clothes and expensive perfume and girly accessories as it is to be riddled with deadly weaponry and costumes and disguises and things she specifically needs for Her Job. all of this to say that i am absolutely INTRIGUED to imagine what her sharing a bedroom space with eve full time actually looks like. i want someone to break in to snoop around someday and go “oh my god, they’re actually insane.”

there is goat-friendly outdoor space specifically for bartok. villanelle made sure, despite their rivalry.

they have a piano because villanelle wanted to take up playing again.

her favorite space in the whole house may just be her bedroom patio, which opens up onto that ENORMOUS cliff view and at night, gives you an endless view of the stars. one of her favorite little games is making up her own constellations. 

the (massive) kitchen is sure to be the site of many disastrous baking experiments. villanelle can cook, but she can’t bake. also i want her to teach one of her roommates how to make like poisons or sedatives or something from scratch.

there’s a movie theatre room and its default movie is avatar (2009).

villanelle is presently looking at an experimental rift energy signature security system that would potentially even keep out like. doubles and doppelgangers, if not disabled. otherwise, given the givens, she doesn’t feel she needs all that much security.

some day in the future villanelle is going to look back on this and go “wow. i really spent a whole summer building the world’s most giant house because i was depressed. ...........i’m so proud of myself for not being one of those “cool motive, still murder” people who kills more often because i’m sad!”, 

idk that’s all for now, different people will probably add their own headcanons and touches as it fills up

[redhairedwolfwitch]

News Flash - Arctic Queen Part 2 - Nora West-Allen x Snow!Reader x Mother!Caitlin Snow

Request:  Could you please do a part two for Arctic Queen please?

A/n: So this is set in episode 4 of season 5 of The Flash... its a bit long but it had everything I felt would be useful to include

“God you’re addicted to that ancient thing.” You grumbled as you looked at Nora staring at her phone. Caitlin raised an eyebrow at your expression.

“Didn’t you get one too?” Caitlin questioned causing you to sigh.

“No. Some technology doesn’t mix well with my powers... your ancient mobiles included.” You explained causing Caitlin to pout in thought for a moment.

“Didn’t you bring one of those thermal phone cases with you?” Nora enquired causing you to sigh.

“I got tossed to this period in time, I didn’t think about much besides finding you Nora.” 

You glared at Nora’s grin before noticing Iris, Caitlin and Cecile looking at you in amusement.

“Ugh, I’m going to get a slushie. Also, you have a type.” You replied, walking off moodily causing Nora to frown as Caitlin, Cecile and Iris exchanged looks.

“Spencer Young? Yeah I know her, I see her all the time working on her laptop in Jitters...” You blanked out the rest of the conversation as you walked over to the food stands, going to the slushie machine.

You paused, glancing back to see Nora getting up, probably to get something to eat as she continued to stare at her phone causing you to grumble under your breath.

“Here.” The cashier announced, passing you your slushie.

“Thanks, keep the change.” You replied, walking back to the stands when you heard the shouting.

“HEY! SOMEBODY STOP HIM!” 

“EVERYBODY MOVE!”

You froze in shock as Nora as XS sped in, dealing with the backpack bomb as it exploded in the air. You unfroze as you glanced around, darting towards your mother and aunts when you slammed into someone, your slushie going all over you.

“Ow, watch it.” You groaned, your white hoodie stained with the colour of the slushie as the person walked off.

“Spencer Young?” You mumbled to yourself as you got up, spotting your mother and aunts.

///

“Bomb squad finished their sweep, they said its all clear.”

“What was that?” You questioned as you walked over, gaining confused looks from everyone at your slushied hair and clothing.

“Nora, how did you know what was happening?” Iris questioned causing you to look at her.

“I don’t know.” Nora stuttered, her gaze catching yours before her notifications went off.

You watched as Nora and Barry left, leaving you standing with Caitlin and Iris.

“Iris, if Cicada sees that post...”

“Yeah, he might pick Nora as his next target.”

“Shrap... I’ll try to keep going Arctic to a minimum although there’s no promises if Spencer Young knocks me on my ass, tossing a perfectly good slushie over me again.” You grumbled causing Caitlin and Iris to give you confused looks.

“I’m going to talk to Spencer and tell her to drop what she’s doing okay...you might want to get a shower...” Iris replied causing you to sigh.

“I haven’t worked out how to turn the shower on...I get taps just not the shower buttons. Its all old.” You whined causing Caitlin gently tap you.

“Come on, you can shower at my apartment...I’ll show you how to get hot water...and get you some clean clothes.” Caitlin replied, guiding you to her car.

“Thanks mum.” You replied, causing Caitlin to pause, giving you a small smile as you both went to her apartment.

/// Time Skip ///

“What’s going on?” You questioned as you walked into the Cortex, your mother and aunt Iris at the stations.

“Fire at CCPN, building has already been evacuated and there are firetrucks on their way.” Iris explained, causing you to nod as you looked over the screens.

“Nora what’s wrong?”

“He just ran away and left!” Nora exclaimed causing you to glance at your mother in confusion.

“His suit’s GPS has him going west, way west.” Your mother replied.

“Why is he going to Las Vegas?” You questioned as you glanced at the Spyn Zone app you had up on another screen out of suspicion and protectiveness for Nora’s sake. 

You zoned out as you looked over the articles, a sense of dread filling you before you glanced up.

“Great job Nora.” 

“God I need another slushie.” You mumbled, walking out to the lounge.

///

You observed as Iris and Nora began to argue about Spencer Young, Caitlin and Barry standing off to the side as you noisily slurped the cold beverage gaining a glance from Nora as your mother gave you a look causing you to stop.

“Good luck with that.” You replied as you walked off, ice trailing from your fingers as you went down to the basement where you arrived to find what you needed.

“Come on Bart... notice I left my phone...and the stupid breech closed...” You grumbled, pacing around before the room lit up purple and a black rectangle flew at you.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, picking up your phone and the message on it.

“Shrap.” You mumbled, frowning before you turned on your heel, hearing the beeping of upstairs. You paused in doorway as Barry and Iris began to talk.

“Forcing her to talk to you won’t make her talk to you y’know.” You stated as you stepped out of the shadows.

“I thought giving her space would, you know, have her eventually come around but turns out, she’s not the problem. I am.” Iris replied causing you to wince slightly.

“God that’s a right can of worms that have been opened.” You replied causing Barry to frown at you.

“Look she’ll forgive you.” Barry replied to Iris causing you to cover your face with your hands.

“Good luck with that.” You mumbled under your breath before hurrying out, running into your mother who gave you a concerned look.

“Hey mum, whatcha doing?” You questioned, walking over to the computer she was looking at.

“Comparing the scans...that’s unusual.” Your mother replied, not entirely used to being called a mother.

“Dr Snow.” A voice said causing you to whip around, eyes flashing white as your mother screamed.

“Freaking hell Sherloque I could have gone Arctic and stabbed you with an icicle!” You exclaimed.

“I assume you came in here for another reason other than murdering us.” Your mother stated, glancing at you as you dropped the icicle you had in your hand in the bin.

“Well Dr Snow if I was to murder you I would not do it in such obvious fashions.” Sherloque replied, gaining a glare from you as you stepped forward threateningly.

“I need you, Dr Snow, to punch me in the chest.” Sherloque replied.

“If you don’t mum, I will.” You growled, pausing as Caitlin gently pulled you backwards.

“Listen Sherlock.” “Loque.”

“Oh my god punch him before I do.” You replied, grumbling.

You grinned as Caitlin slammed her fist into Sherloque’s diaphragm. 

“You sound just like...”

“Cicada...”

Your smile fell as the alarms began to go off.

///

“I have a bad feeling.” You mumbled, watching as Barry and Nora whizzed off to Central City Stadium.

“Didn’t The Flash and The Reverse Flash fight in that stadium?” You questioned after a beat, causing everyone to look at you. “It was just a question.” You replied, beginning to pace.

“Barry its the headlines!” Iris shouted.

“NORA!” you shouted in realisation causing everyone in the cortex to look at you.

“XS kills The Flash...we need to get down there.” You stated, watching as Iris got up and opened a breech, hurrying after her.

You kept quiet as Iris shot Nora with a tranquiliser dart, darting after Spencer Young as she tried to escape.

“Freeze.” You growled as you iced the floor from under her, watching as the Flash caught her.

///

“So I’m gonna be crashing on my mum’s...Caitlin’s couch at her apartment, you going to be okay?” You asked, gaining a nod from Nora as you passed her the note you got on your phone + your phone number to add to her new phone.

“How did you-” Nora began but Iris entering caused to to just wink, turning around to leave. “Good luck with that.” You replied sarcastically at Iris causing her to frown at you as you shrugged, walking out to find Caitlin.

///

“I thought you said you left your phone in the future.” Caitlin questioned as she glanced at you.

“Bart threw it through a breech but there’s some...technical difficulties in the future so it closed super quick... being in the past is messing up the future big time... I’m not exactly useful at the moment judging by how everything literally revolves around speedsters... I just hope the future means we can both be useful, well in your case mum, you’re amazing either way. I’m going to sleep. Night mom.” You replied, pulling the blanket over your head as you laid down on the couch.

“Goodnight Y/n...” Caitlin replied, almost sadly before she noticed your phone go off. A picture of her holding a younger you as the lock-screen with Nora’s message on display.

Nora: We were right

A/n: I can’t get another gif so imagine a gif of Nora here aha :/

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 158 - The Battle for Time

Read the rest here!

Kasper: The future wants you. The future needs you. The future will have you, whether you like it or not. Welcome to Night Vale.

This episode goes back and forth between Kasper who is trying to assure us that his plan is completely for our own benefits and Cecil, who is rebuking his claims and inciting NV to rise up and fight.

The fight is tough because Kasper has brought an army of robots from the future. Robots who, ironically, contain the brains of the NV citizens who signed up to be frozen for the future.

However some of the robots start to fight back against their programming and join the side of the NV citizens.

Kasper is killed and his brain is put into the body of a robot where he is then ordered/programmed to sweep the sand wastes as part of the Mariam McDonald Memorial Fund.

However, it seems this follower of a Smiling God gets the ultimate honour of being devoured by his deity.

Weather: “Sugar Neighbors” by Dane Terry

To raise funds the Lion Club had a raffle with prizes such as; a package tour to Nashville, ten free piano lessons from Louie Blasko, a free haircut and consultation from Telly the Barber and the grand prize an all expenses paid trip into the bottomless hole that appeared a few years ago betwixt the dunes.

In fact winners will be compelled to jump in no matter what.

Cecil still hasn't quite forgiven Telly.

Tamika and her militia (just a militia now that they are no longer teens) join in the fight by throwing rocks.

Josh tries being a waterfall again to shortcircuit them but they're water proof so he panics and becomes a 1970's style avocade green galley kitchen.

Lenny Butler, who has no miltary experience but considers himself an expert anyway, attempts to give advice.

Citizens from Pine Cliffs and the Whispering Forest try and fail to help too.

Cecil gives survival tips which include invading any home or building you wish for shelter, expanding your definition of food to include the inedible and forgoing getting more water because your body is already 60% water. He also dislikes that baby carrots are called baby carrots because they're not really baby versions of carrots.

When time is changed by their victory the robots go still because they don't have brains in them any more so they're taken to Grove Park and scrapped for parts to repair the town with.

Cecil at the end of this all seems to have come to some peace with his and everyone's eventual death as part of the natural cycle.

As the old saying goes, “death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.” This is not a story about you. And you were glad, because it would be boring if every story was. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: Every friend group has a joyful chasm. If you do not know who the joyful chasm is, then I have news for you: you are the joyful chasm.

[ficsandpieces]

papa!QN headcanons part 2(2/4)

papa!Camus:

Camus naturally teaches his daughter the Permafrost language. You end up sitting in on some of his lessons even though you already know some after being with him for so long. Hearing the language of his home coming from the two of you sends him not just over the moon but the freaking sun as well.

He can spend hours listening to his daughter happily blabbering away to him and even replies her seriously. You’re not sure which language she’s using or if most of it is just baby talk, but Camus looks like he’s in such bliss you figure it doesn’t make much difference.

Sometimes he takes your daughter out for the day, only to return much earlier than expected. When you ask what happened, he’ll tell you with the most disdainful sneer that “there were too many filthy boys outside”.

He would absolutely re-enact the ballroom scene from beauty and the beast with his little princess.

(What do you mean your house doesn’t have a sweeping staircase and a ballroom, this is Camus we’re talking about here. He’d rent a castle and a film crew just for this and fly the whole family over for it.  

After your daughter has had her fill of dancing with Daddy it’s your turn to dress up and be gracefully swept off your feet and onto the ballroom floor by your husband, who’s looking more dashing than usual in the Beast’s outfit.)

I beg you to imagine Camus singing Tsukiakari Cinderella no Dearest to/with his little girl and showing her how to do the heart shape with their hands. PLEASE.

Camus is rendered physically useless for an entire week when his daughter first calls him ‘Dada’.

You honestly never imagined having to do anything like this for Camus but here you are, patiently wiping away the tears dripping non-stop down his face while he’s sobbing and looking like the forlorn hero of a bodice-ripper romance novel with a tragic past for some reason except with more clothes on.

In winter, Camus takes his daughter ice-skating. The father-daughter pair  are quite a sight to behold as they practically dance across the ice hand-in-hand (the sparkles trailing in the air behind them courtesy of Camus).

You had to stop him from hiring workers to fence off the common pond when other people started showing up to share the ice though.

He also somehow manages to make a fun activity like snow-sledding with his daughter look like a dramatic entrance to a play called ‘The Descent of the Ice Phoenix’ or something like that.

Bonus: Cecil, on meeting your daughter, gallantly goes down on one knee, takes her hand and kisses it while cooing about what an honor it is to meet such a beautiful little princess. Then he tells her very solemnly that “Your father is not a very nice person at all, so please do not learn from him.”

You’re trying to stop yourself from laughing; Camus, meanwhile, has turned into a snow demon behind your daughter.

[fridays--child]

Chapter 1 - But the darkness holds it all in: figures and flame, beasts and me.

Read on AO3 or Wattpad

After the hubris that followed the Industrial Revolution, scholars and civilians are terrified when a new plague epidemic steadily begins killing off not only their way of life, but their population. When Hedy Leander, a foreign volunteer medic gets posted at Morrigan’s Ranch, a rural farming-turned-resort town that’s one of the few unaffected, she’s expecting a reprieve from the death and disease that clings to the bigger cities. But as things become bleaker, the small community will have to learn what desperation to survive can do to not only to their idyllic existence, but to those they thought to rely on.

“No man is an island, entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less…”

Hedy had never been a God-fearing woman. Even in her twelve years of Catholic school, her family had been too involved in science and rationality to believe in an eternal and all-knowing watcher, and church visits were mandated to weddings and funerals. But if there was a big guy up there, presiding over her every movement, after the past few days she highly doubted he’d mind too much if she let herself doze for a few moments.

Her Pa had died. After nearly seventy years in the service of medicine, he finally, quietly, gave in to the very disease he tried to cure. The same infection that was sweeping the country like the locust in Exodus. Or so he likened it to. She had cried all she needed to over her reluctant hero, the man who rarely showed paternal love, but showered her in accolades when she, in some form, began to follow in his career path. And though she felt an ache in her chest, in the dimly lit cathedral, with the air thick and sweet with smoke, it could be so easy to put a hand over her eyes and rest quietly. She had been awake for over twenty-four hours.

“Each man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee."

"Now, please rise for the final hymn.”

“Yes, he was too involved in mankind, the foolish old man,” Gran muttered filthily, as Hedy gently grabbed her elbow and helped the older woman stand. The tip of her ugly feathered hat hit Hedy’s face and obscured anyone behind her’s view. Hedy hoped the small lace veil she wore hid her blush. “He thought he could play God.”

“I think he just wanted to help.” Hedy responded, nodding politely when some of the other mourners turned around in response to the outburst. True or not, it was too soon to speak ill of the dead. “It was his life’s work, he couldn’t just sit by while this happened.”

“Yes he could of,” she retorted, grabbing her small handbag and rifling through it. The pall-bearers were gathering around to carry the empty casket to the cemetery. “He was too proud of his own intelligence, and too damn stupid to realise he couldn’t outsmart it.”

Hedy nodded, too worn to argue back. Though her Pa had only married her Gran in during her childhood, Hedy had learned early on there was no point taking Elenora Leander on. Her previous two husbands had testified to that.

“It was nice that they chose to honour him here, in the city.” Hedy changed tactics, walking along the green lawn of the adjoining cemetery to where his headstone now stood. Four feet high, the stone featured a winged man holding off a skeletal harbinger. A testimonial to the very arrogance Gran was bitter about.

“Though I guess it was nice that they had a ceremony at all.” Gran sniffed.

It was true, however unfortunate it seemed. The death that was occurring on mass across the company meant that funerals had lost any sense of rarity , any sense of closure. Everyone was mourning. There were no bodies to bury, the government decreed that any person who died from this plague, as well as their clothes and anything they came into contact with during their incubation, was to be burnt and then buried. Pa’s body would have been burnt a week ago, and buried in the mass grave they all pretended was not only a few miles out of the city’s gates. This funeral, with the casket and headstone, was a laughable luxury.

“I suppose this put you out of a job.” Gran retorted, pulling a small vial from her purse. Delicately, she let four drops fall onto her tongue, grimacing slightly as she swallowed. Hedy rounded on her, taking the small vial from her grasp.

“I was out a year before this happened,” she replied, taking a sniff of the concoction. She did not recognise the label on the bottle. “And what is this, Gran?”

“One of your Pa’s students gave this to me, said it would help my nerves today.”

Hedy popped a drop on the back of her hand, looking around to make sure no other funeral attendees were watching. Most had already begun to leave. There was to be no wake, no viewing, and no body to bury. She tentatively licked it off her gloves.

“Gran, this is nothing more than brandy with some lavender in it!” Hedy exclaimed, before licking her hand again. “And maybe some form of opiate.”

“Oh good,” Gran took the bottle back, taking a few more drops for good measure. She placed the small vial daintily back into her handbag and closed the clasp with a sharp snap. “I couldn’t very well bring out a flask, could I? The only thing worse than a drunk widow is a hysterical one.”

~

Goodbyes at the train station were a short affair. Despite having lived at Morrigan Ranch for the past twenty years, Gran had decided to live in the city, citing she was old and had nothing left at that ‘run down hick town.’ When Hedy had mentioned was worried about her on her own, she snorted. “Sweetheart, worrying is just something we do to feel busy.”

The train ride itself was uneventful. Morrigan’s Ranch was located three hours out from the city, far enough away to feel rural, but close enough for a weekend trip. Originally a small farming town, its rugged, wild beauty, and relative proximity to both the city, and a quaint coastline hotspot, had made it somewhat of a resort town in recent years. The rich and bored came there to experience living off the land, spending a weekend or two with their hands in the soil before they gleefully returned to their life of privilege. Why a woman like Elenora chose to live there in retirement, Hedy would never understand. But she had enjoyed her childhood trips when she was in the country there, where the livestock and people did not mind an overly curious child with the heavy accent bothering them. She hadn’t been there since she was freshly eighteen, and, despite being posted there for work, was looking forward to staying at a place that was, if fadingly, familiar.

The seven-mile trek between the station and Morrigan’s Ranch via carriage was, unfortunately, less pleasant. The weight of nearly forty hours awake was beginning to toll on Hedy, her head throbbing over every bump and ditch. Despite all her recent practice, she had never been a great traveller. The uneven swaying was threatening her to be ill all over her Sunday best and stupid, too small shoes. Cecil, Morrigan’s own preacher and the organiser of her volunteer unit, had apologized profusely. Cars were already a rarity, and, in this time too expensive for the average person to run. Morrigan’s Ranch only had one vehicle in working order, and it was currently in use. Hedy had waved his apology away, but now, groaning and resting her sick head between her legs, she could really curse whoever was selfish enough to take it away from her.

Sitting across from her, Declan blanched slightly at her green complexion. “If you throw up on me, princess, I will throw you from this carriage.” He had a shotgun casually strapped across his back, and unfortunate part of being an escort on the roads in recent months. Firearms had stopped alarming her a long time ago.

Hedy threw him up a hand gesture, swallowing hard at the saliva pooling in her mouth. “As if I haven’t cleaned you up more times than I can count.” When he chuckled, she continued. “Just please tell me we’re fucking close already.”

“We should be.”

In the encroaching darkness, the surrounding forest and shrubbery around Morrigan’s Ranch seemed more overgrown than it was seven years ago. Everything rustled and echoed through the branches, accentuated by the poor horse who was carrying their load’s heavy stomps as they approached the lights glowing in the distance. She could hear voices in the distance, brutal yet cautious, asking questions about their approaching carriage. If she hadn’t gotten used to feeling afraid, she would have been nervous right now. She saw Declan’s hand twitch towards his gun.

“Pull over.”

Their group was met with a small convoy of armed men and woman, their expressions in the dim light dark and questioning. The carriage driver agreed, and Hedy quickly slid out, glad to feel solid ground beneath her swollen feet. However, her relief was short lived, as one gripped her forearm, roughly taking her Pa’s medicine bag, one of her few prized possession, from her grasp. She could hear Declan arguing with another as they began to surround the carriage and began rummaging through the possessions of the other carriage riders. When no one responded, the same voice spoke again.

“Who are you?” She could hear another gun slowly being loaded and cocked.

“My name is Hedy Leander,” Hedy spat, trying to retrieve her medicine bag from out of her aggressor’s reach. She still hadn’t let go of her forearm. “Anton and Elenora’s granddaughter.”

No reply.

“I’m part of the medical team stationed here. If you give me my bag back, I can show you my pass and papers.”

The woman holding her arm looked up to the first voice.

“Samson?”

“Show me.”

Indignantly, Hedy snatched her bag back and quickly retrieved her papers. Beckoning for one of the men holding a lantern to come over, she at last could see where the demanding voice came from. His face was mostly obscured by long dark hair and a beard, with only the tips of his cheekbones and eyes visible in this light. Though she couldn’t see much more of him, or anyone surrounding him, she noticed he might be one of the few men that had been taller than her. He looked at her pass for a long moment, before handing it back. His voice was softer, but no less authoritative, than before.

“Where’s Cecil?”

“Dealing with border control. Trying to get our luggage through quarantine faster.” She shrugged. “I’m only allowed this bag because it’s got medical supplies.”

One of the other party members, a man who was wearing a wide-brimmed hat despite the night sky, stared inquisitively at the man named Samson. He nodded slightly.

“Okay, let’s get you in.”

Tensions slightly decreased, Declan and Hedy walked the remainder of the short trek by foot, with Hedy downright refusing to get on the now-spooked horse’s carriage again. The one with the hat spoke again.

“Sorry about the, uh, showdown there. We’ve had some issues with poachers recently.”

“I understand. I get why you have muscle here.” She motioned to Samson. Hat man chuckled.

“Hedy!”

As they approached the town hall, the only building illuminated by candles despite it being evening, a shrill yet excited voice called out. Hedy found herself in the arms of Moira, who had run to the convoy and promptly enveloped her with a kiss on the forehead. Though she had not known her long, Cecil’s young wife had always been kind, if slightly over-affectionate, to Hedy and the rest of her team.

“Are you alright, darling?” She held Hedy’s face in her hands.

“Yes, thank you Moira. Cecil did a lovely job today.”

“That’s sweet.” She linked arms with Hedy and bought her forward, into the building. “I apologize for the lack of a welcoming party. It must have been hard to find us here in the dark.”

“Do you have electricity here? I thought Gran said it was recently installed.”

Moira nodded. “We do, only in the town hall and a few of the homes who could afford it. It’s hit the skitz, but we only turn the generators on from 6-10pm each night, and then it’s all candlelight.”

Hedy nodded along, tuning out as Moira quickly explained how the village ran. It had been a damn long time since she had been here.

~

Ave moved as silently as she could, trying to use the wind and night sky to her advantage. Creeping towards the old shed next to the generator, she thought it was ironic that, until only a year or two ago, she was terrified of these forests and what lay in them. She had been raised around a campfire full of tales of wraits and folk in animal skins, who would trick and spirit away those who disturbed their peace. But there was nothing here to be scared of, she knew. The only scary thing out here were the men who tried to steal from them.

Finally reaching the shed, she quickly took a peek at the generator, before removing the loose glass in one of the windows and wriggling her way in. Ave had heard that poachers had been seen in the area scouting for food, and when their trusty generator had broken down a few days later, she could only assume they were the culprits. She had spent too much fucking time, covered in muck, growing those vegetables for them to be stolen by lazier men.

Ave didn’t have to wait long for her suspicions to be confirmed. Raising herself slightly, she peered through the shed window at the two men approaching. She couldn’t recognise either of them, and as they reached the generator, she knew they weren’t a welcome member of their little community.

“The idiots haven’t fixed this yet, think we’re still good?”

“Yeah, should be. You start here, I’ll check one of the other sheds. See where they stock their produce before we go for the livestock.”

Fingers nimble despite her building rage, Ave quickly tested the sharpness of her arrow before loading it into her bow. The poacher had disappeared, and she flattened herself against the wall, pressing her ear to the thin shield between them. She could hear him circle the shed, and as he rattled the knob of the long-broken door, she cocked her bow. Despite herself, she jumped and swore when a fist smashed through the window she had entered through and knocking over a ladder.

The poacher, hearing her, paused for a moment at her outburst. Ave bit her lip, praying that if she stopped breathing it would still her furiously beating heart. She was certain he could hear the violent rattle of it through the heavy silence. Curiously, he raised a lantern to the glassless window.

“What do we have here?”

She lined up a shot, hitting his shoulder.

“You fuck!” His hands reached for his holster at his hips, but she was much faster. Aiming blindly, she closed her eyes and hoped for impact.

Luck was on her side that day. Foolishly, she dared not open her eyes, but strained her ears as she heard him stumble, before a heavy weight hit the ground. Ave counted to sixty three times in silence, before tempting to move again.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d be incapacitated, and at this point, she did not want to find out. Moving as stealthily as she could, she eased herself through the now shattered window and pawed her way to his body. The lantern lay discarded, but it’s light spilled over the man’s spreadeagled body. Tentatively, she placed two fingers on the pulse point of his wrist, relieved yet sickly annoyed at the slow, steady thump that showed life. Moving quickly, she liberated him of his pistol, throwing her bow and arrows back through the window of the shed.  

Pulling the safety off with shaky fingers, Ave pointed the gun to the sky and pulled the trigger. Twice. Then she ran like all hell.

- - - - -

Notes:

Hi! Okay, so posting this is terrifying, but here it is in all it's rough, dirty, and unedited glory. I've had this story floating around my brain for about four years, and chronic illness has finally given me time to write it. I haven't written for fun in about 84 years, so hopefully it isn't fucking terrible. There's about 15 chapters planned so far, so there should be an update once a week.

- - - - - 

Credits: The title comes from 'Rilke’s Book Of Hours: Love Poems To God: The Book of the Monkish Life p. April 1905,' by Rainer Maria Rilke. The reading during the funeral is Meditation XVII Devotions upon Emergent Occasions,' by John Donne.

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

My Love, Come and Save Me ch 1

This is chapter one of part one of the Teach Me To Be Bad series

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

Cecil waves as the last few students trickled out of the classroom. He loved his students but he was also ready for the weekend. He picks up the stack of papers into his bag and does one last sweep of his classroom. He knew it was empty but it was a habit he had picked up a few years ago.

He picks  up his cardiagain and drapes it over his shoulder. He was looking forward to spending the weekend with his boyfriend Carlos and his group. Carlos called his group Cientificos Locos. They were basically a gang but Carlos said not to call them that because it sounded tacky. Either way, the group were nice people.

Rochelle and Terry were Carlos’ right hands. Rochelle worked at the school with Cecil. The red haired woman was a fierce, protective woman who stood up for what she believed in.

Terry was a man who was always quick to make a joke but was stone cold when necessary. He never misses with his gun. Cecil felt safe with him the moment they met. Terry was flirty, especially with Cecil but Cecil knew it didn't mean anything. Everyone knew he was loyal to Carlos and Carlos alone. Still, his reactions were pretty funny whenever Terry made Cecil blush.

Jason and Riley were the only married couple in the group. Riley is a cop and Jason is a barista with Cecil's best friend Earl. Jason was relatively soft spoken while Riley was never afraid to speak her mind.

Nilanjana was a smart woman. She always had a strategy. She was the tactical agent of sorts. Always on her toes.

Lastly there was Meliko. Meliko was the daughter of a rival gang member but left her past behind for a more peaceful way of life. She is a lirbrain during the week and a bartender on the weekend. Her weapon of choice was the knife.

Cecil finally makes it to his car and unlocks it, giving one last wave to the other kindergarten teacher, Tyler Stewart. Tyler waves back and calls to behave. Cecil blushes lightly and waves him off.

He leaned down to unlock his car and is struck on the back of the head and blacked out before he hit the pavement.

-----.-----

Carlos leaned against the house, cigarette in hand as he waited for Cecil. He hadn't heard from him in the last hour and was getting a little concerned. He knew Cecil likely got caught up talking to Rochelle, which wasn't unusual. He sighs and flicks the cigarette away. He looks up as he hears tires on gravel. Rochelle pulls up in her pick up and steps out after turning the truck off. She pulls her hair out of its tight bun, red curls flying wildly.

"Hey Roch. Where's Cecil?"

Rochelle looks at him in confusion. "I thought he was with you. He told me at lunch he was coming straight here after the bell. Have you heard from him?"

Carlos stands up straight and digs out his phone. He dials Cecil's number and listens to it ring. He gets voicemail. Panic grows in his gut as he tries again. Voice mail. Then his phone pings. He looks down. A text.

Carlos, I will not be able to make it tonight. I aplogize

"Something is wrong." Carlos looks up.

Rochelle looks over his shoulder. "What do you mean? It just says he can't make it."

Carlos shakes his head. "No. Its to formal. Cecil never uses my name when texting me. He always uses some kind of pet name. And he'd never use "will not" in a text. He says it takes to long and his attention span can't handle it. He'd use "won't" and he misspelled apologize."

"So?"

"He's an English major. He doesn't misspell words." He turns the phone's screen off and takes a breath. "He never misses movie night." He looks up at Rochelle. "Something is really wrong. Get everyone in the living room. We need to find out what happened."

Rochelle nods and follows Carlos inside. Nearly everyone is already in the living room. Terry is sitting near the fireplace. Riley and Jason sat on the couch. Nilanjana was curled up in an armchair. They all look up when Carlos enters the room.

Carlos looks around. "Where is Meliko?" He asks.

Jason looks over. "She gets off in ten minutes."

"Where's the other half of C Squared?" Riley asked. "I'm starving."

"You're always hungry Riles." Terry teases. "But yeah? Where is the pretty boy? I need me some sugar."

Carlos sits down with a heavy sigh. "He's missing."

The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly.

"How long has he been missing?" Riley asks, sitting up and digging out her phone. "I'll get a BOLO put out."

"I'm not sure…"

Terry's body language changes. His face darkens and his shoulders are drawn in.

"When did you last hear from him?'

"Well I got a text from his number but It was not Cecil. I know that for a fact."

-----.-----

"Oh...he really is pretty."

"Not as pretty as me."

"Of course not beautiful. You will always be my favorite."

There was a soft squeal. Then a chuckle.

"I'm just saying, we could have some fun with him."

Cecil wanted to flinch away from the hand on his face. Or at least open his eyes. Scream. Do something! But all he could do was stay still and listen.

"Where are we going to keep him until it's time to play?"

"Oh…..the Blue Room. What do you think?"

"Oh….yes. But we are going to have to change him. Those clothes are just dreadful."

"I'll have Tyler do it. Come on. It's you time my love."

Cecil hears the giggle again and it grates his nerves. He felt a pinch and he was once again dragged into unconsciousness.

-----.-----

Carlos stands in front of the lit fireplace, staring at the dancing flames without really processing them. How could he let this happen? How could he drag Cecil into this? How could he let himself believe that he could keep Cecil safe? That he could be happy?

"Hey." A soft voice said behind him.

Carlos turns and clears his throat. "Terry."

"This isn't your fault. You know that right?"

"But what if it is? I have enemies. Cecil- he's the only innocent one here."

"And we will get him back. We all love him. You know that." He puts his hand on Carlos's shoulder. "By any means necessary."

Carlos nods. "Any means necessary."

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

I know this chapter was short but it's only ground work. Next chapter will be longer i promise

@lady-dmaris

@whiny-top-alligned

[choicesaddictionwriting]

Breaking Point (Damien x MC)

SUMMARY: Eros torture Damien with the footage of his friends and love of his life seemingly moving on without him in attempt to break him for more information while being held captive Damien uncovers why he was chosen to be taken and replaced as well as how Eros really plan on getting Steve and Hayden back.

(A/N: Hope you enjoy this. I tried to explain some plot points and this is just what I think might be going on with some added drama) 

The Breaking Point (Damien x Emmy) 

“Uh Damien…the view is that way.” Emmy chuckled, with a sweeping hand gesturing to the view of Paris at night from the Eiffel tower.

“The views pretty nice this way, too” He responded, an all to familiar but lovestruck smirk on his face reflecting in Emmy’s eyes.

Damien adverted his gaze at that point. He knew where this was going. He’d seen the video too many times by now. Hell, he could recite it to you if you wanted him too. At first, he didn’t understand why they kept on replaying the same videos, did it hurt to see everyone is so easily tricked into thinking some machine was him? Perhaps, at the start but how could he blame than them?

Everything it said, everything it did, were things that he would do. Why would they not believe it was him? But he was past that now, he knew he couldn’t blame them or focus on it. Eros tactic was smart, break him by forcing him to watch his friends and the woman he loved by happy and spend time with a replacement version of him. In all honesty, it almost did, watching Emmy do all the things with that machine that he had waited and wanted to do with her for so long, almost broke him.

In reality, all it did was making him angry.

He raged at the sight of her being manipulated, taken advantage of by someone who looked just like him. And he could only imagine how Emmy would react too. She’d shut everyone else out, she’d blame herself, torture herself with guilt for not figuring it all sooner. For not knowing straight away that person she was talking to, kissing, planning a future with wasn’t really him, wasn’t really a person at all. She’d question, agonise over whether he would forgive her. Damien could hope for a chance to tell her that there was nothing to forgive.

He let Cecelie and all her minions at Eros believe that the videos were getting to him, wearing him down, letting them think he thought that his friends had moved on and weren’t coming for him. That watching the same video of everyone being happy, thinking that were free and clear even just for a little while was waiting for him. That Emmy had moved on and would forget about him because she had a better version.

But all Damien was really focused on was the tapes and getting what he could out of them.

They always replayed the same five days. Starting after the battle at the Eros headquarters, on the helicopters escaping the facility and ending at the Louvre, suspiciously mid-sentence. Emmy and whatever machine that was posing as him were discussing the future. His and Emmy’s future. Then they stop and look at paintings and the video is always stopped at the same moment just as Emmy was about say something.

After attending dozens of art shows to support Nadia, he and Emmy had a little game they would play. They would go round and imitate the artsy types they were surrounded by and take turns discussing the paintings. Asking each other stupid questions like what do you think of the grey oak frame selected in contrast with the blue of the painting, what do you think of the primrose colour selection, how does that painting make you feel?

He could only guess that the only thing that separated humans and the matches, the inability to describe the abstract, had given fake Damien away and they had realised that it wasn’t him. He could only hope. But he was sure that was what happened as it was the only reason why they always cut the video at that point and why they hadn’t shown him anything from fake Damien post that day. Assuming that they had shown him the video the day it happened, it had been three days since. Not that he could track days exactly inside wherever he was but based on what he guess at the times shown in the video. They went to the Louvre on Friday 18th and today was either Sunday 20th or Monday 21st. He guessed that Eros wanted him to think that they still thought that robotic Damien was the real thing.

His suspicions were eventually confirmed. Another day, another interrogation and another viewing but this time Cecile was unexpectedly pulled away in the middle of Thursday the day before the trip to the Louvre. She let the video keep playing, most likely assuming that whatever was playing her away wasn’t going to take long but it did. And finally, on Damien got to see what happens after what he had seen before.

“What did you just say?” He watched Emmy ask, the look of horror creeping over her face as she dropped it’s hand and turned to face fake Damien, looking right into the camera hidden in it’s eyes.

Damien watched the panic continue as fake Damien struggled, tried to come up with words. Making the same sounds of frustration as he would. Snapping at Emmy as he tried to come up with something anything.

He finally saw the panic rise in Emmy but she still let it hold her hand, the grip evidently strong as Emmy winced slightly. And then it was confirmed.

“I can’t Emmy. I can’t,” It said, his eyes or cameras still fixated on Emmy.

Emmy’s breathing quickened instantaneously, she began to shake wordlessly, her eyes starting to blur with tears but remaining focused on the fake version of Damien starting back at her, clearing reflecting her predominate emotion.

Panic.

Damien saw exactly what he feared to come to fruition. She was panicking, He knew the signs. It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking and none of it was good. She screaming at herself for not knowing and then the questions over his wellbeing sank in. He could see it in the flicker of her eyes.

Both Damien and Emmy prided themselves in knowing the most about the other and Damien was sure he knew Emmy the best out of anyone and yet he continued to surprise him. Damien knew what he expected her to do at that point. But instead, he watched Emmy do something else. He knew she wanted to do those things but instead with tears in her eyes he watched her comfort the distressed machine and tell him it was going to be okay. He saw her run away but not in fear but to get help for him, to tell others. She even promised to come back.

Eros had made mistake. Their tactic of wearing him down maybe would have worked if had been forced to watch that scene multiple times. What was worse than seeing the person you love with someone else? Seeing the person you love in pain.

For once Damien was thankful when Cecile came back in and turned off the video, he expected her to say something but she apparently had something more important in mind. She switched off the video as a camera was brought in, positioned accordingly so both of them were clearly in the frame.

She began speaking, talking to Emmy and the others. Elbowing him in the face halfway through because Damien couldn’t help but take back. Damien licked the blood off his lips as Cecile continued to speak into the camera.

“…this spying and messing around has gone on long enough, Emmy. This is your chance to wipe the slate clean with us,” Cecile stated poignantly to the camera, “I’ve attached coordinates in Paris convenient for your posse to meet us. The deal is simple. Damien in exchange for Hayden and Steve. I expect a discussion will ensure as to who you would prefer. And by then, we’ll have had our fun…Won’t we, Damien?”

She glanced over at him, flashing him a sicking smile that made him thrash against the bindings containing him to the chair. She then quickly walked over and grabbed his chin only for him to quickly shake it out of her grasp.

“Looking forward to it,” He spat, furiously.

“I’ll see you soon,” Cecile grinned before motioning for the camera to be switched off and removed.

“That’s a pretty stupid plan,” Damien commented strategically and all-knowingly, watching her intently as she turned her back watching the camera be taken away, “You think their stupid enough to believe you’ll simply exchange me for them?”

“No, well at least not at first,” Cecile responded calmly taking a seat across from Damien, a deviously grin playing on her lips, “In fact I’m sure they’ll start devising a way to save you and keep hold of Match 109 and 103 as soon as they see the message and then well if what I expect to happen happens then I’m sure they’ll be exactly where we want them,”

“And what’s that?” Damien persisted.

Cecile eyebrow cocked up suspiciously in response, as well as disbelief at the question.

“Why not enlighten me?” Damien continued, “It’s not like I can stop them or you from here,”

“That is true,” Cecile agreed, drumming her fingers on the surface of the table.

“Bored?” Damien questioned.

“I’m waiting,” She smirked, “And don’t ask me for what,”

“Alright,” Damien began, knowing that if he was going to get anywhere that he was going to switch tactics, “Tell me this. How did you get that thing to act like so much like me because I’m telling you I’ve watched the tapes a couple times now and you guys have me believing that it’s me there. How did you do it?”

Damien watched Cecile eyes brighten up in what he could only assume was excitement. This was clearly her pet project and people like her treated their work like their children. They were proud of them and loved to talk about them.

“Well, it helped that we already had a lot of your information from when you tried to join our service,” She began, “We’re not in the business of making versions of actual people. So we couldn’t do it for just anyone, well not yet at least. Of course, due to the speed of which we needed it, your double we’ll call him, isn’t as advance as our matches but convincing none the less. There are things missing, like small habits, ticks, things that we couldn’t found out through research but in essence, it doesn’t matter because they can be explained away by human error. Humans aren’t consistent by nature so not having those things in a way make them more realistic. More human, matches are much easier as there is nothing to compare or base them off.”

“But they still figured it out,” Damien said.  

“We anticipated that they would figure it out eventually. Like I said he isn’t perfect and his purpose was only to keep track and make them think they had the upper hand,” She elaborated.

“So you knew they would figure it out?” He pointed out, expertly knowing that it would suggest he wasn’t listening.

“Didn’t I just say that?”  She snapped, clearly and visually annoyed, “Of course. No self respecting artist would go to Paris and not go to the worlds most famous art museum. It was only a matter of time before Nadia forced them all their which perhaps is the worse place for the current version of our machines,”

“What was the point? Dramatic effect?” Damien asked.

“Damien haven’t you figured out why we replaced you and not say Emmy or even Nadia for that matter?” Cecile questioned, genuinely surprised given what she knew that he hadn’t.
 “I don’t know, my dazzling personality?” Damien offered with a cheeky grin.

“It’s because you’re her weakness,”

“Whose?” Damien demanded

“You’re darling Emmy’s of course,” She smirked evilly.

“What do you mean?” Damien argued.

“There is a reason why Miss Emmeline Park is my favourite client,” She stated.

“Oh yeah and why’s that?” Damien probed.

“She is constantly defying expectation.” Cecile stated launching into an explanation, “Given her past perhaps I should have anticipated it. She is the only client that hasn’t fallen for their match. We created her perfect match, a match that would take away her biggest fear of being alone and unlovable and yet the more time she spent with her match. The more she realised that the sort of person she’d always imaged spending her life with isn't the person she actually wants to spend her life with. We gave her the best friend she wanted and all it did was make her realise that she was in love with you. It was surprise because we usually pick up on things like we did with you. But she surprised us and proved our algorithm wrong by loving you. A man who definitely not her type,”

“No offence taken,” Damien smirked, unfazed.

“But anyway our mistake has only played to our advantage in the end,” Cecile commented.

“Oh?” Damien prompted, confused.

“Her realising her feelings for you and subsequently acting on them makes her vulnerable, susceptible to emotional outbursts and decisions. Emmy historically very controlled, her moral compass unwavering. She acts based on said compass and doesn’t act against it. Which is why before she would do anything to protect matches 103 and 109 because despite knowing they are machines she sees them as people,” Cecile explained, getting carried away, playing right into Damien’s scheme.

“They are,” Damien snapped.

“Regardless of what you all believe, now that we have you as leverage I suspect that those morals she uses to guide her are being challenged. Balancing what she knows to be right with wanting you back,”

“You don’t know Emmy if you think…” Damien began, furious at the suggestion.

“Neither do you. Well, at least not in this condition. With the man, she loves life in the balance. Who knows what she’ll do, what she’ll give up in order to save you,”

“Even if your plan does work. You might have convinced Emmy but what about the others. You think Nadia and Sloane are going willing give up Hayden and Steve?” Damien countered, unconvinced.

“Yes, if Emmy convinces them which she can and will,” Cecile elaborated, impenitently.


“I don’t…” Damien began to say before bing cut off.


“Do you still not understand?” Cecile interrupted, before continuing without thinking in frustration,  “Emmy is the glue that holds all of your little group together. Every member has strong ties to Emmy which makes her the most influential. Nadia is her family. You are the love of her life. Hayden is her perfect match, he programmed to make her love him and he will give himself if he thinks that will do it. Miss Washington has feelings for her. Steve will do whatever Nadia says. Even your ex Miss Kasuma will do what she says. Because Emmy has that magnetic quality that we could only ever try to replicate with our matches. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Damien nodded, taking a deep breath as for the first time his belief and his confidence were starting to waver, he began to doubt and question what he knew, “If Emmy breaks so does everyone else and they’ll give you exactly what you want and the only way to make her break was to take me,”

“Because Mr Nazario, Love is the most powerful emotion of all,”