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magickgarlick · 2 years ago

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To my Western leftist friends, from your leftist Israeli friend

Yuval Idan

Oct 25

The last two weeks (or almost three) have been the worst of many of our lives. I started writing this on October 7th, and I’ve been writing it ever since. Even though this awful war is not about you (Western, mainly White leftists), I’ve been finding myself having full conversations with you in my head. I tried to tell myself it doesn’t matter what you think, to focus on myself, on the people impacted, on what I believe in. But here I am, spending my energy on you. Because I’m surrounded by you and it overwhelms me. This might not be worded perfectly, I might ramble or not make sense. We’re on day 19 of hell, so we do what we can.

This is not the most urgent thing to talk about right now, I know that. As I write this, there are still over 200 people held hostage by Hamas, civilians, mothers, babies, elderly. There are thousands dead in Gaza, hundreds of funerals in Israel and so many bodies still not identified. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza is growing so quickly. Like I said, day 19 of hell. 19 straight days of the most horrific accounts, pictures, and videos I’ve ever seen, that I truly wish I could unsee and un-know. The images of babies in Gaza buried under rubble, of babies in Israel burnt alive, of old women taken hostage, of mothers trying to protect their families with their own bodies. I feel these images rattling inside me, all sharp edges, leaving their marks. I can’t look at a child without being reminded. I can’t look at my own grandma without being reminded. This is all we can think about.

So it bears repeating: release the hostages, declare a ceasefire, help the survivors, start working towards a real, long term solution.

Even though we have so many awful, urgent things happening all around us, I’m still writing this now. Writing is how I make sense of things and I need to make sense of the difficult feelings so many of us on the Israeli left have been experiencing in the last two weeks. These awful two weeks that feel like one long awful day. I’m writing this out of immense pain and grief, from my own perspective as an anti-occupation Israeli, to try and explain a bit what this has been like for me, for us.

From the funeral of Avshalom Haran, 65, who died on the attack on Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7th

I want to note that this is not for those of you who celebrated what happened on October 7th. If you felt any joy in your heart about hundreds of civilians getting slaughtered in their beds, about children getting executed in front of their parents, about grandparents sacrificing themselves to save their grandkids, about horrors that I can’t even handle describing— I truly have nothing to say to you. Whatever is wrong with you is too deep and I want nothing to do with it until you figure that out.

This is for those of you who know that what happened is, at the very least, sad. For those who treated this absolute nightmare as an unfortunate situation that we had coming. For those who didn’t celebrate but instead stayed silent. Who were so quick to lecture us about context and resistance from the comfort of your homes. Those who were so eager to share hot takes calling us losers who don’t understand decolonization while terrorists were still hunting down survivors to finish the job. While we were still searching through snuff videos of the massacre Hamas posted online, looking for signs of life or death from loved ones. Those who had the posts locked and loaded, ready to show us just how progressive and radical you are. This is for you.

What really shocked me is how quick you were to know what’s right. On that awful Saturday, while little kids were still hiding in closets and under beds next to their parents’ dead bodies, before we even started counting our dead, you already knew what’s right. You already told us. You, who never faced such horrors and who couldn’t even imagine them, who never felt or will feel such real, immediate fear for your family and your people, you were ready with your posts telling us about privilege and the price of revolutions.

And I can’t stop asking myself where you got the nerve. How you dared to sit comfortably in your home and casually post your little tweets and memes about how acceptable it is to slaughter us, in between your posts about brunch and your dog and your friend’s birthday? How dare you lecture us on how we should have reacted? What kind of subversive activism do you think you’re a part of when you’re being so careful not to express any understanding towards our grief? What do you think you’re fighting for?

Sometimes I think some of us on the left have become so focused on pointing out what we perceive as subversive, as not obvious, that we fail to see the most simple and obvious of things. That we’ve gotten so used to this oppositional standpoint that we find ourselves so far removed from the values that are supposed to be at our core. Values of humanity, solidarity, justice, peace. How did we find ourselves condoning (if by silence, omission, doubt, or something worse) the cold blooded, planned, systematic murder of children, women, entire families? I don’t know exactly where we took a wrong turn but I’m praying we find our way back.

There is obviously the personal hurt here. We’re going through unimaginable amounts of grief, and even in the worst of it, you couldn’t spare us a hint of kindness. You were so committed to finding and aligning yourself with the party line that you couldn’t show us an inch of humanity. So careful not to commit the awful sin of supporting the evil colonizers, of humanizing the enemy, of normalizing our existence. So careful that you could not allow yourself to acknowledge our pain, even if you’ve known us for years.

So yes, there is personal hurt. A lot of it. It’s really hard having your friends turn on you, chastise you, doubt you, or just completely ignore you when you’re going through the worst nightmare you could imagine. You’ve compounded our grief, and taken away from your own humanity by doing so. That is for you to figure out now.

There is also a bigger hurt here. The damage we could see you making to what activists in the region have been working towards for so long. On October 7th you were gleefully explaining justice to us, but we on the Israeli left already knew what awaited us and the people of Gaza. We knew hell was about to be unleashed on them and that nothing inspiring, revolutionary, or progressive was about to happen. We knew that Palestinian civilians were about to pay for what Hamas did, and that so much more grief was just around the corner. While you lectured us about decolonization, we were already grieving the children of Gaza

You played right into the hands of the most right-wing, fascist Israeli voices. Those who have been telling us that no one cares about our lives, that Palestinians would slaughter us like animals if given the chance, that our friends on the left would celebrate it. That our activism and anti-occupation work will not save us. You have made it so incredibly hard for us to explain that this is not what we’re fighting for. That this isn’t what Palestinians want for us. That this is not a price anyone should ever ever have to pay.

Palestinians directly affected by this showed us grace during this awful time, knowing that our fates are tied together, while you chose to tell us that this is just how the cookie crumbles. You, who did not witness the horrors that we’re trying to stop, closed your hearts to us quicker than many of our Palestinian friends, who were the ones actually experiencing them. People who lost so much have shown more humanity to the “other side” than you even dared to entertain. What excuse do you have?

We didn’t ask you to wave an Israeli flag. We didn’t ask you to say this is just as bad as what’s happened in Gaza. We just asked you for basic human sympathy, we asked you to say this is unacceptable. We asked you to let us grieve and to grieve with us, just as we will continue to grieve with the people of Gaza. It shouldn’t be this hard for you. It cannot be this hard for you. Yes, we know you think this is a narrative that gets enough attention. That politicians and the media have already condemned it and you don’t want to join them in their “we stand with Israel” parade. We know you think it’s been repeated so much it doesn’t even matter anymore. But you know what — it matters to us, and we’re going to need to hear it from you. You are supposed to be the ones who care about justice, our allies in this fight, not the media and the politicians. If this is the vision you have for liberation then we never have been and never will be allies.

I’m at a loss at what some of you think Israeli anti-occupation activists should do. Is the right thing to accept any act of violence as legitimate, as long as it’s done in the name of decolonization? Is it for us to get down on our knees with our hands up and let ourselves be raped and murdered for freedom? Is it to let our families be slaughtered and say nothing other than “any act of resistance against an oppressor is legitimate”? Maybe you will be kind enough to allow us to grieve. Obviously quietly, privately, lest we push the wrong narrative.

Or maybe we just need to go back to where we came from? To truly decolonize all of Palestine? Should we go back to Poland, to Iraq, Germany, Russia, Yemen, or would you like to host us at your place? The Zionist project is not something I ever celebrated, but you need to understand that unlike many of your colonial ancestors, we did not come to Palestine out of some imperial dream. We didn’t come to conquer or even to find a better life. We came as refugees. As survivors of pogroms and the Farhud and forced displacement and yes, the Holocaust.

We know, we’ve said many times, the Holocaust wasn’t the Palestinians’ fault. It doesn’t justify the occupation or excuse any of the atrocities committed by the Israeli government. But it does provide that thing you crave— context. It does mean that we have nowhere else to go. It means that Israelis and Palestinians will continue to live and die together on this small piece of land. This is it for us.

I know you’re tired of hearing about the Holocaust. It’s ancient history. An excuse we cynically use to justify everything the Israeli government does. You think we have to let it go, because we’re not those same poor sad Jews anymore, now we’re the bad guys, with our strong army that protects us from everything (well). But sometimes I remember that Anne Frank was born 6 months after my grandma. My 94-year-old grandma, who still tries to make it in time to the bomb shelter at her assisted living facility, every time there’s a siren (she fails most of the time, she moves rather slowly).

This is the context we’re working with, the fear that’s burnt into our DNA by centuries of persecution. A fear that, despite knowing our history, I never felt quite as strongly as I did on October 7th. A fear I tried to push aside because I believe it takes courage, trust, and faith to work towards real peace instead of towards war. It takes believing your allies and those you seek to make peace with can see your humanity.

The funeral of the Kutz family who were murdered in their home in Kfar Azza on October 7th (Photo by Yahel Gazit)

This is that fascist talking point — we need to be able to defend ourselves, at all costs. Pity will not help us, being moral will not help us, we need to survive. If our lives are fair game in this thing you so happily called resistance, decolonization, freedom, then where the hell does that leave us? If you won’t speak up for even the most vulnerable and innocent of us, our babies and our elderly, then what choice do you leave Israelis with any sense of self preservation other than to continue to live by our sword? Other than understanding that our lives are worthless to the world, with no one but ourselves to count on?

Israeli activists have been advocating for decades that our future, our safety, our freedom, is tied with that of the Palestinians. That it’s not a zero sum game — it’s the opposite. That we live together or die together. That it’s not us against them — it’s war mongers and corrupt politicians against the rest of us. Against the people. Us killing and hating each other won’t make us safer or better off. It only bolsters our most power-hungry leaders.

By deeming this form of resistance beyond criticism you are condemning Palestinians and Israelis to perpetual, escalating violence. If you think killing Israeli civilians for what our leaders do is okay, then how will you argue that killing Palestinian civilians for what their leaders do isn’t? We all lose when we let go of our humanity. Collective punishment, revenge, slaughtering civilians, collateral damage — these are things that can’t be defensible, for anyone, regardless of context or history. If you can justify it against Israelis, well, then you can justify it against Palestinians. And we are trying every day not to let anyone justify it.

We’re trying to maintain our humanity in the face of the most brutal and cruel attack on our people since the Holocaust. In the face of horrors so awful that I have to actively push them out of my mind because I know I will buckle under their weight. We’re trying to remind ourselves and each other that all life is sacred, that our freedoms aren’t mutually exclusive, that, quite simply, killing innocent people is wrong. We shouldn’t have to remind you as well.

A demonstration against the demolition of Fatma Salem’s house in Jerusalem (May 2023, photo by Yahel Gazit).

Israeli anti-Zionist activists have been working endlessly, side by side with Palestinians, against the occupation. Some of us have dedicated our lives to it, all of us have paid a price for it. You are a guest in this struggle and your position on it has cost you nothing. You have sacrificed nothing. You can do it comfortably and without consequence, and the result of it will not impact your life or safety. Israel and Palestine could both disappear off the face of the earth in a cloud of blood and smoke, and your life will remain almost unchanged. You might lose a couple of friends, post about it on Instagram for a week or so, and have some awkward office conversation. Then your life will go on. But our lives and those of our families and communities depend on the consequences of this struggle.

We don’t expect praise or thanks for our work against the occupation and we truly don’t do any of this for you, but we do expect basic human empathy. Yes, we know Palestinians don’t get basic human empathy from so many people, we know they’re not heard. This is what we’re fighting for. But we will not erase ourselves and our families in the process, because, like I’ve said, all of us maintaining our humanity in this struggle is simply not negotiable. We definitely won’t negotiate it with you.

Your aspirations of decolonization are theories. They’re something you would never have to face yourself. You’ll never be the collateral damage in this kind of freedom fighting, you’ll never have to pay a price for it. Your family will never be slaughtered at the altar of anti-colonialism, yet you’re willing to sacrifice our families. You’ll never be told to leave your home and go back to wherever you came from (even though you were born there). Your history of colonialism is old enough, your history of genocide effective enough, that you and your family and everyone you love can continue to be safe and comfortable while you preach about armed resistance. I’m sure you wouldn’t dare criticize any violent act of decolonization acted upon you, but we’ll never truly know. I wouldn’t wish it upon you that we’ll ever find out.

My heart breaks over and over as I see us trying to garner a shred of empathy from you. As we wave the pictures of our dead, the nightmarish stories of our survivors (that you were so quick to doubt and disregard), the horror videos of torture and murder that we will never be able to forget. As we plead and beg for you to care about the 200 people held hostage. We disrespect ourselves and our dead in this desperate attempt to shake you, to make you believe us. People in Israel and Palestine are being pitted against each other with our suffering. Forced to fight to show you the greatest horrors, the most death, the worst cruelty. Trying to win this made-up competition which only has losers. Each trying to scream at those on the other side who closed their hearts and minds to us: why can’t you see us? How could you justify this? Don’t you see we don’t deserve this?

So we will swallow the pain you’ve caused us. Because, again, this isn’t about you. We’re not going to let you antagonize us from our own fight for justice. You won’t make us choose between our life and safety and the life and safety of the people in Gaza, or anywhere else in Israel or Palestine. We know that peace and justice are possible, we will be safe, and Palestinians will be safe. We will find a way, together. We have no other choice.

Lastly, I want to share the ending of the poem Red Sea by Aurora Levins Morales. I’ve been finding myself repeating it in my head like a mantra. I recommend it.

Back then, one man’s faith opened the way.

He stepped in, we were released, our enemies drowned.

This time we’re tied at the ankles.

We cannot cross until we carry each other,

all of us refugees, all of us prophets.

No more taking turns on history’s wheel,

trying to collect old debts no-one can pay.

The sea will not open that way.

This time that country

is what we promise each other,

our rage pressed cheek to cheek

until tears flood the space between,

until there are no enemies left,

because this time no one will be left to drown

and all of us must be chosen.

This time it’s all of us or none.

And a final tiny note: to the friends and allies who have managed to maintain their humanity and hold the e and the absolute horror of this situation with us — we cannot thank you enough. Thank you for caring, thank you for treating us with decency and patience. Thank you for looking beyond the slogans. Thank you for seeing that we’re just humans on both sides of this. Thank you for believing that we all deserve better.

#israel hamas war #hamas #israel #I don't know if I agree with this but It's here anyways

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years ago

Note

any of the whumptober prompts from 16 + 27 if you felt like it 😊 ty!!

Hi there! I went with 16: No Way Out--Mind Control. I may return to 27 later in the month!

What My Hands and My Body Done

Rated T CW: Blood and Violence // 7.1k words // AO3 Also, Wanda is a villain villain in this, so if that's not your cup of tea, be aware

“What the fuck, Wanda?” Bucky Barnes asked, staring at the demolished greenhouse he’d just finished putting up two weekends ago. Some kind of magic energy lapped at the ground, crawling over the debris of his shed. At least he hadn’t moved too many plants out there yet.

“You,” Wanda…snarled? hissed? purred? accused? Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on with the young woman’s voice. He hadn’t spent much time with her. For a moment, after the un-end of the world, it seemed like they wanted him to mediate her. Shared life experience or something. He’d gotten bits and pieces of information about her from Steve and Sam, so he figured it was the brainwashing that made people draw a connection. Personally, he wasn’t sure it was the same thing and they’d split pretty easily with their pardons to get on with their separate lives.

Despite a lack of real familiarity, he knew something was wrong. And it wasn’t just his greenhouse that was clueing him in. There was something wrong with Wanda’s voice, part of why he couldn’t nail down what exactly her intention behind calling him out was. It was resonant and breathy at the same time, teasing and violent, young and malicious. He stepped back from some seeking, writhing magic and kicked dirt towards it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Where is Wilson?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t live together yet. I’m not his keeper.”

“You are such a liar,” Wanda laughed and screeched. “I can see you both. You are tucked so close to each other’s ribs, there is no extricating one from the other.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Why don’t you stop floating like an evil alien and come talk me through whatever you’re thinking. Because clearly there’s a lot going on in your head.”

Really, he thought, he would have been a terrible therapizer all those months ago. He was doing a bad job now. Though not as bad as whoever was initially in charge of her, clearly.

Wanda cackled and waved a…burnt hand dismissively. The magic glowed so bright Bucky had to bring an arm up to cover his eyes. And then it all retreated back to her. Left the air feeling charged, tasting like electricity. For a moment, Bucky wanted to press his hands over his head, convince himself he was still okay. But he didn’t need the extra proof. He was fine. This wasn’t Hydra.

“Let me look at your hand,” he offered. “We don't have to talk if you don’t want, I guess.” God knows he was tired of people telling him to talk. “But I need to get some bandages on that injury. What happened?”

Wanda looked down at her hand with disinterest. “It’s not an injury,” she said. “It doesn’t need bandages.”

Bucky made sure to keep his face passive. “If you don’t want help, I’m not sure why you’re here,” he offered.

A terrible smile split across Wanda’s face. Bucky was pretty sure there were tear streaks down her face. “You were the one they pointed me towards. You were the one they said was most like me. I reached into your mind once and you are far more damaged than me. But still, I believed them. I let myself think there might be a mirror out there, cracked and distorted, even after I’d lost my twin. A mirror who’d understand.

“You had nothing,” she spat, still smiling, still helping a dis-ease creep under Bucky’s skin. “You were the most lonely and hurt of all of them. I thought, of all of us, you would be the first to break. You would be the first to lose the pardon and get put back in that prison.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He’d thought the same, and worse, many many times. He knew other people thought the same, and worse. This was very old hat to him. Still, no one liked to hear it out loud.

“What is your point, Wanda? I was just trying to keep my head down and stay out of the way.”

He fed information to the right people, fulfilled his therapy mandates and service orders. If he prowled alleys and forgotten neighborhoods looking for people to help, that was his own prerogative. No one ever blamed him for it. No one had ever complained.

Wanda laughed nigh on maniacally. The kind of laugh Bucky had only heard in dying moments where the surrealism and finality of the situation was hitting someone. “That is not what you did, James Barnes. You, who had no one, who was supposed to be my mirror, got everything I ever wanted. You have your love, your home, a family you didn’t even ask for. It all fell right in front of you and no one has ever tried to take it from you! No one has ever told you you don’t deserve it!”

Bucky blinked, fully taken aback. “Wanda, what are you talking about?” he asked.

“This!” Wanda cried, throwing her arms wide. Magic flew from her fingertips and bore singed holes into his trees and fence. “You have everything! Wilson loves you–a good man loves you! You bought a house to make a home! You were adopted by those beautiful boys and you have nephews now to play with and care for and hold! And no one has ever come to take it from you–even though you are so much worse than I ever was.”

“I didn’t ask for any of that,” Bucky tried. And he realized his mistake as Wanda’s eyes flashed like a fire about to explode.

“That’s the worst part. You didn’t ask for any of it! You never wanted it! I have tried to build this my entire life! I have come back from hell to have a family and love and a home and they took it from me twice!”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said genuinely. He took a tentative step forward and looked up at her as openly as he could while adrenaline and fear and anger clashed violently in his chest and gut. “Wanda, I really am. I can’t imagine what that must be like. But I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t involved in any conspiracy against you. What do you want me to do?”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose over her flaming eyes. He was trying to remember if her magic was always red. He assumed it was. But not her eyes. He’d have remembered that.

“I don’t want you to do anything,” she said, voice suddenly a normal tone. In the context, it was the most defeated voice he’d ever heard. “I want you to lose it all.”

Bucky came up short. Fear won the battle in his chest and swallowed his heart whole. “Wanda, you’re not going to hurt Sam’s family,” he said, feeling a steel edge come to his voice, his jaw, his muscles, his eyes, every part of him that had been allowed to be soft and build, yes, a home. He pushed that aside and dug out the soldier underneath.

“Of course I’m not,” she agreed. “You are.”

And then the corners of his vision went red, sizzling hot and quickly collapsing into darkness.

Continue on AO3

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #i answer things

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

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Un-alone, Chapter 4

Here it is!

“I’m so happy they let you stay here, at least for the wedding and all.”

“I am absolutely delighted, petite fleur.”

[little flower]

Lucien took Marie’s hand and looked at the ring on their fingers.

“I can hardly believe that I am now married.” He said.

“That’s what I should be saying.” She answered.

“How on Earth could you think that no man would marry you?”

“I’m not the marryin’ type. Just never saw the point of it.”

“Oh…”

“Until now.”

They exchanged a conniving smile and a kiss that of course Marie initiated.

“Lulu?”

“Oui.”

“I love you.”

He blushed.

“So do I, infinitely.”

And now it was raining. Hold on, how could it be raining, they were inside? And why was it so hot?

“Oh merde…”

Lucien woke up, or rather his hot tears woke him up. He looked at the time and it was barely 4 in the morning. He tried to fall back asleep after wiping his face with the back of his hand, but to no avail. So after fighting with himself, he decided to pull himself out of his bed.

He sighed and took a shower just to chase the last bit of hope for sleep away before realising that he hadn’t had anything to eat for more than 24 hours. So he headed out of his room and of his hotel, in search of some food.

He found barely anything edible so he dragged his feet in a city that he started to hate profoundly until he found himself in a park. He sat on the first free bench he encountered and waited.

For what?

He thought that he would wait for the first few cafés to open up to get himself some decent breakfast. But in truth, the more he waited, the less he wanted to move.

"Hey…"

Lucien smelled the intrusion before he could hear or see it. It was a beggar. The poor man sat next to the prim one, who was still wearing his black suit. Lucien took a cigarette and lit it.

Ooh, that one was a good one, extra bitter from his fasting. Perfect. It burnt his trachea to the point of pulling the tears out of his eyes.

"You up early, eh?"

"I am." The Frenchman said.

“Somethin’s on your mind?”

Lucien frowned and sucked on his cigarette harder.

“I just lost my wife.” He coldly said and getting the words out of his mouth was both extremely easy and unbelievably hard.

“Oh, wow… ‘m sorry…” The beggar removed his worn out hat. He scratched his bushy beard. “Is that why you’re out this early? Ya couldn’t sleep?”

“Oui, exactly.”

“I see. You don’t seem too old though, pal. The missus was young?”

“Younger than me, and infinitely better.”

“Arh… I‘m real sorry, man…”

“Mh.” Lucien sucked on his cigarette more and he realised that it was finished. He took his cigarette case out and offered one to the beggar, whose eyebrows jumped before he accepted.

“That’s kind of ya.”

Lucien lit both of them and smoked again.

“The worst part is that I wasn’t there for her.”

“In the end?”

“Non, all along. I barely was at her side, and wasn’t there for her last moments.”

“Why?” The beggar asked, seeing that his improvised bench-friend was now leading the conversation.

“Because I made the wrong choice decades ago. I chose my career over her.”

“So you left her all that time ago? But she’s still your wife?”

“Non, she…” Lucien raised a trembling hand to his brow, while holding his cigarette between his fingers. “She agreed to it.”

“What…?”

“She agreed to it. I was married to the only woman in the world who… putain de merde…”

[fucking hell...]

The beggar’s eyebrows were still up.

“Doesn’t sound like your typical gal, eh… Did she leave anythin’ to you?”

Lucien’s eyes slashed to the beggar’s and he might have shot bullets out of them. Money was a dirty topic and Lucien didn’t want any of Marie’s hard earned dollars.

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean it for the cash! I meant like souvenirs or somethin’.”

Lucien exhaled and looked away.

“Only a letter.”

“Oh… What’s it say?”

Lucien frowned. It wasn’t like him to openly pour his life into the first stranger to come into his life. It was immensely dangerous. What if that man wasn’t a beggar but another, less than friendly spy?

“She is asking me for two favours.”

“Oh ho, let’s hear it.”

Lucien took the letter out of his pocket and read it again, squinting at the letters to imagine the pen gliding, the ink absorbing into the grainy paper, all of this under her soft hand…

“When I met her, I was a singer.” Lucien started. “She is asking me to continue singing.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, eh. Women are like that...”

“Oui.” Lucien read it all diagonally again. He knew the letter by heart and it bore very little magic anymore, although paradoxically, it was the most precious object in the world.

“What’s the other thing?”

“We… We had a son.”

“Had?” The older man asked. “Did he also…?”

“Non, he is alive and well.” Lucien folded the letter and put it back in his breast pocket. “She asked me to help him in life with a job. She thinks he is gifted.”

“What d’you work as?” The beggar asked.

“The worst.” Lucien answered.

“Well, a job’s a job, eh? Puts food on the table. Can you get him to work with you, whatever you’re doin’?”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped and he winced.

“Never!” He answered and almost jumped on his seat. “My occupation is a nightmare, a hell that is painfully real. I do not wish for anyone to follow my footsteps, especially him, because in the end, he will surely make the same mistakes as I did. He might choose his work over his own life and lose the only woman who ever understood him.”

“You’re wrong, pal.”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped and he turned his head to the beggar. He was shaking his head.

“He might like the job, he might even be good at it, do something good with his life. And it’d put his Ma’ to rest too. Look, there aren’t any half-jobs, or bad ones. It’s only bad if you don’t like it. And if the wife’s seen somethin’ in him, then surely there is. Or maybe you don’t agree with her? Don’t you see him like she does?”

“I do not see him, full stop.” Lucien answered. “I do not see him because I was there for him up until his mind could remember me.”

“That’s when ya left?”

Lucien nodded.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’... That’s a hell of a mess you’ve lived through, man. I mean. You get married to a woman and you agree to live separated for decades you say? And you leave her with the kid too? Bit odd, eh?”

The Frenchman held his head in his gloved hands, his cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Besides… About your son, he's already lost his Mum. You're the only thing he has left even though it's tough with you."

Lucien sighed.

"Yeah, a mess of a life you built yourself, I don’t know how you’re gonna get yourself straight after all that.”

Lucien took a deep breath and stood up.

“I will not.”

He left the bench and walked some more. He carefully avoided any and all places that carried some souvenirs until he fell deep in thought. He didn’t see the streets, Boston waking up and going to work. Non, he only saw his black shoes swallowing more and more of the grey pavement, his heels lightly clicking with every step, stabbing his ears.

Cafés were opening thankfully and he entered the first one to cross his path. Lucien went to a table in the corner and sat down, with the window on his right hand.

“Hey there, how can I help?”

“A black coffee please.”

The waitress disappeared and he lit yet another cigarette. He saw in his metallic case that he was eating the cigarettes way faster than in normal circumstances. Marie would have told him off…

His coffee landed in front of him and soon, people started coming and going in the café, bringing some distraction to the grieving man. He had hoped that sitting next to the window would help with that too, but to no avail.

He did the only thing he could to not let his mind play any more tricks on him and took a sip of the coffee. Ah, hot and bitter. It burnt his tongue and left an awful aftertaste that lingered all the way down to his stomach.

Lucien frowned and put the cup back on the table before opening the letter again. His mind rolled and rolled. He would do anything for Marie, but would he have liked Jérémy to become a spy too? Surely the boy could do something better than that, better than himself. Yet she said that he was gifted and Lucien knew that she was an admirable judge of character.

“Mh…” He grumbled and shook his head.

He didn’t want his son to follow his path. It was way too dangerous, and for what in the end? Nothing. Nothing was worth losing his family and his life over.

And then Fred's words came to Lucien.

So that was the plan the Ministry had for his retirement, huh? Turn him into an instructor? Pfff… If he could, he'd burst into the Minister's office and he'd have a word with him! But Lucien was in America, thousands of miles away from the office that now doomed him further.

“What did he have?”

“A black coffee.”

“Bring me the same, yeah?”

“Sure thing!”

A silhouette appeared in front of Lucien.

“I see you haven’t killed anyone yet, eh?”

Lucien frowned and still refused to make eye contact with his American colleague.

“HQ is mad at the damage you did in the gym the other day.” He took his pack of cigarettes and lit one up as the waitress brought him his coffee. “They say they’ll make you pay for repairs.”

“What more do they want? Do I need to bury myself in the ground next to Marie for everyone to leave me in peace?” Lucien answered in a sigh.

Fred fell silent for a moment, looking at people coming and going. He waited for Lucien to drink a bit more to start the conversation again.

“Managed to sleep at all?”

Lucien eventually raised his eyes to his American colleague. The dark circles around his eyes answered for him.

“Thought about what I told you the other day?”

“Oui, and my answer is non. I am quitting. This is it.”

“You might wanna reconsider that, pal.” Fred put the cigarette on his lips and took an envelope out of his coat pocket. He slid it on the table.

“What is this?”

“Work.”

“For me?” Lucien asked.

“Yup.”

“Fred, I said I am quitting.” Lucien pushed the envelope back to the American.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell anyone yet. So here’s work.”

The Frenchman frowned and shook his head.

“Non.”

“Listen, pal, you can resign all you want but they’re gonna receive your letter after they sent you this, so they’ll expect you to do this first. You can then try and ask them to leave without training a newbie, but I doubt they’ll accept. Everyone does that now. The hard days of the war in Europe are over. You and I were trained like no people should be trained, but that’s what makes us so good at what we’re doin’. They want us to pass on the tricks and all to the younger ones.”

“I could hardly care less. I have nothing left on this Earth to care about.”

“Wouldn’t that exactly make you the best spy?” Fred asked and Lucien stared in his eyes for a long second before averting his gaze. “Open the file.”

Lucien sighed. He hung his menthol cigarette between his lips and pulled the file to himself before opening it. His stare was still slicing through Fred’s.

“I am not doing it out of anything but my own curiosity.”

“I know.”

The envelope yielded and Lucien retrieved the papers and pictures. The French spy read the file diagonally. He knew how mission orders worked all too well.

“Seems easy enough, doesn’t it?” Fred said, observing his friend discover the mess of a file he had been handed. “And yet, we’re up against the Soviets to find that guy before they do.”

“This might seem easy,” Lucien answered and removed the cigarette from between his lips to tap it against the ashtray. “However, above anything else, this is an American problem.” He put the papers and pictures together and slid them back into the envelope before sliding it back to Fred.

“Yep, you’re right.”

“It doesn't bear any sign of it being given by the French government. We have no input in this.”

“Yep, absolutely.” Fred sucked on his cigarette and blew the smoke away. “But this thing here, it’s been botherin’ me and my friends for far too long.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. How was that any of his problems?

“So here’s the deal. You do this for me, and I’ll pay for the repairs for the gym in your place.”

Lucien burst out laughing.

“You do surprise me, Fred. You should know me better than this.” He scoffed.

“Yep, so let me put this differently…” Fred shifted closer to the table and laced his fingers together. He bent closer to Lucien opposite him. “This is my pay back.”

“What for?” Lucien asked arrogantly.

"You owe me, Frenchie."

"And what for, huh?" Lucien scoffed.

“Mary.”

Lucien’s smile shattered and his brow furrowed.

“Listen, pal. While you were tourin’ the world and huntin’ Nazis and all, someone here had to look after the missus. More than twenty years I kept an eye on her for you, for nothing more than friendship. Now, I’ve got this case,” Fred pointed at the envelope, half annoyed and three quarters fed up. “The guy’s a goddamn pain in my ass to get, been on him for years and the Soviets might be closer than we are to get him.”

“So you blackmail me because you are desperate?” Lucien hurt him back, clearly signalling that he did not appreciate Fred’s way of doing things.

Fred frowned and sighed.

“I blackmail you because I’m stuck and you’re the best spy I know, you fancy ass.”

Lucien shook his head and smirked.

“I am indeed exactly that, without a doubt, you mannerless primate. But Marie is dead and gone. I have nothing left that ties me to this job or this life.”

“You got your son.”

“And?”

“The kid’s homeless and jobless. Good at baseball but absolute shit at school. He’s never gonna be as successful as his dear Papa.” Fred arrogantly answered.

“Do not speak of him.” Lucien looked away and contained his anger but Fred knew his friend all too well, and his reaction there betrayed his emotion.

“Take him in to help. You’ll spend some quality time and hit all the birds in the world with one stone. You’ll do me a favour and you’ll get him a job and a future, and!” Fred raised a triumphant index finger. “You’ll train a rookie so they’ll be very happy high up. And who knows? The kid might have gotten somethin’ from you after all, eh?”

Lucien frowned.

“After all that, you can call it quits. Just vanish again, fly back to Paris or the fuckin’ Moon for all I care. You’ll have cleared your slate.”

Lucien sighed in exasperation.

“I will not involve him.”

“So you’re gonna let him be jobless, homeless and orphaned longer, eh?”

“He is not an orphan.” Lucien’s jaw was tense.

“It’s all the same. Lives with his auntie now and two little cousins who look up to one bad slice of an example. I don’t want to hurt you further but the kid doesn’t listen, he doesn’t stay home. He spends his life outside and doesn’t have anything to do, he’s practically in a limbo of his own. You and I both know what happens to kids like that. They either finish on our side of the bars or the other.”

Lucien winced at the thought of Jérémy breaking the law, getting caught and sent to jail. What would Marie think…?

“Best thing you can do is just do it. Go through it and get done. You don’t even need to tell him you’re his Dad! And you don’t have to babysit him either, he’s overage now. Can vote, go to college or buy a gun and make his life a livin’ hell and fuck Mary’s efforts up!”

Lucien held the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“You do as you wish, pal.”

Fred crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up before he left the café, leaving the envelope on the table. Lucien watched him and waited for the American to be out of sight before cursing in his mother tongue. His fingers slid to his head and he grasped handfuls of his hair, staring at the bottom of his near empty coffee cup.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

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ill-skillsgard · 5 years ago

Text

Bred For Blood - Part 17 - The White Flag

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *mentions of blood/injuries/death/weapons/coma/unconsciousness in this part*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description: A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: This one’s for Team Cluney. I really hope you guys enjoy reading! This part was very exciting for me to write for many reasons. Please reblog/like/comment if you like my work and want to give me a virtual pat on the head. I would really appreciate it, please and thank you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

The doctor stomped over the rocky terrain, muttering and snickering to himself as the sun cast blistering rays on their backs. The heat never bothered him, only tanned his skin to a deep brown shine. It was the walking that made his knees burn. He'd long since shed his white coat to cover the bulk of the man draped over Rudie's wiry-haired hump, trudging along at leisure. The unconscious hunter he'd found needed all the protection available from the vicious star reaching its highest point in the sky.

The doctor halted his gangly steed every hour to force a measure of water down the burnt man's ululating throat. He often succeeded, and the hunter swallowed without issue, but sometimes, the water came back up as white foam, trickling down the sides of his face and down his neck. The onset of heatstroke turned his skin apple-red, and the doctor sprayed him down with water and gusts of hot air produced by a tattered paper fan he carried with him to ward off flies. Rudie attracted the pests who made a chariot out of the man on the camel's back. They fled their caravan whenever the doctor stopped to check on his patient and settled back in for the ride after he threw the stained coat back over the hunter's burnt shoulders. This went on until nightfall when the dry land showed signs of mercy, and water and shale gave way to the soil.

Rudie let out a guttural complaint when they reached a crop of tall, spindly trees. The diamond-shaped leaves provided shade. The doctor tethered the bleating animal, pressing his finger to his lips for a silence that would not come. Upon unsaddling the groaning man, Rudie threw his hump and sent Axel slumping to the ground, his deadweight at odds with a lengthy fall. His head cracked on a root, and a dusting of earth dried his palette, clinging to everything pink in his mouth. The camel clopped away from the whining mass who'd hitched a ride on his back, and in his wobbling dance, mashed the smallest of Axel's fingers into the soil.

"Rudie! You bumbling old idiot! You gaffer! Shoo!"

The beast side-stepped, snorting and sputtering, indifferent to the further damage done to the man. He shook his proud head, throwing ropes of spit that webbed his lashes. The doctor punished the creature by re-wrapping Axel's hand after a stern disinfecting, withholding the proverbial oats until the animal wandered away to dine on low-hanging leaves. Rudie chuffed whenever the doctor came to retrieve supplies from the riding satchel.

"That wasn't very nice, Rude. This man is our patient! We don't trample the patients. You've no idea the level of harm you caused! He'll be lucky if we don't have to amputate, and you don't have thumbs, so you're even more useless!"

Rudie wrapped his leathery lips around a clutch of grass and ripped it free, chewing and turning away from his master and the unconscious fellow. The camel minded his business and relieved himself on a nearby rock, huffing and chomping any strand of green he sniffed.

Axel vomited throughout the night. The doctor gave up his rest to make sure the man lying comatic didn't swallow his tongue. Then came the shivering and sickly shade of purple flaking his lips. Flaps of the doctor's paper fan spread droplets over his inflamed skin, another courtesy at the behest of his sore arm. Still, Axel moaned and scratched at the earth beneath him in bloody heat and delirium.

"If you can hang on until tomorrow, son, perhaps we'll find some proper shade and build a hut. Hm? How's that sound? Shade and water. For now, just rest, and don't die on me."

When the sun came up, the doctor cleaned Axel using the rest of the clean water from his reserve and stitched the open flesh splitting his eyebrow in two.

"That'll leave a nasty scar. Not that you need any more ruggedness in your act. You're just a lost soldier, sonny. But maybe one day you'll make a brilliant assistant. Better than Rudie, I hope. He hasn't even apologized for breaking your finger. Lookit him over there, shitting all over the camp, the scoundrel. But I'm the one with the oats; therefore, I make the rules!"

"M-muh... muuuh."

"Ah, in the worst of times, we still call our mothers."

"Mmph. Muh—"

"I wonder what's on the other side of those trees," the doctor said, shading his eyes with his hand, peering to the West. "You look well-travelled, sonny. Any ideas? Hate to run into any of those yawners, not knowing when your last shot was. But I suppose I shouldn't expect any valuable input from a man who can't look me in the eye."

After patching him up, the man hauled Axel to a stand and hoisted him onto the camel's back using a tree for leverage and a series of ropes to fasten him down. Once secured to Rudie's hump, the doctor took a few minutes to catch his breath. "Dunno how many more times I can get you up there, son. You must learn how to walk soon. Or I'll build you a sleigh. But that might take some time."

Far off above the foggy treeline, a sheet of ashy cloud broke to reveal bright blue sky. The doctor liked the look of cerulean and the absence of sand, so the begrimed trio lumbering through thick bush where dew still clung to the undersides of the leaves. The doctor went ahead, collecting globules before they evaporated. Rudie answered the doctor's constant rhetoric with wild groans that muffled Axel's whimpering, and they led their procession over uncertain ground.

"I reckon there's nothing but more trees over that ridge, Mr. Soldier. Maybe some mountains we can find a crevice to hide out in. Just until you get your strength back. The only thing I worry about is those damn yawners. Rudie and I will be safe, but you... I'll scout ahead to make sure it's clear. It'll rack up daylight, but you'll thank me when you're not a bubbling pile of soldier juice. Don't worry, sonny. They didn't immunize me for no reason! I count myself among the elites, but that doesn't mean I fancy myself better than you or more deserving of life. We're all in this, you see. Brights and Uns... We're still together, despite it all. They may have tried to kill you, but look at you now! Alive and well. Isn't that a slap in the face? They send you out to war and hope you never come back. They don't even have the decency to immunize you. What a world we live in."

Rudie let out a gaseous bellow. The doctor whipped around and pointed his walking stick at the quadruped. "Don't interrupt, you vile sow. Nobody needs a camel's opinion."

"Ma... Ma."

"We'll look for your mama after we get you looking presentable. Hang on tight, we're going uphill!"

As the ridge climbed, the trees grew denser. The doctor had to guide his camel through a maze of mossy trunks. Thin, whip-like branches prodded at Axel's tender skin. What leafy arms brushed Rudie's head bent back and snapped against the hunter's raw shoulders. Axel didn't notice, lost in the chimeric slurry of recent injuries. They maneuvered over stones and wove between crumbling stumps, avoiding the deadfalls. The steepled ground sloped upward like a great brown ramp of torn earth. Through the thickness, they muttered, minding their footwork, up and up, stopping here and there so the doctor could take in a few wheezing breaths. The camel—finally wary of obstacles—blew wind and groaned, hesitant on the incline.

"Boy, there had better be some more forgiving land over this ledge. I don't think it's workable to keep climbing. We might have to turn back, depending on what I see at the top. Fingers crossed for a lake. A bath would do me good," said the doctor, fanning his underarms and thighs with the paper fan.

"What do you say, Mr. Soldier? Should we keep going? See if there's anything worthwhile over that lip?"

"Muh."

"That's what I thought. You may not be the finest soldier I've ever met, but you're persistent, and that's key. Come on, fellas. Let's pray for water, and up we go! Can't be worse than the blasted desert."

~*~

Ivar's mood reflected his recent successes in bed. When Trinity brought his meal, he thanked her, even asking about her morning and if she was sleeping all right and eating properly. Trinity laughed nervously, sensing a test, and answered with a practiced air of casualty. Did he know of the plan they'd executed to get Zed in to see him? Was his toothy smile a front? Despite her unease, she humoured the leader and left when he dug into his stew and fresh bread. Trinity also noted Zed's absence, and with the King in lively spirits, assumed everything had gone well with the plan.

Ivar inhaled his late breakfast and dressed for comfort to walk the courtyard. With a bounce in his step, he traversed the throat of the Chrysalis, emerging on the other side to a nest bereft of activity. The morning stalls had cleared out, their occupants and merchants returned to their hovels. Even the young ones—usually at play in the courtyard by now—were nowhere in sight.

Ivar passed by the last remaining group gathered around a low podium, whispering over their berry reductions and leafy salads. Like a cluster of threatened barnacles, each mouth clamped as Ivar strode past. He held his head forward, flexing his palette to clear his airways. None of them made a sound until he was far enough away. Their chattering was undiscernible as distant chirping birds. He stopped at the incline of a foothill, spinning to catch them staring at the back of his head. They snatched their eyes away and made like they weren't gawking.

That wasn't the only peculiar thing that happened to Ivar that morning. Since his prolonged absence, the people seemed to have grown used to keeping to themselves. There was no merriment in the air, only sterile drafts pouring in from the filtration system. Ivar shivered from the brisk air, stopping to consider paying Zed a visit at her apartment. A morbid urge pulled him along, and he continued his walk. Ivar waited until somebody approached him—whether it a man or child—to greet him with customary courtesy. Still, nobody shuffled forward to ask him about his day or to offer him a portion of their recent gardening.

Ivar reached the frosted glass doors to the lab and stood still, thick hands hovering next to his narrow hips. Frozen in place, Ivar bit the tip of his tongue. Something told him Zed was inside the lab, and if he wished to see her, he had to set foot beyond the parameters of his expertise. The lab always put him in a bitter mood. It was the only place in the village that wasn't for him. Though he could visit any corner of Kinderfeld he wanted, he'd never felt welcome in the laboratory. The floors and surfaces' sterility made him cower from touching anything, and the lifeless stares he received from the few staff only reminded him of the responsibilities he'd shunned in favour of hedonism. None of them ever begrudged him his appetites, but he was confident they whispered of his ineptitude behind his back.

He wondered if Zed ever talked about him or if she'd ever vocalized displeasures regarding his leadership. Her request from the day before echoed in the corners of his mind, festering and swelling each hour they were apart. There was a bitter drop of ulterior motive in Zed's visit, and he let it slide down the back of his throat when she asked him to open the gate. But they'd made love, and that was more than Ivar expected. In his heart of hearts, he'd feared Zed would demand more; to let her fly the nest in search of Axel, but she'd taken his refusal graciously and kissed him all the same. Still, a nagging suspicion remained. Something was circulating in the air, whipping about the courts and apartments, squeezing under doorways and filling the citizens with doubts.

A stranger on his own land, Ivar lowered his eyes to the ground and turned away from the lab before he recognized any more scrutinizing glances. He powered along, ignoring the guards, their dutiful nods, cutting over the knolls as fast as his muscular thighs could take him without breaking into a run. The loneliness chased him back to his palace, and even its mouth gaped in question.

Ivar noticed Sheraya nearby, spreading dark red petals, a gained cigar of smoking sage held between her fingers. He craved nicotine the moment the fumes peppered his nostrils. Tears coursed down her round cheeks, though she made no sobs, no whimpers. There was only gentle muttering under her breath and more tears. The king stood waiting for her to acknowledge him and then realized she had no intention of breaking her prayer mantra.

Shunned, Ivar turned away, retreating to his house of lush fabric and solitude where he should never have left.

~*~

Vee insisted Zed stay put while he fetched them dinner. Their setting was the top floor of the greenhouse where he'd played cards and got drunk with his brother some nights. Nobody ever bothered them up there. Zed sat in waiting, enjoying the greenery, the twisting vines and canary yellow zucchini blooms. She stretched an arm out to pluck a flower and nibble its petals. Her stomach gurgled for heavier fare, so she ate another. Vee didn't keep her waiting long after, showing up with a basket of seed-crusted bread and a bowl of sliced potatoes slathered in basil paste and cooked to a crisp. For dessert, he brought dried fruit and freshly harvested cashews.

Moonlight vaulted through the trees, defusing over the glass and casting milky shadows on the greenhouse floor. The air was moist with freshly irrigated soil. Baked in the dimness, Zed couldn't take her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. He'd brought with him the game from their youth, but neither of them suggested opening the box. They smiled as they ate, breathing in the deep aromas and savouring their food together. And in the balmy atmosphere decked in silver light, Zed swore Vee was his brother's twin. Her heart shuddered in remembrance. It was what brought them together; the shared sense of guilt and the strengthening suspicion they'd both lost someone, both failed and scorned by the people who'd invested too much faith in their competence. Zed felt at peace beside him.

The scientist was still a welcome member of the village, hence his aptitude for finding rarer delicacies like wine and ripe figs. They split the skins and scooped out the sweet innards, indulging their tongues on the fruit as if it was the richest of luxuries.

"You know what I would absolutely love to eat again?" Zed asked, sucking seeds from between her teeth.

"Popsicles," Vee answered.

"Close, but no. Chocolate ice cream. I'd kill for some chocolate ice cream right now. "

Vee shook his head. "No way. Strawberry all the way."

"A hot fudge sundae with peanuts and a big maraschino cherry."

"Peanut butter sauce."

"Oh, my God. Don't say that," Zed groaned.

"It's so good. I can't remember the last time I had ice cream. Remember when you could walk a couple blocks in the Summer and buy an ice cream cone?"

Zed smiled, but the thought pricked her memory. "The last time I got ice cream was with my Dad. I got the biggest chocolate sundae, with peanut butter cups and chocolate sprinkles. He told me there was a full day-and-a-half's worth of calories in it, but I didn't care. It was after a soccer game. I didn't like soccer, but if I went to practice every week and scored at least one goal, he'd take me out for ice cream. Two goals meant I got ice cream and five dollars."

Zed sighed, continuing, "I hate thinking about the last times. Like at one point, you did something for the very last time. The last trip for ice cream. The last time you told someone you loved them."

"If you hate thinking about last times, then why are you doing it right now?" Vee asked, eyes blank as discs.

She grimaced, reaching out to touch the toe of her shoe to his, then softening her face. "I can't help it sometimes. Don't tell me you've never thought about how it used to be. You don't have to look at everything so logically."

"I don't," Vee said. "I just rather not think about those times."

"I'm sorry. Is it?—Never mind."

"My fiancé and my kid? Yes. It's always them."

Zed set her dish aside and scooted beside Vee, pressing her back against the wooden barrier of the melon patch, mirroring his position, her mouth just as dead grim as his.

"You seem to handle it well enough. But I understand. I think everyone lost something important to them," Zed offered.

Vee sighed, turning his face to the floor, cutting off the glistening whites of his eyes from view. "Found out she was pregnant the night before I left to work for the army."

"The army?"

"Yes. I had a knack for inventing. You've seen the ammunition I designed for Axel. And it takes a special gun to fire something that lethal without complication. They wanted that kind of technology and offered me a nauseating amount of money to oversee mass production. The only smart thing I ever did was refuse to sell myself. It cost me my family, but I can say with certainty Axel is the only person besides me who's fired one of them. Could you imagine what the world would be like if those had gotten into the wrong hands?"

Zed bottled talk of acid and bloodshed with a shiver and a firm hand on Vee's wrist. "Enough of that. Please. Tell me about her—your fiancé. Let's just... Remember them fondly. I don't want to think about the bullshit out there."

"You'd rather stay inside these bubbles, ignoring a second societal collapse in the making?"

"Yes. I'd rather enjoy my time here with you, listening to nicer stories. This is all that's left. I don't want to think about where we went wrong or right. Let's just talk about what made us happy."

Vee nudged her shoulder. "Why can't we talk about what makes us happy now?"

She giggled and rested her temple on his shoulder. Vee curled his wrist around her knee, and their fingers intertwined. He leaned his head on hers like they had in his apartment before Lora caught them, this time with his heart pumping in double-time.

"What makes you happy now?" Zed asked him.

"Not talking about dead relatives."

"Okay, true. Let's not. So... What are you content with?"

"You," Vee blurted.

Zed's��chest tightened. Vee let go of her hand and angled his torso toward her. "I'm sorry. It's difficult for me not to... Stick to you. If I'm honest... You look like her, Lea. I really hate how much you remind me of her. And I don't want to use you to fill the void. It's wrong, but I can't help it. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how much I lost. And you're so understanding. You don't have all these expectations."

"Vee—"

"I don't want you to think I'm coming onto you. You don't owe me anything. All I'm saying is, I'd be happy to stick together."

"We will! I want to stick with you, too."

Vee combed his blond hair back, pinching his brows together. "Lea... I want you to tell me no, right now."

"No? What do you mean?" Zed asked.

"Tell me there's no chance in Hell we'll ever get together. If I have it planted in my mind, then that's that. But if you don't, and we continue hanging out like this, getting closer... I might... Think there's a way."

"Valter..."

"Axe knew what he was doing when he brought you here...when he introduced us. Yes, he wanted protection for you, but he also wanted you and me to hit it off. I could tell. He'd never admit it, but I know him. You're perfect for me, but I've seen how others treat you, and I refuse to do the same. I don't want to perform tricks to impress you into sleeping with me like Ivar, but I don't want to stifle my feelings like... Axel. So you need to shut me down, right now. If there's a firm barrier, my mind will reroute, avoiding any possibility—"

"Stop," Zed said. "Please, just stop."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of that up."

"No, it's good to speak your mind. I appreciate the honesty, even if it took months to hear."

"It would have been inappropriate if I brought it up. When we had research and pressing issues, it was easy to ignore how familiar you seemed. Now I'm at a stalemate, and you're still here, and Axel's gone. I can't pretend like I don't want to spend my time with you. But I'll stay off your heels, I swear. Just friends."

"I'm not telling you no," Zed murmured. "Maybe at some point, I wanted to fall in love, but now I know that's foolish. Love can't exist in this world anymore. Not without great suffering, and I don't want to suffer anymore. Truthfully, I don't even want to get close to you, Valter, because I'm afraid someone or something will take it away."

"Nothing will take me away."

Zed shook her head, knocking a tear loose. "Don't say that. You can't make that promise. I don't want any more broken promises."

The scientist nodded while a cloud of vapour seethed from the sprinkler heads above the raised garden beds, thickening the air and clinging to their skin. A long silence pervaded, and Zed held her breath until Vee shuffled away to retrieve Wayfare of Austea. He dropped the box before her feet and grinned widely.

"Come on then, let's play. No more doom and gloom for a while."

~*~

Ivar spent the same evening pacing in his room. He went to the private alcove he assigned to the woman on his mind. Zed was fickle, and he didn't want to dash his chances with her by smothering, but something in his stomach wouldn't settle. He'd even dismissed his guard, encouraging another visit, yet she hadn't shown. Ivar buckled under the suspicion that she was angry with him, and her absence was his punishment.

Never the man to deny himself, he made for the Hives. If Zed was alone, surely she'd welcome his company. She'd said it herself: she wasn't one to sleep with just anyone, and he was far from just anyone. He was King, and this was his realm.

Despite his self-reassurance, Ivar carried doubts that manifested on his face. He passed a few citizens, drawing eyes with his acidic mug and ignored them all the way to Zed's door.

She didn't answer the door after he knocked. He reasoned she might be asleep, though it was shy of nine o'clock—early for most but not an unusual time to sleep. Before he turned away, he twisted the handle and cracked the door open an inch, letting out the dark.

"Lea? Are you in here?"

Stagnant silence answered, and he shut the door before anyone saw him. Ivar went to the door on the left and found that one locked. He grimaced, turned from the apartments and left for the lab.

On his way through the courtyard, Ivar saw Nalani and Trinity walking arm-in-arm, engaged in private discussion. Their frantic doe-eyes widened to see him.

"Have you seen Lea?" Ivar asked.

"She should be home, I think," said Trinity.

Nalani shrugged her bare shoulders, still clutching her friend's hand. "I thought she'd be with you, Ivar."

He sneered at the women. "No curtsy? No formality? Has everyone forgotten who's in charge around here?"

The two pressed their arms together, quietly apologizing and stepping aside for Ivar. He stalked toward the lab, holding his breath while throwing open the doors and turning the corner to find the rooms gutted of materials. The refrigerator hummed, and the overhead light flickered, barren and reeking of sterilization.

Ivar examined the dustless surfaces, curious but not enough to go digging through desk drawers. He went down the hall and stopped in front of Vee's door, clearing his airways again to sharpen his ears. There were no voices. Ivar knocked and went unanswered.

He turned in time to see the first door in the hall open and Lora's head poking out. She wore the same displeasure on her face, adjusting her reading glasses while her body caught up with her neck.

"If you're looking for Vee, he's hiding away with that woman everyone is up in arms about," Lora said.

"Hiding away? With Lea?"

"Yeah, whatever her name is. They haven't been here since I caught them getting up close and personal in Vee's room."

Ivar's stomach flipped, his head buzzed. Lora took great pleasure in the snagging of his mouth. She had been fuming by herself, finding specks of dust to brush away to keep her mind off her superior who'd run away with the girl she'd grown to distrust. Lora was a woman of insecurity, easily threatened by others but quick to bite back when given a chance. After she'd found Vee shoulder-to-shoulder with Zed in his apartment, Lora waited for any opportunity to drive a wedge between her beloved head scientist and the newcomer from the desert. Now was the perfect opportunity to damage Zed.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked.

"You know what I mean, sir. They were practically on top of each other."

Ivar had no reason to discount Lora's claim. She'd proven herself a trusted and valuable member of the village long ago and never caused a ripple of dispute. The folding of her face and iron-clad seriousness was all the King needed to believe what she told him.

"Where are they?"

"I assume—if they're smart—hiding in one of the greenhouses. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught them naked in the strawberry bushes."

Ivar scoffed and rushed away. Lora watched until he disappeared, then went back inside the incubation room and put on a pair of gloves. There was an electric cooler housing blood samples, one from each member of the village. Lora selected a sample from the bottom tray and shuffled to the sink, turning on the tap while reading the label. Popping the top off the vial, she upended the sample and drained the blood away.

Ivar did better than storming the greenhouses in search of Zed. There were slinkier things on his mind. If he caught her in the act with the scientist, only then would he justify blowing up. For now, he snuck through the grounds with his focus tuned and his breath steady.

"What's next for me? I've tried to convince him to let someone go, but he refuses. Do we just exist here now, with no way to move forward? Forever trapped in this moon unit."

"He'll come to his senses," Vee said with meagre hopefulness. "Ivar's full of himself, but he's not stupid."

"Well, let's count on those senses coming soon," Zed snorted.

"Speaking of Ivar... Do you think he's wondering where you are? You did just... You know. If that happened to me, I'd be thinking about it for a while. Wondering after you. Well, not you—'cause we never... Heh. Ah, shit. You get my meaning, right?"

"Mr. Cluney, are you flustered? I don't think I've ever heard you fumble your words before."

"I don't mean to be coarse."

"Don't worry. We'll get through this. Ivar has to see reason… We need to tell him about the ones who died."

"I'll tell him. It should be me," Vee said, stacking the playing cards back in the plastic tray lining of the frayed box.

Zed helped by gathering pieces, separating them into their individual quadrants next to the cards. She set her eyes dead on the floor after they finished packing the game away, sighing in contemplation.

"Who will go?"

Vee frowned. They shared a strained minute of silence interrupted by another burst of spray in the air. Their shirts stuck to their backs, legs aching from crossing and uncrossing. Zed handed the box to Vee.

"Maybe it should be me," she said.

"Absolutely not. You can't leave. It's too dangerous out there, and you don't have to put your life on the line. There's only two people who should go. Me or Ivar."

"You're too important to lose, Vee. That's what Axel wants. I know if he had a dying wish for me, it would be to look out for you. For us to do everything we can to survive."

"Within capability. I'm not a killer, Zed. I'm not like Axel."

Zed smirked, the merciless flames dancing in her belly again, the same ones she'd felt when she screamed at Lora. She'd harboured the noxious warmth before. It was a friend to her.

"But I am...I'm a killer."

Vee set his jaw firmly, scoffing, unable to disagree. "Listen, Rambo. Even armed to the teeth, you're still not going out there alone."

"And neither are you if you go."

"You think Ivar will leave his precious cocoon? I don't think so. He'll probably send one of his guys out to never come back."

Zed shook her head, tired of the speculation. "This is ridiculous. Anyone should be able to come and go as they please. It's tyranny to tell them they can't leave if they want to. I thought this was a place of free will? What happened to the promised land?"

"Same thing that always happens when one person is left in charge."

"On that, we agree."

They left the greenhouse with much to think about, hugged goodbye in the courtyard and separated—Zed toward the Hives and Vee following the path to his room.

The next morning Zed awoke to guards butting on all the doors, yelling for everyone to get to the courtyard. The racket came after a long night of tossing and turning. Her eyes were tight with unrest, her head throbbing, but she put on jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a single breast pocket, similar to the ones Ivar wore.

The citizens filed from the Hives, murmuring and looking around worriedly. Guards stood by to direct the traffic to the medical tent-turned-backdrop. The booth topped the steepest hill in the plaza, out of use for the past few weeks. They pooled around the base of the hill in collective confusion, looking up as Ivar took advantage of the blank vinyl behind him.

Ivar cast a proud smile over the congregation. He summoned everyone from their hiding spots without having to lift a finger and brought them into the light spilling through the checkered dome on high. He waited until he spotted Zed and Vee coming in from their separate tubes, relaxing a bare inch when they didn't arrive together. They cut their ways to the front of the throng and noticed each other right away. Ivar saw the troubled looks they exchanged and sneered.

"Is this everyone?" Ivar called to the head of his guard.

An armed man standing off to the East with a few others gave Ivar a thumbs up. The King nodded, then proceeded, his expression toward his people fresh with tenacity.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Kinderfeld. I've asked you all here to bring you some news. It has taken me a long time to come to this decision, and for my delay, I apologize. I don't take this lightly... We've lost members of our family, and my heart is broken. I've spent too long trying to think of a way to bring trade back to our village. We need supplies, yes, and medics. I understand these things because I've survived before. All of us must exist as a unit, each one pledged to the survival of our crew."

The people looked on with widening eyes. Hearts that once sang for Ivar's monologues found their tune. All of them but Azalea and the other Cluney brother. Ivar burned them with ocular venom, hoisting his smile into a morbid curve. Zed let shoulders and legs swallow her back into the crowd, but not deep enough to block her view of the head scientist glaring back at the leader.

"I forbid travel for your protection. There are dangers outside of our walls. People whose only purpose is to hunt and kill. I don't have to remind you of the horrors we've suffered or the love we've cultivated here in our home. You were all there. Some of you longer than others. They built these walls to protect us—the ones who choose love instead of hate."

Ivar clasped his hands behind his back and took splinted steps back and forth on his makeshift stage. He fashioned himself contemplative, but his eyes shone with intent.

"With that being said... We cannot wait for luck to come to us. This planet is evolving each day. Nature is reclaiming the land, and it will swallow us in its majesty. We will be lost if we don't take action."

"What do we do?" Someone called from the center of the gathering. The fiery-haired father who'd earned his keep cooking and training his son stood out as the shouter. Ivar didn't smile at him so much as he cast his grace upon the redheaded man clutching the freckled boy by the shoulders.

"I'm glad you asked, sir... We are a unity. A tribe of people who want to live in harmony, am I wrong?"

Several shook their heads, others muttered together, a dull drone of tired voices.

"Then we should vote. Does anyone care to nominate themselves or another?"

The apprehension pivoted and picked up with a few gasps. Heads swivelled in search of somebody bold enough to champion themselves for exploration. Vee continued glaring at Ivar. The king returned the glower.

"I'll go!"

Zed gasped after the words left Vee's mouth. He stepped forth, unbreaking under Ivar's challenging eyes.

"So we have one volunteer. Our beloved head of research and weapons development. A very noble gesture! Does anyone else wish to nominate themselves?" Ivar asked. He opened his arms, beseeching a reply with postured hope.

"Nobody should go alone!" Zed shouted.

"Yeah, we need a team!"

Ivar motioned for the crowd to quiet down. Once they simmered, looking on with palpable anticipation, he inhaled deeply for the next addressing.

"We're running low on men to keep our hold. The brunt of the firepower needs to remain here in case of attack," Ivar reasoned.

"I'll go alone. I don't care. We can't stand around any longer!" Vee said, his chest puffed, much to the surprise of the people who knew him.

Ivar barked a few dry laughs, disguising his pleasure to everyone but Zed and the man who'd volunteered to brave the elements. "I suppose if nobody has any objections...Vee will be the one to go. As badly as it tears me to say so... You are the perfect man for the job. Brother, I wish you all the luck."

Zed broke away from the gather and hammered her legs up the incline toward Vee and Ivar, pumping her fists until she reached them.

"Ivar, you can't do this! We can't send people out alone. At least let me go with him!"

"No!" Ivar and Vee shouted at once.

"What are you going to do to stop me? After your decree about peace and harmony, what will you do to keep me from leaving Kinderfeld?"

Ivar adopted her heated expression. "Azalea, stay out of this."

"No. I won't! Not after what happened to Axel. We have to assemble a team! Don't tell me to stay out when neither of you has seen the carnage!"

"Of course you want to go, Lea. All you care about is finding Axel. You used me and hoped I wouldn't figure out you're trying to leave. You never cared about me. You try to act like you're so innocent and respectful, but you're just like everyone else."

"Because I don't want people to die? Ivar, I understand you're trying to protect everyone, but sending men out for slaughter won't help our cause. Please," Zed whimpered. "Set aside our personal issues and try to see the bigger picture."

Ivar cooled suddenly. He patronized Zed with a frantic nod and a forced grin. "All right, Azalea. Consider our personal issues permanently set aside. You got your way. One of the guards will go with Vee. Now, go. I have heard your voice."

The guards gathered around Ivar and Vee, their conversation clipped and sheltered from the citizens by a lineup of broad-shouldered men carrying weapons of varying levels of brutality. Zed stepped away, cowering under the firm looks she received from Ivar's men. Though she bowed out of the political bubble, she stayed close by, watching Vee's sour face muttering umbrage at the King. The other citizens broke off into smaller clusters, chosen families and cliques gathering to discuss the ruling.

A hand slid over Zed's shoulder, and she whirled to find Sheraya bowing her head. "You've done what you can."

"No, I haven't!" Zed nipped. "I should go with him. I'm not afraid of the outside anymore."

"You don't have to be the hero, Azalea. You must survive."

"I have survived. I'm good at it."

"You're needed here. The young ones have to learn from the women."

"Sheraya... I can't let Vee go. I can't."

The elder took hold of Zed's clammy palm, pressing the lines with her thumb. Zed buckled as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. "He's all I have, Sheraya."

"The only one you ever truly have is yourself. Think about that before you take your heart's path and not your brain's. Look hard into the future."

"I'm trying," Zed sobbed.

"Azalea, I mean it. Your future is important."

Sheraya left her with a warm peck on the cheek and a growing sense of bewilderment. Zed looked around at the people, the hills and the courtyard beyond, the flatland where they set up their booths and entertained each other. Envisioning life beyond the safety of their walls overcame Zed with grief. She'd won, but the conditions were too heavy for her to bear. Now her last friend prepared for expulsion.

Vee took his charge seriously. Zed saw his raw determination as they hashed out a plan. Several times, she stopped herself from storming their parley, anchoring herself to the ground with locked knees and her arms folded over her breasts.

For a long time, the conversation went on, and most of the villagers went about their morning routines, gathering to cook and gossip of the turbulent state of politics. Zed stayed close enough to catch Vee when they finally broke for action, but the men showed no signs of agreement. Ivar had to hush some more uproarious guards, leashing them down with an assuring hand on the shoulder to stop them from infecting the others with their rancour.

Zed spotted a guard sprinting from the warehouse limits. The desperate look on his face alerted her, and she stepped out of sight around the corner of the medical tent, still close enough to listen.

The man approached, panting and calling for Ivar's attention. Zed snuck a peek and saw the group retire from their conference, distracted by their comrade.

"Jackson, what's the matter?"

"It's Zee. It's him! One of the guys found some doctor dragging him through the forest."

"A doctor?" Ivar repeated. "How do you know?"

"He says so. Says his name is Simpson... Or was it Samson?"

"Samson!" Zed yelled, running from her cover toward the reporting guard. "Did you say the doctor's name is Samson?"

"Yeah, Samson," the man huffed, stunned by the woman's sudden appearance.

"Bring him in! Right now. Go get them and bring him to me!" Zed demanded.

"Now, wait a minute," Ivar said. "How do we know we can trust this guy?"

"If it's the Samson I know, we can trust him. Ivar, please. I'll vouch for him if it's who I think it is."

"Who gives a shit, he's got my brother!"

Zed vaulted after Vee, tailed by the guards and Ivar. The march heralded interest from the citizens, and soon, onlookers roved toward the warehouse. Vee turned to the guard who'd brought the news and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go tell them to let Axel and the doctor inside."

"Sir," the guard nodded, jogging ahead to the entrance where two other men stood, baffled and conflicted without orders.

"Let them in!" Zed cried out.

They waited with bursting lungs. It seemed an hour crawled by before a shadowed heap of arms appeared at the mouth of the entrance. Flanked by two guards holding him upright, they carried Axel inside, his head of matted brown hair dangling lifelessly between his shoulders, limp tattooed arms slung around their necks. Zed ran to him and propped his chin up in her hand, heart palpitating, head rushing.

"Axel! Oh my God. You're alive!"

"Now, now, miss. Don't waste too much breath speaking to him. He can't understand you."

Zed turned toward the familiar voice. Samson hobbled in next to a guard who'd taken on his load—a heavy satchel, a duffel bag and two tweed suitcases. Filth and the briny stink of body odour and piss wafted through the tunnel with them. Most recoiled from the stench.

"Doctor Samson, do you remember me? From the bloodbank."

"Ah, yes, of course, I remember you, Zed! You used to zip around on your motorbike, looking for scrap metal and something to eat."

"Yes, yes! I didn't think I'd see you again."

"The chances of us meeting were rather slim, I agree, and I have to say it's lovely to find you in this magnificent bubble here. You can see this splendid little valley from the North. We were hoping for water, but this is much better. Um, speaking of water, where might I find some? Mr. Soldier and I are rather parched. Oh, and I left my camel parked outside. Do you validate?" Samson said with a jolt of wild laughter.

Zed didn't mean to be rude, but turning away from Samson was far too easy when Axel hung before her like a damp towel on a clothesline. She wanted to hold him, to join in as support to get him a surface to lie upon, but she resisted.

Ivar butt in and directed the escort to take Axel to the laboratory, then turned to Zed, scorning the tears in her eyes.

"Looks like you got your wish, Lea. Axel's back. Your life can go back to normal," Ivar said as the rest of them rushed away with the hunter and the doctor in tow.

It was only them, facing off on the hill. Zed quelled the wildfire in her belly with a painful swallow. A debate with Ivar served no purpose, so she turned from him, solemn and absolute.

"You've given me a lot, Ivar. I thank you for that. Hopefully soon, you and I will see eye to eye again, and we can live peacefully, as you said."

She angled down the hill, hurrying toward the laboratory.

Nobody stopped her from entering the stand-in hospital room. Vee had been worrying over his brother, grimacing at his crudely wrapped hand, violet dark and lame at his side. They'd already stripped him naked and laid a blanket over his lower extremities, so the bruises spraying his ribs screamed in the whiteness. His skin was bright red and glossy, shoulders scabbed with burns. With all his muscles slackened, Axel spilled over the bed, deadweight and loose-jawed.

"What happened?" Zed asked, turning to the doctor propped up in a gurney, sipping from a jug of water.

"I can't say for sure," said Samson. "He was comatose when I found him baking in the desert. That's one lucky man, right there. Lucky he crawled his sorry ass to where he did. Otherwise, I might have missed him by a mile."

"What should we do, Samson? How do I make him come out of it?"

"Oh, we can never be sure. It could be a few days, weeks... Months. My suggestion is to regulate his body temperature, treat his wounds and burns, and hope for the best."

Zed turned back to the unconscious man. She spotted the clumps of dirt in his hair, the scrapes on his elbows and mud-caked fingernails and her panic increased.

"Somebody bring me washcloths, soap and water right now!"

"I'd be mighty careful cleaning those burns, Zed. He's got some good blisters forming. And mind his hand."

"I will, I will," Zed nodded. "Just tell me what to do."

"Can I bother someone for a snack?" Asked Samson.

The guards who'd toted them into the lab stuck around until no longer needed. Zed refused help from anyone except Vee after Trinity brought them a bucket of warmed water, and Lora provided antiseptic. They started cleaning Axel gently, beginning with the grime under his nails. Samson ate from a bowl of mixed fruits, humming in delight from the nectar sliding down his throat.

Zed moved Axel's injured arm with great care and washed away the smears of dirt marring his tattoos, applying disinfectant to the cuts. Vee worked on the opposite side of the bed, combing out the chunks in his hair. Once in awhile, Zed met Vee's eyes, and he'd nod or give her a forced grin.

Axel's unconsciousness only registered later in the night after they'd cleaned him and swapped a few words of astonishment. Zed stayed nearby, wishing his eyes open, but every hopeful breath gave way to disappointment. Lost in the blankness of his mind, Axel floated.

Even Lora surrendered to the sobering tension, making herself available to Vee only. Zed didn't concern herself with the woman. Her mind was awash with relief and worry for the friend who'd found his miraculous way back home. Nothing else mattered but the battered man lying in slumber on the hospital bed.

Samson fell asleep, and Vee left after long, touching Zed's shoulder before excusing himself. He promised to come back as soon as he'd had some rest. Zed nodded, squeezing his hand for a lingering moment, then releasing him. Sleep had no chance of overtaking her, so she stayed next to Axel, balling herself up in one of the office chairs, listening to his wheezing and sticking her fingers under his scruffy jaw to check his pulse every time he went silent.

When it was only her, Axel, and Samson sleeping in the room, she leaned over the bed and brushed her palm over Axel's scaly forehead. She avoided his singed nose, the curving laceration above his left eye and the peeling skin on the crests of his cheeks, touching his jaw and stroking his hair a few times.

"Don't worry, everything's okay now. You're back where you're safe."

The woman slumped into the chair, propping her heavy head on her elbow. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, plates of seared skin stretching tight over his ribcage, and fought off the urge to doze alongside him.

"Mmph-uh... Muh."

Zed's eyes snapped open. "Axel? Did you speak?"

"Hmm," he thrummed.

"Can you hear me, Axel? It's me, Zed. Azalea. Do you recognize my voice?"

Axel's throat went quiet, the enfeebled notes fading back to obscurity. Zed tried to get him mumbling again, but the hunter remained still.

"It's okay. I promise, I'll make you better. You're home now, and I'm not going anywhere until you’re better, okay, Axel? Don’t worry. You’re at home with me."

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 5 years ago

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*sigh* I love him... oh, hey there tumblr! It’s been awhile, sorry about that. Been drinking a big ol’ glass of Loving Kiryu juice tho so it’s time for some Kiryu Opinions with Lemon. Sit’ya down and gather close.

I’ve recently been informed that writing Kiryu is hard. This came as a surprise to me because Kiryu is very intuitive for me to wield. Like, there’s a certain amount of pressure with writing any protag, especially one who so defines a series and a universe, even now. But I just... don’t struggle with him. All of his decisions are intuitively relatable for me.

But hearing that Kiryu was deceptively complicated made me stop and thinking about what about him appeals to me, what I find easy to move with him. I don’t know about any of you, but when I struggle to write a character, it’s because I struggle to understand their motivations. (Note that I said understand, which doesn’t necessarily mean agree with.) If I can’t explain to myself why a character is Like That, how the hell am I going to explain it to anyone else? How will I move them believably if I don’t know why they’re moving?

So this got me thinking about... why Kiryu is Like That.

One of the important things for me, whenever I have Kiryu in a scene, is that Kiryu is always in the Present. This is not true for many, many characters. Many people are reliving the past or hoping for the future. But in any given scene, even if Kiryu should be thinking about other things, what he responds to is the present, the here and now. That is first and foremost what motivates him. Whatever is happening right in front of him takes precedence. Both past events and future consequences mean very little to him compared to that.

This is drastically different, as I said, from characters like Majima, who is nearly always living in the past. A strange thing for me to say about a character as self-aware as him, but being self-aware and being in the Present are two different things. But I’m not here to talk about him today.

This is not to say that Kiryu is ignorant or foolhardy or callous. Kiryu does not deny the past its meaning or charge in blindly without an awareness of the consequences. He knows consequences will come, he simply accepts them faster than you might expect. And Kiryu is deeply affected by the past and does spend a great deal of time thinking about the past. But that’s not how his decisions get made. Many people are so afraid of or so hurt by the past, that all of their present decisions are predetermined by what has happened to them before. And that makes sense, we all learn from experience and react to it. It’s just a matter of which pieces of information any one of us is choosing to evaluate per decision. And rather than looking to past pain and past failures, or past successes, Kiryu gives deference to the most recent information. Part of the reason for this is that the only pattern Kiryu sees in the past is his failures. If everything he did before failed, why the hell would he do that again? And part of the reason is because the past is dead to Kiryu.

I said before some people live in the past. They play it out every day, trying to redeem themselves, hoping for a different ending. If they just do it right this time, things will be different, things will be better. Other people believe in do-overs. Kiryu doesn’t. Kiryu internalized when he was young that there are no do-overs. Sometimes you get one shot and you live with the consequences. That’s what Kiryu believes. When he entered the yakuza, that was the ethos instilled in him. If you make a call, you stand by it and you live with it, good, bad, or break even. Kiryu believes that, even to this day. And in his defense, many of the decisions he’s had to make were like that. Any time he made a bad call, the consequences were permanent. Any mistake he made, he could lose a friend, he could lose a war. And when he made that decision, he had to be ready for those consequences. That’s what he learned. So for him there are no do-overs. The past is dead. It’s not an active, dynamic thing that he could change, even if he wanted to. He can’t bring Nishiki back to life, he can’t save Tachibana, he can’t un-orphan Haruka. Those decisions are made and gone.

He’s not a fool and he won’t torture himself thinking about what he could have done differently. He accepts that these are the consequences. Sometimes you’re wrong and sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it. In some ways, this helps Kiryu let go. It means he’s never trying to save someone who’s already dead. It means he doesn’t dwell in regret. This gives him the ability to move forward. If he couldn’t do this, he never would have gotten up from the end of Kiwami 1. But Nishiki’s dead and there’s nothing he can do about it. So he doesn’t try. That’s the downside. Kiryu never goes back. He never tries to make it better, even for himself. Because he doesn’t think there is a way. It’s too painful to even consider that. Who is there to forgive him? Who is there to let him try again? The dead don’t talk. Kiryu accepts that he cannot change the past. Instead he flees from it.

This is an opposite defensive maneuver from trying to relive the past, he’s trying to outrun it. If he never has to make those decisions again, then he can never fuck up like that again. It’s why he refuses to be chairman, it’s why he hates being in Kamurocho. It’s all a constant reminder of his mistakes and how much they cost. And Kiryu’s defensive strategy is sometimes overactive, deciding that he can’t fix situations that haven’t yet burnt to the ground. He always assumes people won’t forgive him, that they don’t want him to try. He always assumes his failure is enough to ruin all the relationships he has. Why would you forgive someone who ruined your life? Kiryu doesn’t know why you would and doesn’t think you should. He’s paranoid about failing the people he loves and he believes that if he has failed you, you rightfully don’t love him anymore and wouldn’t want to see him. He sees his mistakes too big to know how small they are to you. So he runs from good relationships because he thinks he’s already failed them, he thinks he’s already made too many mistakes and he doesn’t deserve that relationship anymore. Maybe he never did.

And the more faith people put in him the worse this is. People treat Kiryu like he’s a god, a savior. And every time it makes Kiryu’s heart sore. He’s not afraid of his own power; he’s actually fairly confident in his abilities and has a good grasp of their reach. But seeing how much people trust him... it makes every mistake cost more. Kiryu worries because he knows he is human. No matter what anyone else thinks, he’s still just a guy. He sees himself as just a guy, maybe better trained or more gifted than some, but just a normal, mortal, flawed human being like anyone else. He knows he makes mistakes. He knows he will make mistakes again. And what if he makes a mistake that affects you? What if he’s wrong and it fucks you over? And how betrayed your trust is, how your faith in him falters... then you’ll finally see he was never worthy of it to begin with. Then you’ll feel deceived because he couldn’t live up to your expectations.

Kiryu doesn’t want to hurt you like that, hurt anyone like that. He takes the expectations on him very seriously. He knows you’re only asking because you do need help. He knows you’re very sincere. And he badly wants to do right by you. But if he... if he fucks up, that doesn’t hurt him, it hurts you. And sometimes he can’t bear that. He can’t bear failing people, being responsible for their disappointment and hurt and ruined situation.

It’s not that Kiryu wants to be reassured that he’s doing okay. People who want reassurance want to do the job they have. Kiryu hates this job. He hates being in the position to save or damn people. He hates the potential of getting it wrong and it mattering so much. And he would rather not help than risk it sometimes. His heart aches every time he’s asked again because that means... there’s no one else. It means he’s still the best you’ve got. And you deserve better, you deserve more than what he is. He’s just some guy and he’s not sure he can be what you need. He doesn’t trust himself to do it right. He wants you to have someone who WILL be there every time, who CAN weather it all. He doesn’t think he can.

He will still help, because there’s no one else, because he does understand that if he doesn’t worse things will happen. And he’ll become responsible by not having stepped in. But this is why he’s inconsistent, he doesn’t think he can do more, he doesn’t trust himself. And he gets scared of how much people believe in him.

He really doesn’t think that people could still love him, knowing he’s just some guy. He’s scared that if he isn’t perfect, like he’s supposed to be, like everyone wants him to be... everyone will feel betrayed. So he runs away to Okinawa to do something entirely different. But even then he’s scared of fucking up. He’s taken on all these young lives who depend on him and he’s waiting, he’s just waiting, to have someone tell him he’s a bad father, that he’s failed them, that he’s fucking up. And when that happens, he runs away again, so he won’t hurt them anymore. And because he doesn’t deserve to have relationships that bring him comfort and joy, he doesn’t deserve to feel useful and good, because he isn’t. He’s always been a failure.

Kiryu carries the pressure on him EXCEEDINGLY well. He almost never breaks down. But he has those break downs. He has anxiety. He worries about fucking up. His confidence curves towards stables, but when he hits a rocky point... he’s unmoored. He’s left without any reassurance that he does know what he’s doing, that he is doing okay, that he hasn’t failed every relationship he’s ever had. People still love him and forgive him and want to be with him. Want to help him try again.

I might even go so far to say that Kiryu has Imposter Syndrome. He has ex-gifted kid syndrome. Brought up with high expectations and high standards, more talented than his peers, launched into the stratosphere when he was still young, all of his personality moorings ripped away... He’s constantly just trying to be a good person, the best he knows how. And he takes it very, very hard when he falls short of what he was told all his life he could be. He doesn’t believe he ever achieved it.

I love Kiryu. I hope this helped show why.

#Kiryu Kazuma #Please hug him #Please tell him he's okay #He never gets a chance to tell anyone how he's suffering #And it breaks my heart looking at him some times #Yakuza

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 5 years ago

Text

Off Limits (Spencer Reid) #6

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Tag List: @on-my-way-to-erebor , @haileymorelikestupid

NOT MY GIF

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After a couple rounds of drinks everyone agreed it was time to go home and rest. They said their goodbyes and headed out. As the group split and went their separate ways, Spencer followed Ava. “Ava, let me walk you home.”

She fixed her coat and pulled it closer to her chest, thankful for the company. She wasn’t a fan of walking home alone, especially in this part of town. She usually would grab a cab home, but she was tight with money this week after paying bills.

As the two rounded the corner and the coast was clear, Spencer gently touched Ava’s arm, “Hey… You okay?” Ava stopped and turned to face Spencer. Seeing her eyes start to swell with tears he engulfed her in a hug, “come here.” She couldn’t help herself, as soon as she felt his arms wrap around her the flood gates opened.

“Shhh… baby it’s okay.” Spencer cooed, rubbing circles on her back.

“I-I thought you were h-hurt.” She cried, “I was there on the phone with Penelope when it happened. I heard it all… the shots. Morgan calling your name, t-that you needed a medic.” He only tightened his arms around her. His theory was right. She had been crying today and heard what happened.

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m right here.” He pulled away and cupped her face with his hands, wiping the tears from her cheek. “Not a scratch on me.”

She sniffled, “I was so scared Spencer.”

“I’m sorry I scared you. I wish you hadn’t been in there when it all went down.” He wiped another tear that had rolled down her cheek. “But hey, I’m okay. It’s okay, we’re okay.” He gently kissed her forehead, “I missed you.”

He wrapped her in another hug.

“I missed you too.” She whispered into his chest, tightening her grip in the hug.

He walked her home and stayed until she got dressed for bed. She climbed into her bed and pulled the covers over her, then he slipped in next to her. He rubbed her back until she fell asleep before slipping out the door and heading back to his house.

A few days later, Ava had walked into work to a bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. Daisies. Her favorite. She smiled and read the card attached, Good morning, beautiful. I thought you could use a little pick me up after the last few days. Dinner at my place tonight? Xx

He made sure to not say anything on the card that would give him away incase his co-workers asked. He had come in a little earlier, wanting to get the flowers on her desk before she arrived into work. Spencer sat at his desk and watched her face light up when she saw them. Just what he wanted. She had been struggling the last few days. Money was tight, them having to sneak around and with what happened in Dallas still haunting her. She hadn’t been sleeping well due to nightmares and was overall not having a great week.

She was grateful for his thoughtfulness. The few days had been hell. She took a quick glance at Spencer who was already looking at her and mouthed a thank you. He nodded in response. “Oh, Ava those flowers are beautiful!” JJ exclaimed as she walked through the doors, Emily following and commenting as well. “Who sent you those? Do you have a secret admirer?” She teased.

Ava laughed and shook her head. “They’re from this guy I’ve been seeing.”

“Oh, a guy you’ve been seeing? What’s he like?” Penelope piped, glancing at Reid and giving a quick wink.

“He’s pretty amazing. Super handsome and intelligent.” She moved the flowers to the side of her desk and out of her way. “Oh! And he’s a really really good kisser.” She gushed causing the girls to go “Ooooo.”

Spencer could hear their conversation and could not help but blush. He liked hearing her gush to the girls about him. Even if they had no idea who it was about.

“So, what’s his name then?” Emily asked, sitting down at her desk.

“What so you can get Penelope to look him up? Heck no. He will continue to be my little secret,” Ava did the motion of zipping her lips shut.

“Nice touch on the flowers.” Morgan whispered to Reid as he sat down.

“She’s had a rough few days. Only wanted to make her feel better.” Spencer leaned back in his chair. “She was there on the phone with Penelope when that shoot out had occurred. It’s really messed her up.”

“Can you blame her? She’s never been around this kind of stuff.” Morgan replied.

A couple weeks later Hotch received a call from the Atlanta Police Department. There had been a string of arson fires in the last few days, all with victims. Hotch called his team into the briefing room. A few moments later she heard her name being called. “Ava, I’d like your help on this case.” Hotch motioned her into the room.

Why would they need her help? She wondered as she grabbed her notebook and pen and headed for the room. The group was situated around the round table. The bulletin boards were filled with crime scene photos. Homes were burnt, bodies burnt to a crisp. She shuddered as the saw the photos. How could someone do this to another human being?

She went to take a seat on the couch not wanting to intrude at the table, but was stopped by Hotch, “Ava, come sit. I’d like your help with this case. It is happening in your hometown and you know it better than anyone. Also, it involves your father’s law firm.” Hotch motioned to the table.

Her father’s firm? Why? She took a seat between Spencer and Morgan. “What does my father’s firm have to do with this case?”

“We think his firm may have gained a few enemies.” He walked to the board and pointed to the crime scene photos of the burned down homes. “We seem to believe the un-sub is targeting the workers of his firm. All three fires have been set to the homes of lawyers who worked or have worked there.” Hotch handed folders out to the group.

Ava shook her head in disbelief, “But he doesn’t have enemies. The people of the firm are close. It’s a smaller firm. Family like environment.”

“Well someone is upset.” Morgan states, flipping through his folder and glancing over the pages.

“We’ve been asked to work the case and are heading to Atlanta today and I would like for you to come with. Are you up for that?” Gideon sets his folder down and looks at Ava from across the table through the rim of his glasses.

“I-I guess.” She was so surprised she didn’t know what to say.

“Ok great. Wheels up in 30.”

“Wait but I don’t have a bag. And I have a cat who needs to be fed.” Ava stands as everyone else does. She doesn’t have anything with her. And smokie must be fed and taken care of. She has work here to do too. She can’t just up and leave. “and I have work here to finish.”

“Penelope will look after your cat. Head home grab your things and meet us back here as soon as you can. Don’t worry about your work here. It can wait.” Hotch replies before heading to his office, everyone else heading to their desk. Spencer stayed behind, gathering everyone’s files, along with the things clipped to the board.

“Looks like you and I get to work a case together.” Spencer speaks up.

“Yeah I guess we do.” She helps him gather the evidence, still shocked she was asked about working the case and that her father’s law firm could have a potential enemy.

“And I get to meet your family? However, I hate it’s under this circumstance.” He slips the folders in his bag. “I know. It’s not like they don’t know about you though. I talk about you all the time,” she mumbles.

He smirks at her, “Oh? You talk about me all the time huh?”

She blushed, “Yes you idiot. Of course, I do.” She gently slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

“All good things I hope?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

She smirked, “Well yeah but some naughty things too. I did tell my mom about that thing you can do in bed… you know where you-”

His eyes went wide, “You did not!”

She laughed and shook her head, “No I didn’t. I’m kidding. Why would I want someone to know about that? I want to keep you all for myself.” She quickly squeezed his butt before walking out, laughing, he laughed in response and shook his head. She is something else.

Before she headed home, she gave Penelope the instructions for taking care of smokie if they were gone longer than a couple days. When she arrived home, she made sure Smokie had enough food and water and her litterbox was clean. Smokie would be fine for a couple days before needing to be checked on. Perks of having a cat instead of a dog. She gathered her things to take with her and headed back to the office, making sure the house was locked up.

When she arrived at the office the group rushed to the jet. As they were waiting to board the jet, Spencer walked up behind her, “This is for earlier,” he whispered before grabbing her butt. She jumped a little in response and blushed when Morgan turned around to look at them, “you guys okay?”

“Oh yeah we’re fine.” Spencer answered, “she just had something on her shoulder.” He gave a quick blow to her shoulder. “There. All gone.”

Morgan nodded, not believing them, “sure she did.”

The group boarded the jet and settled in. Gideon and Hotch took a seat in the back. Emily and JJ sitting at the table. Morgan sat in one of the open chairs next to the couch. Spencer sat on the couch and Ava followed sitting on the other end and putting her purse in between them.

She took a deep breath and took the chance to look around the jet. It was fancy. Fancier than any other plane she’d been on.

“I brought that book I was telling you about.” Spencer reaches into his messenger bag and pulls it out, “I figured you might want to read it.” He holds it out to her, but she’s reaching in her purse, pulling out a book a book as well.

“I brought the one I told you about in case you wanted to read it on the plane.” She laughed. He chuckled, “great minds think alike I guess?” They switched books and relaxed into the couch when Gideon spoke up.

“Ava when we land, we’re going to stop by your dad’s firm first. I’d like for you, Spencer, Emily and Morgan to go. Hotch, JJ and I will head to the Atlanta Police apartment.” Gideon stands, “We want to know if he’s made any enemies recently or if he knows why someone would be killing his employees.”

Spencer hands around the copies of case files and then opens his, reading over it, “Is it possible the unsub could have worked at the firm?”

Emily nodded, agreeing, “That could be the reason he’s picking off employees. Maybe one pissed him off and sent him into a revenge rage?”

“The unsub could have been fired and wanted revenge. Check with Mr. Camp and find out if he’s fired anyone recently.” Gideon looks between Emily and Spencer, then at Morgan. “Speak around with employees. See what their relationship is with each other, if there had been any previous altercations.”

It wasn’t soon after, the jet touched down in Atlanta and the team went their separate ways.

“Ava! Baby girl, how are you?” Mr. Camp exclaimed as his daughter walked in. Ava blushed in embarrassment and hugged her father.

“hey dad… These are my co-workers Spencer, Emily and Derek. Agents of the BAU.” She pointed at each of them as she said their names. Spencer was first to speak up and hold out his hand, “Dr. Spencer Reid, sir.” Mr. Camp shook his hand, giving him a look over. So. This was the man his daughter was dating. “Please call me James.”

Please don’t say anything, Ava thought. She had told her parents about Spencer but made sure they knew it was a secret. This wasn’t the way she wanted them to meet but oh well. Ava was close with her family and told her mother everything. She was happy her daughter finally met someone. A nice man for that matter. She hadn’t had the best luck with men in the past.

“Mr. Camp, we’d like to speak with you about the recent deaths of your employees.” Emily motioned to his desk.

Ava had left shortly after to speak with a few people in the firm that she hadn’t seen in a while. Morgan conducted interviews with the employees and found out a few things, but nothing stuck out. Spencer and Emily spoke with Mr. Camp about any employees that may have it out for him and the firm, but he couldn’t think of anyone.

“The people of this firm are very close. We’re all like family. I don’t know of anyone who would want to hurt anyone.”

“has there been any employees recently fired that could be angry?” Spencer asked.

“No, I haven’t fired anyone in a long time.”

“What about someone you interviewed but never gave the job to?” Emily glanced through the files of employees.

Mr. Camp thought for a moment, “Actually yes. There was a man who I interviewed a few weeks ago. He had a great resume, but something didn’t sit well with me. He didn’t seem like the family man this firm was looking for.”

“Sir, we’re going to need his name.” Spencer pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

Mr. Camp slipped his glasses on and ran his finger down a list of names, “Ah yes here he is.” He looked up at Spencer and Emily, “His name was Rodger Jenkins.”

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I can’t thank you guys enough for the love and support of this story so far! It means a lot to me. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post the first chapter because it had been a long time since I wrote anything. Thank you again xx

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds one shots #criminal minds fandom #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #spencer reid one shots #one shots #fanfic

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ficbynic · 5 years ago

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T H E M I S S I N G P I E C E - Chapter 1

Story page | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only |

"Isla, look! It's Miss Annabelle!" "Sophie, stay here. You'll see Miss Annabelle tomorrow, we're in a hurry!" "Isla, honey, stop! We have to go!" "Didn't you girls want to bake some cupcakes at home?" Their mothers' warnings and bribing weren't enough for little Isla and her best friend Sophie to stop making their ways to their favourite teacher. Scooting down the school's street pavement, the two seven-year-olds quickly caught up with the woman they elaborately said their goodbyes to just little over an hour ago. Annabelle Davies initially pretended she didn't hear her pupils gasping and talking about her when she walked the pavement along the street near school. Maybe this way, their mums would be able to hold them back. Finishing work early today, she wanted to catch the bus home as quickly as possible, allowing her with some more time to swiftly change clothes and head to the city as planned. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when she found the two girls' mothers had been unable to control their offspring. Strict parents were underrepresented at Wendlesworth High School, an independent, private school for girls aged 3 to 18, in South London. It seemed like the time they had with their children was limited, so whenever they were around, their girls could get away with pretty much anything. "Hi Miss Annabelle!" Sophie and Isla ran up to her, leaving her with no choice but to turn around and acknowledge them. "Hi girls. How was today's after school club?" Annabelle thought about the day of the week. "French today, wasn't it? What did you two learn?" She put her heavy bag on the pavement for a bit and checked the time on her phone inconspicuously. The girls didn't seem to notice. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq," one of them proudly chanted, a smug smile on her face. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Annabelle shook her head in pretend disbelief. "I have no idea what you just told me, Isla," she lied, "That is some great French vocabulary!" "It's not vocabulary! They're numbers!" called Sophie. Meanwhile, the girls' mothers who just collected them from school approached with apologetic looks on their faces. The looks told Annabelle they knew they should've been able to keep their daughters from running up to her. But the looks also held a spark of justification. Annabelle had seen The Look a thousand times by now and knew exactly what it meant. Every teacher at Wendlesworth knew. There was no way any of the parents gave their daughters a bath and put them to bed themselves every night. The fact that this afternoon, the mothers were able to collect their children from school was probably an irregularity. Normally, the girls' nannies would be taking care of that. Though that shouldn't be the reason of lacking healthy, parental authority, Annabelle thought. "I think it's time to say goodbye, girls. Miss Annabelle is on her way home, as well. We don't want to keep her up!" "I will see you two tomorrow, yeah?" Annabelle smiled down to the girls. "Remember what I told you today? There might be some snow when you wake up in the morning!" The girls' eyes lit up and they gasped again. "Is there gonna be lots?" Isla asked. "Mum, maybe we can use my sled tomorrow! Or we can go to Toby's and have a snowball fight!" With the girls' attention now diverted from herself to a much more interesting subject concerning the weather forecast, Annabelle smiled at her pupils' mums, simultaneously expressing regret for bringing up the possibility of snowfall knowing bloody well it would provoke a reaction and the girls' nagging about it could become annoying. The mums didn't seem to mind, gave in to their daughters suggestions, of course they did, and walked off. It hadn't been another minute of making her way down to the bus stop when Annabelle was held up again. "Oh, Miss Davies!" It wasn't a pupil's voice this time, so she couldn't just ignore it. Annabelle closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning around with a contrived smile on her face. It was Mrs. Rodgers. Fiona's mum. Of course it was. She'd already recognised her posh accent. Not that any of the other parents' accents weren't posh, but Mrs. Rodgers' was something else. Annabelle had the pleasure of hearing it quite a number of times the past few weeks, as Fiona Rodgers was a new student in class. "I'm sorry to bother you, I apologise." Mrs. Rodgers walked up to her. "It's just that I didn't manage to see you this morning and wanted to ask you if there's a way we can rearrange the parent-teacher conference we set up last week." "Absolutely. That's no problem at all," Annabelle assured, already making a mental note. "Oh, wonderful. That's lovely, I was already worrying about not being able to make it this term." "Oh, no, don't worry, we can change the date. There's absolutely nothing to worry about, Fiona is doing fine in class. She's really getting adjusted to the other girls the past few days, it's great to see." "I'm pleased." Mrs. Rodgers let out a sigh of relief. "She really does seem to love you, as well, she talks about you all the time." Annabelle's smile finally reached her eyes. "That's lovely to hear." "I will contact you about the rescheduling. Again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience." "Not a problem at all, I'll be available. My phone number is on the school website, you can ring whenever you'd like." Mrs. Rodgers thanked her and Annabelle increased her walking pace to catch the bus she had aimed for. ~~~ "There she is, right on time! What's going on, has the school burnt down?" called Caitlin from the table, as she saw her friend entering. Annabelle rolled her eyes but smiled, arriving at their go-to pub in central London later that evening, making her way towards her friends. "Hiya, Anne, how've you been?" Valerie greeted, "Haven't seen you in ages." "It's been, like, a month, Val," Annabelle commented, kissing her friend's cheek and wrapping her arms around her in a hug. She turned to greet Caitlin next. "Besides, it's always you lot who are busy." She got out of her coat and sat down. "You two alright? What have you been up to?" "You know, same old, same old. Getting back to work. Already failing my new year's resolutions dramatically." "Where's Laila?" "Running a tad late. She just texted," Caitlin informed. "Ah, there she is already, great timing," Valerie pointed towards the entrance of the pub, and the three of them saw their friend nearing. "Look at you! Did you actually beat me this time?" Laila turned to Annabelle, "What's happened? Did the school burn down or something?" She smiled, making the others laugh. "Is this an inside joke I am somehow not aware of?" Annabelle raised her brows. "It's not, don't worry," Caitlin reassured, "Sit down, Lai, we've just ordered wines, how've you been?" "Quite busy to be honest," Laila blinked, taking off her coat and putting it on the back of her chair. "Also, Dave has been a total git the past week. We consciously make an effort to go over our weekly schedules on the weekend, but my lovely husband failed to mention he'd be off to New York City for five days." David and Laila were newlyweds, and despite their little fallout this week, they were still on the newlywed high after marrying last September. David, born and raised Londoner, works as a thriving project developer, accepting assignments all over the country, as well as abroad. Laila grew up as the only daughter of wealthy, Indian doctors, and had followed in her parents' footsteps by becoming a successful biomedical research scientist. Needless to say, money wasn't a worry on either of their minds. With Laila recently turning thirty and talking about cutting down her hours at the lab, Annabelle knew exactly where this was going. In about a year's time, she would probably be sat with her group of friends organising another adorable baby shower, celebrating a perfectly beautiful, soon to be born baby. She could already envision the amazing eyelashes on the kid. "No way! And he didn't tell you at all?" Valerie gasped. "I would go mad if Chris had to leave town unexpectedly." Chris and Valerie. Valerie and Chris. They were two peas in a pot, ever since they started dating in their early twenties. They had been together for over ten years already, four of them as a married couple, and were parents to two beautiful children. Annabelle and Valerie's friendship went back the furthest, having gone to uni together. Both of them were aspiring writers, majoring in English and journalism. It was quite ironic how neither of them ended up in that field. "It was more like a 'By the way, did I mention I'm off to JFK tomorrow evening?' kind of thing. Either way, it was stressful," concluded Laila, "Anyway, moving on. What are you ladies up to, how have you been after the holidays?" "Fine, I've been fine. Getting back into the programme at school. It always takes the girls a bit of time to get back into it after two and a half weeks off, but it's all going alright," Annabelle told her friends, "There's a new girl in my class, though. They moved to the area over Christmas break. It's going well, but some girls still have to get used to having her around, and I have to deal with the worrying mum every other day." Annabelle thought about Mrs. Rodgers and how she had to remind herself the appointment that was scheduled for next Tuesday would be off. She quickly grabbed her iPhone from the table to scratch it from her agenda and make a note. "I don't know how you do it all, babe," Laila complimented, "Just the thought of having any person interrupting my work... I'm so glad I'm pretty much in the lab by myself all day." "You girls wouldn't even believe what the kids get up to these days, it's pretty incredible," Annabelle added. Caitlin shook her head, her eyes slightly widened as to say she was glad she didn't have a clue. One thing Annabelle knew for certain, Caitlin Jones would never have children. "I know, right?" gasped Valerie, "I look at mine and I'm gobsmacked at times, wondering what is going on in their little minds. I can imagine what it must be like to look after twenty of them." "No! No, you can't, Val," Annabelle argued. "Evie is three, Charlie is ten months old, they don't get up to proper mischief. I'm dealing with six and seven year olds all day. Way worse." "Yet you call it your dream job and would go bonkers without any children in your life," Laila smiled. Annabelle couldn't disagree and therefore kept silent. As much as she liked complaining about her kids in school after a long and difficult day, she was more than aware of the fact that she loved her job. She loved establishing bonds with the girls. She loved being able to actually teach them stuff. She loved seeing the kids' development over a year's time. She was truly lucky to have gone into teaching, a career path she hadn't thought of once until the age of twenty-five. "Look at those sparkling, blue eyes!" Caitlin pointed out, "You love it so much, it's endearing to see." She paused for a second. "Astonishing, but endearing." "Speaking of," Annabelle subtly changed the subject, "I have that appointment tomorrow." "Wait. The appointment?" questioned Valerie. "Oh my God, so you went through with it. How are you feeling about it?" Caitlin's eyes were wide. "Alright, to be honest. It's probably just going to be some information about it all, isn't it?" "Yeah, most likely, yeah," Laila imagined, pretending her experience as a biomedical lab scientist was of any use regarding the routine of certain doctor's appointments. "Anyway." Annabelle blinked. "I've managed to get the afternoon off school. Didn't have to mention why. No one besides you three knows, by the way, and I'd like to keep it that way-" "You haven't told your parents?" "God, no." She turned to have a sip of wine, the mere thought of it provoking the need of alcohol. "What about Daniel or Julia?" "Nope." Although no one but her three best friends knew about the pending doctor's appointment, Annabelle did try to talk to her mum and younger sister Julia about what had been on her mind for quite some time when she went home for the holidays. However, the both of them didn't really react the way Annabelle was hoping for, so she promptly decided against going into detail. She didn't feel like telling her friends about her family's stiff reaction, so she just told them her family knew nothing. "Like I said, I'm just starting to read into things, I like to be properly informed, that's all. It's not like I'm off making drastic decisions before telling my family. I'm nowhere near that point, so it wouldn't even be relevant." "Of course. We know you're being smart about this and that you're just gathering information," Valerie said. "Which is the most sensible thing to do at this point," Laila agreed. "Let us know how it goes, though," Caitlin added, "When you've found out something new or when you've decided on going through with... something." "Yeah, of course. Let's meet up for dinner and wines soon. Are you girls free any time next week?" Annabelle asked, already knowing what was about to happen next. Her thoughts were confirmed when everyone grabbed their phone, going over their busy schedules. Sure, Annabelle was quite busy herself, but that was at work. Her evenings would be clear ninety percent of the time, and mostly spent by herself at home. Her friends, however, seemed to have every minute of their days planned out weeks in advance. Visits to the in-laws, appointments at nurseries, date nights with their significant others... Meanwhile none of those kinds of engagements could be found in Annabelle's schedule. As expected, the four friends couldn't find a time to meet up next week. Or the week after. But they agreed on seeing each other again soon, promising they wouldn't let another month go by in the meantime like they unwillingly had previously because of the holidays. The subject of their conversations soon shifted from Caitlin's second date with a rich banker, to what type of handbag Laila would ask David to buy her in New York, to Valerie's confession of wanting to spice up her love life with Chris. Caitlin surely had some tips and tricks for her. Dinner was great. Annabelle appreciated the girls' company, enjoyed the night and felt relaxed on the journey back home as the Northern Line tube brought her back to the south of the river Thames right before midnight. | Next chapter coming soon > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years ago

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burnt lion primary + burnt secondary

hey!! so back in april i sent in a sortme submission, and you ultimately said that u think that i’m a slightly burnt lion primary + bird secondary (snake model). i just wanted to thank u again for taking the time to help me with that! but i just have some doubts still, and some more to say, i’m so sorry if it’s too much or all over the place!

i’ve always turned to other people in my life that i trusted and loved the most to help guide me in almost every situation, because i just get so indecisive, and i feel like i need an outside source to either affirm or deny my choice. but i feel like i usually end up going either with my gut feeling and feeling satisfied, or go with what “sounds” right but end up getting hurt.

If you didn’t say the thing about gut response, I would have described all this as Exploded *Bird.* If you really do feel better/safer/more satisfied going with your gut response, then that’s still a Lion. (Although I’m keeping open the possibility that you’re a Bird who thinks they need to be a Lion for some reason.)

but either way i just feel so guilty, like i can’t help wondering if i made the wrong choice or if i can turn around and choose the other one. so i feel like the whole process is just very burnt lion-y.

It does, yeah.

also, when i said that i felt like everyone develops some sort of improvisational model as an adult, i actually meant to say foundational (i think that’s the term?) secondary models.

I think you wrote the first submission early enough that the terms were still in flux. If you meant to say that you think all adults have learned to model built/prepwork secondaries, that’s completely different, and skews me in the direction of thinking that your Bird secondary might in fact be a model.

also, on my bird secondary, i feel like i might have some lion in there? when i was young, i was quite shy, but when i would get comfortable enough i wouldn’t think as much before i acted.

That’s a human thing, but I’ll keep an eye on it.

and then in middle and hs, there was this internal struggle of not being comfortable enough around certain people to be outgoing and social, to show that side of me to others, and i would be jealous seeing other people just be themselves so easily.

This specific thing most likely relates back to your Burnt primary. Burnt Lion are often jealous of un-Burnt Lions, that’s a thing.

i think back then i viewed it as either not being yourself at all or completely showing yourself to someone.

This could be evidence of Lion secondary… but it could be Lion primary. I’m starting to think that your secondary might have been very Burnt, and you were just living in your primary for a while.

it takes me so so long to open up to people and truly be myself, and even then i may never be my true self, but just peel back certain layers. i feel best when i don’t have to think about what to say, or when i don’t have to think about what’s worked in the past.

This could describe Lion, Snake, Badger mirroring… but I don’t think it actually describes Rapid-Fire Bird.

it can be useful, and i definitely use it more and more every year. knowing what i’m going to do/say helps.

So you model a Built secondary (probably Bird)

especially because i get so stutter-y and scared

Like this is burnt secondary… but it seems like there might also be anxiety or something else going on here. It’s not ethical for me to armchair diagnose though.

but when i peel it all back, i feel like i might be an improvisational secondary. one of the things that i’m proudest of is when i got my first job. it took me longer than my peers to get one because i would get so scared to go to the interview, so i would back out the day before. but during all of those times.

Ouch. Burned secondary (and anxiety?)

i would turn to my family and best friends for help, constantly asking them what to do.

That’s your Burnt Lion again. (Little words in there like ‘constantly’ give this the feeling of… out of control.)

but when i applied for the job that became my first job, i was sure of myself and i didn’t tell anyone until i was going to the interview, in which i told my parents. i felt so much better to act alone and when i was sure of myself,

Oh that’s a Lion primary, unBurning.

and to just go and do it. it was a big step for me. idk if that points to any one secondary, or that still applies to bird.

Gee, that just sounds like a unBurnt secondary. Not even sure which kind exactly. Feels good, right?

i’ve always looked to other people for direction. i get so indecisive or overwhelmed and end up getting overwhelmed and just laying in bed all day, so other people guiding me, specifically my mom and best friend, helps a lot.

I would really, really look into mental health resources and getting yourself a therapist of some kind. The debilitating level of fear you’re describing, and something like lying in bed all day, is starting to sound like clinical anxiety and depression. It isn’t supposed to be that hard, I promise.

but when it comes down to it, nobody can really make me do anything but myself. i’m not gonna do something unless i care about it.

Lion primary.

i find that i do enjoy the process of certain things, like cleaning, learning a new piano/choir piece, or even just driving somewhere. i enjoy doing things for people that i care about (which are a very select few) and enjoy the process of that.

This, this is good. This is a secondary starting to unBurn and take pleasure in things again. Little bits. Little things. But it counts, and it’s a huge step. From this little list, I’m starting to think maybe Badger… but I honestly have no idea. You’ve got a very delicate, healing secondary, and you should nurture that.

i feel like i could be a snake primary with a slightly burnt lion model? i definitely do have a hierarchy of people whom i care about and prioritize in my life, and i get very defensive over certain people in my life. the only thing that i’ve ever felt really strongly about in life has been my family, and making sure that nobody bad mouths them, even if i agree with what they’re saying. but for everyone else who isn’t family, i’ll prioritize certain things over them. for example, when there’s an argument involving my best friend and our other friend, and the other friend is right, then i’ll side with the other friend, but sometimes the best friend could guilt trip me into making me be on their side just because they’re my best friend. idk it’s all so complicated. i can usually see both sides of an argument, and have trouble choosing because they both are valid or true.

Also because you’re Burnt, and because you’re not used to trusting your own takes on things and your own responses to things. I’m not even sure I can responsibly pick though all that. Because you say the only thing you’ve ever felt strongly about is your family, but I strongly suspect that the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to feel strongly about is your family (and your best friend.) And that doesn’t seem to make you feel good and strong, it seems to make you feel… guilty.

At this point I do think Burnt Lion is most likely… but if you came back in a month and told me, I think I’m a Burnt Bird who really likes Lions and was trying to be a Lion… I’d buy that too.

i also like i could be a snake secondary. i feel like i’ve always been quite avoidant since i was a child, but it’s never felt wrong. in fact, it’s felt quite good, to be able to get myself out of a situation, or something that i had to do. i would usually pretend to not be aware to get out of doing something or to hide something, and it usually worked. now, i do it more regularly, specifically to get out of doing assignments for school, or i’ll find a way to get out of giving a presentation but still get points. actually it could be bird still because i try to look at what i’m working with before acting.

Honestly, too Burnt to tell. Because you’re not telling me about how you did things, you’re telling me how you didn’t do things. And of course there’s carry-over, but that’s an important distinction. You easily could be a Burnt Snake secondary, sometimes called the “driftwood” snake. This could be Burnt Lion, shutting down. This could be Burnt Bird secondary even. Badger is the *least* likely I think, because Burnt Badger secondaries like to overwork themselves, especially when it comes to school… but this is an example of Burnt secondaries kind of looking similar. Which they do.

sorry if that was really long and rambly and all over the place. thank u for taking the time to help me!

I hope I did help, a little. Mostly, I hope things will turn around for you.��

#sortinghatchats #burnt lion primary #burnt secondary #burnt bird primary #exploded bird primary #bird model

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gunmetalarchived · 4 years ago

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teaching cee to swim with @consultingsister

SEVERIN He dove in. Head first, pulling his arms back to propel himself forwards in the water. The water was home, even if it was cold and bracing at first. Soon it would be like fresh air, or a warm bath. She had told him so many stories about Italy, he was starting to see the appeal. His head finally broke above the surface, Severin took a deep breath and stood up. His fingers ran through his hair, wiping at his face before he turned back to smile at her. His hands were on his hips, his smile wide. “You coming in?”

CEE Celia likes swimming in theory. Feeling weightless in the water, an whole new world to discover. However it practise it makes her feel physically sick. She’s happier by the side of the pool; sun on her neck, bikini on, a selection of magazines, medical articles and novels at the ready. She makes a non-committal noise, not looking up from her notes. “I can see you perfectly well from here, why would I risk getting my hair wet?”

SEVERIN He pushed the surface of the water towards her, knowing he would get her papers wet. It was worth it. For some reason, she always looked hotter when he was in trouble. “Now you’re wet. Come on.” He sunk up to his neck again, paddling to the edge of the pool. “I promise there’s no sharks in here.”

CEE The pool was deep at either end, no safe spot to stand and make it look like she knew was she was doing. How easy would it be to slip in and pretend she could do it? An image flashes; a wave crashing over her head, a burning feeling in her lungs. “Stop it,” she pulls back her papers, eyebrows coming together. “If you must know--” no, she can’t tell him. “I don’t like swimming.”

SEVERIN “-what?” That thoroughly confused him. The concept was just alien. Years spent with salt stained skin, sand stuck to everywhere and goosebumps from the cold ocean air meant there was no where else he’d rather be than in the water. He splashed again, even at the look on her face. “I don’t believe you.”

CEE "Well I don't believe you don't like shopping in London but there we go." Even Sev, who she genuinely loves, genuinely trust, can't know. It's a family secret; the biggest family secret if you ask Cecelia. How can the brightest girl at Cambridge medical school not swim? Struggle with doggy paddle but not the central nervous system. She swaps out her uni notes for a Vogue magazine. Hiding her face, she coughs and then admits, finally. "I can't, alright?"

SEVERIN “You can’t?” He had to say it again. He was in shock, to be honest. He didn’t think it was realistic that anyone couldn’t swim anymore. He stood up, his face dropping. “Hey, look at me.”

CEE She held the magazine steady, allowing some some of her cheeks to un-redden. She takes a breath and drops the magazine, giving Sev a look that dared him to laugh. "I cannot swim. I could when I was younger but when I was six... we were at the beach in Scotland and I nearly drowned and the only reason I didn't was because Sherlock got me out and... well I don't swim anymore."

SEVERIN Severin pulled himself out of the pool, heading to the lounger opposite her. “Right. So I guess I’ll have to thank him when I meet him.” He was dripping everywhere. There was a pool forming underneath him but it was fine. “It’s a pool. If you wanted to, you could try it. You can see the bottom — and I’ll have you know I do have life guard training. I might not be baywatch ready-“ He laughed, his chest rippling. He took pretty good care of himself. “I’m here. But only if you want to.”

CEE Her look softened as he spoke and she even managed a smile. Anyone else who found out Cee couldn't swim found is hilarious. A severe chink in Cecelia's intellectual chain. It was a wonder that not people found out really. "You look pretty baywatch ready to me..." she mumbled. The heiress gives a little huff, looking between him and the pool. "You'll have to hold me."

SEVERIN He liked it when she smiled. “Hey, my eyes are up here.” He winked, offering his hand out. “Wouldn’t dream of letting you go.”

CEE "I don't have an interest in your eyes." With another little sigh she closes all her books over, pushing them away from the pool and stands up. She looks as if she's about to swim in the Olympics, not in her grandmothers warm pool. "If I drown, you're in big trouble."

SEVERIN “Way to make a guy feel special, eh?” He wasn’t so concerned about being objectified. Even if he was pretty good at faking it. “Maybe, start small.” He knelt down, flopping into the water and standing beneath her. “I don’t think you’re going to be Micheal phelps straight away.”

CEE She felt like a child, sitting down on the edge of the pool, letting her feet settle into the water. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the hot tiles around the edge but she pushes through it. In fact, she pushes off of it, jumping into Sev's arms with small scream. Arms wrap around his shoulders with more force than it looked like she was capable of.

SEVERIN Severin caught her, his arms holding her close so that she’d feel protected. “Honey, I need to breathe-“ he was grinning still. “You trust me, right?”

CEE "Breathing is for pussy's, just hold me." She liked the feeling of the water around her; the hot had warmed it all morning but it allowed some relief from the heat. She bit her lip, letting Sev go a little bit. "No. Yes. Maybe, I don't know it would depend on what you want me to do."

SEVERIN “I’ve got you.” He pushed away from the side slightly, far enough she could still reach with a bit of a stretch. “Just, lie down okay? I’ll have my hands under you, you’ll float but I’m not letting go. Promise. You feel scared, just grab me.”

CEE Celia understood that the water could carry her if she lay still but wasn't quite sure she would be able to manage that. She allowed her legs to come up but as soon as water moved over her face and shouted and went back to holding tightly than ever. "No, no, I did it, I can swim now, let me get back to my reading."

SEVERIN “I promised, alright? I’ll hold your head. Nothings going to hurt you.” He kissed her cheek, softly. He could be incredibly kind, even more so with her. “Just give it a second and you’ll feel yourself float.”

CEE She trusted him when he said that, whenever he said that. She allowed herself to tilt back, winces and then tries again. "Do you remember--" she begins to let go of him. "Do you remember on our first ever round in the hospital and that kid's stitches burst all over me and I had that panic attack for like twenty minutes. You-- ah! You-- had to talk me into being a doctor all over again."

SEVERIN He held her head gently, his fingers in her hair and one hand on her lower back to get her to settle. Only once she was level did he let his hand drift away from her back, just an inch. Just to let her feel weightless. Severin wanted her to know that, and know that he would be here is she needed him. “Yeah. It’s not like you haven’t returned the favour a few times.” He was smart, but not her level of smart. When it came to studying, her patience and drive was incredible. She made him want to learn. “How do you feel?”

CEE "Like I'm going to throw up." Celia was, without even meaning to be, a tense person. Straight backed, shoulders back, flinches when you touched her sort of girl. The feeling of weightlessness was new to her; when she tensed she slipped under the water. She had to relax her shoulders, unclench every muscle. "I... I like it. Don't move though, fuck," as panic surged through her, she slipped under the water again, this time, her whole head submerged but as she rose back up, she was laughing, grabbing onto Sev again. "Fuck," cough cough, "shit!"

SEVERIN “Alright- I’ve got you.” He pulled her up into his arms, holding her close and pressing kiss after kiss against her cheek. Hearing her laugh was a good thing. She didn’t do that enough. Her wet hair cling to his skin but he didn’t care, it was all part of being wrapped up in Cecelia. “See? I think it should be known that sometimes, I have good ideas.” He rested his forehead against hers gently. The sun, the water, her. Heaven on earth of it had ever existed.

CEE "Yeah, that's your good idea for the year, enjoy it." She wipes her hair from out of her eyes, the air seeming cool on her wet skin. Her hands move easily to the side of his face, breathing in for a moment. A first step, a safe set towards learning something new and it was all thanks to him. She had learned a lot in his arms; that there is more to life that grades and your brothers opinions being one. "I'm going to... swim to the edge, don't.... I can do it myself."

SEVERIN It was only a distance of about 3 meters but of course she wanted to. Nothing would stop Cecelia once she got an idea in her head. Maybe, Severin just had to be grateful he was the one planting them. He held her a little tighter. “Not without a kiss for luck.”

CEE "I don't need luck, I'm a Holmes." She kissed him anymore, lips hard against his and pulled away with a "mwah" before practically jumping from his arms. At once she was under the water, having trouble moving her arms and legs the right way. The water up her nose burnt and she could feel the panic rising. Adapt then. The aim was to go up, which she could tell was up because of the glittering light. One push forward propelled her to the side and she came out of the water with a gasp, clinging onto the side. It was hardly swimming but it was a stroke in the right direction. "You see," she spluttered, wiping her face. "I got this."

SEVERIN She didn’t. She made her own luck through perseverance and hard work. And on some level, that scared him. One day, Cee would turn around and realise she had no business being with him. Sure, Severin worked hard. But things just sort of came naturally to him. He didn’t have much ambition, or drive outside of what his father had said was a good example. He just.. existed. As she left his arms with a comical kiss, he watched just in case she needed him. He wanted to step in as her head sunk under the water but held firm. As soon as she was at the edge, he started to swim over to keep her company again. “Well, looks like I’m out of a job as your swim coach. Shall I just head off back to Cambridge now?”

CEE "No," she looked almost alarmed, worried that she might of legitimately offended him. The words of a old friend from school rang in her ears, boys don't like girls who are too independent. At the time she had just scoffed but she had understood her to be true over the years. You have to treat them like children sometimes, telling them they're big clever boys when they do something for you, usually especially when it was something you could actually do quite well for yourself. "No..." she gave a small whine and reached out for him, leaving the side of the poor as she clung to him again. "I have more uses for you than just swimming. Sex in at least every downstairs room before Sherl arrives. All this space has to be used for something."

SEVERIN “When you put it like that, I can think of a reason or two to stick around.” Was it to much to ask that she clung to him like this forever? It was nice, when she wanted affection. It was almost as fun as watching her scrunch her nose up when she had been told she was wrong. He caught her, standing up to spin her around in the pool. “How many downstairs rooms are there?”

CEE "Let's see, there is the formal living room," she kisses his shoulder, following a line of pool water up his neck, "the dining room, the kitchen," as she reaches his ear, she bites softly. "The parlour, a storage room, the ironing room..." as she reaches his jaw, the kisses continue, lingering on his lips before moving down to the other side of his neck, biting hard enough this time to leave a mark. It wouldn't just be a tan that gave away what they did all summer. "Let me know if you're getting tired."

SEVERIN “I see. That’s a lot of rooms.” He moved her to the edge of the pool, pressing her body gently against the wall as her lips covered his skin. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing. “It looks like I’m going to be exhausted.” He held her with one arm, using the other to pull her who and wrap her legs around his waist. “And when we’re done with downstairs, what’s your plan then?”

#discord thread 005 | jump in the pool #( S. M. | v: angsters anatomy )#consultingsister

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nyxeris-rose · 5 years ago

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What the Fork? Ch 2

A/N: Well it’s ADHD awareness month and to be honest I have been having a real beast of a time these past 1.5 months. I still have not been able to be in the perfect mind space for writing lately. For example, I will sit down to write and half-way through a sentence I will start to hyper-fixate on trying to remember what Roman Numeral I had to write to when I was in 1st grade. Was it 1 thousand? 2 thousand? 10 thousand? 1 million?? Then by the time I get back to the sentence I was writing, I am so lost. Sometimes it frightens and discourages me so much that I immediately shut the document down. I will also just break down and cry or I will hyper-fixate on some inane object. I have had hours pass that seem to be minutes and vice versa.

Thankfully, I have been able to write more. Chapter 12 is out on WattPad and AO3. Also, I am now finally putting chapter 2 here on Tumblr. Read, reblog, tell me what you think… pretty please? 🥺

Pairing: Not disclosed to reader yet

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 1542

Chapter summary: It’s Roz’s first morning in 1981.

Roz woke slowly. *Gaahh, that is such a gross smell. And why on Earth is there someone in my bed?* Roz cracked an eye open and peeked around the room. *WHAAAT THE FUUUCK???* She started to silently freak the fuck out. *Not good. Not good. Not good at all. Wait, seriously who the fuck is in bed with me??* Roz was done being silent. Now was the time for ear splitting screams. Roz also lashed out at the stranger elbowing him in the stomach and kicking him a few times in the shins. For good measure, she also kicked him twice in the balls.

Tommy sleepily stumbled out of his bed. “Roz?! Roz are you ok?!” Tommy saw Vince on the floor groaning and clutching his crotch. “Vinnie, dude, did you seriously get into bed with Roz after getting home? Are you ok Roz? Did he hurt you or anything?”

“Seriously T-bone? I’m over here in major pain and you think I did something to her?” Vince groaned.

As she listened to Tommy and Vince, Roz became more alert and remembered where she was. “Mornin’ Tommy. Hey Vince, if I catch you cuddling me in my sleep again without my permission, I WILL hurt you. I will shove my wand up your nose and scramble your brain.”

Nikki stood in the doorway laughing, “Well Vince, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you kicked out of bed by a chick. I thought you’d have freaked out a little less Roz, you know, being the time traveling witch that you are.”

Roz stood up and glared at him, “Shut up Nikki! You had me go into his bed and didn’t warn him I was there to… what? Mess with me?! Were you hoping that he’d do something to me in my sleep?”

Nikki rolled his eyes, “I knew he wouldn’t, and it was a fucking joke.”

“Not a very good one if you ask me,” said Roz crossing her arms. “Ugh whatever.”

Vince looked between Roz and Nikki. “Is anyone gonna fill me in on the babe from the future?”

“Watch it buddy. I’ve got my eye on you,” Roz stuck her tongue out at Vince. “Anyways, shouldn’t we wait for Mick in case he thought of anything else he wants to know? The less I gotta repeat myself the better.”

Tommy looked at the alarm clock, “Well it’s almost 11:30 so he should be here soon for practice. What do you want to do until then?”

*I wonder why I’m even here. What do I want to do anyways? I can’t always just sit here on my ass with the guys. It’s too bad that to get a job or anything I would need a fake ID or something. I know, I could be their babysitter and maid.* Roz snickered to herself at the thought.

“Earth to Roz….1981 to Roz, are you there?” Tommy said poking her on her right shoulder right where she had a giant bruise.

Roz tried to keep from wincing. “Um sorry I guess I spaced out there. I guess we should come up with some sleeping arrangements because I don’t want to wake up to unexpected people in the same bed as me. No offence Vince. Also, I’m sorry for literally kicking your ass outta bed. So, who wants to share a bed with a witch?”

The guys looked between each other. Just as Vince was about to try saying something, Nikki elbowed him and said “Unless we can get another mattress, you should get your own bed. These two goons can either share or fight each other for who gets the couch. Although, you could always share with one of them.”

“Nik seriously? I’ll just try to be at my girlfriend’s more often. I don’t want to risk my brain getting scrambled.” Vince shrugged and walked out to the living room.

Roz was starting to feel the need for some time to herself. “Hey Tommy, do you have another shirt that I can wear? I don’t feel like being in these shorts all day.”

“Sure thing Roz,” Tommy said tossing her a shirt as he walked out of the room.

Nikki just stood there with his arms crossed analyzing Roz. Starting to feel a little hot under the collar, she cleared has throat and said, “Um Nikki, I don’t exactly want an audience while I change.”

With a wink and a smirk Nikki left the room. Roz shut the door behind him. Roz started to think as she got her skirt and started to change. *Ok, seriously, Nikki was being a little weird just now. He didn’t act this nice last night at all. Maybe he’s just trying to get me rattled.* When she took the shirt off she saw that her whole right shoulder was bruised. *Geez did I fall or something when I blacked out?* Roz did her hair in a messy bun and tied the oversized t-shirt at the waist. Knowing how gross the carpet is, she decided to put her boots on. Once she was satisfied with her clothes, she walked out to the living room to find that Mick had already arrived.

“Hey cuz,” she said as she skipped in and plopped onto the couch between Mick and Tommy.

“So teen witch, I hear you kicked Vince out of bed. Good job kid.” Mick said with a small smile.

Roz laughed, “If he tries anything while I’m asleep I’ll treat him like he’s an Egyptian being prepared for burial”

Vince looked at her like she had 2 heads, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I would shove a white-hot poker up your nose and scramble your brain before I pull it out through your nose.” Roz was having a hard time not laughing at the look on Vince’s face. Taking pity on him, she conceded, “Weeeeellllll I would actually be more likely to punch or kick someone I’m not expecting to be in my bed.”

“So, Roz, what did happen before you appeared under the table?” Tommy asked turning on the couch to look at her.

“Well I was supposed to go to a Harry Potter convention where a bunch of fans get together. That’s why I was dressed the way that I was. My friend Katy was supposed to pick me up but she didn’t show up so I started to watch a movie. I was fiddling around with my time turner necklace and then a blue light started creeping up my arms. I couldn’t drop the necklace, or even move at all. Around the time that it was reaching my head I blacked out. I must have fallen because I have a giant bruise on my right shoulder. Next thing I know I’m under your table.”

“What movie were you watching?” Nikki asked suspiciously.

Roz crinkled her nose and questioned, “Why do you care what movie I was watching?”

Nikki scoffed, “Of course I want to know because it might explain why you ended up here of all places.”

Roz thought *I can’t tell them too much about it. I can’t cause some sort of time paradox or change the future. He probably won’t believe whatever I say anyways* She took a steadying breath and said, “It was a movie with a killer rabbit, French people flinging insults and throwing cows, horny nuns in a convent, and empty halves of coconuts. I was also trying to do some research into the classic physics problem of ‘What is the air speed velocity of an un-laden swallow?’”

Nikki snorted, “Well that’s bull shit. You were probably watching something lame and embarrassing, or something really important. Either way, you don’t want to tell us the truth.”

Roz snorted and shook her head at his response, “Of course you just keep on thinking that Nikki. Monty Python and the Holy Grail is just pure awesome, not crazy. Oh and, Vince, my full name is Eva Rozlyn Roberts. I prefer Roz. Also, Nikki decided that I am Mick’s cousin from Wisconsin. Any questions anyone?”

“Well Roz, that’s all well and good, but we might need more of a back story than that. We gotta have a plausible reason why Mick’s adult cousin moved from Wisconsin. Also, we probably should have a good reason why you stay here and not with him.” Vince said.

Roz thought for a moment then said, “Well as to the moving states, I guess we could say I’m recently parentless and that Mick’s the only family member I have. As to why I’m here and not with him would be his girlfriend doesn’t like me.”

“What will you do during the day?” asked Tommy.

“I guess I’ll help you guys with stuff around here. I would cook and clean, ugh I wish I was actually a witch; magic would come in handy when cleaning this place up.” Roz looked around. She saw copious amounts of trash, broken shit, and burnt cockroaches everywhere.

Nikki watched Roz as she looked around. He thought that she might be a little too tame at the moment. With a wicked glint in his eye he asked her, “What about when we party? Are you gonna be joining in?”

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tslasvegas · 5 years ago

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Episode 10: “I ain't gettin fooled a third time.” - Jeff

Darn it. That vote hurt. I mean it's a game, and there's only one winner, but Steph and I had a great time the last time we played, and we played well here too. But our Final 2 tag hurt us. I mean, yes, we had that agreement, but it hurt us. I had to vote her, as there was no other way forward. Even if I used my Steal a Vote, it would not have been enough. Good thing Kailyn spoke up after the vote, so they know it was her who voted with Steph and not me. Hopefully that lessens me as a target. How does Ben have so many advantages. He will be out to win immunity next for sure.

I am actually really sad that we voted Stephanie out. I think there were better options but I guess it had to happen. It’s interesting that is spread so rapidly to everyone else in the game. I didn’t speak to really anyone and yet everyone knew what was happening. There’s definitely some connections going on that I’m unaware of. But also! One step closer to making it to single digits! I just have to survive two more tribals and I’m officially a flop no more! With the Super Idol, technically I can be “voted out” once before leaving the game, if Liv still decides to play it on me. So I’m feeling pretty good about my chances moving forward. The meninist group is a solid 5 I think. That’s almost half the tribe remaining. At this point, I really don’t think there’s a path for me to actually win the game. Unless I take control and start some big moves right away. But we will see.

Okay so it's been a while, and there's a lot to unpack. Merging: In regards to the merge itself, I have very mixed feelings about how the people in the merge are, and how things generally shook out in regards to the tribe divisions. Getting sent in with an instant 7-3-3 should, in normal circumstances, be pretty damning in how an early merge goes. People have a tendency to play safe, lay low, and just ride out the game a little bit before really going for anything. As far as the people we merged with that I had not met yet: Jaiden - Really cool guy, I spend all day talking to him, shooting the shit, just having a good time. Easily top 3 people this season for me. I want to go far with him. Xavier - Kinda neutral on him. I speak to him sometimes, but the conversations do not really have much in the way of depth to him. John - Meh. Doesn't speak a ton, just kind of minding his own business. Kailyn - Doesn't speak to me much at all. We've exchanged a couple of messages, but nothing too substantial. Whatever I guess. Ben - Literally refuses to speak to me. Not sure what his deal is or why he acts the way he does, but whatever I guess. So as a basic assessment, pre F13 tribal, the people I feel best about are Jake, Jaiden, Keegan, and Joey. These are the ones that I should be able to trust, that should be able to get me farther into the game. I feel with this that I'm in a better spot than I was in my previous 2 seasons, because I seem to have alleviated the issue of only having real connections to people on "my side". In Svalbard I was very isolated with Nathan/Rachael/John, and got burnt because the rest didn't want to play with me anymore. In Finland, it felt like more of a dice roll really, but I never got going with Tom/Drew/Bodhi/Zoe, so I was the first to get burnt because my connections just weren't good enough. But now, I should have the means to protect myself on both sides, and make it farther based on that. First tribal comes around, Palazzo has numbers, things should be simple. Ben doesn't talk to people, no one has a problem if he were to get sent home. Easy enough. Andrew makes people a bit wary, but its first tribal, he's not causing any particular harm, and we can deal with that issue later. But then Andrew slips up, he tells Jake that Keegan is the one pushing his name. I'm not sure why he did this, but he did. I confirm with Jake that it was actually Andrew that threw his name out first, but Keegan and I shifted it on to Ben. Whatever, mess is made, but no one says anything, vote should still be Ben. Get to tribal.... Andrew, 9-4. Not one, not two, but three people flip on us at the first tribal, sending Andrew home, and blindsiding myself, Pat, and Stephanie. With this, we're clearly on the outs, and Keegan/Liv/Joey blatantly lied to us. We confront them about it. Get some stories of, "weren't sure how people were feeling, didn't want anything to go wrong with the vote. Andrew was causing problems". Like yeah, okay, I know that that happened, but I had already expressed to both Keegan and Joey that I had strong reservations about how Andrew was approaching the game, and didn't want to have him be in long. I didn't think he's go right away, but clearly I was alright with the idea, yet they let me out. Fool me once, shame on you. Next time, okay votes gonna be simple. No one likes Ben, he doesn't talk to anyone, he just ignores me, he's gonna go home. Fine, everyone's happy. Well of course, we get to tribal, and he plays SWOP. I knew something was up, the way he was acting just wasn't right. Andrew said he was a good player, and I knew something was up when he was just giving up and having needless outbursts. Not the type of play that you'd expect from a "good player". So okay, we go back to OG Palazzo chat. Everyone says "lets vote John". Okay fine. Pat and I get to talking, because we're both close with Jaiden and Jake, and entertain the idea of voting Steph. Figure that we can get ahead of the curve because Palazzo is a mess, set ourselves up for the future. Pat can't change his vote cause he already casted, oops. I vote and play an extra vote because I thought a tie could be risked because I can't count. Vote goes 10-2 on Steph. Yet again, Joey, Keegan, and Liv opted to not say a word about anything to Pat and I. They don't care about us. They expect us to just do what they say, go along with whatever story they tell us before bed, but I ain't havin it anymore. Fool me twice, shame on me. I ain't gettin fooled a third time. These fuckers ain't gonna walk all over us and act like we ain't actual players. If they don't want to work with us, tell us anything, then I don't need them. I'll go with Jaiden and Jake, who are much more fun to talk to anyway, and curbstomp all of them. People already took Rachael from me, I ain't lettin them get any more W's on me.

Stephanie is gone! I can't believe I made it through that cracked ass tribal council, but I used the limited information Ben was providing to me to my advantage. The moment Ben told me what was going on, I swooped to Keegan and John and told them to prepare for the worst - tbh I thought he was going to have an idol or something and we would need to throw votes elsewhere. I think Keegan was the one who said he thought Ben's got a safety without power from his statements and it made so much sense to me. When it came time to scramble, obviously I didn't wanna be the first person to throw a name out there, but once the opportunity presented itself I tossed Stephanie's name out and it basically caught on like wildfire. I told Joey first, then the Meninist alliance chat. There definitely was some push back at first from Keegan, which I'll get to in a bit, as well as I think Livingston a little bit. Then it just caught on FIRE. Suddenly Stephanie's name was going through everything it felt like and every single person was down for Stephanie. For a minute there was a brief insurgence of John names, but I think me throwing Stephanie's name out first was the best thing to happen because once a name was out there, it basically ignited the power keg and there was no way to stop it. I think it could've gone the other way had John's name gone out first tbh... It is just such a relief to have some sort of affirmation that my targets are going home. I feel a lot stronger now than ever before, almost like allowing Andrew to go over Ben last round is giving me an edge like I've never had before. Tbh as much as I dislike Ben as a player, I do kinda hate this circlejerk kind of group hate for the guy because I don't think he's done anything so bad that it makes him a bad person... maybe not the kind of guy I'd associate with in real life... but I'm sure he's chill outside of this. I also don't wanna come across like on this moral high ground where I'm better than anybody because I definitely talk a lot of shit about everyone else, but as somebody who was in the same shoes as him once, I can empathize with how it feels right now. I can empathize because when I played Tumblr Survivor starting out I definitely was really messy for the fun of it and it slowly started to become un-fun when everyone made it their mission to kinda be shitty to me. I don't know what Ben's goal is here and I'm not a specialist trying to diagnose him, but... yeah. I just feel bad that he's being dogpiled by all of us with hateful attitudes is all. ANYWAYS, back to something that matters - me! I finally survived the dreaded second tribal council of the merge. I've already beaten that part from India, now I just need to make it past the next two votes and I've made it to my first goal - single digits!! I know that I'm competing with a lot of people for single digits right now lol but I hope that people wise up and start taking care of the real threats in the game, namely Livingston, John, Kailyn, and Joey. Getting a dark round, I think this is the best thing we could've asked for because like I said before, I think Keegan was holding himself back from really pushing his agenda. I think Keegan is aware how big of a threat John is in these games, so if I can sort of use Keegan's mistrust in John against him, I might be able to swing for a much bigger target this coming round - Livingston. I kinda feel like Livingston is REALLY well-connected on this tribe, he's basically best friends with everyone from Jake to Joey to Keegan to Pat. If I want to free some of those bigger names up, I really need to go for Livingston because his position is SO desirable right now. I think people are cognizant to the danger posed by those four guys, but no one is really looking at Livingston because they love him so much. If I can somehow convince John that getting rid of Livingston benefits both of us, I might take that shot. It's going to come at a huge fucking risk though, but doesn't everything when you're playing in the dark have a big risk associated with it? Then it just kinda takes getting Ben, Kailyn, and Xavier on my side as well and then the shot is literally so close I can taste it. HOWEVER! Before I start hyping myself up right now, I have to focus on what really matters to me - getting to the end. Resume building doesn't need to start at the final eleven. My biggest error in all of my past Tumblr Survivor games is that I start playing the game REALLY hard way too early. I've learned maybe a couple lessons in subtlety along the way, so planting seeds is gonna need to be the way to go. If I start saying things like, "isn't Livingston so cool? He's basically friends with everyone" and "I would like to see Livingston win if I'm not in the end, he's a really cool guy" it'll 1) be super obvious that I want to make a move against him and 2) maybe start giving people the idea that their best friend is their biggest competition in the end. Something doesn't need to happen tomorrow. It's about the long game, too. I just hope for my sake that I'm doing enough to keep my head above water. If tonight was proof of anything, it's that this game is going to get a lot more difficult.

I can't believe that worked so perfectly. Ben does everything I tell him to do, even down to interrupting me during the challenge. He's public enemy #1, and that's another meat shield for me. Stephanie goes - truthfully I feel horrible because she is so sweet - but that's the last person who I wasn't directly aligned with. Also, the Dark Round couldn't have come at a better time. If Ben or I win immunity, I have a plan to get out another big threat. And this is one of my favorite flash games. But at this point I need to act like Ben and I aren't tight. If I make it to the end everyone is gonna hate me. Oof.

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indigosandviolets · 5 years ago

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Assembly and Assualt

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Word Count: 3,351

Summary: Andrew and Luz make it to the assembly area. Liebgott and Andrew have a sweet reunion and Andrew has his first taste of the food in France — a shitty cup of coffee. Andrew gets put on main assault of Brecourt Manor, where his marksmanship is truly put to the test.

Thanks again to @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz for the BoB Script of Day of Days! This part would be nowhere near as good if it wasn’t for your script.

In this part, we get into some canon divergence, as I’ve inserted both Andrew and Luz into the assualt on Brecourt Manor. Luz wasn’t present for the assault, he was probably somewhere in the middle of Normandy trying to get to the assembly area.

Part Four of We Happy Few

Easy Company Assembly Area

June 6th, 1944, 0700

Andrew wasn’t going to be the one to tell everyone about the two Germans he killed. Like Luz had said, he was doing his job. He was going to have to kill Germans at some point, it was what he had to do, he signed up for it. But hearing everyone else, bragging about how many Germans they had already killed, seeing the POWs, it was a strain for Andrew not to think about it.

He lost Luz at some point due to Winters calling him over or a search for coffee for the two of them. Yeah, it was coffee. Someone had to be making it in an ammo box somewhere, and Luz was determined to get some. Anyway, Luz has left Andrew alone with his own thoughts.

“Hey, Pretty Boy!” Andrew heard someone call out. He knew who it was. He turned around to see Liebgott, a smile wide on his face.

“Hey, Lieb,” Andrew said, returning the smile. “How was the jump?”

“Not bad, not bad, aside from the plane beside us going down, it wasn’t too bad,” Liebgott tells him. “What about you?

Andrew laughed, “Not that bad. We were shot at, I’m pretty sure, it wasn’t too bad.”

“Could’ve been worse.”

“How’s that?”

“Could’ve been in the plane beside me.”

Andrew chuckled. It was fucked up to laugh at, he knew it was, but it got his mind off of everything. Andrew knew that he was off, he could feel it down into his bones.

“You talk to that Hall guy yet?” Liebgott asks.

Andrew shakes his head. “No, no, not really. Saw him, didn’t think to talk to him, why?”

“They’re calling that kid cowboy when he’s from Manhattan.”

“That’s like calling me a Cali Boy,” Andrew laughed.

“Well, at least he’s not from the middle of nowhere in Illinois.”

Andrew laughed at that. “Hey, my brother got out, didn’t he?” Andrew bore a solemn smile on his face, maybe that’s why Liebgott pulled him to the side.

“What’s wrong, Drew?” Liebgott asked, placing both hands on his shoulders. Liebgott was softer now, he could feel how tense Andrew was.

Andrew sighed. “There were two Germans on patrol last night. Me and Luz were trying to get here and they came across our path and I didn’t know what to do,” Andrew explains. “We hid behind a bush, and they stopped right in front of us,” Andrew tells. He can see every moment of it, ticking by meticulously slow. “I — Lieb, one of ‘em was a kid. Still had the safety on his gun.”

Andrew wasn’t crying over it, but the guilt washed over him like a wave washed over a pebble at high tide. Andrew wraps his arms around Liebgott’s chest, and Liebgott wraps his around the smaller man’s shoulders. Andrew winces a bit. He hasn’t taken the “posture” binding off in two days. He had flown in a plane and jumped out of it with the binding. He knew fully well it wasn’t good for him, but he had to keep it on.

Liebgott places a kiss on the top of Andrew’s head. “It’s alright, Drew,” Liebgott tells him. “You did what you had to do.”

“I’ve been trying to tell myself that all day,” Andrew says, pulling away. “I know this is war, Lieb, but I feel so fucking guilty. They’re nasty Germans, Lieb, and I still feel bad about it.”

“That’s cause you’re a human, Andrew.”

Andrew looks up at Liebgott. No one’s there. It’s just the two of them, no one’s looking. It almost feels like they’re back outside the movie, except they’ve already jumped out of the damn plane.

Liebgott takes Andrew’s chin, tilts his head up just a bit, and kisses him. It’s hungry, again, like Liebgott hadn’t gotten enough from the last time. There’s a passion there, a burning deep inside that Andrew feels as he kisses him back. Andrew pulls away slowly, looking deep into Liebgott’s eyes.

I’m so happy you’re alive, Liebgott’s face screams out. It’s like they can read each other’s minds. It’s a deeper feeling, now. That wasn’t just any kiss, it was something more complex than either of them could describe.

Andrew kisses him again, slower now. He savors it, holding onto every last second.

Liebgott breaks away this time. Andrew smiles at him softly.

“You still taste like cigarettes,” Andrew tells him.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Anything else you wanna tell me?”

Andrew thinks for a moment. I’m a fraud, Lieb. “You better get out of here before Luz comes back with my coffee.”

“And if I don’t?”

“He’ll get your ass court-martialed.”

Liebgott chuckles. He has no fucking clue, does he? “And not you?”

“He likes me.” More than that.

“Sure, sure,” Liebgott says. He goes in for a quick peck before walking away, a smirk on his face.

Andrew watched as the older man walked away and down towards Wynn and Guarnere.

You’re fucked, Andrew Marin. Royally fucked.

Luz eventually came back with two cups of coffee. “Un black coffee for ze handsome man,” he says in a horrible French accent.

“Needs work, Luz,” Andrew says before taking a sip of the coffee.

“Oh, mon ami, I’m just getting started!”

Andrew feels his face recoil as the liquid washes over his tongue. It’s bitter, burnt, it’s not even coffee.

Luz seems to think it’s in response to the French accent. “It’s not that bad, Jesus, I’ll quit it!��

He coughs as he swallows, shaking his head. “Who the hell made that?”

“Malarkey, I think,” Luz tells him, taking a sip. “It wakes you up, that’s for damn sure.”

“It tastes like boiled horseshit.”

“Better than boiled bullshit.”

“Isn’t that military issued?”

“Yep, straight from Eisenhower himself.”

Andrew chuckles, taking another sip. It’s not as bad this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t taste like shit.

He looks up from his metal mug to see Luz looking at him, his eyes soft, loving. Andrew smiles back at him, getting up and walking over to his side.

“Hey,” Luz says, quietly.

“Hey yourself,” Andrew replies.

“You’re cute when you laugh.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

There’s barely any space between them. Andrew can smell the coffee on Luz’s breath. Despite it tasting like shit, it’s not that bad. Maybe because it’s Luz.

The kiss is gentle and sweet, like Luz. Everything seemed smoother around Luz, like nothing bad was going to happen.

Even though it did.

“You’re so handsome, Andrew.”

“Don’t say things like that, Luz,” Andrew tells him. “I might start to believe them.”

Another kiss. Luz’s hand moves to Andrew’s neck before he pulls away sharply.

“What?” Andrew asks, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Be honest with me,” Luz says.

Oh no.

“Is the French accent that bad?”

You’ve got to be shitting me.

“It’s not...great,” Andrew tells him, sighing. “You’ve only been here for a day, you’ll get it in time.”

“Just what I thought you’d say, mon amor,” Luz says, draping his arm over Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew chuckles. “You’re a romantic even in the middle of a goddamn war.”

“Better than what Sobel would be.”

Andrew lifts up his mug. “Better than Sobel.” he says, taking a long swig. Luz pulls the mug away from Andrew.

“Hey, now,” Luz says. “I don’t want you tasting like boiled bullshit.”

“Well, why not?”

“If I wanted to kiss that, I’d just go ahead and sleep with Eisenhower.”

Andrew let out a fake gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Luz smiles at him with the usual goofy grin. How the hell are we even doing this? Shouldn’t we be fighting a war? “Maybe I would.”

“Oh, General, please don’t take my man away! He’s all I’ve got left,” Andrew plays along.

“I’m sorry, Private, but he’s too damn charming,” Luz says, putting on a deep voice.

“Mercy me,” Andrew says before falling into a fit of laughter. Luz quickly follows, and the two of them were hunched over giggling in the middle of a war.

It only made the next few moments all the more real.

Being briefed was nothing to Andrew at this point. It was nothing to any of them. It was something they did, a mental prep before the full assault.

“The 88s we’ve been hearing have been spotted in a field, down the road aways,” Winters informs the men. “ Major Strayer wants us to take ‘em out. There are two guns that we know of, firing on Utah Beach, plan on a third and a fourth here,” Winters draws on his map, “and here. The Germans are in the trenches with access to the entire battery, and with machine gun cover in the rear. We’ll establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast with two squads of three.”

Andrew only wondered what he would be put on. Probably covering fire.

“How many krauts do you think we’re facing?” Guarnere asks.

“No idea.” Fantastic.

“No idea?” Guarnere questions. He says what’s on everyone’s mind, at least.

“We’ll take some TNT along with us, to spike the guns. Lipton, your responsibility,” Winters says, and Lipton nods.

“Yes, sir,” The sergeant replies.

“Liebgott, you’ll take the first machine gun with Petty, A-Gunner,” Winters says, and Andrew’s heart flutters. A flutter. He knew damn well that Liebgott could take care of himself and he still worried about him. “Plesha, Hendrix, Luz, you take the other. Who does that leave?” Luz was on the same detail, just a different gun. They’d be fine, right?

Andrew raises his hand, along with Guarnere, Malarkey, Buck, the new guy Hall and Toye.

“Compton, Malarkey, Toye, Guarnere, Marin, okay. We’ll be making the main assault. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” they all say together.

We’ll be making the main assault. Andrew’s heart almost stops.

“Alright, let’s pack it up, boys,” Lipton says, and they all leave. Andrew’s still reeling. Main assault. Fucking shit.

“Three canons,” Buck says, and everything suddenly becomes far more real for Andrew. Yes, he had already killed people in this war but now it was time for what was supposed to be a mandated slaughter.

He sees Liebgott set up the machine gun. It was almost like he was watching a different person. Liebgott looked up at him for that split second with a face that screamed, Don’t get yourself killed.

“Take Ranney, envelop right, give covering fire,” Winters tells Ranney before turning to Lorraine. When the hell did he get here? “Lorraine, on the machine gun. Don’t give away your position until you have to. And I want that TNT as soon as you see we’ve captured that first gun. Go.”

Lipton replies with the standard “Yes, sir,” and they’re off to they’re position and Andrew’s back to his.

See, shooting at someone was very different than shooting at someone and being shot at in retaliation. The Germans seemed to have a never-ending cycle of bullets coming, flying by your head and shoulders and anywhere on your body that seemed to even slightly move.

Winters pulls the men away from Liebgott and Petty and through the trenches to the first 88. Then, of course, someone gets shot. It’s a damn war, everyone gets shot.

It’s Wynn who goes down and Andrew can’t tell where he’s been hit. Doc Roe isn’t here, and neither is Spina, so no one can call for a damn medic.

While Wynn is screaming about being sorry, a grenade is thrown into the trench. Winters yells at Toye to roll and he does, covering Wynn from the blast as well.

“Guarnere, Malarkey, Lorraine, secure that gun! Compton, Marin, covering fire!”

“Yes sir!” Andrew and Buck yell, and Andrew begins the fire while Buck checks on Wynn.

“Where’re you hit, Pop?” Andrew heard from behind.

“I can’t believe I fucked up. My ass, sir,” Wynn replies. The man’s been shot and he thinks it’s his own damn fault.

“Your ass?”

His ass? How the hell did he manage to get shot in the ass?

Winters and Buck haul him out of the trench and give him his gun. Popeye can make it back, he’s sure of it.

As Andrew keeps the covering fire, Buck drops his grenade.

“Grenade!” Buck shouts, and Andrew jumps out, back towards Popeye.“Toye! Get out of there!”

Except, Joe’s not out of there. Andrew’s heart drops as it goes off. Buck’s the first one back in there, to check on him, but Toye’s there, alive.

“Jesus Christ, fucking twice,” Toye says and Andrew can’t help but laugh.

“You lucky bastard!” Andrew laughs out. “Fucking twice!”

Approaching the second gun, no one expected any of the Germans to be alive after Buck popped another grenade into one of the fox holes.

“Nicht schiessen. Bitte, nicht schiessen. No make dead!” The soldier shouts at Toye, but to no avail. None of them know German. Would fucking kill to have Lieb here right now, Andrew thinks. He knows German, he can speak it too. Tell him enough to just shut the fuck up.

“Shut up,” Toye tells him, but the German doesn’t listen.

“Nicht schiessen. Nicht schiessen.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Toye points his gun at the German, which just makes him even more terrified.

“No make dead, no make dead-“

Joe finally decides to shut him up by punching him with his brass knuckles. How the hell did he keep those on the jump?

“Hey, Toye,” Andrew says. “Our goal is to kill Germans, not knock them the fuck out.”

“Got him to shut up, didn’t it?”

Andrew couldn’t argue with that.

As Andrew and Toye go back to covering fire, Andrew sees something truly bizarre come up from the trenches. It’s enough to make the Germans stop their fire.

It’s Malarkey, out in No Man’s Land, looking for something on the German’s. He’s checking their sidearms.

That man wants a goddamn Luger.

“He’s gonna get himself killed,” Andrew says. “He’s gonna get himself killed over a Luger.

Andrew swears he can hear Lieb yelling at Malarkey to come back, and he does, no sidearm in hand. Mission failed. Now get the fuck back here before the Germans realize who you are.

Malarkey rushes back, not a scratch on him, and he comes back around to the second gun with him and Andrew and Toye continue their covering fire. They’ve got to do it. Andrew feels the rush of a bullet pass over his head but he keeps firing. You have to. You’ve got no other choice.

Eventually, Andrew runs out of ammo. He looks around, frantically, trying to find something.

“Shit!” He shouts out before getting out his side arm. He’s got no other choice until someone finds something.

Andrew aims carefully and fires, hitting a German who just had his head a little too far out of the trenches. The man’s down — Andrew has either killed him or grazed him, but he’s down nonetheless.

No other Germans are up that far out. “Jesus, I need something, sir,” Andrew tells Winters.

“I’m trying, Marin!”

Like that, Sergeant Speirs was back with ammo, Some in his hand, some draped across his arms, but a good deal on his shoulders and neck. It was like he had raided the German’s supply house and took it all for himself.

“Winters, Hester said you needed ammo!” Speirs says, handing over some of it. “Mind if D Company takes a shot at the next gun?”

Winters nods and hands Andrew some ammo, but gives most of it to Malarkey to redistribute.

Andrew reloads and he’s back to his M-1, firing at the Germans.

He can only blink twice before Speirs has the first gun secured. What a hell of a man.

A bullet goes past — Andrew’s down into the ground. The wind’s knocked out of him and he’s looking around frantically. Everything is muddled, watered down. The pain is throbbing and white-hot and he can’t begin to think of where it’s coming from.

“Marin!” He hears someone shout — Lipton.

Lipton pulls Andrew up into a sitting position. Andrew can feel the warm wetness of blood trickling down into his ear and down the side of his neck. He reaches up and feels for his ear — it’s there, just not intact.

He blinks a few times. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he reassures and grabs for his gun again. He can’t stop. The pain may hurt like a bitch but you can’t stop — nothing major was hit, so he has to keep going.

“Compton, police ‘em up, then pull out! Lorraine, Marin, Toye, move out!”

Andrew follows orders and he’s out and running back, M-1 in hand, like the rest of the men. Everyone’s still shouting, but it’s all a wet muddy pile of sound in one ear.

Lieb’s gonna kill you for this.

Andrew’s got his own little fire going and he’s “stew” out of an empty ammo box when Liebgott joins him. He’s cleaned up all the blood and discovered that a bit off the top of his left ear is missing. It’s not a lot, but it’s a hell of a lot more than a graze.

“I thought I told you not to get yourself killed, Drew.”

“You never said it,” Andrew replies, stirring the liquid in the box. “You looked it, though.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really, Lieb.”

“Andrew,” Liebgott says, making Andrew turn to face him. “I’m serious. If that bullet was just two centimeters to the right—“

“I know, Lieb, I know,” Andrew cuts him off. “You don’t think I’ve gone over the odds of it all myself?” Andrew pauses. “That Hall guy? He died, Lieb. I never got the chance to meet the Cowboy. Why do I get to live and he doesn’t?”

It’s quiet for a moment. Liebgott moves closer to Andrew, slipping his arm around the smaller man’s waist. He presses his forehead to Andrew’s.

“Promise me,” Liebgott says, “Promise me you’re not gonna die.”

“I promise,” Andrew replies, “If you don’t die either.”

“I promise.”

The kiss is soft, and Liebgott tastes like cigarettes and whatever alcohol he had in the douche and a half.

“Are you drunk, Lieb?” Andrew asks playfully.

“Nah, just a little bit of spirits to lighten the nerves is all,” Liebgott replies, pulling Andrew in closer. They kiss again, and Liebgott nibbles on Andrew’s lip before moving down and kissing along his jawline to his neck.

Andrew stifled a moan before he felt the little bit of a bite from Liebgott.

“Joe!” Andrew says, pulling away a bit. “You can’t leave any marks, we’ll get caught.”

There was that look in Liebgott’s eyes, one Andrew had seen a million times before. It was that sheer look of not caring, but now it was backed by a hunger, a deep want for more.

“I promise no one will see it,” Liebgott says before kissing Andrew again. Andrew nods and Lieb’s back to his neck, now unbuttoning the top of Andrew’s shirt. It’s just enough for Lieb to get to a spot that no one will see, and he’s quick about it too. Andrew’s back to buttoning his shirt back up in almost a minute.

“You’re a cheeky bastard, Lieb,” Andrew tells him, getting his food off of the fire.

“Not enough of a bastard to keep you from feeding me,” Liebgott says as Andrew pours some into Lieb’s mug.

“Oh yeah?” Andrew says, pulling away the ammo box. “Keep it up and see where that gets you.”

Andrew can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, but Lieb goes back for Andrew’s neck, kissing it one last time.

“Joseph Liebgott, I swear to god, I’ll beat your ass.”

“I wanna see you try, Drew.”

Andrew hits his shoulder with a spoon and Liebgott laughs. The sound seems to carry through the Assembly Area, all around them. Despite the still muddled part of his ear where Andrew hadn’t gotten out all of the blood, the sound of Liebgott’s laugh was as clear as crystal.

It was almost enough to make you fall in love with him.

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#bill guanere #carwood lipton #popeye wynn #dick winters #joe toye #andrew marin #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x oc #george luz #george luz x oc #band of brothers fanfic #oc fic #we happy few #band of brothers #donald malarkey

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