#like the bit where will is a weeping mess asking for help while in prison

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[hacked-by-jake]

Hey!

I've just got broken up with after 3 years because he cheated on me with multiple girls... (And blamed me for it)

Can I please request some Jake fluff? I leave it up to your artistic freedom, I just wanna feel better for a bit

Love your little stories, thank you for writing ❤️

The Truth

A/n: Hey dear, I hope you’re okay, I’m really sorry about what happened to you and thank you for telling me that. The words I will say are known from everywhere but they are true.You definitely deserve something much better than him. First of all, it is not your fault that he cannot control himself; it is not your fault that he cannot see your value. He doesn’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve to listen, it’s your fault. Even though it’s always easier said than done but you have to forget it. He's not worth your time, he's not worth your power, and he's not worth anything else. I wish you much strength and send you much love. Feel hugged and if you want to talk to someone you don’t know, feel free to write to me❤️❤️❤️

So, when I saw your message, I jumped right up to write this. I really hope you like it and that it will cheer you up a bit. I wish you a wonderful evening/ a wonderful night or a wonderful day. Take care of yourself. And thank you for the sweet compliments.❤️❤️

Summary: Jake tells you the truth.

Words: 2,1 k

Far away from you, you can hear the quiet bells of the church beating. It’s exactly 12 a.m. on a beautiful summer night.

The cloudless and pitch black sky offers a beautiful view of the sea of stars that sparkles above you and Jake and gives you the feeling that this is the eternity. On the edge of Duskwood town centre, on an abandoned high-rise, you sit cuddling with the Hacker and just watch the Quiet Night. Only occasionally cars drive through the streets of the small town, again and again lights go out in apartments and houses to end the day. The large windows of the shops and stores of the shopping street light up brightly and from up here the few people who are on their way home look like like little ants. You’re leaning your back against Jake’s upper body, and he’s got his arms wrapped around you. His head rests on your shoulder and your legs are knotted together.

You look up at the sky and watch the stars. Every now and then a plane flies by and you imagine yourself sitting up there with Jake on your way to your deserted island.

A beautiful holiday destination that you have traveled two times. A cute little wooden hut surrounded by white sand and crystal clear water. It is just perfect. You remember the moment when you were lying in a hammock with Jake in the middle of the night, under the starry sky and the moonlight, and he read you something from your favorite book. As beautiful as this moment was, as beautiful is this one too. In Jake’s arms, you feel like you own the world, like everything else is standing still and only you and Jake count. And it’s true, up here, it’s just you, him and the eternity.

Satisfied, you sigh, "It’s so lovely here, isn’t it?"

"You're right. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world," Jake whispers in your ear and breathes a tender kiss on your cheek, making you giggle. You turn your head a little to the side to see him, "I’m talking about the sky." He grins slightly, "And I’m talking about something even more beautiful."

Your cheeks turn slightly red and you are glad that it is not visible through the little light. Even after two years of relationship, he still manages to flatter and embarrass you, but the other way around it’s the same.

"You charmer" you joke and turn your head away from him again.

"No, I’m not a charmer. I am a man who only speaks the truth!" He whispers and draws you even closer to his body.

"Oh interesting, and what is the truth?"

He makes a superior sound, "Turn to me," he demands and lets you go so you can move. You do what he asks and turn to him. You sit between his outstretched legs and put your legs over his thighs and slide very close to him.

"Now, I am curious," you wink and look into his eyes that radiate so much love and security that you would like to cry the most, that you have the feeling that a whole zoo would rage in your belly, so tremendously tingles your whole body.

„The truth is that you are the most beautiful thing that could have happened to me. Before, I always felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. As if I were superfluous everywhere and nowhere would a person really understand me. I thought it was my destiny to be misunderstood by everyone and to be an outsider. But when I met you, with your extraordinary kind and your jokes. With your courage and your trust in me, I understood it wasn’t true. I realized that all I had to do was wait for the right person that I found in you. Since I know you, my world is colorful, I see the future and I don’t just live for myself. Or rather, I don’t just exist. Since I know you, my whole life has changed.

When I’m with you, there’s no place I’d rather be. You’re the last thing I think about before I fall asleep, even when you lie next to me every night. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, even if you’re half on top of me.

When I look into your beautiful eyes, I can see my future. I never looked for love until you came. I didn’t know that I longed for love and affection, I didn’t know how beautiful life can be. I didn’t know there was a person who made me feel what you made me feel. I had no idea that all I needed was you.

Before, it was just me and my computer. Trying to be anonymous and not letting anyone get too close to me even though that’s what I secretly wanted. All of a sudden, you made my world shine.

Everything I never thought possible became possible when I met you.

You know, MC, there’s flames, but you’re the fireworks, you’re the light that makes me see. Your eyes are my refuge, your touches are my salvation, your voice is my favorite music. Your smell is my healing, your lips my protection, and your love, my life. Your heartbeat is what keeps me alive, I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t know how a life without you at my side was and is possible. When you enter the room, stops my heart for seconds and then beats twice as fast because you take my breath away.

Every time I look at you, I doubt whether this is the reality. Because I just can’t imagine how someone like you, so perfect, so beautiful, so sweet and tender, can be with me.

I know I talk a lot of messed up and confused stuff and I’m probably repeating myself, but if you could just feel what’s happening inside me while you’re sitting here with me, you’d think I’m crazy. And I am.. I am crazy about you.

I forget the simplest things around you. I forget how to talk and stutter all the time. Breathing is a hard thing too, because my emotions roll over when you’re there. I forget how to walk because I only have eyes for you and no longer look forward.

But I also forget all the bad, I forget all the pain, all the suffering, all the unhappiness. All thanks to you.

When I tell you something, you listen to me and you don’t just pretend. You’re interested in things I like, and even if I tell you boring computer stuff for hours, you listen to me carefully. If I’m not well, you leave everything behind to help me; if I’m happy, you’re happy with me. If someone treats me badly, you say something before I say something myself. You’re defending me from everyone and you’re defending me even if I’m not there.

MC, no one’s ever done this for me.

My heart is beating so fast I think it’s bursting. I feel drunk when you look into my eyes and confuse my mind, I feel so safe and loved. I feel like a human being since you’ve been at my side.

You showed me what happiness means, you showed me what love means. You showed me what life means and how beautiful life can be when you spend it with the right person.

I thank everyone out there that I can have you by my side. That I can be the person who is by your side, who may hold your hand, who may kiss you.

Who can sleep next to you, who can look at you all the time, who can protect you, and I always will. I will protect you from anything that could hurt you.

I would endure any pain in the world to stay by your side.

I would take any pain away from you so that it doesn’t hurt you, I would do anything to maintain your happiness and love. You are my God damn world! You are my angel, my heart, my one and all. You are my freedom and you are my prison, you are my happiness and my pain. You are everything, everything important in this world.

I wish I could describe to you how strong my love is for you but unfortunately there are not enough words to express it. And it drives me crazy that I can’t describe it to you, because I would love to.

I would like to express to you how damn much I love you because you deserve to see how I see you. Because you deserve to hear how perfect you are.

I love you so much that sometimes it scares me because I don’t know how to deal with it if you would to disappear from my life. I would never be happy again MC, I would never laugh again, I would never live again, it would break me, my dear.

We have too much in common. When you go, I go with you, when you cry, I weep with you, and when you live, I live. The truth is, all I am today and what I stand for is because of you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are all that matters to me, I love you so much that my heart hurts. You gave me a life."

Like frozen you stare at him.

You’re not moving, any more than you were during his entire speech.

Silent tears run from your eyes like little streams. Laughing nervously, the hacker also wipes away some tears that he has lost while he poured out his heart and laid it at your feet.

"I also don’t know where that came from," he murmurs in embarrassment and clears his throat.

You don’t know how to react, should you fall into his arms and crush him? Should you kiss him until you can’t breathe? Should you just burst into tears? Or maybe all together?

Your head has trouble processing all its words and your associated feelings, you don’t know if this is really happening. Whether that’s real, whether you’re awake, whether you’re even alive.

It all seems like a dream, like a dream you never want to wake up from, but that’s the beauty. This moment is real, and it is yours.

"Please say something" his voice trembles slightly and he looks up into the sky, "I am afraid that you get up and run away after what I have said."

The worry in his voice finally lets you break out of your trance. Stormily, your arms wrap around his neck to pull him into a hug. From the momentum and the suddenness he has no chance to hold himself upright and tilts with you to himself, backwards. He groans painfully as he comes up on the ground and remains rigidly lying down. You’re hanging on him, clawing at him like someone’s trying to pull you away from him, hiding your head between his neck and his shoulder. Loudly you sob up and a tremble shakes your whole body.

"I love you," you croak weepy. Your voice sounds as if you have excruciating pain, but at this moment you are the happiest person in the world. "I love you so much Jake, so unbelievable that it hurts"

"I love you, too, my dear," he whispers and wraps his arms tightly around your upper body.

"I don’t know what to say. Or rather where to start" a little laugh leaves your lips, "I don’t know how to give it all back to you."

Jake grumbles, "You don’t have to answer or return anything. Please don’t say anything and take it like that," he asks, "Don’t say anything and just kiss me."

Of course you’ll grant him his wish right away. You straighten up and wipe the tears from your face. You put your hands on his cheeks and look deep into his eyes. He smiles as he wipes a few strands of hair from your face and pulls your head down to him and closes his lips with yours.

You stay there until the sun rises.

🌹🎭

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏʏᴀʟ ᴅᴏɢ | ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ!! ᴀᴜ ; ᴀꜱꜱᴀꜱꜱɪɴ!ᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ x ʏᴀᴋᴜᴢᴀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ⚠️ɴꜱꜰᴡ [19+]⚠️

So I may or may not be in a major mood. I haven’t seen a lot of Femdom stuff, so I really wanted to write something for it with the boy I simp the hardest for-- I love Akaashi to bits and pieces so I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did with writing it!

TW: Torture, mutilation, Femdom ; BDSM ; Sadism ; Masochism ; Bondage ; Facesitting ; Pegging ; Strap-on ; Gags ; Pet Play ; Collars ; Leashes ; Breathplay ; Whips ; Marking ; Overstim

》》Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

“Kill the traitor.”

The command was simple. Fear swam through the air as the scent of sweat and tears merged into a distasteful smell. The figures that all sat kneeled in perfect alignment along the walls watched as one of what they considered their own, was brutally tortured before their eyes. Their blood and guts splattered the once clean tatami mats as garbled pleas for mercy escaped their lips. 

Though this was quickly silenced as piercing gunmetal blue eyes stared down at the parasite that dared to harm the head of the clan. It didn’t take the guard dog of the Fukurodani clan long before easily slicing the traitorous scum’s head off. Glowing (e/c) orbs watched with boredom as the head rolled before her favorite dog returned to her side. 

A simple suit adorned her body as she sat on her throne. 

“I expect this to never happen again. Are we clear?”

Hurried sounds of agreement flourished throughout the once unsettling silent room before she held her hand up once more to silence the room. 

“You all are dismissed. I expect to not be disturbed for the rest of the evening.” 

In an instant the room cleared leaving only (L/n) (y/n) and her loyal guard dog Akaashi Keiji.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned comfortably into her chair as she felt his chin gently prop itself on her thigh. Glimmering gunmetal eyes focused solely on her as she lazily brought a hand up to run her fingers through his black locks. 

“Hm...perhaps I should reward my loyal dog for bringing the traitor forth...”

Immediately the grip around her leg became prominent as she finally brought her gaze over to the expectant male’s as he preened into her touch. A light chuckle escaped her lips as she continued to pet him before bringing that hand down to the base of his throat. Eagerly, Akaashi tilted his head up as his unwavering gaze met her own. 

“What a good puppy...very well. Let’s play a game.”

Akaashi perked at the mention of the game, excitement already simmering in his abdomen as thoughts of their last game bubbled to the surface. Though just as he was about to ask those (e/c) orbs pierced deeply into his soul as she got up.

“Well? Prepare yourself. If you do well, perhaps I’ll give my little pervert of a dog a chance to eat his master’s panties.”

Another stroke of heat fanned the flames as he fumbled quickly, tugging at his clothes as he searched desperately for her favorite collar. The one that she always used to call him her pretty boy in. (y/n) couldn’t help but watch with amusement as the terrifying assassin of Fukurodani stumbled with the grace of a newborn pup as he hurried to please his master. 

The loyalty he held was truly too cute.

As he took his time searching for his favorite collar she went ahead to collect the toys she’d use this time. Beautifully spun deep crimson ropes were thrown behind her as she went through her various types of whips before settling for a simple flogger and holed paddle set. Humming in appreciation, she continued her search before finally finding the beloved strap on. After all, it had been quite some time since she’s gotten to see her favorite pup beg for cock. 

As she turned to reorganize her belongings she couldn’t help but coo at her good boy. Seated naked-- save for the leather black collar around his throat-- and eagerly on his knees in the center of the bloodstained room was Akaashi. 

“What an eager pup. Bring me your leash.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Akaashi leaned forward as he took the leash into his mouth before crawling his way towards her. As he moved, she couldn’t help but admire the curve and ripple of muscle as his scar littered body was brought before her as he gently dropped the leash before her feet.

Letting out a pleased sigh, she leaned down, briefly removing her heels and slacks as she watched with amused eyes at the absolutely hungry look Akaashi was giving her. Those piercing orbs never leaving her hands as she slowly pulled off her panties. 

“You want? You beg.” 

“Please please please pleaseplease stuff me full master---hmmp!”

Easily, a muffled moan escaped his full mouth as he chewed on the panties that were crammed into his mouth. Yet before he could even attempt to mutter his thanks his face was pressed deeply into the ground as he almost choked on the fabric. His body squirmed as he felt heat ripple against his leaking cock as he could smell-- practically taste her against his lips as she sat on his head. The familiar weaving of rope brought another sense of pleasure into him as he let out another unabashed muffled moan as his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of helplessness.

The only feeling he ever felt with his beloved master. 

Lost in his imagination, (y/n) finished up her handy work of weaving beautiful yet constricting patterns around the assassin’s body before snickering as she pulled herself up. A wonderfully set frogtie graced her sights as she pet him.

“Looks like you’re enjoying those so much...perhaps I’ll just stuff you full and make you my personal laundry machine.” 

A sound of confusion came from the male as he blearily brought his gaze back up to her before sputtering as a second pair of panties were pushed into his mouth before a couple of strips of medical tape was plastered over his lips.

“Perhaps if you do a good job washing them you’ll be upgraded to a pup who can eat a decent meal.” 

Another unabashed muffled moan came out of the male’s mouth as he eagerly chewed and toyed with the newly placed gag. His jaw eagerly working away at attempting to remove the tape and fabric now crammed into his mouth. 

Distracted by this, Akaashi failed to noticed his master walking around him before a sharp yet pleasure filled strike snapped him out of his thoughts as bleary and tear filled eyes snapped to attention towards his master.

“Fmmmpf....himmpf mmpf mmprf~.”

Though incomprehensible, (y/n) knew all too well what that look was telling her. Without a moment’s hesitation she sent a flurry of strikes against the bound assassin’s ass as muffled cries filled the room. Stars filled his vision as the precum that stained his chest came close to becoming a white mess of hot pleasure. Yet before he even reached that much needed climax she stopped.

Sobbing into the fabric, he pleaded-- rather begged for his release as he crawled towards her, his cheeks rubbing against her shin in an attempt to ease her into giving him another reward, yet before he could even blink he was thrown onto his back, his weeping cock laying flat against his stomach as she pressed the heel of her foot into his hardening cock.

“What a mischievous pup...did you really think that I’d let you off this easy little one?”

Tears blurred his vision as pure white pleasure filled his vision as he eagerly grinded himself against the pain she brought him as she continued to squash his weeping cock. 

“What a little slut. You enjoy the pain I give you? do you pup?”

Adding more pressure caused another high pitched muffled wail to tear through his throat as he keened at her with a whimper. Leaning forward, she hooked a finger through the ring where the leash would’ve attached, and with a strong tug she brought him towards her as he grunted. Watery blue eyes and beautiful long lashes decorated his features as nothing but pain and pleasure filled his vision. The beautiful shade of red that stained his cheeks was porn worthy as he tried his best to get closer to his beloved master. 

“Since you seem to be enjoying my panties so much...how about I let you drown in my jucies, hm?”

“Hmmpf? Hmmppf!”

Before Akaashi could even question it he was thrown back onto his back. A breath knocked out of him as he inhaled through his nose deeply before his senses were taken over with his master’s lovely pussy. Immediately his senses were assulted by her scent as he eagerly pressed his face into her. His tongue desperately pushing against his confined prison for a fresher taste of his master. 

His pupils already were beginning to roll up into his head as he struggled to breath with her pussy pressed against his face. Desperate muffled moans filled the room as she grinded against the assassin’s face. Her juices smearing his face as he bucked his hips struggling to get air while wanting to so desperately eat his master out. 

As his vision began to blacken he felt another rough spurt bubbled against his abdomen as his cock eagerly twitched with a load ready to explode. Yet before he could feel his body begin it’s descent into a struggling pleasure filled orgasm his master got up. A breath of fresh air hitting him as he coughed and sputtered as tears streamed down his face. Another orgasm gone from that as he began to blabber muffled nonsense behind his gag as he squirmed on the floor. 

Though before he could begin howling the tape was removed and the panties were fished out of his mouth as his tongue eagerly lapped at the remnants of her juices around his lips as his drool began to dribble down his chin. 

“If you do a good job bringing me pleasure...I’ll give you that cock you’ve been so desperate for all week Keiji.”

Hearing his name fall from her lips had him eagerly bucking his hips up into nothing as he stared at her with lust and want. His tongue immediately licking his lips as she settled herself on his chest.

“How does that sound ~ Hm?”

“Fuck...please, please, please~ I’ll give you all the pleasure you deserve master, just fuck me with your fat cock after..please~”

Without a moment’s hesitation she was on him again, pussy pressed firmly against his face as he eagerly began lapping at her sensitive walls. Akaashi strained against the ropes, his hands itching to just dig into the hips of his master to bring her dripping pussy closer to his eager tongue. 

Messy and erotic slurps filled the room as he continued to eagerly please her. His tongue reaching deep into her as his eyes began to roll up into his head again as the feeling of lightheadedness filled his brain again. The thrill and lack of oxygen he was receiving brought another pang of heat into his stomach as his cock eagerly twitched, hoping to finally be able to cum. 

The icing on the cake that brought him over the edge though was the grunts and lewd moans coming from his master. Her flushed cheeks making her ethereal and godly in his eyes as she bit her lower lip to hide her noises. That of course failed as he managed to reach her sweet spot, and in the next he felt her body come undone as he eagerly lapped up her orgasm. The sounds worthy of being in a porno as she finally moved to give the male a breath of fresh air. His face thoroughly fucked and glowing as he awaited to get fucked brainless by her. 

“Fuck...such a good dog...” 

In response he gave her an eager bark as he strained against the ropes before feeling his face flush even more as she finally brought forth the strap on. The sight of it only seemed to fan the heat in his belly even more as he watched her absolutely mesmerized as she slid herself into the device. A sadistic grin on her face as she pressed the tip against his lips, and like a good boy, Akaashi opened his lips as he eagerly took in the cock. His moans once again muffled by the girth and size of the toy that was about to enter him. 

It ended up being short lived though as she finally pulled back before flipping him onto his stomach. An unabashed moan broke through as he felt her fingers pressing against his aching hole. The precum that splattered against his chest becoming his lube as he pressed his cheek into the mat. 

Eagerness to be filled by his master increased as she began to finger his ass. Slowly spreading and stretching his hole for her as more and more moans filled the room. 

“Fuck...ah~ fuck...shit...please, pleasepleaseplease~ hurry and fill me with your cock master...fuck...”

Like a broken record, Akaashi pleaded with her as she began to toy with his hole. With three fingers in and each slowly yet tauntingly toying with his sweet spots, he swore he was going to pass out before he’d even get the dick he was craving. 

Then, finally, he was gifted with what he had been waiting for. Though he missed the absence of her fingers, the sudden girth and length of her cock finally filled him that he let out a broken and hoarse moan as he tried so hard to adjust. His cock began weeping. A bright red shade flushed his body as he felt tears dribble down his cheeks. Of course the moment of peace he had once she was in was shattered as she began to relentlessly pound into his hole. More broken moans filled the room in a hypnotic melody as he threw his head back.

The tension continued to fill him as he timed his thrusts with hers before he was suddenly flipped, his position changing as she began thrusting further deeper into him than before. 

“Ah~! F-Fuck, shit shit shit! Unngf~~ M-Master~. Fuck~!!!”

Immediately his body began to twitch and squirm in pent up pleasure before he roughly came. His seed staining his abdomen and chest as he breathed heavily before panting heavily as he let the stars in his eyes take over briefly before his eyes snapped tp her feral gaze. 

“M-Master?” 

The rocking of her hips had alerted him and immediately he could feel pleasure build up again as she began to thrust slowly, steadily increasing back into her earlier feral pace as gasps and broken moans came out of him like a broken record. His eyes rolling back into his head as he gasped and groaned.

“A-Ahhhng~! F-Fuck, t-too much~! Oh shit, oh shit~!! Fuck ahhh~ ah~ ummmmng~ M-Master~!”

Sobs came out of the assassin as another bout of pleasure hit him hard like a train. His body squirming and straining against the crimson binds that bound him to her as he reached his second orgasm in a matter of moments.

Slowly, he could feel her pull out. His mind absolutely much as his body fell slack against the mat as she began to leisurely remove his binds. The stench of lust, sex, and sweat permeated the air as she sat leisurely next to him. His head on her lap as she pet his sweaty hair. Those blue eyes slowly fluttering to sleep as he nuzzled up to her even more. A large terrifying guard dog who only broke before his master.

“What a good puppy...you’re my loyal dog, aren’t you Keiji?”

“Always f-for you master (y/n)...”

[angelthefirst1]

Beth repeats everywhere.

Okay so I'm back and excited about the upcoming episodes and while bummed we didn't see Beth in 1016. I am super excited about where this is heading...

Even the title names are in your face Bethyl at this point, I mean... Home sweet home?

If the spoilers are accurate-it's actually a good thing...

*Ducks for cover (please don't throw things at me) 🥴🤕

So after a long but very needed break (The world falling apart kinda made analyzing TWD seem very unimportant) I have decided to climb out of my cave to weigh in on the current spoilers that have everyone acting like they just sat on a cactus. 🌵

If correct, these spoilers confirm to me that Beth is just about to be reintroduced and also confirm what i have been saying about how the story is told in TWD for years.

Season 9 and 10 especially has been repeating, major Beth season 4 and 5 plot. And, there is a reason it's getting more and more blatant. It's coming to a head...

We've seen Beth's story on repeat using other characters to remind us of the past, and show us the future to a degree too.

It's called predicative programming, showing a shadow of what's coming before it actually does.

So this Leah...even if she is "real" (more on this a little later) IS BETH showing aspects of the past to subconsciously remind us of past Beth, and aspects of what's to come for future Beth.

On the topic of what's real and what's not, there is a very good case to be made, that this is all in Mr Dixon's (And ultimately Rick's) head.

A bit further on I will go through some of the blatant repeats in the story to remind you just how 'in your face' the repeats from season 4/5 have become in season 9,10.

But first I want to talk through what I think is most likely happening with these potential spoilers.

I see a few possibilities out of this, but none of them are actually bad.

Scenario 1. Leah is real and her and Daryl have a relationship in that cabin.

Why isn't this bad?

This maybe a difficult concept for some to grasp as they see all the characters separately, but...the writers make the characters all one, by moving them in and out of repeating rolls.

So as I stated above, Leah is a Beth fill in and the reason we most likely won't actually see a full Leah and Daryl love scene on screen, is because it's shadowing the real love scene to come which will be with the main fulfillment, Beth.

Leah is the shadow reminding us of Alone and Still, but Daryl's memory, desire and hope are all about Beth, not Leah.

I mean come on... A Cabin? A Dog? Them not getting along to start but then hints of romance? They eat together? She leaves and is never mentioned until years later? and a note? In your face Bethyl.

And this leads into scenario number two...

I've often wondered if all these characters actually originate out of the 'real' Rick's mind (yes i know the comics don't end that way, but that doesn't mean the TV show isn't going down that road potentially)

While unconscious in his hospital bed, the character of Rick comes alive in his mind.

Some might not like this concept, but It does make sense of the constant repeats in story. Which can be likened to a dream state and inception.

If we have been in the character Rick's mind all this time, then once Rick's character "left" in the helicopter season 9, it became "Daryl's" mind we entered (He became the last man standing) and that's when the story shifted and became extremely Beth heavy.

We possibly entered into Daryl's subconscious instead of Rick's and instantly started getting HUGE Beth symbolism.

Why would Daryl's mind/subconscious be showing him in an almost identical setting to what we saw him and Beth in season 4, in Still and Alone but with someone else instead?

Because it seems he has suppressed her memory as much as possible to cope (Leah not being mentioned all this time is another clue that this is actually about Beth), but it's building and building to a climax, which should soon end in the truth exploding from his subconscious and finally revealing that Daryl loved and desires Beth.

Rick's story started and ended with "finding his family"-that was his repeating story.

And until he left and handed the reins over to "Daryl's mind" we were never going to access Daryl's subconscious enough for the truth about Beth to be revealed.

As soon as it becomes Daryl's characters mind in control, we immediately start seeing major Beth repeats beginning.

I'm going back over some major repeats from 9/10 to show you how obvious the repeating story has become.

This became long and it's only the really obvious stuff that I'll cover, there is way more that could be included, and it will become extremely obvious by the time we reach the end, that this IS Beth’s story, just remixed.

Further down i will also explain scenario number 3.

Repeats: Starting with season 9

As soon as Rick's helicopter files away over a barn (which is very similar to the barn Daryl weeps over Beth next to)

We see Magna who has been a major Beth fill-in with her blond hair and prison tattoo, and in a relationship with a dark haired archer.

We then meet grown up Judith with her braid and sheriffs hat.

We first see Daryl in season 9, as he comes across Carol and Henry in the woods

And he suddenly has a dog.

The camp site is a repeat of Beth and Daryl's "Suck-ass camp" from Still.

But having Dog there shows Daryl's desire to have Beth there. He desperately wanted to get her that dog in Alone.

Daryl kills a snake in suck-ass camp number 2 (it’s black and hanging around his neck)

Just like in Still...

Carol asks Daryl to take Henry to Hilltop because he wants to learn blacksmithing.

Daryl says he doesn't want to babysit. Repeating the sarcastic line Beth says to Daryl about being her chaperone.

Beth going to get something she wants (get alcohol)

Is Henry going to learn at the Hilltop blacksmith. In both cases Daryl does go with them even tho he initially protests.

Before they leave Henry hurts his ankle in a trap and Daryl provides an ointment to help it heal, a repeat of Beth's ankle in Alone and Daryl bandaging it for her.

Soon after we see Jesus get killed in a dark misty graveyard, Daryl's the one to immediately kill Jesus's murder. This was a combination of the Alone graveyard and Beth/Dawn at Grady.

We then see Henry get drunk on moonshine at Hilltop, and when Gage says they should have some more fun, his idea of fun is showing disrespect to the dead walker they trap in a pit. Henry kills it- just like Beth killing the walker in Still that Daryl was "having fun with".

Because of the moonshine Henry gets stuck in the cell block with Lydia (think Daryl saying "home sweet home") and in Still and Beth says "if we are going to be trapped (prisoners) again, might as well make the best of it".

We find out Lydia was abused like Daryl, and Henry keeps saying Lydia is a good person. Just like Beth and Daryl.

Henry and Lydia are young Beth and Daryl, who bond during this time in the cell block, they get separated due to the prisoner exchange with Alden and Luke.

The introduction of Alpha (An evil twisted Beth) who looks like she is dead. Same with Beta being Daryl with his double knives and who would follow Alpha anywhere. Their roles are reserved in that he is the musical one with a singing career and has released albums (sounds familiar to Emily right?).

Alpha is referred to as Mother by Lydia, and the whisperers refer to themselves as a pack (symbolic of wolf's) which is fulfillment of the song at the end of Still about 'Mother being absent' and a 'party when the Wolf comes home'.

We see the prisoner exchange (Luke and Alden for Lydia) from a nomad group and a fixed community. A repeat of Grady

We then see a Henry, Lydia rescue mission from Connie and Daryl in a building with a elevator shaft that Daryl pushes Beta into (Grady) repeating Beth pushing the officer down the elevator.

As Daryl and Beta fight, Daryl stabs him where Beth stabs Dawn.

Beta keeps yelling at Daryl "Where is she?" Daryl then stabs Beta in the same spot as Beth stabs Dawn. Repeating Daryl's desperate search for Beth from season 5 and how it ends.

Just before Beta gets pushed into the elevator he says "All I want is the girl", referring to Lydia but it shows Daryl's subconscious desire when going to Grady was just wanting the girl too (Beth).

The song at the beginning of 914 when pregnant Michonne is looking for Rick, is about dream catchers and dreaming. Which could be a hint at this being a dream state.

The episode also repeats the theme from the Grove, messed up children (Lizzy) willing and even happy about killing (Mica). The episode focuses on children killing dear just like The Grove and Josalin teaches them they must be strong, not weak just like Carol taught the kids in season 4. The timeline in this episode includes Henry getting his leg patched up at Alexandria with Lydia (another repeat of Beth's ankle injury) which would have happened around the same time as the events in the Grove.

We see Miles and Hilda running from walkers through the woods, him wearing plaid and her a cardigan just like Beth and Daryl in Still/Alone

They just happen to come across somewhere safe (Hilltop) but that eventually leads to her being scalped and Miles gets his face turned into a whisperer mask so he effectively ends up "walking around like a dead man" which is a reminder of what Len says to Daryl in season 4 referring to Daryl being miserable due to losing Beth.

Connie and Kelly fight about Connie not saying goodbye when she leaves with Daryl to rescue Henry. A reminder of  Beth and Daryl's conversation about not saying goodbye at the prison.

When next we see Beta and Daryl realises he survived being pushed into the elevator shaft.

Beta says to Daryl "You just had to give me the girl, no one else had to die, now that deal is done".

Same theme and mentality of Daryl when planning to rescue Beth from Grady.

He wanted everyone to go home and no one to die so he rejected Rick's plan of quietly slitting everyone's throats and hoped for a peaceful trade . But once Beth was lost to him, that deal was done and he instantly opens fire on Dawn.

The whisperers then kill Henry and the other's by quietly sneaking into Kingdom, taking them, and eventually slitting their throats and cutting their heads off.

All because they couldn't get Lydia back. The tactics were reversed. And in both situations the main Dr was not killed (Edwards and Siddiq)

Henry is killed and Lydia is miserable enough to almost commit suicide while the group is traveling through a snow storm from Kingdom to Alexandria. This is a repeat and reverse of the group traveling from Alexander in a heat wave and drought while Daryl was miserable.

Season 10

We see Siddiq keep having flashbacks about those that were killed at the fair.

Negan in prison at Alexandria is a repeat of Beth as a prisoner in Grady.

In 10.02 (1010) we get Alpha and Beta's back story from 7 years earlier. They are both in a addiction treatment Facility with hallways reminiscent of Grady, Beta has written on the walls 'Why am I STILL ALONE'. hint much?

Alpha tells Beta that she doesn't die easily. A repeat of Beth telling Daryl that even tho he looks at her like just another dead girl, she isn't.

Alpha starts singing/humming when she hears Beta humming and he tells her to stop singing and never do it again. Repeating Daryl yelling at/mocking Beth about her singing in Still, and a reverse of Alone when he tells her to keep on singing.

Beta asks for Alpha's name and she responds with "The dead don't have names". Reinforcing the theme from Still of Beth telling Daryl that she knows he sees her as just another dead girl, and that's why he's afraid to get too close to her.

We see the introduction of the whisperer sisters (twisted versions of Maggie and Beth from season 4/5) one of which-a blond, has just lost a baby (Beth and Judith) and she eventually dies.

Beta and Alpha talk about what the dead feel, Alpha says "nothing" repeating Beth yelling at Daryl "Do you feel anything?"

Later we find out Beta's brother was being treated in that facility for addiction, repeating Daryl telling Beth about Merle and how he was always high. Alpha is the one to kill Beta's brother, repeating Beth telling Daryl "You got away from it" meaning Merle and his influence, and Beth's insistence on him staying who he is, kept him from becoming his brother.

The very next scene is current time and shows Beta telling Alpha (Just after the satellite hits) that he saw smoke at the boarder. Insinuating the fire from the satellite also represents the fire from the cabin in Still which was also right after Beth and Daryl's talk about Merle and how he got away from him.

Alpha and Beta then interlock fingers just like Beth and Daryl in Alone.

The Whisperer sisters also have a conversation about how Alpha killed Lydia (which she lied about) and Alpha told them that she didn't shed one tear when Lydia died. One of the whisperer sisters says "She is Alpha, she doesn't cry."  repeating Beth's "I don't cry anymore Daryl".

Beta finds out Alpha lied about Lydia being dead and yells at her "she is never coming back, she is GONE! Alpha." Repeating Daryl and Rick's conversation about Beth being just gone.

The beginning of 1003 shows Alexandria get wave after wave of walkers because of the fire from the Satellite (Sill cabin) which is a repeat of the walkers being drawn to the cabin while Beth and Daryl are still watching it burn. 413 opens with Maggie, Sasha and Bob fighting waves of walkers in the fog, and the Grove episode which happened on the same timeline showed burned walkers coming to the cabin Carol, Ty and the girls were in.

It's repeating that era.

The fighters at Alexandria are exhausted and Gabriel tells Aaron he has to use Negan to fight because they are low on fighters, he says pointing to Negan then Aaron "Peanut butter meet jelly" repeating the peanut butter Beth eats in Alone and Jelly Daryl eats.

Carol, Daryl and Michonne stay the night at Barnett academy home of the foxhound. Repeating the dog theme from Alone.

The description of the episode says "The group stays at the academy but Carol falls into a trap." Once again Repeating the Alone/foot trap/dog/Grady/trap theme.

Carol calls for Daryl to help her once she steps in the trap.

This trap causes Carol to fall and hurt her arm badly repeating Beth's arm injury from season 5 when she wakes up with her arm in a cast.

Rosita and Eugene have an argument about how he loves her, and he says that he wished she would would re-zone him into love town, and hoped she'd changed her mind. (Changed your mind? Love? Yeah not spelling this one out for you)

This same episode Carol "wakes up" smiling but actually dreaming of domestic bliss with Daryl preparing her food, they have run out of jam/jelly. Probably because Daryl ate it all lol (once again Alone on repeat)

1006 Carol and Daryl go looking for Negan (the missing prisoner) a repeat of consumed 506 with Daryl and Carol searching for Beth.

At the same time we see a focus on the doctors/medical ward of Alexandria due to the contaminated water making everyone sick. A reminder of Grady.

We also have Eugene on the radio broadcasting to try and reach a new community, which eventually leads to him and the others in 1016 ending up at the end of the train tracks with train cars and the meeting of a new group.

Which is repeating terminus, who were broadcasting on the radio too.

He is on a mission to meet the new potential love of his life (Stephanie) at the same time Daryl and Carol are out on their search for the missing prisoner.

We see the whisperer doctor (Dante) plant himself into Alexandria and he eventually kills the second doctor (Siddiq) repeating but twisting the Grady story of Dr Edwards using Beth to kill the new doctor that comes into Grady.

Before he kills Siddiq however, Dante uses poison and kill another whisperer who gets put in the jail cell at Alexandria, he then blames the mistaken medication that killed the whisperer on Siddiq. Repeating Dr Edwards poisoning the new Dr that came into Grady while blaming Beth.

Lydia runs away from Alexandria during the time Dante kills Siddiq.

While Lydia (the girl) is missing and no one knows where she is, father Gabriel oversees Siddiqs funeral. Repeating Ty's funeral from season 5 while no one knew what became of Beth. The funeral scene emphasizes the sprinkling of dirt into the grave just like we saw with Ty.

Next we see a father Gabriel watching a video log of Dante when he first arrived at Alexandria

repeating the groups from seasons 4/5 arriving at Alexandria and doing video logs with Diana.

Aaron and Gracie are seen taking about vehicle registration plates and the different states, repeating Aaron and Eric's obsession with collecting them all in season 4/5

While searching for Alpha, Carol almost steps in an animal trap and Daryl saves her. Another repeat of Beth's animal trap.

Soon after the animal trap, Carol then runs after Alpha leading the group into a trap in the cave, repeating her running into the trap at Grady and being hit by the car and the leading of the group to Grady.

While in the cave we see a bird cage, like we see in Beth's cell back at the prison, the bird cage representing her at Grady.

Carol is rash wanting revenge and stupidly drops the explosive causing the group to think Connie and Magna are dead. Beth at Grady rashly stabs Dawn, causing the group to think she is dead.

We next see a depiction of resurrection when Beta comes out the grave while sneaking into Alexandria.

Daryl and Alpha fight, Alpha after fighting with Daryl wakes up from passing out, she is reborn stronger.

Eugene takes to Rosita about the probability of never seeing Father Gabriel and the others from Alexandria again because Alpha's horde is coming to Hilltop. Rosita tells Eugene to stop, repeating Beth and Daryl's argument in Still about never seeing Maggie again and Beth yelling at him to stop.

Eugene and Rosita then share some alcohol (moonshine) depicting Beth and Daryl doing the same.

Rosita tells Eugene he has no romantic game which we all know applies to Daryl too.

Before the fight/fire at Hilltop, Daryl tells Judith that he is afraid a little bit. With Beth he wouldn't admit he was afraid of losing people, he cared about.

We then see Hilltop get drenched in a clear flammable liquid (tree sap) and set on fire (The Hilltop fire represents the cabin Daryl and Beth Burn)

The episode with Virgil and Michonne is fascinating and aspects in it, could well be repeated with Daryl and Leah. This episode could be a foreshadow of: Scenario number 3. It's in part a hallucination.

In the Virgil/Michonne episode we see Michonne get drugged and she sees what the past would have been like if she'd chosen a different road. She describes what she saw in her hallucinations to Virgil, as losing her family and that it was Hell to see.

Virgil has taken the drugged tea before and he describes it as heaven because it reunited him with his family and he hoped it would do that for her. After coming out of the hallucination, Michonne spares Virgil's life and that act, ends up leading her to Rick's boots

And the phone with the picture of her and Judith on it.

The end of the episode ends in Michonne going to "Find him."

So the theme at play is: a Hallucination, then having mercy could lead to clue of a lost loved one finding the other. Interesting...

The note Daryl apparently leaves Leah says "Find me".

If Daryl is in some kind of drugged state during this episode, it could combine his immediate situation (Leah actually being there) and his memory and desire of Beth in a similar setting (Alone). If this scenario plays out Leah could take something of Daryl's and the follow on effect may well lead Beth to a clue about Daryl, leading to her finding him.

Just putting this idea out there as the hallucination theme is reinforced in season 10 with Siddiq and in the very next episode when Carol hallucinates Alpha, just after Alpha has been killed. Princess also mentions not being sure if she is hallucinating or not when she meets Eugene, Ezekiel and Yumiko, and wonders if they are real. And Beta hallucinates the walkers all looking to him and saying "this is the end of the world".

So the Leah events maybe half true, half hallucination and this might be what leads to a clue and eventual reunion just as we assume Michonne's clues will eventually lead to a reunion with Rick.

After this episode the repeats in Bethyl themes get even more obvious.  

Beta takes Alpha's head and goes off on his own to listen to music (Emily's song, a love song with lyrics about going to Hell to find your missing girl) Beta makes a mask of half her face. She's with him even when she's gone.

The last words Beta says to Alpha are "Thank you, I see now, thank you". Repeating the thank you note and how she taught Daryl to believe there are still good people.

Eugene's group going into the city and then on to meet the new group at the train yard, is a mix of the group traveling to Atlanta to get Beth and also traveling to Terminus. Both times at the train tracks with train cars and the group ends up surrounded and with weapons pointed at them.

The hospital location in 1015 and 16 or "Tower" as they call it, and what happens especially with Judith and Daryl, is in my opinion the biggest clue we are close to her return.

The hospital is in your face Grady and it's meant to remind you of that time.

In the hospital we see Lydia patting cats

A reminder of the claimers and Joe the claimer leader asking Daryl if he was a cat person, just after losing Beth at the funeral home, but before Grady.

Lydia has just lost Henry, repeating that time. Also if you recall in season 4 just before the Daryl meets the Claimers, Michonne and Rick were separated he was injured and she eventually finds a clue to him and Carl. Michonne is currently looking for Rick again due to the clues she finds with Virgil.

Luke is working on fixing up a speaker system to play music. Music/Beth inside the hospital.

Outside the hospital, in the woods Judith finds Daryl and tells him she doesn't like it inside it smells like cat pee (another reminder of the claimers era) she then tells Daryl she wants to learn what he does.

Just like Beth learning to track, we even get Judith tracking and identifying what she tracks as a walker while Daryl looks on proudly.

The group's whole plan for 1016 is to safely get "The music" speaker system out of the tower/hospital, to lead the huge horde of walkers surrounds them away.

Exactly what we didn't get to see in the aftermath of Grady. Getting Beth (music) out of the hospital.

Carol putting the knife up her sleeve is repeating Beth putting the scissors in her cast.

Carol ends up getting her revenge without getting killed (Unlike Beth with Dawn) but ultimately it's Negan and Daryl that do the revenge killing for Carol and Beth. Carol says to Negan regarding killing Alpha" What took you so long", where as Daryl's reaction was instantaneous, in a split second and he had put a bullet in Dawn's head.

We also see Negan go down the elevator shaft with a rope, just like Beth did.

The music they play to get the walkers away from the hospital is "Burning down the house", another repeat of the Still cabin.

When Negan comes across Beta, Beta runs at him immediately to kill him. Pushing him down he pulls out his knife and is about to kill Negan as he say "For Alpha". Beta Repeating Daryl's instant revenge on Dawn.

The title of 1016 is A Certain Doom, which is actually what Coda should have been called, considering this episode actually went to plan (mostly) for our group. Hardly anyone dies, only Beatrice from Oceanside and they get rid of Beta and Alpha's horde.

Beta dies as Daryl kills him before he can kill Negan. As Beta dies we see Alpha flashbacks of her telling him, he is not broken, that they love nothing, fear nothing, feel nothing and it makes them free. This is the exact opposite of what Beth taught Daryl. She called him out on being afraid of feeling and loving/caring about others.

Season 9 and 10 culminates with Lydia (Daryl) saving Carol (Beth) from certain death, by not letting her go over the cliff with all the walkers.

And standing on the edge of the cliff watching the horde fall down-along with Alpha's mask, Lydia and Carol interlink hands, just like Daryl and Beth in front of the grave. The Grave Beth and Daryl stand in front of says Father, while Lydia and Carol are looking at the end of Mother (Alpha)

Hopefully soon we get to see the original version of all this, and not just a repeated shadow of Daryl unknowingly doing something that helped Beth survive in the aftermath of Grady.

The upcoming episodes have me itching to see, I'm already seeing more repeats from Alone, Coda and 510 to name a few.

Beth is absolutely spilling out of the story right now through all these parallels, I haven't even covered them all here but just the main standouts of season 9 and 10.

So no matter what happens with this Leah character, Beth is still coming back and it's going to be massive

[screamting]

 Dick’s first day of school snuck up on them.

 Bruce drove him down in a rusty small blue honda civic from the 1990s. They’d picked it up off the lot for under 3,000 and were using it as a way to ferry themselves to the junkyard to pick up parts for their      special    car--but for now, they were using it to drop Dick off at school.

 Drop Richard Malone off at school.

On paper, Alfred paid for Dick to attend Gotham academy. A private school. It had both boarders and day students. Dick would be a day student, so long as it was feasible. 

...on the first day of school, Bruce drove Dick down to his alma mater (which translated to ‘place you never wanted to visit again,’) and dropped him off outside the gates.  

“Want me to walk you in, Chum?” he asked, despite it not being any  Malone’s alma mater yet, and Dick glanced back at him and shook his head sharply, mumbling a quiet “see you later,” before going off towards the gates. 

Bruce turned to drive home and realized, belatedly, that Dick had never  not been homeschooled. 

He waited for afternoon to pick Dick up again, and resolved to remember to pick up milkshakes on the way back, so he can ask how the day was with a backup plan. 

--

“It is not the right time of year to prune,” Alfred told him. It was far too close to school starting. Far too close to fall. “But, I suppose, it isn’t  impossible . It will just be a good bit trickier to know which branches need it.”

Bruce obligingly bought a new plant from a chain store--a nursery would’ve properly pruned it weeks ago, but chain stores didn’t have that same attention. Alfred brought it home in a little green planter: a tiny bush cut into a lopsided circle.

“This isn’t, in fact, how to do it,” Alfred said, setting it beside Bruce on the patio table. “Can you tell me why?” 

“..it doesn’t target the dead branches,” Bruce said, and Alfred gave a nod. 

“It’s indiscriminate. And  quite sloppy.” 

He handed Bruce a pair of pruning shears. 

“With it cut like this, it’s a little difficult to find the dead branches, but you’ll manage.”

...after a moment, Bruce shoved his hand inside the bush and just… gripped one of the little branches that didn’t have any leaves on it between his fingers. He glanced at Alfred, who nodded obligingly and gave a smile that felt far too much like it was meant for a child. 

“How far back do I cut?” 

“As far back as you can.” 

Bruce nodded and pushed the shears in. And snipped.

The metahuman had power over plants, the paper the day before had said. She argued she’d been acting in self-defense. Her children were crying out for help. And so she helped.

(“‘ I is hearing the scream of a flower as its stem is twisted from the ground,’”  Dick read aloud by Bruce’s bedside, trying to work through the recommended reading list for his level. One year behind his age level wasn’t bad for three years on the road, but it was a lot to catch up on all the same. “‘  I is hearing the soft moan of the old oak, like an old man dying, weeping, when it is felled.’ ”)

As the state of New Jersey did not recognize plants as people or her as the property owner, her appeal was denied. She would spend several years above minimum in Belle Reve for aggravated assault.

(even though the one she assaulted wasn’t there. Bruce hadn’t stepped into court. Bruce hadn’t said a thing. There was one phone call, and a woman, naked, trapped outside on a Gotham street, and then  five other people stepped forward, claiming to be someone she’d attacked. 

And he didn’t know what to think about that. If what everyone said was true was true, or if it was just falling into the fallacy of mob mentality. If it was easier to accept what was said as true. Even if he'd seen the violence first hand, it was  him  being attacked, that was  different--)

He kept his mouth shut, and reached for the next dead branch, and clipped. 

“...and how would I trim something that’s not dead, but it might… be overgrown? Or the wrong height?” 

“Hmm,” Alfred said, still watching him. “Well, first we will need to get you a proper ladder.”

Justly imprisoned or not, the metahuman--a former botanist called Pamela Isley--would be in Belle Reve for several years. 

Maybe he could change something in this town while she was gone.

Therefore, Mr. Malone came to the Gotham Parks and Recreation office, asking if when he got this 501c3 approved that he be allowed to enter Robinson Park and clean up the place.

And the budget-starved Parks office said  fuckin’ do it if you’re brave enough, man , and sent him on his way. 

It was… much easier than he expected, really. But perhaps the Parks department carried so little influence no one had even bothered to bribe them to keep people out. All the same, he’d listen to that backwards warning. 

He drafted the papers in two days. He worked over it at dinner, trying to fill the gap that had once been occupied by discussing with Dick where to travel next and how to best avoid a million impending dooms. He had a free consultation with an attorney in the morning who looked up at Bruce over his glasses, eyebrows up, and reminded Bruce that the park was where mob deals went down and that grassy lady attacked a fella the other day. 

Bruce said that was fine. He knew. He wasn’t here to cause a ruckus.

Legal documents. Articles of Affiliation. Mission Statement. It was helpful to have a second pair of eyes that actually expected the little bureaucracies innate in law, things that Dick and Alfred preferred to grumble at rather than knot through. Not that Bruce had been trained in law himself, but his school friend, Harvey Dent--

(was still in the hospital. Burn ward. He’d stabilized, but wasn’t often conscious--)

...Bruce submitted the paperwork after the Parks commission met with him, and then all he had to do was draw up a budget and wait. Alfred ‘lent’ Mr. Malone the startup money to establish a paper trail. After the initial donation, Bruce could make periodic donations to himself in various names; have miraculous windfalls whenever cash grew thin. Even without any backing or campaigns, he could make this startup impossible to fail.

--

...the problem is, Bruce has long proven his judgement is impaired.

When Dick returns from school not sniffling but  vibrating with stress all the same, Bruce’s first thought is to run and start over somewhere else. 

He thinks it might be an averted suicide response. The need to pack up and leave the current problems behind. With a hardline against being able to die, his mind latches onto another option. A fight-or-flight response that only hits  flight when the problem isn’t something that can’t be physically fought off, like a tween coming into the car and sitting down in the passenger seat with a deep sigh. 

...Bruce asks how his day was. 

Dick says it was fine. 

Bruce doesn’t ask if he wants a milkshake. He goes through the drive-through and buys some anyway. They go home and work how to install tail fins on the car frame slowly coming together in their garage.

--

...the ‘suicide’ response isn’t the only thing that lingers. Bruce isn’t really sure ‘lingering’ is the right term, actually. The flight response only arises when things can’t be handled directly in front of himself anymore, but the fight response--

Bruce has impaired judgment. 

He proved it as soon as his first ‘suicide’ response sent him to the League of Assassins, and he decided to not flee the moment they made it clear nothing would continue until he took a life. He proved it when he wasn’t able to avoid dragging a literal child in the middle of a personal crisis into his mess, rather than leaving him somewhere safe and far, far away from him. He proved it with each near-death experience from Deathstroke in Metropolis to Isley in Gotham. 

And yet, here he was again, finding himself cleaning up the Batman suit long after Dick was put to bed, adjusting it with better material to withstand a bullet’s penetration. 

The people at the parks department weren’t wrong. It would be dangerous to work the area while the mob still operated widely inside it, and he would not cooperate alongside the mobs for protection. The alternative was therefore relatively obvious: get rid of the mobs. 

Mobs weren’t  exactly like a snake, but they did function well enough like one. Cut off the head. And like a hydra, if new heads sprouted--smother them. 

...that, at least, he knew how to do. Kidnapping and recon, and finding information. Find proof of a mob boss’ wrongdoing and get a prosecutor not so cowardly to be bribed. Hand the information over. Don’t let them fail the charges. High profile dangerous people wouldn’t be kept in a local jail, but would likely be transferred to a higher-security prison, circumnavigating the cluttering, and with a focus on high-priority prisoners rather than most random people out on the street, they would be moved through the system more quickly, hopefully at least stalling out their operations in the meantime, if not shattering the whole system beneath them with the sudden departure. 

This was the best plan he had, and it relied far, far too much on too many external variables--finding a clean court, getting a jury that felt safe enough to actually put their foot down, finding witnesses willing to testify, a prosecutor who wouldn't be bribed--

(fuck) 

--and dealing with a Commissioner whose good graces he might’ve worn out. 

…

But the alternatives were to allow this to continue growing, complicit by his own inaction. 

(he was already complicit enough in too many crimes.)

(How did you clean up a world that you yourself aided in the destruction of?)

--

Prosecutors that couldn't be bribed?

They ended up like Harvey Dent. 

--

Batman appears without Robin that evening, because it is a school night and Dick needs to sleep. He stops what crimes in progress he comes across and starts watching Robinson Park more closely. 

He doesn't interfere inside it. He just watches. Plants cameras in the bushes and on the branches of trees, and zips his way out, to watch the footage and get to know the day and nighttime patterns of the area. 

It… will take time. That's something he's not used to. Dick and he worked fast on the road, and even before that he was either handed his information by the ones lower down the chain or only spent a handful of days doing legwork to verify things that'd been missed. Instant gratification, he guessed he could call it. Just… dealing out a death and being done with it. 

(And somehow, he'd drawn the line at known violent mobsters and Deathstroke.)

...he had to do a  lot of meditation to get through the park video feeds. He had a lot of work stacking up between tracking down faces from the feeds. Police database of mugshots helped more than he expected. He started a tally of how many people in the mugshots were brought in bloodied and who brought them in to look into later. 

After all, if Gotham was going to get rid of its mob problem, the police force would need some pruning, too. 

--

Gotham recidivism was above 80%. Bruce gargled his coffee and tried very hard to not spit it out somewhere, because somehow, he was more tired by this statistic than shocked. A bit of, ‘oh, I knew it would be high, but  really?’

No fucking wonder there weren’t enough cells in the world. 

(What do you do when you can’t put anymore garbage in a landfill?

Learning what a  fucking recycling program is might be a good first step.)

It's okay, though. He's totally got a handle on this. He's already been looking into what makes recidivism lower, and the difficulty of access to jobs for felons seems like a big one. Lack of change to living situations that caused pettier crimes like reselling material or shoplifting. The inside prison situation has an effect, according to Norway, which has a prison system Bruce isn't even hoping to replicate, even if he were a living millionaire with a clear conscience. 

Reading other people's’ writings on recidivism has… definitely helped clarify things for him, even if all he can think of for the worst of criminals is still to lock them in a cell far away from  everyone or until the death penalty finally takes it out of his hands. 

But it is one thing to lock up a murderer who sabotaged a family performance and killed in front of an audience, and children, and  child … versus locking up the child who killed trying to protect their family from an abusive partner. 

They’re different. They have to be. 

If Bruce has any right to be alive, he has to be able to believe in gray areas. 

--

Bruce drops the first of several Maroni forerunners on Gordon's desk in the northern precinct. When he finds the precinct desk vacant, he pays a visit to the commissioner’s house instead. 

The thought process is that it would probably be best to clarify that the dropoff isn’t an attack on the commissioner's authority. It’s an opening for compromise. Bruce will be mindful of the incarceration rates, but he won’t be leaving Gotham and he’d like cooperation from the police when it came to prosecution.

Unfortunately, he proposes it in the form of a paper note (written in his off-hand) slipped onto Gordon’s bedroom table where the man will notice it as soon as he returns for bed, which is much more threatening than he fully realizes.

(He doesn’t imagine Gordon’s daughter will find the note first and replace it just as she found it after reading. Then again, he doesn’t ever find out it happened, either.)

--

The county’s defense office wants to cut a plea deal with the gangster brought in, because no one wants to be the next Harvey Dent. The Assistant DA, a woman named Rachel Dawes, seems willing to try, but the department is extremely reluctant to support her, even as she steps up to take Dent’s place until another election can be held.

In the precinct, Bruce’s audiobugs catch officers he’s tracking placing bets on how long until someone finishes Dent off in his hospital bed.

Bruce decides he needs to be more aggressive.

-- 

Twenty-seven aggressive anonymous tipoffs and two synchronized FBI raids half a month later, and Bruce is startled when the door to his bedroom opens and Dick walks in. Bruce doesn't really jump in surprise anymore-- it’s more of… half reaching a position to fight, and stopping in a split second as he realizes the threat doesn't exist.

“Ah,” he says, “do you need--?”

“I was at school,” Dick says, answering the question in an odd way. He didn't need anything, he'd just come back from school--

Bruce’s neck snaps up to look at the clock, while the other part of his brain realizes that it’s nearly dark outside. 

“Did Alfred--” he says, a panicky shame he’s not used to rising up within him. 

“No,” Dick says, shrugging his backpack off and slumping onto bed. “When I realized you weren't coming I walked home.”

Bruce's throat feels tight. “You should've called.”

“Figured you were busy,” Dick says, watching the ceiling, “you've got more important stuff than school.”

Bruce remembers, the pain less raw with years, the slow agony of a school day, knowing there must be more he could do than sit through the farce. 

He remembers that agony of adolescent uselessness clearly, pain dulled or not, but he’s also wisened to its falsehood over the years. There was little he could manage at the time.

“...I’ll set an alarm next time, but school isn't unimportant,” he says, keeping calm and controlled for an extra moment, before doing a double-take on the thought he’d had just a moment before. 

Adolescence?!

--

School is over a month in. Dick’s anniversary is coming up soon. Bruce has gotten the Feds back in Gotham and an internal investigation into the police force for corruption. His nonprofit is finalizing some paperwork and looking into how to hire nonviolent offenders and start training them for small-time landscaping and cleanup by contracting with a local pre-established landscape crew that mostly does the outer and northern Gotham estates. Harvey Dent is conscious but minimally verbal in the hospital. And Dick is thirteen, officially a teenager. 

Bruce does not know how teenagers are different from younger children. He does not recall being any different than he is now at either age. Only morose haze interspersed by flashes of overwhelming tension and temper. 

Harvey once knew him at that age. Not that Bruce could talk to Harvey--not… as himself. The man Harvey knew was long, long dead, (or, it would be simpler if that man was dead, and Bruce as he was now was a new man entirely--) and it’s not as though Bruce could ask advice anyway. 

Still. Maybe he will send Harvey some flowers they’ve started in the backyard...

Once the Justice League gets out of his living room. 

Aside from Superman calling over the phone whenever he seems to please, once a month Martian Manhunter seems to show up, posing as just another social worker or lawyer or family friend, here to check in on how things are going with adoption, or the 501C3, or the… latest cookies out of the oven. 

And if it’s not Martian Manhunter helping Dick sneak cookies off the cooling rack, then it’s Wonder Woman, which is somehow even worse. 

There are not a lot of situations when Bruce would rather a mind reader with incredible telekinetic powers who could mentally and emotionally cripple him with a thought be in his presence, versus just a very strong lady who could rip him in two by breathing. 

Diana Prince has made that situation a monthly occurrence.

She came this time while they were in the garage, putting together a much-overdue car engine. Alfred had insisted on dinner before business. Diana Prince stands in his house for over an hour by the time the rope finally came out and they got down to business. It is an hour too long. Bruce doesn’t think he’s had more than a few words of conversation with her since they moved into Alfred’s townhouse late summer, but he has heard the same questions out of her mouth far too many times. 

“Have you been hurt lately?”

“No,” Dick says, because he only patrols on weekends, and Bruce makes sure he’s kept well away from anything that looks like it will have guns.

“Are you being treated well?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you happy?” 

“Y…”

...Bruce blinks for a second, before he realizes that Dick’s teeth are clenched tight and his face is turning faintly to another color. 

“Dick…?” Diana says, before Dick gives into the rope, and says the truth.

“No.” 

He’s not sure if anyone else can hear the air leave the room, but it does, and Bruce feels his lungs collapse in the vacuum left behind. His stomach shrivels into a ball. 

He wants to run from the room, but his feet are too heavy and slow to move, so he just crosses his arms even tighter, and digs his fingers into his ribs.

“...why is that?” Diana asks. She doesn’t even glance back at Bruce when she does it. She doesn’t even glance away in the first place, even as Dick is screwing his eyes shut. The color his face has settled on is red, and blotchy, and fast. 

Dick drops the rope from his hand and hiccups. 

Bruce can’t move to comfort him. 

...Diana looks between Dick, and the dropped rope, and pulls it back into the lasso loop. She stands. 

“...I’m going to head outside for a bit and give you two some privacy.” 

She turns and walks out to the garden, where Alfred is still watering the flowers. 

Dick hiccups again, and Bruce is a stranger in his own body as he sits on the floor cross legged, and pulls Dick into his arms. 

...he’s a lot bigger than he was when he was eight and curled into Bruce’s side, just minutes after his parents fell. Bruce puts his hand on the kid’s head, fingers running through the cropped dark hair. 

“...Dick?” Bruce says. “Dick?”

He doesn’t get a response. He sits there, uncomfortably rubbing Dick’s hair, until Diana returns some long minutes later, announcing it’s about time she headed out. 

“I’ll see you next month,” she says, mostly to Dick, who still hasn’t looked up. 

Even as Bruce wonders if it’s a threat, something in his chest loosens when Diana leaves and Dick stays behind. 

Eventually, they get up, and try to get ready for bed. 

—

Harvey Dent wakes up again.

The last thing he remembers is a gun being pulled on him; a court case that he  had to win, no matter what—

The nurses are alerted to his consciousness by the sound of his screaming. 

Bruce Malone has no reason to visit him. No clearance. No nothing. All he does is run a small nonprofit startup, currently sending out applications to the very criminals Harvey put behind bars. 

He doubts Batman would be welcome.

— 

Gotham elects temp-head Rachel Dawes to permanent DA to finish out Harvey’s term by seventeen votes. Bruce doesn’t rig the election, though he thinks of doing so. Instead, he spends the week beforehand trying to disrupt the bribery network connecting the ballot counters to the remaining mob and asking Robin to go make sure the paperless polls aren’t hacked the night before.

...Robin isn’t happy with Bruce going out on his own still. But they compromise, some. 

They send Harvey flowers.

They leave a note on Dawes’ desk. An offer, if she needs anything. They don’t want her to end up like her predecessor. 

—

In the morning, at the first hint of workable weather, Bruce has some on-parole inmates and recent-releases standing in the middle of the park, shivering, holding shovels and rakes. 

This is the first day they’ll be working together and training on the job. There will be a stipend associated with the work. Tools are provided. There’s just—they haven’t done this before. And neither has Bruce Malone, who failed to shake off his kid, Richard, who is sitting off on a picnic table not far away, arms wrapped around his snow pants and pouting furiously. 

...He stays quiet as Bruce starts showing the group what they’re supposed to be doing— first snipping the large bushes down to size, raking the sticks and leaves into piles, and then coming up the back with shovels to help define areas for mulch beds around the bushes. Generally they would not be pruning this early into fall, but… the bushes have to go. 

It’s step one (ignoring Bruce’s personal twenty-step plan midway through execution) to help keep the park safe and free-er of illegal activities: just being able to see into the damn park. 

Once they actually start working, Richard gets up from his perch and glumly takes a rake, helping follow along and pulling the old foliage and branches into a set of neat piles a couple feet out of the way. 

It would be one thing if Dick seemed to be having fun, but… he doesn’t really. He’s tolerant enough with the car (whose construction has largely stalled) but he’s never really had the kind of brain like Bruce’s which likes the simple, repetitive patterns of gardening, or kata, or math. 

(“I don’t  want to stay home,” Dick had said that morning. 

“Then wouldn’t going out with a friend be better?” Bruce said over breakfast. 

“I don’t  have any friends!”

Bruce did not respond to that, and had escorted Dick to the park.)

...they pack up in the later afternoon, when the sun is still high but before banks close-- Bruce gathering up all the direct deposit information for the ones who sound interested in coming back, and paying the rest with checks. Dick waits in the car.

When they drive back home, something big, and blue, and midwestern is already in their kitchen, and is talking to Alfred about pie crust technique. 

( Hell. )

Superman is wearing his full goddamn uniform as they enter. He turns and smiles when they come into the living room, raising up one big hand to greet them.

“Hey there! Decided I’d stop by.” 

“....You did,” Bruce agrees, while Dick seems to perk up, eyes widening at the very large and blue man leaning on the counter. 

Dick had  met Superman already. Spent a week at least on the same spaceship as him. Stared him down over Bruce’s unconscious body. Somehow, it wasn’t stopping him from having that bright excitement in his eyes, now. 

Maybe Superman was more exciting when he presumably wasn’t here to arrest anyone. 

Presumably. 

“Uh-huh,” said Superman. “And Mr. Pennyworth was telling me some about how things have been going for you here! Community service work. Sounds good.” 

Sounded  innocent was more like it. Sounded like prisoners in bright orange vests on the roadsides picking up litter for fifty cents an hour. Doing time, paying back society for all he’d done to it— yeah, he figured it would sound good to Superman. 

“It is,” said Bruce. 

Dick, maybe in a better mood now that they were out of the Gotham smog, saves him again. 

“Are you here for dinner?” Dick asked, not quite on his tiptoes—not on his tiptoes at all, actually. 

He’d grown again, Bruce realized. Now he stood almost to Bruce’s ribs, where once he’d had to stretch to reach. 

“No, I didn’t think I’d be  that  welcome,” Superman said, smiling sheepishly, and  good.  At least he  knew.  “I’m just the messenger this time. Because we  are going to have to start cashing in on that deal we made.”

For a moment, Bruce’s heart stills, and he feels Dick tense just a little bit beside him. 

(Is it wrong, for a moment, that he’s still glad that Dick tenses when they both know it won’t be him attacked?)

“Woah, woah, no scary faces—“ Bruce’s face had  not changed. “We just need your input. Information sharing, remember? Flash has had some weird things going on in his neighborhood and we thought maybe it’d be something you’d recognize.” 

...Right. 

Right. 

He was getting protection from This League in exchange for cooperation, not just his dignity. 

Before he could pull himself back into his body, Superman added, “and Robin too, of course.” 

“Robin doesn’t  need to—“ Bruce began. 

“—Robin would be  delighted ,” Dick said, raising his voice unnecessarily high and drowning out Bruce’s own. 

Bruce looked down at Dick, mouth flat. Dick stared back up at him, scowling and arms crossed. 

“You  hate busywork,” said Bruce. 

“It’ll be fine!” Said Superman,  suddenly in his face  , arms moving between him and Dick, pushing them apart, like they were  dangerous to each other— “Flash was just going to bring his kid, uh, flash along with him, and thought it would be good for them to meet. Should’ve led with that. Just, giving kids friends in their own age bracket.” 

Bruce had stood rock still, staring at the same spot Dick had been, now blocked by Superman’s arms. He did not look away. 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “You should’ve led with that.” 

—

...the next evening, his attempts at trimming his hair were interrupted by Alfred, who was quick to steal the scissors away and finish things himself. Soon, it was short enough he could slick it back for the first time in… a while. He pulled on one of his better dark turtlenecks. Business slacks. Dark shoes. Dark. Maybe too obviously a hide-away-in-the-background type dark. 

They met Flash… on the other side of a zeta beam. Bruce hadn’t ridden one since first being escorted from the Watchtower to Gotham. 

He hadn’t  forgotten how uncomfortable it was, but it was one thing to remember in the mind and another to be given a reminder in the body. 

Neither he nor Dick were in costume. There was no reason for Batman and Robin to suddenly be in Central. There would hopefully be no reason for anyone to suspect Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to travel so far away from their little safe haven and attack.

Flash, however,  did have some things to protect still, and so he waited on the other side of the zeta with his bright red costume made darker in the night, and an unfortunately bright smudge of yellow standing beside him. 

“Hey, Bats,” Flash said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you  nicely this time.” 

Bruce was really glad he hadn’t given in to breaking this guy’s legs. That would have made this reintroduction unbearably uncomfortable. As it was, he met the hand slowly, and enough of a sound for acknowledgement.

Flash didn’t say anything about it, turning instead to Dick. “And you! Also glad to see you’re doing fine; hooow’s the ankle. This is my sidekick, Kid Flash.”

There was no time to answer to the ankle before Flash had introduced and thumped the yellow teen him on the back, getting the very encouraging response, “I’m not a kid I’m a  teenager, ” which was too obvious to have needed pointing out, considering the cracks in his voice and the speckles acne surrounding his lips. “Don’t embarrass me!”

“I would  never do that.” 

(While Bruce remained cold in his skin despite the warm night, beside him, Dick let out a little bit of a laugh. Almost a few huffs of one, really. It was softening. It was enough to unfreeze Bruce some and get him going again.)

“You needed help with identification?” said Bruce, stepping forward to end the introductions. 

Flash’s expression changed back to serious in a… flash. At least he didn’t look disappointed. Or surprised. “Yeah. Follow me, there’s a place a little more private down the street.”

That place ended up being a deli bakery. One that had very much closed for the evening, and had shuttered its windows for good measure. This made very little difference to Flash, who pulled out a key from a very discreet pocket, and opened the staff door in the back. 

“They donate the day-old stuff to me,” Flash said, grinning, like that explained much at all. “Why don’t you kids go see if there’s anything set on top of the counters in the back?” 

The little yellow flash made a sound that wasn’t quite a whoop, but wasn’t quite quiet, either. 

And then the little hand reached out, grabbed Robin’s wrist, and pulled him through the door behind the counter.

“Woah, easy, chief.” 

Flash’s hand wasn’t touching Bruce, no, but it was  in front of him, ready to block and restrain in a movement as Bruce took a step forward to follow.

He turned to look at Flash, and met his same hard eyes looking back through Flash’s mask. 

“They’re just gonna look around and see if they can find some food. It’s fine.” 

Bruce  knew that was just what they were doing, of course. He just wanted to— check. Just to make sure. It was a closed up shop of people they didn’t know in a city that was too dark and empty at night, save for a few well-maintained streetlamps and a pair of teenage girls walking down the sidewalk to the seven-eleven, sticking close together in the Midwest fall—- 

“Let’s just get a seat and wait for them, and we can get started. How’s that?” 

Flash had removed his hand, and was gesturing now to one of the booth seats near the bar. Not by the windows. Maybe far enough from the windows that anyone who looked in and saw a book light on would just assume management was doing the books late.

(Bruce’s jaw was not  tight , it was just his teeth kept pressing down together. He sat down across from the seat Flash gestured to. It was better to get through work quickly, and head home.)

“Okay,” said Flash, suddenly in the booth with him. Bruce almost still felt the breeze of the movement as a book-clipped green folder was produced and laid out on the table. “So, this is a case that’s been going on a little while. Take your time and let me know what you think of it.” 

The file was pushed over to Bruce’s side of the table, and he took it quietly, removing the clip and flipping it open. 

He disregarded the notes and bios and instead turned first to the photos. 

...he did not  like  looking through other people’s photos. All he could think of was that he would have liked a  bit  closer look at the doorframe, or just a little bit out of angle, or frustration at someone’s focus being a little bit out. That was why you took  lots  of photos of course, but it was still a gnawing anxiety in him that they were going to just  miss something. All he had were his eyes through someone else’s lense and someone else’s word to take for it. 

Which he was very bad at liking. 

….but that was just what this was, he guessed. The case was from five years prior. A body of an older woman on the floor of an enclosed porch. Broken glass. Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, close enough to the heart she’d probably been dead within a minute or two, long before the first police officers had arrived. A bullet hole in the wall behind her. Fallen out of her chair. Glass window of the porch had shattered. A bullet had been extracted from the wall, looking like a .22– moderately furnished house with plastic sheeting over the couches. Wicker chairs. An expensive security system had captured what were rendered as stills of the moment the bullets entered the cameras view, and a man a minute or so later on the front door at the other side of the house, running inside, presumably to inspect.

There were other things. They seemed comfortably middle to upper-middle class, from the photos, and finally turning to look at the profiles confirmed it. 68. White. Retired with a moderate stipend. Married thirty years. No priors or connections that Bruce might consider linking to any of the people  he knew. Just things like public intoxication, driving violations, a few fines—

Her husband was found with her, and owned the same caliber gun that had broken the glass encasement, shot the woman, and knocked her out of her chair before lodging in the wall. He’d run in from across the street to investigate the gunshot, he said. He denied doing the deed, and circumstantial evidence was not enough to make a conviction on—

...Bruce flipped through the folder again, frowning. 

Flash, who had pulled out his phone, looked up. “Something?”

“...what is it you want me to say about this?” It was a neatly put together file. Very neatly. No real loose ends, if everything in it was true. What was he supposed to be catching, here?

“Just, I guess, your thoughts. Anything stand out?” He took the moment to arch his back and stretch his arms out a bit, one hand still holding the phone. Smiled a bit. Friendly. 

Bruce frowned while looking at Flash this time. 

“This is a test,” he stated, “and I doubt just to see if I’d throw out a name just to be ‘useful.’”

Flash blinked innocently at him, but he was still smiling. “I mean, haha, can’t blame us too much…? You found a  lot of trafficking chains, but, I mean—“

“The case has already been closed, and you’re certain of who did it,” said Bruce flatly. He flipped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’d rather see the scene myself, but if the numbers are right, the bullet hole is too steep an angle for a flat lawn if the husband shot from shoulder height. Someone half his height, or someone kneeling  or lying in the grass. He’s old enough to have trouble getting up from that position, much less from the edge of the yard, to run around to the front of the house and avoid grass stains from a new cut lawn. There’s not enough other information to know who might’ve had a motive to make it professional or not.” 

…

Flash blinked at him, leaning his elbows on the table to watch. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore. Good.

“Yeah,” Flash said. Moved the folder off the table, to the booth seat, out of view. “Some kids were playing with their new .22 in the yard across from the house and accidentally shot her through the window. They confessed a few months ago.”

It was a small enough crime that news wouldn’t have made it to Gotham. Or been widely publicized at all, if ‘kids’ meant they were  still minors. That would make them thirteen at most at the time of the shooting—

Bruce wasn’t sure if his throat was full of acid or metal as he said, “Is there anything else for me to look over?” 

Flash hesitated a moment (an eternity for him, surely) and said, “Well…”

Bruce stood and made a  straight fucking line to the door Dick had been pulled in and not yet emerged. Flash called out, “Hey—!”

….even as the hand fell on his shoulder and tried to pull him back, Bruce had frozen in the doorway. 

On the other side, he could only see a bit— the doorframe was too narrow and he dared not step closer—but he could see enough.

He’d wondered, a little bit, why Robin hadn’t emerged when he’d begun speaking. Surely he was loud enough to be heard from the back room. They were only meant to be separated minutes. Just a quick mission. Now, he could see, though—

Dick, sitting on an industrial chest freezer, his legs kicking, not near touching the floor. 

He was holding a popsicle. One of the fudge ones. Partly eaten and the top of the stick beginning to show, and Robin didn’t see how it was beginning to drip down over the crinkled plastic wrap, and would soon run over his fingers. 

He was busy, looking at Kid Fash. Kid Flash squatting on the floor with a creamsicle, holding it up to the color of his suit, and visibly whining with an orange tongue, a pouting face—

And Robin ignored his own melting ice cream to laugh.

...Flash’s hand tugged on his shoulder again, this time gentle enough that Bruce felt it. He turned with the pressure, and headed back for the booth. 

He sat down in it, across from Flash and his already-solved case folder. 

“...this was not for case files, was it,” Bruce said, staring at the table between them, feeling very stupid and small. 

“I mean,” Flash said, looking almost as embarrassed as Bruce was shamed. “...we did want to know. But… we thought maybe my uh, my cousin could use someone who could relate to him.” 

Ah yes. For  Kid Flash’s sake. For the boy who they’d never seen publicized before, who was complaining about his outfit color as if he hadn’t chosen it, who didn’t know that in Flash’s ‘occasional empty diner hideout’ he was allowed to run off and eat before being told. 

Not for the boy that for the past month Diana’s pitying face had hung over, the boy who had eagerly asked to Superman to stay for dinner, and who Martian Manhunter would deliver sleeves of choco cookies to, even though they had more than enough money to purchase a box for themselves.

...perhaps Bruce should be glad Flash wasn’t the best at lying. Perhaps Bruce was too used to looking for tells, and mistook super speed masking for the truth. 

“I see,” was all he said. 

When he’d been a child, there had been plenty of others who knew death, and who had never moved him an inch for all their crying. He’d done his best to make that untrue for Dick the past few years, and now they knew each other’s grief inside and out. 

Bruce did not know what else to do from there. 

It was grief all the way down. 

“He’ll need to learn how to counter people who might actually know how to fight speedsters,” he said, watching the table. “There’s pads in the basement, if he’d like to improve sparring with Dick sometimes.”

Flash blinked at him again. Flash sat up straighter, grinning. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Bruce agreed, looking up to scowl. “But for fuck’s sake, bring more than one casefile next time.”

—

On Robin’s anniversary, a gang fight breaks out in the Diamond District.

Something gone wrong. A shootout.

Bruce isn’t sure if it could’ve been called a shootout before the police arrive. By the end of the night, the building is on fire, and a gas vein has blown. Heavy smoke drifting down the street causes a panic, and then a stampede— 

He doesn’t want to let Robin out tonight. 

On the news, it looks like there are fights breaking out in the stampede. There are people lying down, specks of color on the ground as the helicopter news anchor tries to describe the scene. She’s pure professional. Cold eyes. Clear eyes.

The smoke momentarily engulfs the helicopter, and she begins crying. 

He does not want to let Robin out tonight.

He will deal with the outrage in the morning. 

—

(On Robin’s anniversary, Harvey Dent sees the fires and hears gunshots from his hospital room. He drags himself and his IV stand away from the bed, towards the window, and fumbles with the latch with ineffective hands. The nurses come with the heart monitor alert. When they sedate him, Harvey is still screaming “Burn it down, burn it down.” )

—

...as often as it happens, Bruce doesn’t think Gotham knows how to deal with tragedy. Wasn’t it common by now? Weren’t they used to it? But as much as the flags should’ve flown half mast and statues been erected, the world stood still— the next morning, school busses take the children to school, and their parents march out to work. 

Bruce has a distinct face, but with enough makeup and a red wig, he can seem to be a different person for a while. He can dress himself up as officer and with enough confidence and disdain walk right passed the caution tape and into the crime scene the next morning. 

Is it still accurate to call several city blocks a crime scene? Is it a crime scene at all? 

There’s caution tape around it. He knows what the words mean in his head. A shape, more than a real definition, with real letters attached— a block of space that has crumbled differently from the world around him. A depression of buildings, some with more tarps laid down than others. 

Most of the bodies have been taken to the morgue by now. Not all of them. But most. 

Is he going to sneak into the morgue tonight? Is he going to cut open an innocent person who gave no consent to him? To do more than what their family may have agreed to? Will he just steal the coroner’s report and assume they did their jobs properly? 

….it is Gotham. He will assume nothing until proven otherwise. Even now it feels like the police are more rattled than usual, like something has actually gone and bitten them and made them pay a bit more attention.

Inside the building where the shootout started, he starts to look for the bullet holes and take pictures. He looks for scorch marks to track towards the origins of the blaze. 

He doesn’t find a blown gas vein, no matter how hard he looks. 

There was a difference between a storage building and a warehouse. This was a storage building. It had perhaps had a secretary and some organizers. Someone in charge of keeping track of records. There had been unused parts of the building. Bare rooms without much beyond stripped light switches and unpainted walls. One or two empty office spaces, for meetings perhaps. For presentations. 

It was on the second floor where he found the lab. What appeared to be the remains of a lab, in any case. It had been shot up through the floors, and the papers had burnt up in the fire. Police hadn’t officially come up this high yet. The stairs didn’t seem stable. Bruce had not specifically used the stairs. As long as no one saw him slip back down, it would be fine. 

It seemed as if the lab had not been in use at the time of the shootout. Fortunate. The beakers were broken, but they were all clustered together near the sink, clean, and so presumably had all been put away after any use. There was nothing sitting out that seemed to have been mid-use. He would’ve believed a Bunsen burner might’ve started part of the fire, but there was none of that, either. 

...there  was one thing. A broken tankard in the corner that had caused most of the damage, to be certain. A high caliber round seemed to have punctured it, either from the floor below or fired from the hall outside. Otherwise, there would’ve been another body up here, or at least the remnants of one. But the sudden decompression seemed to have mostly left just… a badly scattered room and shrapnel damage on the opposing wall. 

He was about to move to the next room when he noticed the faint texture inside the tank and a matching sort of stain on the ceiling above. 

...he moved closer to the tank, holding his breath and not daring to hope (should he be  hoping  for something?) and investigated. 

A thin layer of green-ish white powder layered the insides of the tankard. An explosive cloud of the stuff must have also flown towards the ceiling and stained it during decompression. He’d assumed it was an oxygen tank. Assumed wrong. 

Taking out a few q-tips, he picked up a few wipes and sealed them away in an evidence bag, did another once-over of the room, now trying to double check everything and ignore his ‘assumptions’, but the burnt papers remained largely illegible, and the cleaned lab materials yielded nothing new. 

He moved on to the next room, and slipped out quietly from there to check the rest of the street. 

—

He arrived back home in different clothes just about the time that Dick (picked up by Alfred) returned home from school. 

The kid looks at Bruce as Bruce enters the front room, and a silent but perceptible drone passes between them. 

For a moment, Bruce simply looked back, wondering what it was he was supposed to say here. 

Eventually, he fumbles in his pockets and pulled out dust-covered q-tips. They’d done this lots of times on the road, hadn’t they? And it had been fun, then. “Want to help identify oddly colored dust?” 

Dick lets his head drop back with an open-mouthed groan at the ceiling, but he does come to the garage lab without… any other response than that sound and movement.

...Bruce was not sure what that meant. 

—

Who the  fuck was rigging exploding nitrous oxide cans to deliver green-dyed powdered LSD?

—

Monday, at the park, he tells the ones who show up they can stay and work in the park as they’ve been doing the last two weeks, or they can come with him to help clean up the areas damaged by the fire.  

Most of them, eight out of the ten, peel off to go help with the fire damage. He can’t say he expected that. But they wander out of the park, keeping together in a group, and spend the day with magnet sticks picking up nails and crooked metal and stacking bricks up out of the walkway. They hose down the ashes to stop dust and at Bruce’s insistence, scoop the ashes into garbage bags instead of just washing it all into the sewer. 

It gets him some weird looks, but no one is ready to argue with him after only working for two weeks, because these are the ones who  stayed  for that daily stipend-- there’s not a contract here; these ten are the ones who hate this work less than anything else they might’ve had available, so they break out two flat shovels and bag things up, wearing cotton masks to avoid inhalation. Bruce trots back to the park to get the truck and pick up all those bags for disposal.

He’s prepared for the ones they left behind to have skipped out early, unsupervised, but as he rounds the (now lower) hedges to look at their base of operations he finds… they actually have acquired an extra person. 

No, the shovels aren’t moving and the hedges don’t look that different from what they’d been like this morning, but that’s still not  abandoning a position. And instead they have some soda cans from the nearby vending machine, and are leaning on a termite-eaten picnic table, talking with rapt interest to Dick Grayson. 

Bruce paused to take it in a second time. Dick certainly clocked him coming into view even though the kid didn’t turn to look his direction. Dick was still there, though, sitting on the other side of the picnic table with a fizzy orange juice and his legs crossed under himself. It wasn’t Bruce’s day to pick him up, Bruce was certain, and yet he had a moment where he had to think of it again to make sure, and checked his phone, and his pocket schedule. But his instinct was right, and it was indeed Alfred’s day to pick Dick up from school while Bruce worked here in the park--

He started to walk over just as Dick turned and raised a hand in greeting, letting the recruits cue into his presence before he was close enough to startle them. And yet, they were still startled enough to look at their shovels and very obviously say “shit,” even when Bruce was still too far away to actually hear it. Then, one seemed to realize they had cursed in front of a tween, said “shit” again, and smacked themselves on the forehead.

Dick’s nose wrinkled up as he smiled. Bruce couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was a laughter snort. 

(He did not acknowledge his jaw untensing as he walked up to Dick who was smiling and sociable again.) 

He came over intending to smile and say words and have a nice conversation, and… then he was close enough and realized he didn’t know what to say. Did he tell them not to corrupt Dick? Would they take that as him implying they were poisonous to others? Would Dick take that as him being protective and spoil the mild good mood? If he told them to take the rest of the day off since clearly things weren’t going to happen, was that dismissal? Or was that chasing them off? Would it be a threat to their paycheck, even though he intended to pay the day’s wages fair as always?

Things seemed to be going almost well lately. The park was slowly being cleaned and Dick was in better spirits than he’d been for two days since the anniversary--

“Oh, he stalled out, don’t worry about it.” 

It is not  embarrassment, but Bruce does snap out of his train of thought and back into the present. “Sorry,” he says, and looks to the two grown men in their baggy jackets and laced up work boots and secondhand hats. “We’re just finishing cleaning up some of the ash. If you come help move the last bit, we’ll all call it a day.”

As they got up and started shuffling away from the picnic table, Bruce did glance at Dick, and after a moment of still confusion, say, “Coming?” 

...the expression Dick gives him was not a smile. But he did come. 

-- 

They throw the garbage bags in the back of the trunk, and pack it largely to the brim. Surreptitiously, before Dick can climb into the passenger seat, Bruce digs out a simple dust mask and hands it to him. With barely a second look, Dick puts it on and rolls down the window before settling in. It’s smooth, and no one asks questions or looks much askance, because he and Dick are good by now at not announcing  something is happening that is different than normal to the world at large. 

(And Dick has become very good at seeing through that with Bruce, but Bruce is… starting to wonder if perhaps, he has taught Dick too well to hide anything that would draw attention that something was wrong. Like a wounded animal could run on a broken leg, or a predator bleed from the mouth, and neither would ever make a peep.)

They drove the bags of ashes home to hide behind the house’s perimeter walls, and Bruce tried to explain. The dust, and the huge plume of heat and smoke that could’ve blown even heavy particles down the street, and the sort of cues that psychedelics took from the state you were in. How most people probably wouldn’t exactly get a good trip, surrounded by gunfire and smoke. And maybe there was something else he missed, in the ash, unsafe for casual disposal, how he wasn’t  certain he hadn’t missed something--

Dick laid his head back on the car seat, sighing through his mask, and Bruce stopped his mumbling.

Glanced over. 

“...maybe I can… arrange for Flash to take a look, if you want to come along,” he offered as they pulled onto their street.

Dick sat up a little straighter, a little light in his eyes.

--

...he wondered, maybe unkindly (but mostly tiredly), if Dick would rather move in with the Flash and his sidekick. He didn’t have any real evidence for this. Kids did tend to be fairly excited to see friends around their own age, and just because someone might enjoy a trip to a festival didn’t mean they wanted to live in one.

...yet, Dick probably would’ve been quite happy, adopted into a renaissance fair circuit.

Maybe it wasn’t that Dick needed more friends. Maybe the issue was Bruce.

But it’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? Dick drew his line in the sand in front of the Justice League, and Bruce had given him too many secrets to have to keep, and there was nowhere else to go. 

—

Bruce goes to Gotham Academy early. Very early. Two hours before pickup is meant to be.

Dick has gotten into a fight. 

The parents of the other kid are already there when Bruce arrives and is shown to the principal’s office (it is in the same place it has been since Bruce went here) and ushered inside to the sound of anger and snapping threats. 

The office is wood, with a centered carpet and a large mahogany desk at the center, and surrounded by three adults and two children, one of them his. 

Dick doesn’t have a scratch on him, unless you count a faint bruise starting to show on his knuckles. The other boy, who is bigger and taller in every way, has a tissue up to his nose and an ice pack on his ear, and is simultaneously shielded and towered over by his two parents, neither of whom have stopped arguing with the principal since Bruce arrived. 

He barely gets a chance to get to Dick’s chair by the wall when he is also pulled into the argument by a “Is  this little heathen yours, Mister Malone?” from the mother. 

Things are not going to improve from there, he’s pretty sure.

“What’s going on?” he asks the principal instead, who is a balding white man with age spots on his face and horn-rimmed glasses on his nose. 

“ Master Richard here has assaulted Master Reynolds--” the principal begins.

“--and we will be pressing charges if adequate disciplinary action is not taken,” says the father.

“But what actually happened,” Bruce says, and somehow the noise gets louder in the room. Not the physical noise of three or four people talking at once, but also the hot dissent from Dick in his corner, the hidden bloodied fear of the boy he attacked, the principal patting the desk with his hands over and over, trying to call attention back to himself. Fluorescent lights bright as static. Itchy polyester fake turkish carpets even though his shoes. The room is small and red-orange with wood stained to look like cherry, yellow copper accents on the studs of cushions and trophies and the frames of portraits and certificates hung on the clustered walls--

Dick is suspended three weeks. 

--

Dick is curled in the front seat of the car, furious that Bruce didn’t defend him enough and fight back, and get his sentence reduced or vetoed entirely. His body is balled up tight enough he’s no bigger than he was at eight, curled around the seatbelt in a haze of fury. 

“He was  picking on people  ,” Dick says in a way Bruce knows means Dick had seen it before, but this time it had crossed a line. “  He should be suspended.”

‘He’ is getting two stitches and a formal apology written (ostensibly) by Dick. Dick will not be the one writing it, even if it’s his name at the bottom. ‘He’ will be in school, not in trouble for bullying but now with free reign to his targets without Dick to stand in the way. If Dick was even in the way before at all. If being in the way without being physical meant anything in this case. 

“You’ll just have to be more subtle about it,” Bruce says, trying to be encouraging. Because Dick didn’t do anything  wrong to step in. Maybe it didn’t deserve a bloody nose, maybe it could’ve been handled some other way, but he still hasn’t been able to wrangle the exact story out of anyone but he is certain that--

Dick goes “RRR” and kicks the windshield hard enough that Bruce startles and slams on the breaks. 

Their seatbelts jerk tight and a car horn behind them blares. 

...there is the faintest tap on their bumper, but Bruce is already speeding the car forward again, heart pounding too hard to stop. 

There’s not even a scratch when they get out at their house later.

--

He goes to Dick’s bedside in the evening. Dick’s lying on top of his covers with the lights turned off in a darkening room, staring at the wall opposite the door. There was music playing before, but the CD player turned off as soon as Bruce turned the door handle. 

He sits by Dick’s bedside and asks if he’d like to go out for the evening. 

Dick agrees, but there isn’t much laughter that night, except the sort Robin scares people with.

The mood is still there the next morning.

--

It is Superman’s turn to check in. Apparently. 

The visit is unscheduled (and probably because of  Dick’s suspension) and today involves casserole, which Bruce is primed automatically to dislike. 

"Yes?" Bruce says upon seeing big blue and buoyant in their kitchen, hovering over the kitchen island with a glass dish covered in aluminium and Alfred looking over a handwritten paper beside him. 

"Oh, hey, good morning there," Superman says, as if he's surprised to see Bruce here when there was no other person for him to be there to  see . "I was just dropping off the casserole recipe Alfred wanted to try."

…one of the only people for him to be here to see. But Bruce still doubted a casserole was a real reason for a whole visit. So Bruce tries again. "Did you need something?"

Alfred looks up from the paper with a frown and without a word starts shooing them out of the cooking space if they're going to be talking business. "I dunno. Was there something you needed to talk about?" 

They make it to the couches of the living room, though neither of them sit down. 

"No," says Bruce.

"Alright then," says Superman, who Bruce is learning is an asshole. "I heard some stuff happened with Dick at school?"

Which is entirely unsubtle and a very clear sign that Superman is not leaving until Bruce asks  some  sort of question or resolves whatever this is. 

So fine. Bruce hasn't even had some fucking coffee yet. He'll ask a question. "What would you do if your child, who is aware that at nightime they can go out and punch abusers and rapists, during the daytime attempted to defend an underclassman, and as a result are threatened with criminal action or suspension while you are trying to lie low and causing a big fuss about it and fighting the decision will do the exact opposite of laying low, severely limiting their freedom regardless of if we win."

Like a coward, Superman's expression says he had been thinking of Dick as a kid who was not  Dick , and sheepishly says, "I guess, what would your parents do?"

Bruce thinks he feels it this time. The expression on his face turning colder. He feels it the same way Dick can always see the change. "I wouldn't know that, now, would I?"

...this was why he left in the first place, wasn't it. This eternal loop of days upon days surrounded by people who just  forgot or never could let him forget. It's been easier as an adult, almost-- it's normal now for people's parents to be dead. It's normal to not have people ask after them like limbs they can't see have detached. Even if Superman doesn't know his old name, doesn't know that stupid story about a boy billionaire and his rich family, its jarring to realize that even the most alien being on earth just assumes--

--well, of course. He would know  all  humans have parents. 

But the bite in Bruce's voice is cold enough, and the way Alfred's slight shuffling in the kitchen goes quiet, it's enough to get through apparently-- Superman's head is ducked down embarrassed and he says, "right, sorry," because perhaps Bruce returning to Gotham to the fucking Wayne Butler's House should've been enough reason to realize he didn't have any family left of his own. "The person who raised you…"

"Nothing they said," Bruce interrupts, "has ever done anything about this."

…

Maybe he's angry. He hasn't had any coffee yet. But he turns to end this conversation and walk out to the garden, and hears Alfred's sigh from the kitchen. 

But he's telling the truth. 

Even if Alfred had found something new to say in the years since Bruce tried to bite his therapist's face off, if he's tried to say it to Dick, it clearly hasn't been working. 

--

There is a thing like a piston beating up against his head. A hammering rhythmically at the front of his skull. One thing, then another, then another, then another, and when he wakes up the next morning to one more ring there will still be all the ones behind him, echoing through the halls still unresolved. 

He wasn’t made to live like this. How was anyone made to live like this? One thing after another and another and when he wakes up in the morning there are still more banal, useless things to do in a world that eats up and eats up and eats up--

How does the grocery store clerk wake up each morning? How does she go to bed at night knowing the same thing will happen the next day, but worse, and more tired, and less pay, over and over, for eternity.

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

TEASER - Bioweapons and Beef Stew - Chapter 2

Kara's pod goes into the wrong wormhole and she ends up in the Mass Effect universe. SEE MORE HERE: https://www.patreon.com/alephthirteen/posts?filters%5Btag%5D=Bioweapons%20and%20Beef%20Stew

=====

Shepard anchors her fingers around Liara's hipbones and pushes herself away. Tendrils twitch and try exposing Liara's hungry sex to cool air.

Her yelp of protest is not far from what she's heard humans call hiccups.

She's also kept her walls up. Somehow. Somehow a human, with no innate defenses against the meld--bar perhaps, her own stubbornness--has kept Liara at the edges of her mind. Pleasure has built and built and built, but she hasn't been allowed the meld, so she can't come. Not really. She's asari. She needs more than a muscular twitch, a burst of neurotransmitters and a gush of slick to release the pressure.

Crude but effective stasis fields pin her feet to the carpet while muscular arms are more than enough to pin her hands. At her request, they turned the lights off so that Liara's self-consciousness about her appearance wouldn't stop them. In her defense, she had expected to be drowning in the sparkling void of meldspace seconds after Shepard touched her, where there is no universe but each other and where any doubt she might have about whether Shepard is pleased with what she's seeing would be solved instantly because she would just know.

Shepard is just exploring rather than doing anything and it's driving her mad.

Fingertips walk along the skin because humans can't see in full darkness. Tiny, quiet huffs to draw Liara's scent, followed by a tilt of the head that makes hair tickle across the asari's skin and a pause. What she's noting in those contemplative moments, Liara shudders to imagine. Lazy drags of tongue at the crease of her thighs, from mound up to her breast and returning down the plane of her belly almost to her azure and then damnably retreating, at the inside of her wrists, one lashing lick against each of her ribs, a fierce suck under her chin that must have left a mark. Shepard's mouth is everywhere except the places--azure, tender spots on her back, the neck folds, her crests--everywhere except the places that might make her come or make her do what this damnable human thinks is coming.

Liara feels like she's a platter of food at a restaurant in the Presidium, nibbled and sampled and reviewed but not actually enjoyed to the fullest.

It's been hours, she thinks. Days. Weeks. Athame's mercy. She might have been lying here long enough for a galactic extinction cycle while Shepard explores.

Surely human soldiers are taught not to torture prisoners?

She tickles the hand holding hers fast and Shepard releases her. She pulls hard enough to bring her arm up and lay it out across her belly, and pokes at her lover's omnitool until she can get the lights on.

"Let..." she huffs.

"Yes?" Shepard asks, looking up from where she'd rested her chin on Liara's lap and fluttering her lashes oh-so-innocently. "Let you what?"

"Let me come."

"I need to meld, Shepard. I'm not sure if you're familiar with asari reprod-FUCK!"

The professor in her started lecturing. She was distracted too long and Shepard took the opportunity to turn her face down, climb over her and push her cheek to the sheets with one rough shove.

Shepard's tongue is laving across the jewel at the back of the skull, where all of Liara folds and crests meet. It's too good. It's too much. It's too much by light-years.

"Keep talking," Shepard snarls. "I love that you're smart."

She tries to explain about the layers of pleasure her body needs from a mate and about Tevura's Three Blades, about the sacred threes that echo throughout her culture. Maiden, Matron and Matriarch. Plaything, Lover, and Bondmate. Touching, Sampling and Blending. Tries to explain the way biotics, sexual pleasure, the meld and motherhood aren't separate aspects of being asari but that taken together, they are being asari, and all else are little tricks they use to experience those gifts.

Every time she catches her breath enough to speak, Shepard's teeth or tongue latch on to a neckfold, or dance through a crevice between, or a nip at crest-tip or her lips curl around the jewel where crests and folds meet and suck with building ferocity that makes Liara sag and moan into the bedsheets.

Finally, Shepard retreats.

"A good start?"

Liara calls on her biotics, flings Shepard into the air and then pulls her back to the bed, pinning her with as many points of stasis field as her pleasure-melted brain can concoct. She climbs on top and straddles Shepard's hips with her own. Surely now her tormentor understands. She must be able to feel Liara's azure weeping slick onto her...what did she say humans called it?

Shepard's grin--her damnable grin--is so wide it splits her face.

"I want you to make me come. You're a terrible lover, Shepard. Goddess knows how many times you've brought me halfway and refused to do more."

Shepard chuckles.

"Then as a matriarch's daughter, I think you should take what you are owed, princess."

Was it that easy? The entire time? Goddess. I did admit that I was a virgin. She was waiting for me to

take the lead...

"Let me in, Shepard. Now."

With little more than a nudge, Shepard's psyche yields and Liara's spilling into her mind, their mind, this space where two are one. Memory rushes and crashes like floodwater through a desert canyon.

Smoke and fire and blood and screams. Burning cities. Little children clinging to her exhausted, dirty body while she shushes them. Face after face sneering before Shepard's pistol or her biotics ends them.

She's a killer and a protector. She uses warpfire to melt a batarian slaver's skull down slowly, like a candle under a heatlamp while she takes his victim and pulls the crying turian child into her side to hide the violence, gritting her teeth as his spiny head scratches narrow wounds into her arm.

Pleasure blooms like a supernova behind Liara's eyes. It's as if all the half-ruined orgasms Shepard gave her collided and tangled and collapsed to a pinprick and exploded into something far more.

Meldspace thins as she can't maintain it against the trembling waves reaching down every nerve and then rippling back. She can feel and see her surroundings again and she sees Shepard's panting and spent, smearing a palmful of Liara's own slick over her belly. Her knees are damp from the soaked sheets.

"You're a messy one, Liara T'Soni. Good thing you look so sweet when yo-"

Liara leans down and covers her human's mouth with a kiss before she can say another stupid thing, swallowing whatever jibe or joke or tease while thanking Athame that the meld helps her know she's not wasting a proclamation of love.

=====

Oh.

She's messed up because she's hard and because the cause of it is painting wet breath across her wrist. Liara is using her right arm as a pillow and she's probably never getting it back. She's shifting in her sleep, dragging the firm curve of her ass against Shepard's throbbing, weeping cock while her hand holds firm around her back, fitting Shepard's body close and preventing any possibility of a gentlewoman's retreat.

Sex dreams spill from her bedmate's brain into her own and Liara murmurs half-words in Serraci, including her name.

If this is what morning wood is like, she's going to give Alenko thirty percent less shit when he shows up grumpy at a ninety-second wakeup evac drill.

"Please," Liara groans, voice sleep-scratchy and thick. "I need to feel you. Right there, Shepard. You feel so good inside me."

She tries to shake the sleeping temptress, and all she gets out of it is a catlike state that makes lifting her off about as likely as juggling a droplet of water.

"Lee."

She mumbles something else, something filthier and in English borrowed from her brain and shifts back, pressing as much of Shepard's skin against her scales as she can.

Her little Bluejay's brain bombards Shepard with images of exactly what she's imagining and some miraculous asari reflex guides Liara's hand across her skin, like she'll sleep better if the other body in the meld feels pleasure.

Liara wakes with a moan. Shepard is on top of her, pinning her with her weight alone. Her knees are inside Liara's, keeping her spread. Fingers are dancing through her crown, evading the hungry pulsations of the tendrils and fingers are on her crest-tip, squeezing hard as Shepard dares. She's sucking her jewel again and she sobs and moans and smears pleasure across her pillow from drool-slicked lips.

"Shepard..."

The lips abandon her jewel, but Shepard doesn't retreat, her breath ghosting across the tortured nerves. "Easy, baby. I could feel you dreaming. I'm sorry," she pants. "I had to have you."

"That's why we have the dreams, siame. To lure. When I do, wake me like this, please," Liara manages to croak out between her pants. "Always wake me like this." Then she feels it pressed against her ass.

Hard and hot and veiny, Shepard's pulse counted out in drumbeats. It must feel alien to Shepard too, this new organ, but she hides it well, jogging her own hips slightly and smearing something slick from the trembling tip.

"Can..." Shepard gulps.

"I want you inside, Shepard."

"Meld, so I don't hurt you."

=====

The intercom crackles.

"Update for you, commander."

"Joker," Shepard snarls. "I swear to god, if you were listening, I will have you Cat-6'ed for your porn collection. If you're lucky."

"No, ma'am. But congratulations to you and the doc. Got an unidentified object off our bow. Lifepod, we think but doesn't match any known models. Came in for a close pass. One aboard. Looks like a human female, twenty or a bit younger. Systems are powered and it looks like she's in cryo."

Shepard raises her hand to her omni and mutes the channel.

"Feel like solving a mystery, Bluejay?"

Liara turns her head to steal a kiss before Shepard dismounts her. Seed and her own slick pour out like a tide.

"I would love nothing more, Commander."

"Careful," Shepard teases, landing a teasing slap on her ass. "I might get jealous of the abstract concept of knowledge."

[ladyalatariel]

No One Cares For Orphans - Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys like this idea, let me know if I should do more parts.

Summary: You are an orphan, when you were in High School you met Bucky Barnes, the both of you started dating. But one day you take the blame for a crime that your boyfriend commit, how much is your life gonna change?

FEEDBACK!

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, just overall sadness.

Tagging: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​

Main Masterlist

You didn't have a family, living in a orphanage your whole life in New York, but you were really intelligent which allowed you to attend a prestigious private school, that’s where you met Bucky and Steve, and you fell in love with Bucky since the first time you’ve ever seen him. But you weren’t the only one from the orphanage that was extremely intelligent, Josh he was two years older than you, but his problem was his addiction, his mother was a prostitute addicted to heroine, he barely made it out alive, doctors were more than impressed that not only he survived without any consequences, but he had such a high I.Q.

You remember the first time you saw Bucky like it was yesterday, he was laughing with his group of friends, Steve, Sam, Natasha and the twins Wanda and Pietro. You were walking with Josh, trying to get to know the school more, that’s when your eyes locked with Bucky’s and you got shy, averting your gaze, his deep blue eyes were too much for you. Josh was talking to you about something but you couldn’t concentrate, trying to get another glimpse of Bucky, without getting caught. That’s when Bucky came alone to talk to you and Josh, he had a smirk on his face, exuding confidence.

“Hi, you guys must be new. I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky. And you are…?” Bucky extended his hand to shake your hand, but that wasn’t something that Josh wanted.

“Leaving.” Josh dragged you away from Bucky, he didn't want anyone hurting you, or taking advantage of you.

“Josh, he was just being nice.” You said after you were away from Bucky and his friends.

“I thought you were smarter than that, rich kids ain’t shit, little goblin.” Josh laughed when you slapped his arm, he was the big brother you’ve never had.

“I’m not a little goblin, you’re just freakishly tall.” That was true, Josh was too tall for his own good, you’ve never met anyone as tall as him.

“Whatever, just stay away from the rich kids. I will too, because if we don’t, they will chew us up and spit us out. Nobody cares about orphans, promise me.” And you did promise him that, and Josh promised you the same thing. But neither of you kept that promise, Josh was dealing drugs inside the school, and you started dating Bucky. And eventually you and Josh parted ways throughout High School.

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

You were so happy with Bucky, all your life you were looking for someone that loves you, that takes care of you, that respects you, that will work for your relationship, and you found all of that on Bucky. In your senior year, you and Bucky were trying to get into the same college, and he said that you wouldn’t have to worry about housing, because he wanted the two of you living together, you had so much planned, you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Bucky.

But everything changed in a matter of a week, your whole world crumbled down right before your eyes. You found out that Josh died of an overdose, in a ditch somewhere. You felt guilty, because of Josh’s drug problem, you distanced yourself from him, instead of helping him, and now he was dead and there was nothing that you could do about it. And you also found out that you were pregnant, which was worse due to the fact that you and Bucky had sex a few times, and he was your first. Bucky gave you a car as soon as you turned sixteen, you said that it was too much, but he insisted, and having a car was a lifesaver to you.

You haven’t seen Bucky in three days, ever since you discovered your pregnancy. You knew that it was going to be complicated, but you and Bucky would make it work, having a baby wasn’t easy, but you craved for a family, and you knew that the man you loved more than anything in the world did as well, because he hated his family, because they didn't approve your relationship, you knew that Bucky would be happy.

It was three in the morning when you got a call from Bucky.

“Y/N, I think I killed someone.” That’s all what he said, you tracked his phone and went out to find him. He was in the middle of nowhere, and he was crying, you saw a man on the road, he didn't seem dead.

“Thank God that you’re here, doll.” He hugged you, tightly. You’ve never seen Bucky so distressed, he was usually so calm and aloof. “I’m gonna go to prison, gonna go on trial as an adult.” He kept mumbling whilst you were trying to help the older man, and that’s when you made the worst mistake of your life.

“Take your car and leave, I’ll handle this.” You were still seventeen, but Bucky was eighteen. He looked at you with a dumbfounded expression, but he kissed you and left. You put your car where Bucky’s were, and you called 911.

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

After the ambulance and the police came, you were taken to the police station, you didn't say anything, but you sent Bucky a message, saying that you needed him and that you were being held at the police station, he read the message, but did not replied. That’s when the tears came, you took the blame for the man you loved but he couldn’t even help you. You have been sleeping in the police station for three days since no one would bail you out, the only person that could help was dead, Josh.

You were in the small at the precinct and you saw a man, he had dark black hair and a wide grin on his face, his presence commanded respect. You saw him talking to the detective that was handling your case and he left for the interrogation room. The detective took you to him, you haven’t showered in two days, and sleeping wasn’t an option.

“Miss Y/L/N, I am Loki Odinson your lawyer.” You gave him a warm smile, Bucky didn't forget about you. You couldn’t be happier. “I will help you with your case, my firm does many cases pro bono and I take the time to help the causes that are close to my heart.” Pro bono? That meant…

“No one sent you here?” The smile fell off your face, Bucky did forget about you.

“No, but the good news is that you are a minor which means that your record might sponged. And you haven’t told them anything, which is good.” Loki was the best lawyer money could buy, and he was known for his ‘non traditional’ methods of defense, but no one could ever prove foul play.

“I’m used to bigger people bullying me, I’m not easily frightened, sir.” Loki pointed at the chair for you to sit down and you did, and you tried to prevent tears from falling. “How much time do I need to be in jail for?” You didn't want to give your baby for adoption, and at that moment you realised that you were truly alone in the world and that Josh was the only person to truly care about you. Loki laughed, as if you said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You won’t spend any time in jail, the man was missing for two weeks and the family is more than happy to have him back, they don’t want to press charges, he wasn’t badly injured. But the State does, and I’m more than capable of giving you community service, if that. Before we start, I must know everything about you, and do not leave any detail.” You took a deep breath, if that meant not giving your baby up to adoption, you’d do anything.

You told him every single little detail about your until to that point, uneventful life. Loki was paying close attention to you, and he seemed more than satisfied with your story.

“That is the reason why you asked me if no one sent me here?” You only nodded your head, how stupid you felt. “The Barnes family are ruthless, they wouldn’t allow themselves to be caught up in this mess, even if it was their son that created it.” That was the moment that your innocence died, only believing the best in people, that wasn’t you anymore. “I already know what you’re going to say to the police and at your hearing, and you will leave without any type of repercussion, and I intend on suing the NYPD for the way that they treated you.” You only nodded, and at that moment you’d do anything not to end up in jail.

“The baby that you’re carrying is from your former friend Josh, in the middle of the night he came to your bedroom and violated you.” You were going to protest, but Loki only raised a finger to stop you. “The reason why you hit the man was because you fainted while driving, due to the pregnancy. You’re going to say that you tried to report the rape but they didn't listen to you, a little bit of victim blaming a pregnant teenager, the judge will apologize to you on his knees.” Your case was the easiest thing that Loki ever dealt with, in week you’d have nothing to worry about besides your baby.

“Why do I need to smear Josh’s name like that? Why can’t I say that the baby is Bucky’s?” You didn't want to do that to the only person that ever cared about you, you parted ways at the end, but you never stopped loving Josh.

“The Barnes Family won’t allow their precious son to have a bastard child, and they will hunt you and your baby down. They are ruthless people, Y/N.” A lump on your throat formed, Bucky would allow his family to do that? But when you stopped to think about it, Bucky did everything that his family told him, the first time you went to his house, mother told him that she didn't want you there, so Bucky never took you to his house ever again. His family controlled him, and he did nothing about it, you doing this for him was his way of getting rid of you.

“I will do it, no one weeps for orphans.” You’d only hoped that no matter where Josh was, he would be able to forgive you. Calling Josh a rapist was probably the worst thing you ever did in your life, he was like a brother to you, and he would never hurt you.

You gave your statement to the police with Loki by your side, you even cried, the detectives assumed it was because your the sexual assault, but it was because you were accusing Josh of a crime he didn't commit, that he would never be capable of doing with anyone, since he was a baby conceived through rape. The police let you go and they give your things back to you, on your way out. You threw your cell phone away, and you left the building with Loki, you broke down, you had no one to turn to, you would eventually be kicked out of the orphanage because you would be eighteen in six months, and you had nowhere to go.

“What am I going to do now?” You said between sobs in Loki’s arms, you were desperate.

“I have something in mind for you.” Loki guided you towards his car, and drove off.

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

Loki entered a huge tower in New York, everything was so pristine and the building screamed wealth. Loki didn't say anything to you, he was simply guiding you to the elevator. He pressed the button for the penthouse, and the elevator started. When the doors were opened you could hear a man shouting, and someone aggressively typing on the keyboard.

“Stark.” Loki made his presence known, but the man didn't acknowledged him or you for that matter.

“I’m busy right now, Odinson.” The man shouted, but Loki only rolled his eyes.

“There is someone that I want you to meet, and I’d like to know if you can help her.” Tony stopped to look at you and Loki, and he got up from his chair, he was wearing glasses and he seemed to be in his early 30s.

“I’m Tony Stark, and if this horrible man says that I must help you, then I will.” You shook his hand, and he sat down again in his chair.

“Y/N, if you need anything just call me. I have to prepare for your case and many others, I’ll speak with you shortly.” Loki smiled at you, and you hugged him, murmuring ‘Thank you.’ “Take good care of her, Stark.” Tony only dismissed him with his hand and Loki left you there, but you trusted Loki, if he trusted this man, so did you.

“Do you need anything, Mr. Stark?” The least that you could do is make yourself useful, but Tony visibly winced.

“Never call me that again, it’s Tony we’re going to be roommates. What do you know about I.T?” You liked Tony already, he reminded you of Josh, carefree but also very intelligent.

“I wanted to go to college to study, I.T.” That seemed such a distant dream, your whole life was turned upside down, because you loved a rich and entitled brat, that wanted you to go to jail for a crime that you didn't commit, just to stop him from getting into trouble.

“Colleges are a waste of time and money, trust me I’ve been in three.” Tony got a bottle of water, and came closer to you. “Tell me more about your story.” 

“Can I rest for a little bit? I haven’t been sleeping well for these few days.” Tony nodded.

“Of course, choose whichever room you want. But tomorrow you’ll tell me your story and then I’ll teach you everything that you need to know about I.T and we can get my company back.” To be honest, you weren’t that tired, but you were avoiding telling all the horrible memories of everything that you’ve been thought. You entered the first room you came across, you took a shower and put the same clothes that you had before, and then you cried.

Bucky probably never loved you, and he found a way to get rid of you and you were stupid enough to believe him. You were happy that Loki found you, you had no idea what to do if he didn't did those pro bono cases, probably jail and giving up your baby, but your baby would be loved, he didn't need his horrible father, he would have everything from you, you had a reason to keep fighting and make sure that your baby doesn’t become like his father. Josh was right, no one cares about orphans, especially James Buchanan Barnes.

[lillotte17]

Lost Children

Well, here’s the beginning of my She-Ra (SPOP) AU. I have no idea if I am going to do more with it, but I have lots of ideas, so who knows.

Uthvir (who has a pseudonym for this chapter) and a couple others belong to @feynites 

Also a mention of Ana who belongs to @lycheejellytea

~

Aili sits on a thin metal table in one of Ghilan'nain's many labs around the Fright Zone, swinging her legs back and forth haphazardly and clutching a soft wad of gray fabric in her arms.  

She does not like checkup days. The lab is full of strange delicate-looking instruments, and softly glowing rocks and crystals that throw long sinister shadows across the room. Shelves along the walls are covered in thick books and jars full of bits of floating dead things. But the worst thing is the drain beneath her little table, surrounded by dark unsettling stains and a stench that always makes her stomach churn.

She does not like it, but Commander Ghilan'nain disapproves of fear. Fear is a weakness. Tears are a weakness. And there is no place for weakness in the Horde.

And so, Aili clings to herself and waits.

Hopefully, the Commander will not want to give her any shots today. It is always harder not to cry when there are needles and poking and blood. But sometimes her checkups are just holding different things and answering questions. She does not understand any of it very well, but at least it hurts less. Usually.

And if she is good and has replies that the Commander likes, she might even get an extra ration token.

So, it is not all bad.

Aili sticks her chubby fingers into her mouth. Worrying silently. The Commander has been gone for a while now. Called away by Lord Dirthamen for an important meeting in his sanctum. Ghilan'nain instructed her to sit still until she gets back, and so she has to, but she does not have a firm grasp of time yet, and she wonders how long she has been here.

An hour?

Maybe more?

Will she have to stay past supper time? Will she miss curfew and get scolded by the group leader of her barracks when she gets back? Is the waiting part of the checkup? Is this another test she has to pass?

She wishes the Commander would tell her the rules of the tests more often. That way, she could do and say the things she wants her to. So that Ghilan'nain will be pleased, and Aili can have the pleasure of pleasing.

Everything is much easier when the Commander is in a good mood.

Fighting against the scary princesses and their rebellion is hard work, Aili knows. Lord Dirthamen and Commander Ghilan'nain are always very busy doing the things that need to be done to keep everyone in the Horde safe. Aili does not understand much about the war, and she is too little to be able to help with it anyway, so the best she can do for now is follow the orders she is given. The Commander has high hopes for her, and she does not want to let her down.

She does not want her to get angry.

From the far side of the room, Aili hears a dull thud, as though something heavy has landed on the floor. The first sound is followed closely by a second, and although it is very quiet, she immediately recognizes it. The sound of quiet sobbing.

It is not an uncommon thing to hear in the barracks at night. There is an unspoken rule that you do not seek out the person in distress. And you do not talk about it the next day.

The barracks are all on the far side of the compound, however, so that rule probably does not apply to the case at hand.

Aili slides carefully onto the floor, making sure to avoid stepping on the drain beneath the table, and creeps over towards the wall where the noise is coming from. There is a narrow door that she had always thought was a storage closet full of more books and jars and other things that the Commander uses in her experiments. But kneeling down and peeking through the gap at the bottom of the doorframe reveals what seems to be a much deeper space than she had expected.

No sign of whoever is crying, though.

She hesitates, one hand hovering over the button to open the door, wondering just exactly how much trouble she might get into if the Commander came back and found that she had not only disobeyed direct orders, but she had gone poking around other parts of her lab without permission. Aili trembles. Afraid.

But the person crying sounds like they must be very afraid, too. And sad.

She squeezes the wad of lumpy fabric in her arms a little closer to her chest and presses the button.

The weeping stops when the door opens. The hallway looks a bit like one of the Fright Zone's prison blocks, except it is closed off from everywhere else except Ghilan'nain's lab. The light is grimy and dim and flickering, and the cells all seem to be empty.

Aili shivers again. Maybe this was the test, after all. And now she has failed by going somewhere she is not meant to be. But maybe she can still close the door and get back onto the table before the commander gets back.

Something in the last cell on the left shifts the shadows on the floor.

"Hello?" Aili calls softly, slowly padding down towards the end of the corridor.

At first glance, this cell looks just as empty as the others, but there is definitely something crouching underneath the narrow cot wedged into the far corner of it. Aili gets down on her hands and knees, peering into the shadows. More curious than scared, now.

A pair of mismatched eyes stare back at her. One such a deep brown that it nearly looks black in the darkness beneath their bed. The other so blindingly blue that it makes Aili blink just to look at it.

"Hello," Aili tries again, offering a little wave.

The figure under the bed does not move.

"It's checkup day," she continues, undaunted, "I'm waiting for my checkup. Are you waiting for a checkup?"

They shake their head an almost imperceptible amount.

'No.'

"You get in trouble?" she tries instead, "The Commander ground you for bein' bad?"

They shake their head 'no' again, but their shoulders seem to shake a bit.

"You can come out if you wanna," Aili says gently, "S'okay. I won't tell you were crying."

Another shake of the head, fervent this time.

"My name's Aili," she tells them, lisping slightly, "And this is Socks."

She holds up the lump of gray fabric so that they can see it. It appears to have been mouthed at quite a bit, and there is a crude attempt at a smiling face drawn with what looks like black marker. One eye is noticeably bigger than the other, and there is a large blot on one side of its mouth.

"He's called Socks 'cause he's made of socks," she explains, and indeed, it does seem to be nothing more than several old worn out socks stuffed into another and knotted at one end, "He helps me be less afraid of things, sometimes. I made 'im."

No reply.

"You can hold him a lil'bit. If you want," she offers hesitantly, not entirely comfortable with the suggestion herself, "Maybe he can make you less afraid, too. Then you can come out."

Very slowly, the figure under the bed slides out from their hiding place and crouches on the floor, staring at her intently. They have a mess of shoulder length brown hair that seems at odds with the delicate features of their face. They seem like they might be around the same age as she is, but they are not dressed in the typical uniform of a Horde cadet. They have long lashes, and smooth golden skin, and claws that look sharp enough to rip through anything.

Aili has never seen anyone like them before.

"Cannot come out," they tell her in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh," she replies breathlessly, still a little awestruck.

A few beats of silence pass.

"Are you…a princess?" Aili wonders, "Commander says they're pretty, but also bad and evil, so we gotta fight 'em."

"I…do not think so," they say uncertainly, wrapping their arms around their knees and squeezing, "You…came to fight me?"

"I didn't know you were here," Aili assures them, shaking her head in the negative, "I didn't even know here was here."

She looks them over again, still trying to puzzle things out.

"If you're not a princess, and you're not a cadet…what're you doin' in here anyway?" she asks, "Where'd you even come from?"

"Always here," they reply with a shrug, "Sometimes the lady comes and does things. But mostly just the room and the dark."

"Oh." Aili frowns. "So…you've always been alone?"

"Used to be…others," they tell her flatly, gesturing at the cell across from their own.

"What happed to 'em?" Aili wonders, turning her head to look at the little empty living space they had pointed to.

"Gone." They say, lowering their gaze to the floor. "Lady says failures are unacceptable."

"What'd they fail at?"

They shrug again, despondent.

Aili does not have much experience with being lonely. Or at least, not in the way they seem to be lonely. Someone is always watching in the Horde. People tend to run in packs. They are trained in units, and made to eat and sleep and work together all the time. She cannot really imagine what it must be like to never be around other people. To not have any friends.

She puts a chubby hand against the force field that blocks their cell door.

"What's your name?" She questions.

"Name?" they echo back at her, brow furrowing in obvious confusion.

"What's the lady call you?" she asks instead. "I'm called Aili. Remember?"

"No names," they tell her, "No calling. Names are for people. For things that are useful."

"You're not a people?" Aili blinks.

They shake their head again.

"You look like people to me," she informs them.

Their cheeks pink a bit and they hug their knees tighter.

"But…I am not," they whisper, "The lady said so."

"Well…can I give you a name anyway?" Aili asks.

It is their turn to blink at her now.

"Can you?"

"Sure!" she beams at them, "I'm good at naming. I named Socks!"

They creep closer to the doorway on hands and knees, clearly ready to dart back into hiding at a moment's notice. Then they sit again, curled tightly into themselves once more. Their mismatched eyes regarding her curiously now.

"What makes a name good?" They wonder.

"Um," Aili pauses to consider for a moment, "A good name should be the name of something good. You're good, so your name should be something good, too."

"I'm…good?" they check, sounding astonished by the prospect.

"Course you are!" she affirms confidently.

"How can you tell?" they ask.

"Because I like you," she grins, "So, that mean you're good."

"Oh." They blink. Their face seems to transition through several different emotions before settling somewhere very close to a smile. They scooch closer to the doorway, and press their palm against the forcefield in the same place she has hers.

"I like you, too."

Aili giggles. Buoyant.

"I'm gonna call you Applesauce," she declares, still grinning from ear to ear.

"What is applesauce?" Applesauce questions, brow furrowing slightly.

"It's the most tastiest thing," Aili explains, "We don't hardly ever get it anymore, 'cause most of it is for the really little kids who can't chew good. It's sweet."

"Sweet?"

"You've never had a sweet?" Aili frowns.

"I…do not know," Applesauce replies. "What is it like?"

"It's something so good you want to have it all the time," she tells them.

"I do not think I have had something like that," Applesauce says, shaking their head.

"Next time we have it in the mess, I'll sneak you some," Aili whispers loudly, a spark of mischief in her eye.

"Does that mean…I will see you again?" they ask, achingly hopeful.

"Yeah!" Aili grins. She pauses for a moment as a thought seems to strike her, uncertainty stealing over her face. "I'm…not sure when, though. Your room is hard to get to. But I'll try to come soon as I can, promise."

"What is promise?" Applesauce tilts their head at her.

"Hm," Aili mulls it over, "A promise is super strong words. You can't break 'em. You gotta do what the promise is, or bad stuff happens."

"Bad stuff?"

"Yeah, people will get mad, and you maybe get in trouble," she explains further, "It depends how big the promise is."

"So…if you do not come, you will get the bad things?" Applesauce asks, their eyes wide with worry.

"Well…maybe," Aili concedes, "But I want to see you again."

They do not seem to know what to make of that. It almost looks like they are about to cry. They put their other hand against the forcefield, sharp claws screeching slightly as they press into the energy of it. Trying to break through to her.

"I want-"

They both freeze at the sound of the door opening.

"Aili?" the Commander's voice rings out, cold and sickly sweet. "What are you doing in here?"

In a flash, Applesauce darts back under their cot, shaking from head to toe.

"I-I heard a noise," Aili flounders, clutching at Socks and looking at her feet.

Ghilan'nain has a way of holding perfectly still that nevertheless manages to convey the idea of a threat. She stands just within reach of her ward, long pale hair billowing slightly in the aura of her magic, twisting around the antlers on her head. An intricate silver headpiece sets across her brow, a single bright gemstone glistening at its center like a drop of blood in the dim lighting. The bottom half of her face is covered, as always, by a white mask. It has been artfully crafted to mimic her real features as though they had been cast in marble; cheeks touched with the faintest brush of blush; lips curled in a permanent perfect smile. Only the molten emotion in her eyes ever gives her true feelings away.

She stares down at Aili like a statue carved from ice and snow and malice. Like a silver dagger held aloft by a hand quaking with rage. Waiting for it to fall is almost as bad as the blow itself.

Almost.

"I see," is all she says, but her golden eyes narrow in apparent anger, and Aili trembles despite herself.

"I thought…maybe something fell," Aili bites her lip, getting to up and putting her hands behind her back, head hanging in shame, "I thought it was just a closet, and then...it wasn't, so…"

"So, you became curious, and decided to explore part of my private laboratory without permission," Ghilan'nain concludes for her, her tone deadly soft, "Well…you know what they say about curiosity."

She places a gloved hand on the keypad to Applesauce's cell. The forcefield drops. Aili's heartbeat thunders in her ears.

"What?" she barely manages to squeak out.

"Curiosity killed the cat." The Commander tells her, voice still deathly calm, even as the dark shadow of her magic stretches across the room and forcefully rips her new friend from their hiding place.

Applesauce screams in abject terror.

"I did not mean to!" they wail, struggling against the shadows as they are bodily hefted in the air until they are at eye level with the Commander. They keep repeating it over and over, trying to assert their innocence. "I will be quieter in the future! I will be good! I'll be good!"

"Good?" Ghilan'nain scoffs, "As if you were capable of such a thing. I kept you around because you showed a minimal amount of promise, and I thought that perhaps you could be taught what I could not breed in you. But now you are corrupting one of my most talented students."

"Please!" Aili begs, daring to grab a fistful of Ghilan'nain's dress, "It's not their fault!"

"And who else is to blame, then?" the Commander sneers, tossing Applesauce against the far wall with a casual flick of her hand, "You said yourself that they were making noise in here. Enough that you were compelled to disobey my direct orders. Should they not be punished for distracting you and leading you astray?"

Applesauce does not move from where they land when they hit the floor. If they are hurt, they are much too scared to voice it aloud. Their mismatched eyes are blown wide with dread. Their claws scraping trenches into the tiles near their feet. Desperately wanting to run, but not daring to.  

"They already said they're sorry," Aili objects, stepping between her friend and her mentor, "I'm sorry, too! I'll listen better next time! Jus' don't hurt them anymore, please."

A tear slides down Aili's cheek.

Ghilan'nain tilts her head slightly, curious. Calculating.

"Are you indeed sorry, little thing?" the Commander wonders, turning her piercing gaze back to the figure huddled on the floor.

Applesauce nods their head fervently.

"Truth be told, I was thinking that it was about time to dispose of you anyway," Ghilan'nain drawls, "Sorry or not, the inconvenience of spending more time and effort on your development outweigh the foreseeable advantages. It would be much better to have done with you and start from scratch."

She glides forward a few steps. The child by the wall pales, trembling like a leaf. The other bodily flings herself over them as a shield.

"No!" Aili protests, "You can't take my Applesauce! They're my best friend!"

"Your…applesauce?" Ghilan'nain echoes, seemingly baffled for an instant.

"Yeah," Aili sniffles, still doing her best to be defiant, despite her own fear, "They didn't have a name, so I named 'em. An' I promised to see them again. But I can't see them if you make them go away! I can't break my promise!"

"…I see," the Commander says archly, "And what will you do to earn this favor, if I should grant it to you? Your…Applesauce is a considerable expense. And an eyesore."

"I'll do anything," Aili vows, wrapping her arms around her friend's shoulders. They tense at first, but the expression on their face when they gaze up at her is one of awe.

"In that case, I would expect you to not only follow every command I give you flawlessly, but ensure that they do as well," Ghilan'nain tells her, moving close enough to loom over them. "You will be responsible for them. Their mistakes are your mistakes. Their achievements are your achievements. Teach them well, and you will have a capable underling. Fail…and I will rescind my generosity."

"I'll be good," Aili says solemnly, "And I'll take good care of them. For always. I promise."

~

"You can sleep in my bed tonight, if you want," Aili tells Applesauce later, once her checkup is finished and Ghilan'nain had dug up a spare cadet uniform for them and all but toss them both out of her lab, "It can be a little scary if you're all alone. Tomorrow you can meet everyone else, an' I can show you 'round more places. It's kinda late now."

"Others?" Applesauce blinks. They still look on edge. Disbelieving, as though waiting for the Commander to reappear at any second and drag them back to their cell.

"Yeah, a bunch of other kids sleep in this barracks, too," she explains, "Vena, Taz and Ana. We're all part of the same unit, so we do almost everything together all the time. They're at dinner right now, but they'll be back soon."

"Oh," is all Applesauce can think to say. They seem like they cannot decide if the prospect of other children is delightful or petrifying.

Aili climbs into her bunk and pulls the blanket up, then looks back and gestures for Applesauce to join her. They hesitate for a moment, but eventually they crawl in beside her. She grins at them as they lay their head against her pillow.

"Wanna hold Socks for a bit?" she wonders.

They nod, and accept the pathetic attempt at a toy with an air of almost reverence. The pair lay together in silence for a while. Their minds racing with everything that had happened today and how it might change their futures now.

"What is…friends?" Applesauce asks quietly, darting a glance in Aili's direction.

"We're friends," Aili says with a tired grin, her eyes beginning to droop a bit, "Friends are people you like to be with. People who look out for you, and you look out for them, too."

"You said I was a…best friend," they reminder her, "Is it different?"

"Your best friend is the friend you like best," Aili explains through a yawn, "You're my favorite, so you're my best friend. For always, just like I told the Commander."

"And you will…'look out' for me?" Applesauce checks, mildly disbelieving.

"We'll look out for each other," Aili clarifies, reaching over to take hold of one of their hands and squeezing it a little, even as her eyes slip shut, "That way nothing really bad can happen. If we stay together, we'll be fine."

"You promise?" Applesauce whispers, scooching a little closer and pressing their forehead against hers. Face to face on her little pillow.

"I promise," Aili breathes out, drifting to sleep with a smile.    

[rosalind-of-arden]

The Canon Wolfe Trauma Reference Post

Since it looks like there’s some interest in distinguishing between canon and fanon where Wolfe’s torture is concerned, these are my notes on what we have from canon. Where relevant, I’ve noted where we have details that we specifically know apply to Wolfe himself vs details we know about the prison he was held in but don’t know for sure apply to Wolfe. I hope this will be helpful for tagging and for inspiring fics to explore the large amount of ground available to cover. Short notes first, then long list of relevant quotes under the link.

Notes:

In theory, the point of Wolfe’s imprisonment was reeducation. He was also tortured for information on his printing press research. The Artifex wanted to hurt Wolfe just to hurt him, ordering the torture to continue long past the point of achieving any other goal.

Wolfe’s research and journals were taken and put in the Black Archives and/or destroyed.

Wolfe was arrested in his house at night, taken to the Archivist’s office for questioning, then kept in a cell in the Serapeum and questioned further before being taken to Rome. Bit of ambiguity, but torture is likely here.

In Rome, Wolfe was held in a dark stone cell. No other canon details given on Wolfe’s cell specifically, but based on what is shown of the prison, it was probably solitary confinement, and he may have been kept chained.

Physical torture methods: Wolfe specifically refers to cuts, burns, and blows, no other detail given. He has scars, no detail given on where, how many, or what they look like (assuming none on his face, since that would have been mentioned). Based on what we see of the prison, probably any historical torture method is possible. While I’d say it’s generally being used metaphorically, “broken” comes up often enough to justify broken bones, depending on your reading.

Psychological torture methods: Being lied to, being told loved ones are dead, being given comfort (specifically better food, baths, clean clothes) only to have it taken away. Other forms of manipulation are possible.

Wolfe was given some amount of treatment for injuries while in prison. At a bare minimum, Qualls cleaned wounds.

Qualls was personally involved with all questioning and frightened Wolfe greatly. He worked for the Artifex but was given little information beyond the instruction to continue the torture. For unspecified reasons, he decided both he and Wolfe had reached their limits and arranged Wolfe’s release and his own retirement. Does not like the Artifex and threatened retribution if the Artifex imprisoned Wolfe again.

By the end of his time in Rome, Wolfe was so severely traumatized that he barely spoke. This continued at least for the first night after his release.

Wolfe returned home injured. He was bleeding and had difficulty walking. Santi cared for him, specifically bathing, clothing, and holding him. We don’t know any more about his condition or recovery process, other than the fact that he came out of it with PTSD and scars (again, no specifics on those) but no physical disabilities.

After his release, Wolfe is banned from research and publication. The Artifex continues to threaten him and the people he cares about. The Artifex repeatedly tries to kill him. Santi is also threatened.

Wolfe’s PTSD is triggered by memories, feeling trapped, anything prison-like, smells, darkness, and lack of sleep. Symptoms include suicidal thoughts, self harm, psychosomatic itching and pain, nausea, tremors, anxiety, panic attacks, hallucinations, intrusive memories, repressed memories, and trouble distinguishing reality from imagination/memory.

Detailed notes with direct quotes:

All page numbers are from US editions, paperback for the first three books, hardcover for the last two.

On the purpose of Wolfe’s imprisonment and torture:

Keria, on what to do with Wolfe after he invented the press: “He should be taken to a place of questioning and there made to see the error of his beliefs.” (I&B, p. 127)

On Wolfe’s disappearance and the destruction of his work:

Santi: “They took his research. And then he was gone.” (I&B, 322)

Santi: “They destroyed his research, his personal journals, everything.”  (I&B, 322)

The Archivist’s guard’s confession that Jess finds includes Wolfe being arrested and questioned, but no record of anything after that. It isn’t specified, but I’m assuming this is a record of what happened in Alexandria before Wolfe was taken to Rome, since it’s the Archivist’s guard. (P&F, p. 62)

Wolfe: “My device was destroyed, and I was charged with heresy. My work was erased. I was made to disappear, too.” (P&F, p. 63)

Wolfe was arrested in his house, taken to the Archivist’s office (he was questioned there, not specified whether torture was involved), then a cell below the Serapeum (implied he was tortured there, but not specifically stated), then to Rome. (P&F, p. 144-145)

Wolfe’s book on printing, at least, was not destroyed, but put in the Black Archives. Unclear what really happened to his journals and other work (P&F, p. 310)

Santi was in Belgium when Wolfe was arrested and would probably have been killed if he’d seen the press (A&Q, p. 134)

Wolfe on what his fellow Scholars ignored: “...he was dragged off in the night, when his work had been scrubbed from the shelves…” (S&P, 247)

On what happened in Rome:

Wolfe’s journal: “There are mornings when I wake and I am back in the cell, and I see nothing but the dark. Feel nothing but the pain. (P&F, p. 52)

Wolfe: “The pattern follows what they did to me: arrest, torture, prison, erasing me as if I never existed.” (P&F, p. 62)

Wolfe may have been drugged, specifically to keep him from remembering where he was held: “I don’t remember. Can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can see pieces, but not… not anything significant.” (P&F, p. 66) (this memory loss might be drug induced, as Dario speculates, but torture itself can cause memory problems..)

Wolfe: “I can’t recall any useful details. What they did to me was very effective.” (P&F, p. 139) (As above, this memory loss might be from either drugs or the torture itself.)

Wolfe, mentioning physical torture methods: “I will happily remember every cut, every burn, every blow if it helps set that boy free.” (P&F, 140)

Being taken out of his cell in Rome was always (or at least usually) bad - Wolfe can handle remembering everything up until the Mesmer asks about what happened when he was taken out of his cell in Rome (P&F, p. 145-146)

Psychological torture method: “They lie [...] It’s their favorite tactic - I know it well - to break your mind and your spirit.” Specifically, falsely claiming that loved ones are dead. (p. 218)

Toward the end of his imprisonment, he seems to have become withdrawn: “there is no variety in his responses to questioning, whatever the particular tools we chose to employ. He rarely speaks at all now.” (S&I, p. 82)

As described by Qualls as of the day of his release: “if your plan was to break him, he is long past broken” (S&I, p. 82). “There are limits, and he has reached them.” (S&I, p. 83).

Qualls (hallucination) on some of what he did: “I’ve been with you in your darkest moments. I’ve cleaned your wounds. I’ve listened to you weep.” (S&I, p. 221)

The “gentle” questioning: “That had only made it worse, the times when the questions had been kind and soft, and there had been a cup of tea and a sweet pastry and a bath. Fresh clothes.” (S&I, p. 221)

Qualls did all questioning: “the questions always came, and always, always, the gray, pale shadow was there to ask them” (S&I, p. 222)

“He’d spent months in a cell like this, huddled and broken” (S&I, p. 224)

“...his body broken in the cells in Rome…” (S&P, 247)

Prison details that may or may not apply to Wolfe’s experience in Rome:

Prisoners are rewarded for good behavior with paper and books (P&F, p. 1)

Psychological manipulation: one guard was ordered to be friendly to Thomas to get secrets out of him (P&F, p. 1)

Cells, at least the one Thomas was in, have barred doors, stone walls and floors, a metal ring in the wall that prisoners can be chained to (P&F, p. 217)

Starvation is a possibility: Jess observes that Thomas lost weight in Rome (P&F, p. 217)

Limited availability of personal grooming and clothing options: Thomas’s hair and beard are a mess, clothes are an “oatmeal-colored shirt and trousers that were much worse for wear” (P&F, p. 217)

Prisoners are kept with wrists and ankles shackled for long enough durations that skin looks “raw” when the shackles are removed. Both Thomas and the other prisoner that Jess sees were chained. (P&F, p. 218, 221)

Torture room equipment: “Mechanical devices” with “spikes, straps, wheels, gears” (P&F, p. 221), “a particularly large construction that looked like a bed, but with gears and ropes and straps stained with old blood” (P&F, p. 222) (either a rack or some kind of restraint table?), “machines built to cut, to tear, to pull, to cause suffering and anguish. There was no other use for them.” (P&F, p. 225)

Rations in the prison in Alexandria seem nutritionally adequate, though it doesn’t mention quantities or say how often they’re delivered: “Meat, bread, cheese, figs, a small portion of sour beer and a larger one of water.” (S&I, p. 91). Wolfe doesn’t find the taste appealing (S&I, p. 92)

The Artifex threatens to shoot another prisoner to coerce Wolfe’s compliance (S&I, p. 94)

Mind games from the Artifex: “I will protect Santi if you take your own life” “if you don’t accept this bargain, I will see that he suffers every torment you can possibly imagine in your place. I’ll even have you brought along” (S&I, p. 98-99)

Prison conditions Wolfe does not think of as torture: “deprivation and the boredom and routine of prison”. He does, however, consider the looming threat of horrible execution to be psychological torture (S&I, p. 227)

Qualls:

Thought they had learned as much as they could from questioning Wolfe six months before releasing him (S&I, p. 82)

Did not want Santi dead (S&I, p. 82)

Did not know why the Artifex hated Wolfe (S&I, p. 82)

Does not consider himself a good person: “I am, as you’re aware, not a merciful person, or a kind one; I would not last long in this job if I had even a shred of such fine qualities.” (S&I, p. 82)

Has limits, does not specify what they are: “I have had enough.” “There are limits, and he has reached them. So have I, surprisingly.” (S&I, p. 82-83)

Very thorough in his plan to release Wolfe, exact sequence of events unclear: “I have personally released Scholar Wolfe, and I have seen the Archivist in person [...] The Obscurist Magnus has also been told.” Archivist allowed the release in part because Qualls had information on other prisoners in Rome, in part because Keria was furious. (S&I, p. 83)

Feels strongly enough about Wolfe’s release to threaten to expose Library secrets if the Artifex ever has Wolfe imprisoned again (S&I, p. 83)

Speaks to Wolfe in a creepily pseudo-comforting tone, at least while Wolfe is hallucinating him: “We’re old friends, you and I. I’ve been with you in your darkest moments. I’ve cleaned your wounds. I’ve listened to you weep. Remember?” (S&I, p. 221)

Hallucination Qualls describes the times the questioning was gentle as “the good times.” (S&I, p. 221)

Appearance: “the gray, pale shadow”, Even in full light, the man had always been terrifying. Something about him was dead, and it showed in his eyes, his smile, the not-quite-human way he moved.” (S&I, p. 222)

On the aftermath:

Santi: “It was more than a year before he turned up again. Middle of the night. He looked like he’d crawled out of hell.” (I&B, 322)

Santi: “He’s a walking ghost. He’s been a ghost since the day they finally let him go.” (I&B, p. 323) (could be a reference to his status with the Library, but I read some indication of his mental/emotional state into this, too)

Santi: “I was there when Wolfe crawled bloody to this door. I’m the one who saw what was done to him.” (P&F, p. 138)

Wolfe doesn’t blame Santi for not wanting to see the Mesmer session because “he remembers how I was after” (P&F, p. 141)

Keria was there when Wolfe was released: “She brought me home. To you. She left before you found me.” (P&F, p. 291)

Released by Qualls personally (S&I, p. 83)

“He’d come back from Rome a broken, shaking shell of a man” (S&I, p. 226)

Wolfe’s own memories of his return home: “A broken bone heals twice as strong, he told himself. Santi had taught him that mantra the night he’d stumbled in the door of their house. [...] Santi had bathed him, dried him, clothed him, held him through the night to whisper it in a constant, bracing refrain, because Wolfe had been unable to speak or explain where he’d been” (S&I, p. 230)

Continuing threats and punishment after Rome:

Pretty much every ephemera from the Artifex involves a threat or attempt to kill Wolfe.

Wolfe, to the Artifex: “I’ve done all that you have asked of me since my release. I’ve stood silent when you threatened my friends, my lover, destroyed my life’s work. I’ve borne every punishment.” (I&B, p. 160)

Wolfe: “Saddling me with your class was a kind of punishment. To teach me obedience.” (I&B, p. 286)

Santi: “They wanted him to find your secrets and turn them over. But he found your secrets and he never betrayed them. […] Little rebellions. Wolfe was meant to die on the trip to Oxford. He’s an embarrassment and a risk. Living on borrowed time.” (I&B, p. 323)

Journal monitoring, at least as far as Wolfe knows, began after Wolfe’s arrest. He’s afraid they’re monitoring Santi’s especially closely: “I was afraid you’d change what you were writing. If you had, they’d have taken you.” (I&B, p. 326)

Wolfe: “I was finally released, under the condition that I never again publish or pursue any lines of research that the Library deems dangerous. I live on sufferance.” (P&F, p. 64)

Trauma symptoms:

Suicidal thoughts:

““Better safe than dead, sir” [Glain] said. “As you well know.” “Do I?” His face, Jess thought, looked more set and grim than ever, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes [...] He looked thin and haunted.” (P&F, p. 34)

Santi: “It’s keeping you alive. That’s what I care about.” Wolfe: “Then you care too much.” (P&F, p. 58)

Wolfe: “I’m not insane [...] I’m not on the verge of it. I may be stretched to my limits - my limits being admittedly lower than they should be [...]”

Wolfe, in response to Santi saying he’ll support him: “That’s what makes me live when the alternative seems so peaceful” (A&Q, p. 269)

““Promise me that tomorrow, there’s no prison. No Qualls. If it comes to that-” “If it does,” Santi said, “then it comes for us both.” [...] Odd, that the promise of death would sound so inviting when put that way” (S&I, p. 349)

Self harm:

“He slammed the heel of his hand into the wall, again and again until he felt the skin break and smelled hot blood” (S&I, p. 99)

In prison again: “His skin itched so fiercely that he rubbed scars until they bled” (S&I, p. 220)

Tremors and other psychosomatic symptoms:

“There was a tremor in his voice now, and in his hands, too” (P&F, p. 58)

In prison again: “His skin itched so fiercely that he rubbed scars until they bled” (S&I, p. 220)

When remembering the nicer questioning in Rome: “Wolfe remembered it so vividly every scar began to ache” (S&I, p. 221)

“His hands trembled” (S&I, p. 220)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

Being taken for questioning: “a wave of very real nausea and dizziness” (S&I, p. 230)

Trouble telling reality from hallucination:

Wolfe’s journal: “On those mornings, I am convinced I never escaped that place, and the life I have had since never existed at all, except as a fantastic illusion.” (P&F, p. 53)

Self-induced hallucination as coping strategy: imagining Santi to get himself to sleep while back in prison, he seems to lose touch with reality, and Saleh’s comments in S&P suggest he might have been talking out loud while doing this (S&I, p. 220)

Qualls hallucination (S&I, p. 220-222)

Cell door opening (S&I, p. 223)

Sphinx could also be a hallucination (I tend to see this one as real, with the automaton’s attention drawn by Wolfe’s one-sided conversation with Qualls and attempt to open the door, but ymmv. (S&I, p. 223-224)

In Rome, Wolfe hallucinated Santi with him and was sure it was real at the time (S&I, p. 224-225)

Hallucinates Santi comforting him when he’s in prison again (S&I, p. 225-226)

The morning after the Qualls hallucination, he thinks of it as “a vague dream” and hopes his conversation with Saleh was hallucinated as well (S&I, p. 227-228)

Saleh: “Wolfe spoke of him [...] well… not to me. I suppose better to say he spoke to him when Wolfe was… unwell [...] Prison was not good for the man” (S&P, p. 51)

Nightmares and intrusive memories:

Wolfe: “I see all this every night in dreams.” (P&F, p. 63)

In prison again: “A night when he wouldn’t close his eyes, for fear the past would smother him.” (S&I, p. 87)

In prison again: “relaxing brought the memories. He’d fought them every night, sometimes all night; lack of rest made them more vivid and compelling” (S&I, p. 220)

While hallucinating Qualls: “He remembered. And that was more frightening than the idea that this was a ghost, a phantom, a madness.” (S&I, p. 222) (could read this just as a statement on how traumatic the memories are, could read as repressed memories surfacing)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

Repressed memories:

Wolfe, on where he was held prisoner: “I don’t remember. Can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can see pieces, but not… not anything significant.” (P&F, p. 66) (this memory loss might be drug induced, as Dario speculates, but torture itself can cause memory problems..)

Wolfe: “I can’t recall any useful details. What they did to me was very effective.” (P&F, p. 139) (As above, this memory loss might be from either drugs or the torture itself.)

While hallucinating Qualls: “He remembered. And that was more frightening than the idea that this was a ghost, a phantom, a madness.” (S&I, p. 222) (could read this just as a statement on how traumatic the memories are, could read as repressed memories surfacing)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

The morning after the Qualls hallucination: “He’d forgotten that he’d spoken to Saleh in the depths of his delusion. Or at least had hoped that the conversation had been imagined” (S&I, p. 228)

Seems like he’s already repressing the memory of the Qualls hallucination: “Something tugged at him, and for a second he felt a bubble of panic surface. Some memory clawing to the surface, something from the prison. Then he remembered, and a flinch ran through him.” (S&I, p. 348)

Not talking about Qualls more than once could be an effort to repress those memories, too (S&I, p. 2348)

Anxiety/Panic Attacks:

In the prison, Wolfe snaps at the kids, his voice breaks, and Jess observes trembling, sweat on his face even though the temperature is cool, and possible trouble breathing (“Wolfe dragged in a tormented breath”) (P&F, p. 220)

At the castle, Wolfe and Santi end up fighting because of Wolfe’s reaction to being trapped and fear of being captured “So we stay here, in this - overstuffed prison, waiting for the Archivist to turn the High Garda on us? I won’t. I can’t.” (A&Q, p. 267)

Wolfe, to Thomas: “You understand. Rooms grow small. Silence gets heavy.” (A&Q, p. 283)

When the Artifex ambushes the pack in the Iron Tower, Wolfe and Thomas both look “as if their souls had already left their bodies.” (P&F, p. 324)

Wolfe is oddly quiet when first locked up in Philadelphia (A&Q, no dialogue from p. 16-28, while others are discussing strategy)

When put in prison again: “A day of shuddering, flinching, imagining that every sound was a torturer coming for him again.” (S&I, p. 87)

When hallucinating Qualls: “He stopped breathing. Like a child, hiding in the dark from the monsters, that was all he could do.” (S&I, p. 221)

When the cell door “opens”: “something inside him twisted and screamed in terror at the thought. I won’t make it.” (S&I, p. 223)

Wolfe, learning he’s nominated for Archivist: “His eyes burned, and for a moment he thought it was with tears, but no, no, it was anger. He couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe for the pressure of fury building in his chest.” (S&P, p. 246) (Dominant emotion here is anger, yes, but don’t these also sound like panic attack symptoms? And doesn’t Wolfe frequently get angry in response to feeling trapped?)

Triggers:

Memories, in general, trigger symptoms.

A list of triggers, smell being the worst: “He could ignore the darkness, the bars, the discomfort. But not the smell.” (S&I, p. 87)

Lack of sleep: “relaxing brought the memories. He’d fought them every night, sometimes all night; lack of rest made them more vivid and compelling” (S&I, p. 220)

[legobiwan]

Whumptober #4 (human shield)

TW: child death, somewhat grisly descriptors, hurt/no comfort, I’M SORRY

Fandom: Good Omens (Crowley, Aziraphale, Hastur)

Notes: uhhhh, I’m totally intimidated to try out writing in the Gomens fandom but here we are. Angst, as always. Lightly edited because I’m trying to let go and I don’t got no time for that. Yes, I’m a day behind on these and that will likely be the case until next weekend SORRY GUYS.

-----

“So let me get this straight. Hell - “ Crowley peered over the rim of his sunglasses. “And we are talking about the same Hell, right? Bad plumbing, worse health plan, bunch of ugly faces - “

Hastur scowled in Crowley’s direction, the frog perched on his head mirroring the expression.

“Present company excluded, of course,” Crowley swallowed, smothering the lie with a wide, toothy smile. Wouldn’t do to piss off Hastur this early in the morning. “But, I mean, it’s a bit odd, don’t you think? Hell wants me to tempt some tin-pot dictator into releasing a bunch of kids from imprisonment?”

Not that Crowley would mind. (And not that he would ever admit that to anyone, except maybe the angel.) The kids didn’t deserve it, were being used as pawns (or worse) by the latest in an ever-revolving door of loathsome excuses of humanity looking to get their kicks. So no, he’d be more than happy to let the kids go.

But it was weird and Hell didn’t do weird.

It was a trap, it had to be, the way Hastur was doing that thing where he curved his lips upward just enough to be creepy. The man in question, Crowley didn’t bother with his name, already had one-way ticket stamped to downstairs, so why throw this wrench into things?

Crowley shrugged, trying to exude indifference. In another thirty minutes, the sun would rise, speeding to its overhead post where it broiled every living thing in this dusty, sand-ridden part of the world.

“Seems like a waste of effort, if you ask me.”

“Well then it’s a good I didn’t,” Hastur growled, surly as ever. “Unless you’re not demon enough for the job.”

Nice one, Hastur. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Not.

“I’m more than demon, enough, Duke Hastur. Come on!” Crowley spread his arms wide in dramatic fashion, something he know Hastur hated. “I am damn well - damn bad - ugh, you know what I mean. Ask Dagon, they’ve got my personnel file. Long list of commendations.”

Crowley, against all instinct and good taste, leaned towards Hastur, waggling his eyebrows. “Bet mine’s bigger than yours. Wanna compare?”

A sharp shove sent Crowley hurtling away from Hastur’s none-too-aromatic personal space.

“Just get it done, Crawly.”

——-

There had been no way to finesse this one, no loophole Crowley could find to finagle his way out actually doing what he was told. But what was the harm, really? He was freeing kids from the grasp of some power-hungry asshole with a vendetta and laundry list of psychological issues. It was probably the best assignment Hell had given him in centuries, one he might not even mind taking credit for.  

With little else to do, he traveled to the makeshift headquarters of the revolutionary leader. Sidled up to him, whispered in his ear. Told him the kids had a better purpose. (They did. To be kids. Alive kids.) Told him to let them go, that they would prosper under a far better sun, that the ruler would reap benefits he couldn’t possibly imagine if he just let them go. The squat man thought about it, brushing his beard with his hand, legs splayed out from his would-be throne. And then he smiled, blade-like, a kind of look that made Crowley uneasy, even though he was a demon.

“I think I will take your advice, young man.”

Crowley bid a hasty retreat from the compound.

The seed had been planted. He did what he was supposed to, Hell would be placated, and the children would be safe.

Almost too easy…

So easy, in fact, it shouldn’t have surprised him when Hastur showed up at tavern. Four wines in, Crowley’s features had softened, his head spinning with thoughts of a certain blonde-haired angel back in London.

Hastur clapped him on the shoulder, taking a seat on the wooden bench.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Crawly.”

Crowley recoiled, picking Hastur’s hand off his shoulder as he would a soggy, used tissue.

“What, tempting a stupid dictator?” The wine allowed him to be brave, to ignore the fact that demons don’t touch, unless it’s to inflict pain. “Could do it in my sleep, Hastur.”

Of course, Hastur did that thing with his mouth again, the same aborted attempt of a smile from the other day. Worse yet, the Duke of Hell brought his hand back Crowley’s shoulder, this time digging his torn fingernails past fabric, into his actual muscle in a way that would leave a mortal without an arm.

“Demons don’t sleep.”

Crowley didn’t yelp when Hastur tightened his fingers further, but it was a near thing.

“Figure of speech,” he hissed.

Hastur, for his part, regarded Crowley as he would an animal in a lab experiment, coal-black eyes trained on the other demon’s expression as he used no small amount of his powers to all but press his fingers past skin, into the actual sinews of Crowley’s shoulder.

And then, all at once, he let go, crossing his arms over his chest.

Fucker, Crowley spat.

“You haven’t read the papers, then?”

And there it was, the other shoe dropping, plummeting, really, Crowley’s gut along with it. It was a rhetorical question - not that Hastur would know what that even meant - filled with gleeful, malicious anticipation.

Crowley managed to squeak out a somewhat breathless “no.”

“I mean,” he added, willing himself not to stutter, “I had…other thingsss to do.”

Hasted shoved a crumpled newspaper in his face.

Crowley’s eyes were sulfur-colored, a permanent mark of Hell’s claim on his soul. It was often assumed Crowley’s eyes belied his original serpent form, a testament to his role in the creation of Original Sin.

This assumption would be correct.

Partially.

Sulfur is a funny thing, though. Normally found as a solid, when burned at a high enough temperature, it melts to a blood-red liquid emitting a blue flame.

Crowley’s eyes are weeping crimson, glowing with a pure azure matched only by the Angels above.

In a single, furious movement, Crowley stormed from the tavern, Hastur cackling in his wake.

——

(Soho, London)

“…had reported the use of children as human shields in the latest violence between the two sides. Investigators say the children, ranging in age from 6 to 15, had been taken as prisoners during last week’s attack on the capital city. This had been seen by experts as the first step in a widening strategy to destabilize the region, courting further retaliation with no end in sight.

With the surprise execution of the leader and his closest circle of advisors, the fate of the region seems to be in question. NATO soldiers reported a gruesome scene in the capital city, bodies cleaved partially in two, eviscerated corpses hanging from their feet in the public square.

To date, no group has come forward to claim responsibility for the sudden execution of the splinter group leadership…”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed with each paragraph, every new description of the horrors of the article punctuated by a sharp intake of breath, a small “oh my.”

A terrible picture, one he knew had been sanitized for publication.

Humming absently, Aziraphale set the newspaper on his lap and closed his eyes, casting his metaphysical sight - hundred of eyes watching just beyond the threshold of this world and other-world, peering past the walls of his shop, pupils, cornea, irises (as much as Aziraphale’s true form had eyes that resembled the human eye.)

Aziraphale’s real eyes were golden, solid, yet malleable, able to travel through the smallest pinholes between dimensions. His gaze, his true gaze flew, from England to France, burrowing through middle Europe, sprinting through Turkey, landing on a dusty plain in a forgotten part of the world.

He steps into the dusty amphitheater, bodies still hanging from their toes, sawed partially in half from their…oh dear. Most of the corpses have had their inner organs ripped from their body cavity, seemingly by hand, red staining the sand beneath their lifeless bodies. As for the organs, it’s…it’s, well a right mess, parts where they shouldn’t be, used as rope, stuffed into pockets, or in the case of one,  shoved into his mouth.

While Aziraphale can’t quite make himself feel sorry for the men - they had set their own fate far before this unfortunate event - the presence of demonic rage, the pure, unfettered evil of the other side is undeniable, even with Aziraphale projecting himself from thousands of kilometers away. While oft times humans needed little provocation from Below to commit the most heinous of acts, this one had certainly been helped along by some foul agent of Hell, one so corrupted they would desecrate human lives - even these humans, in such a way.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s muffled and Aziraphale feels it more as a metaphor than reality, but he draws inwards, leaving behind the dusty, bloodshed streets, soaring above continental Europe, a comet, a shooting star. He feels the wishes of the humans, the ones who wake late, who watch the cosmos, yearning for the undefinable, for the ineffable, for a bit of hope to be found in an old mythology. He blesses them on his return to Soho, needing this small bit of Grace, this bolster, before confronting the presence he now realizes is committed to tearing down his antique front door.

A presence that was entirely demonic, and entirely familiar.

“AAAAAAANGEEEEEELL!”

Oh good lord.

The knocking escalated, a series of thick, violent thuds as the entire room shuddered with Crowley’s exertion. It seemed the demon had forgotten he could overcome the simple hurdle of a door with a simple snap of fingers.

Knowing he would be in for a long night, Aziraphale polished off the glass of wine sitting on his table in a single gulp, steeling himself for an armful of drunken, distraught demon.

(If he was lucky, it wouldn’t be as bad as the 14th century. To date, nothing had been quite as bad as the epic bender of 1378.)

“A-zi-ra-PHAAAAALE!”

Pulling one last time at his waistcoat, straightening his bowtie, Aziraphale headed to the front door. (And if that was not an act of faith, nothing else was. He knew full well his meticulous clothing would be rumpled, pulled at and thrown askew within minutes of allowing the demon inside.)

“ZIIIRRRAAAAAA!”

He should leave Crowley out there, as a lesson. The caterwauling really was getting to be a bit too much, and Aziraphale could’t imagine what had gotten Crowley into this state to begin with.

“Come on out, Angel! Smite the Evil One! Or have you grown soft?”

Perhaps this would be as bad as 1378.

Casting a glance upwards for strength (or something. He wasn’t certain Heaven would be all that thrilled to be called on in aid of a demon), Aziraphale huffed out the last of his annoyance, opening the front door with a singular flourish, plastering on his best angelic look of Unending Patience.

“It’s about damn time, Angel. Let me in, gotta do this prop - prop - the right way.”

Crowley was - there was no other word - a disaster, black shirt halfway unbuttoned, vest hanging off one arm, bottle held between his long fingers. The red stains under his fingernails didn’t go unnoticed by the angel, nor did the brown, viscous smudge of something he’d rather not identify smeared across his right cheek.

“Crowley, what happened? What the Hell is going on?” Aziraphale snapped.

So much for Unending Patience. The demon stared at him, uncomprehending, before tilting his head back with a maniacal, desperate cackle.

“That’s a good one, angel. In fact, Hell is exactly what is going on. Right here, in your bookshop.” Crowley popped the p, weaving inside the front room. “A real demon? Can you believe it?”

The door shut with a wave of Aziraphale’s hand.

“Yes, you are a demon,” Aziraphale began carefully, knowing the topic was dangerous ground even during the best of times. “I believe we ascertained that fact quite some time ago.”

Crowley leered at the books piled haphazardly on the front table. After a moment of contemplation, Crowley pushed at the stack with a single finger, sending the masterworks toppling to the ground.

“Crowley!”

The demon responded with a withering look from above the rims of his sunglasses.

“A real demon, angel. Come on, I know you lost that sword at the start, but you’ve got to have something else, right?” Crowley threw his hands out to the side, sending the bottle crashing to the floor, breaking into a million pieces. He eyed Aziraphale expectantly.

The angel gaped, twisting his hands together in front of his stomach. “What, you come crashing in here at who-knows-what time of the night, destroying my property, making a mess, demanding that I - that I - “

Aziraphale stomped his foot. Not what one would call appropriate behavior for one of the Heavenly Host, but they had never had to deal with a drunk, self-destructive demon on their doorstep at three in the morning.

“Crowley…no! Sober up and sit the fu - just sit down.”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.” Crowley swayed towards the red leather armchair Aziraphale had so peacefully been occupying not minutes before.

“Really, I must insist.” Aziraphale went to take the demon by the shoulders, stopping halfway. It would only escalate matters, Aziraphale making any kind of physical contact with the demon, the way he was itching for a fight, trying to provoke Aziraphale.

Crowley’s gaze flitted about the room, perhaps calculating where he could cause the most amount of chaos, before landing on the newspaper Aziraphale had left open on the table. Crowley lurched, grabbing the periodical, waving it like a revolutionary on the front lines.

“Did you read about this one, angel?”

“Dreadful, I know.” Aziraphale shuffled closer to the demon, skeptical as to where the conversation was going.

“That’s the work of a real demon. Pure Evil, capital E.”

“Yes, I imagine so. And I’m glad you were nowhere near that scene, Crowley."

Crowley laughed. It was a terrible empty sound, a nothing that somehow echoed throughout the bookshop, a heavy void, as if the gates of Pandemonium itself had opened on Earth. In that moment, something truly demonic, truly evil had invaded Aziraphale’s Earthly sanctum.

Instinct kicked in, the air crackling around Aziraphale’s form, which had begun to shed its corporeal skin, the tell-tale tang of ozone a warning, much in the way a a snake rears upwards, or a canine bares its teeth.

“That’s the stuff, Angel, come on!” Crowley taunted, shouting above the growing din of righteousness.

Aziaphale froze, aghast. Crowley was square to him, having pulled his shirt open, bare chest exposed, long scars criss-crossing his abdomen and where had those even come from?

Aziraphale backed away, shaking.

“Crowley, I’m sor - I didn’t - I mean - “

But the demon advanced, shedding a bit of his own corporeality, red scales manifesting down his arms, broken halo rising from his red hair. The room darkened, turning oppressive, clautroophoic and sweat beaded on Aziraphale’s forehead despite it being the middle of February in London.

“Come. On. Angel.” Crowley took a menacing step forward, his arms open to the side, head thrown back, neck exposed, chest thrust forward. The demon was panting, bony chest flush, heaving.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice cracked. He swallowed over the lump of anxiety in his throat, mustering his inner strength. “Crowley, please stop this at once. I am not going to smite you.”

Crowley met his gaze, mask slipping, eyes round and red-rimmed.

And then Aziraphale was slammed against a bookcase, long, sharp fingers gripping at the lapels of his jacket. Crowley’s sharp teeth snapped near his lips, yellow eyes boring into Aziraphale.

Never had his friend looked so…demonic.

“You sssshould, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eassstern Gate,” Crowley growled like a wild creature.

Never before had Aziraphale actually feared Crowley.

“I think you should go.”

Crowley glared, rearing at the polite, reserved request. Something shifted in his face. Azirphale felt the grip loosening on his jacket, cool air whisking into the space between angel and demon. Crowley made a dissatisfied grunt, lightly shoving Aziraphle back for good measure, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“You should have done it, Angel. It’s what I deserve.” Crowley nodded towards the paper. Aziraphale felt the sudden urge to vomit.

There was no - he couldn’t have, not Crowley. He must have been coerced, or blackmailed, or -

“No mistake, angel. All me.”

And Crowley stared at the ground, silently begging for his punishment, for what he’s due and Aziraphale just couldn’t wrap his head around that fact that Crowley, of all beings -

“Please leave, Crowley.”

The demon jerked his head up, just long enough for the flash of hurt to illuminate all over his face.

“Yeah. Good. I’ll just, uh. Right. See you in a couple hundred years.”

Crowley stepped out the door, barely making a sound.

Azirpahale slithered to the floor, back still to the bookcase. He summoned a bottle of wine, not bothering with a glass, not even bothering to look at the vintage. The dreadful photo of the execution site stared back at him. With a snarl, Aziraphale waved the paper away, sending the offending item into the ether, where it was ripped into atoms.

He drank late into the night, until the rose-colored fingers of dawn peeked above the horizon, thinking of nothing at all.

legobiwan does whumptober

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Swift As Karma (Part 37)

“You have her, now let me leave.” Suki demanded. 

“Ah, ah, I have to make sure that it’s really her.” He replied. He leaned forward to assess her further. And he chuckled. “Princess Azula.” The Warden mused, tilting her chin up with the back of his hand. “You’ve fallen a long way.” 

She said nothing in response.

The warden gave a cruel smirk before yanking the cane from her grasp and snapping it. The sheer disrespect stoked a fire within her. “How are you going to fight now?” 

“With ease.” She replied smoothly. Though she didn’t kick her flames at him. No, she was surrounded and outnumbered. It was a fight that she couldn’t win. Instead she offered the Kyoshi warrior a spiteful wave of fire, a gift for having ruined her plan entirely. Suki flinched back, her sharp cry told Azula that she had landed her hit. 

She felt arms link around hers. She supposed that she should at least give them a hard time for their troubles. She ducked under their arms and kicked a ring of fire. They scrambled out of the way and she delivered a satisfying strike to the Warden’s face before a new set of guards tackled her to the floor. 

Her head collided with the ground. “I hope you’re happy.” She spat at Suki. She almost elaborated that Katara would be stuck there too, but she realized that if she kept her mouth shut the waterbender and her father still had a chance. By extension, she’d still have a chance. Perhaps if they were preoccupied with her, that would give the other two a shot at a clean and unhindered getaway. 

“Rozan.” The Warden spoke. “Send for the prince and my niece.” 

Azula went rigid and her face fell. It would seem that she would be going back to her father sooner than she had imagined. “He’ll kill me.” 

The Warden shrugged. 

.oOo.

Katara gave the sauna several powerful kicks, knocking it looser and looser each time. At last it gave way and fell into the water. Her father was already there waiting. “She should be here soon.” Katara commented. 

“I hope so, it won’t take very long for the guards to notice this.” Hakoda noted. 

Katara nervously shifted in her makeshift boat. The metal was growing rather hot, they were going to have to depart soon, lest they suffer burns. 

“Come on, Azula.” She muttered to herself. 

Still, the former princess hadn’t made her appearance. 

“We need to get going, Katara.” Hakoda spoke. 

The decision should have been easy, she should have been thrilled to have Azula off of her hands without having to do any dirty work for herself. Yet she found herself looking up at the prison and biting her lip. 

She couldn’t imagine that the inmates would treat her well, consider that she was probably the one who landed most of them there. 

Katara noticed a head peeking out of the hole she’d left in the wall. 

“We need to leave now.” Hakoda said firmly. 

“There’s a hidden guard post over there.” The boy called from above. “You should probably create a fog and hide yourselves.” 

Katara furrowed her brows. 

“I’ll tell them that you were where we left you.”

She recognized the boy. If she remembered right, Azula had called him Juno. 

“Why are you helping us?” Katara questioned. 

He paused for a moment, “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the Fire Nation.”

.oOo.

Zuko felt nothing but dread upon entering the room. He didn’t need to see his sister to know that she had put up a fight. It still shocked him to see her nose so bloodied and her lip split. Her hair was messed up and her eyes bleak. 

“Zuzu.” She muttered with little feeling. 

The Wardan closed the door behind him. He heard Mai’s footsteps as she came to join him. 

“It’s been a while, Azula.” He replied. “You didn’t mention that you were going to leave.” 

“I was in a bit of a hurry.” 

He wanted to be angry at her for bringing him to their father and then leaving him alone with the man. At the same time, he understood. He continued to stare and he knew that she was aware of what was going to come. Of the many outcomes. And she knew that it wouldn’t end well; at best she’d endure a particularly harsh punishment and then their father’s temper would cool. He thought of her scarred torso and touched his own scar. 

He expected her to mutter something about how she’d be killed if she was taken home, but she simply sat in silence. 

“Aren’t you going to attack us or something?” Mai asked. 

“And where am I going to go?” Azula let the question hang there. 

Mai continued to eye her. 

“There’s only one place that I can go, so you might as well hurry up and take me.” 

Zuko pressed his lips firmly together. “Let’s go.” He looked to the chains that he would be binding her with and then to the metal plate that he’d have to fasten around her mouth. He’d never known her to breath fire, but it was a risk that no one was willing to take. 

He expected her to give a surprise attack, but it seemed as though she was going to go quietly. 

“Don’t you have any Avatar tricks?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I can throw a couple of rocks.” She grumbled as he bound her arms. 

He looked up to put the metal plate over her mouth and catches sight of her eyes. His mouth fell slightly agape, “wh-what happened?”

“Oh, that.” Azula replied. “Another cool Avatar trick. Apparently if I try hard enough, I can go into the Avatar state and throw lightning at myself.” 

Zuko winced. 

.oOo.

“Where’s Azula?” TyLee had asked over an hour ago and Katara was still thinking about it. The girl’s cries didn’t allow for the thought to leave her. 

“Can’t we wait just a little longer?” TyLee asked. 

“They’re going to find us if we stay too much longer.” Toph notes. 

“We’re hidden inside of the rim, I don’t think they have any earthbenders that can search here.” Sokka pointed out. 

“For all we know, Azula is already on her way...home.” Katara replied. 

This only exasperated TyLee’s weeping. “I know that you don’t like her but you can’t let them take her back to Ozai!” 

Katara looked at her feet and moved closer to her father. “I don’t want that to happen either, believe it or not.” She could hardly believe it herself. She could hardly believe that it left her feeling so nauseous to watch the Boiling Rock grow smaller and smaller as Appa carried them away.

[jrubalcaba]

Can’t Help Falling In Love - Ch. 24

Can't Help Falling In Love Chapter 24 - A Steve x OFC fanfiction

author: jrubalcaba

featuring: OFC Evelyn “Evie” Rogers x Steve Rogers

word count:  5296 words

rating: PG

warnings: cussing, fighting

A/N: credit to @suz-123 for the character of Alice and thanks to @celeb-fess for being my beta!

After Bucky and Alice had found out about me (finally!) being pregnant, Steve and I decided to keep it a secret. I was 14 weeks along when we found out, but we wanted to make sure that everything was going well with Baby Rogers before we told the rest of the Team. 

A couple days after Steve’s birthday, he and I went back to see Helen’s colleague, Dr. Kevin Davidson privately, not telling anyone except Bucky and Alice. He ran a few tests, just to make sure that I was getting enough nutrients in my system and that BR (Baby Rogers) was getting enough from me. We also got to get an ultrasound done, so we got to see our baby and hear its heartbeat.

Finding out that he was going to be a father made him tear up, but hearing his child’s heartbeat turned Steve into a sobbing mess. I’ll admit that I cried too, but he was openly weeping when the most beautiful sound in the world came on over the speaker. Dr. Davidson had stepped out of the room to give us a few moments to enjoy hearing our baby’s incredibly strong heart pound away. We left that day with a picture, giddy with absolute joy. The doctor tried to see what gender the baby was, but all we were able to see is that the baby had Steve’s perfect nose.

Then, came the bad news.

Our wonderful Doctor felt that since it had taken longer than it should have to get pregnant, and that I am not enhanced in anyway, I was considered high risk and should be put on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy. He was concerned that since this child was half super soldier, I would be under greater stress than Alice was under, and that was with her ‘abilities’. I was in partial agreement, but I did point out that our baby was also half un-enhanced, so it couldn’t be nearly as bad, right?

Oh, how wrong I was.

I was still having trouble keeping food down without the Zofran, so I had to keep taking it every day. On top of that, it made me incredibly sleepy, so I was barely able to keep my eyes open. Dr. Davidson had told us that I would feel rundown, and Steve attributed my exhaustion to the baby, not the medication.

It was a couple weeks after Steve's birthday party, and I was hanging out in the living room with Becca. Alice and Bucky haven’t had time to themselves since she was born, so I told them that I would watch her while they had a date night. Steve was out running a few laps with Hunter and Howie, so I had snuck downstairs with her.

Why did I have to sneak out? Because Steve has turned into an almighty dictator.

From the moment we got home from seeing Dr. Davidson, Steve wasted no time in telling, no demanding, that I stay in bed all day, every day. I tried my best to argue, but Alice and Bucky backed him up, especially Alice. I understood where she was coming from, but no one was listening to what I was saying.

That wasn’t even the worst part.

Steve felt that in addition to being in bed all day, I shouldn’t be bothered by anyone at all. Which meant that I literally only saw him throughout the day when he was bringing me food or when he was going to bed. He tried to keep Bucky, Alice and Becca from seeing me, but Alice wasn’t having that. She knew how horrid isolation could be, especially after her time in the lab, so she would sneak Becca up to see me. After what I had put her through while she was pregnant, I thought she would go along with Steve’s demands, but I’m glad she didn’t.

Becca was playing with her toys on the floor when I heard the backdoor open, followed by the sound of dog nails clicking on the hardwood.

Uh oh.

Hunter came in and laid down on the floor next to his little sister, while Howie came over and sat next to my feet. I scratched his head as the sound of a water bottle crinkling reached my ears. I slowly looked over my shoulder and met the unforgiving gaze of my husband.

“Hi babe,” I squeaked, swallowing thickly. He took a deep breath before letting it out in a huff, walking over to stand on the other side of the couch from me.

“You’re not in bed,” he snapped, crossing his arms. I went to stand up when he put his hand out to stop me. “No, don’t get up. You’ve already moved enough.” He walked over and stood in front of me, anger radiating off of him.

“Steve, come on. I’m still capable of moving around. I don’t need to stay in bed all day,” I retorted as he glared down at me.

“I don’t fucking care,” he snarled. “You are supposed to be resting and growing our baby.” He took another deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “Against my better judgement, you, Alice and Bucky got me to agree with you watching Becca for them. My stipulation was that you would stay in bed, but the moment I leave the house, you go against that and come downstairs!” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, and I kinda felt bad.

Kinda.

“Steve, I can’t do this anymore!” When he looked at me in confusion, I went on. “I can’t spend any longer up there. I’m going crazy!” I struggled to get to my feet, my anguish quickly being replaced by anger. “You’ve turned me into a prisoner in my own home, Steve! I can’t take it anymore!” The ongoing isolation had finally come to a head. I wasn’t sure if it was hormones or just my mind losing it after being locked up, but I started crying. Not just a few tears, but full-on weeping.

Becca chose to start fussing at that moment as well, which I barely registered through my tears. Howie, sensing that I was distraught, immediately jumped into defense mode, getting between me and Steve, growling and baring his teeth. Hunter, realizing that both his little sister and I were in distress, leapt up, snarling too. Steve froze, not knowing what to do. I was suddenly overcome with a jolt of pain so intense I couldn’t breathe, causing me to sink to my knees.

“Oww!” I shouted, holding my side as I felt my baby move for the first time. Steve was at my side in an instant, only to be bitten by Howie.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? I'm your dad, remember?” Both dogs kept a defensive stance in front of me, staring Steve down while he held his arm. “Fine, I'll stand over here by the wall. Happy now, assholes?” He stomped over to the wall, glowering at the dogs. The pain finally subsided enough for me to reach down and pick Becca up.

“Sweetheart are you okay?” I cooed as I rocked her. She began to calm down, batting her big blue eyes at me and pouting her lips. “Becca I’m so sorry baby.” I felt terrible for making her cry.

“What the fuck is going on?” I heard from the kitchen. Alice came rushing to me and grabbed her daughter, while Bucky stood in the doorway looking from Steve to the dogs and I. “What the hell happened to you, dude?” Steve huffed before explaining.

“Evie and I got into an argument. She started to cry and so did Becca, so both dogs jumped to their defense. I mistakenly thought that Howie wouldn’t bite me when I went to Evie, but he did.” He walked into the kitchen to clean his arm, Bucky following him to help. Alice turned to me, and I tensed, waiting for her to yell at me for making Becca cry.

“What were you arguing about?” she asked, patting Becca’s back. I looked up at her, scared to say anything.

“I was telling Steve that I couldn’t take being locked up in our bedroom 24/7. He was mad that I had come down here with Becca instead of staying upstairs.” Tears began to fall again as I thought about my niece crying on the floor. “Alice, I’m so sorry.” She looked at me, shock plain as day on her face.

“What are you sorry for? You don’t deserve to be locked up like you have been,” she replied. I cried more as I realized she didn’t understand.

“I let Becca cry. I...didn’t keep her happy,” I wailed before sinking back to my knees. “OWW!” I cried out again as BR moved, causing me more pain that made me fall over on my side.

“Ohmygod Evie!” Alice shouted, kneeling down next to me. I felt the floor quake as Steve and Bucky thundered in, my husband vaulting over the couch to get to me. Howie was on the defensive again, making his way to plant himself between Steve and I.

“Oh no. You’re not biting anyone this time!” I heard Bucky yell as he ran off. “Come on, you two are going outside with me,” he called as he came back, apparently attaching leashes to both dogs and hauling them outside.

“Evie, baby, are you okay?” Steve asked shakily. Baby Rogers was still moving, and it took all I had not to scream in pain. “Alice what’s wrong with her?” He sounded so scared.

“Fuck Steve, I’m not a doctor,” she spat at him. “But, I think that maybe the baby is moving, and since she’s not enhanced and the baby is, it’s hurting her quite a bit.” She rubbed my back for a few moments. “Evie, can you talk?” she asked finally.

“Yeah, a bit,” I croaked. I opened one eye to see the both of them staring down at me with concern written all over their faces. “The baby was moving. I didn’t expect it to hurt that bad.” I groaned as a little hand or foot poked my stomach a few times. After awhile, it seemed that BR had calmed down, so I sat up slowly, not wanting to startle it. I looked at Alice, my shoulders sagging. “Is it supposed to hurt this much?” She bit her lip before nodding.

“For a half super soldier child, yes. Imagine how it must have felt with Becca, and that was with how fast I heal.” I winced before looking over at Steve.

“Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. No more arguing tonight. We’ll both get checked out in the morning,” he said simply, and I honestly had no strength to fight him. He picked me up and carried me upstairs, laying me in bed as gently as possible. He kissed me before leaning his forehead against mine. “I’m going to go lock up and then I’ll be right here okay?” I nodded and he was gone in a flash. I snuggled into my pillows, letting my exhaustion sink into my bones. Steve was suddenly back, making me wonder if he had somehow begun channeling Pietro’s spirit. He crawled into bed next to me, wrapping his arms around me and we were both asleep before you could say ‘Quicksilver’.

The next morning we woke up still in each other’s arms. I stretched and yawned before struggling to sit up. My movements woke Steve and he hurriedly helped me up the rest of the way.

“Evie, baby, are you okay? Tell me the truth, please,” he pleaded as he rubbed my back. I took a deep breath, both wanting to tell him everything but also not wanting to.

“Yes and no. Steve,” I started, not sure how to go on. I decided that honesty was the best policy, so I let him have it. “You made things worse. I know that me and the baby are your top priority, but locking us up isn’t working.” My emotions were starting to get the better of me, and after last night’s events, I was keen to not be in that much pain if I could help it. I took a few calming breaths to steady myself before I went on. “I know you see me as some kind of damsel in distress, but for fuck’s sake Steve. I’m a grown ass woman, stop treating me like a fucking five year old!” He had the decency to look ashamed. “Would you have done this to Peggy?” His jaw dropped as my words registered with him. I waited for his answer, almost afraid to hear it.

“No.” So it’s just me that he treats like a child. Awesome.

“What did she have that I don’t? Why wouldn’t you have locked her up too?” I asked, venom in my voice. He gave an exasperated sigh.

“Because she could take care of herself,” he answered at last.

“And I can’t?” I have about had it up to here with this shit. I felt the baby kick, and I winced. So much for keeping calm. “Steve, I am the most distinguished doctor in the anatomical pathology field. I’m second to Bruce in nuclear physics. I am the only person who can calm him down from Hulking out. I’ve trained with Black Widow, Hawkeye, and a Slayer and walked out alive. Motherfucker, I have literally bitten a complete stranger and drawn blood, in YOUR honor, and walked away unscathed, and you have the audacity to insinuate that I can’t take care of myself?” My temper had taken over, and I was madder than hell. “Fuck you Steve Rogers. This is why I never wanted to tell you how I felt in the first place, because no matter how hard I try, I will never measure up to the great Peggy Carter!” A wave of nausea was coming, so I bolted for the bathroom, fortunately making it in time. Baby Rogers didn’t like that, so I was blindsided by pain as I crumpled to the floor.

After a few moments, I was able to get back up and go back to Steve. He looked like he had been crying. Serves him right. I climbed back into bed, waiting for a response. He rubbed his face with his hands before sighing.

“Evie, I know you can take care of yourself. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you,” he began. “You are a regular badass.” I giggled at that. “I wouldn’t have done this to Peggy because back then, things were different. There weren’t all these new evils in the world. I wasn’t worrying about Bucky, or Tony, or anyone, except her. Now, I have you, the baby, Bucky, Alice, Becca, and everyone else. We’ve had Loki and his army of aliens, Ultron and his army of robots, the bullshit with Tony and Bucky, being on the run and hiding out in Wakanda.” He stopped to take a deep breath before he went on. “Never in a million years would I have imagined having to protect my family from all of this. It’s just so terrifying to think about losing you two and not being able to stop it. I lay awake at night, worrying about how I’m going to keep you safe. I’ve lost so many people in my life, but if I were to lose you, I don’t think I’d be able to walk away from it.” I started to cry at his words. “I know I get upset over little things and I’m sorry about that. I just don’t want anything to happen to you or our child and if locking you up was the only way to keep you safe, I would do it forever.” I reached out and embraced him and he broke down too. We sat there holding each other tight as we sobbed over the thought of losing our family. “Evie?” I heard him mutter after what seemed to be ages.

“Yeah Steve?” I replied. He pulled back so he could look at my face.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you’ll never measure up to Peggy. Yes, she will always have a special place in my heart, but it’s nothing compared to the love that you and I share. You’ve made me a husband and a father, and that’s something that she can never do.” I smiled, realizing that he was right. I’m finally better than Peggy fuckin’ Carter when it comes to Steve Rogers.

“Thank you Steve. That makes me feel better,” I said in return, a smile spreading over my face. “Am I still going to be on lockdown, or can I venture around the house now?” I asked hopefully, batting my eyes. He chuckled before leaning in to kiss me.

“You can go wherever you want. Just be careful,” he warned, his smile playful. “Now, let’s go eat some breakfast. Gotta keep my girl and my baby fed.” He helped me off our bed and we headed downstairs. We entered the kitchen and were met with the icy glare of Bucky Barnes. “H-hey Buck, Alice. What’s up?” Steve asked nervously. Bucky walked over, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and marched Steve into the exercise room, slamming the door shut behind them. I looked over at Alice, who was feeding Becca, uncertain of what was going on.

“Evie, relax. Bucky is just wanting to have a little chat with Steve. Wanna hang with Becca after you’ve been able to eat?” she asked. I knew she was trying to distract me from Bucky and Steve, but either they were talking incredibly loud, or I was starting to get enhanced hearing from sharing blood with the baby, cause I could hear every word they were saying.

“Steve, I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but I never want to come home and see my daughter crying like that again.”

“Buck, come on. We were having an argument, voices get raised. I’m sure you and Alice have those too.”

“No Steve, we don’t. We’ve made it a point to never raise our voices around Becca. You scared her, and brother or not, that pisses me off.” I heard Steve suck in a breath to retort back but Bucky cut him off. “Don’t even get me started on how you’ve been treating Evie. I may have backed you at first, because she’s not as durable as Alice, but isolation? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Bucky, don’t. Evie beat you to it. She ripped me a new one already.” I heard Bucky scoff.

“No, she was probably blowing smoke up your ass. Evie is afraid to hurt your feelings, but I’m not. I know that you’re worried about her, but she’s tougher than she looks. Jesus Steve, she went all fucking zombie on some stranger for you!”

“You know how I don’t get involved in you and Alice, Buck? Care to return the favor?”

“Yeah well when Evie is the one watching MY daughter, I’m gonna get involved.”

“Okay yeah, she did do that, but she wasn’t pregnant with MY goddamn kid then! I saw how this affected Alice, were you rational then? Did I give you a hard time? Back off Buck!” I could hear both of them panting, and I was afraid that they would come to blows.

“Evie,” Alice called to get my attention. “Don’t get yourself upset. That’s not what you need right now. Just let the boys have their fight, they’ll feel better afterwards.” She reached over and patted the back of my hand.

“Yeah, I know, but I never wanted to come between them,” I sighed. I could hear the punching bag being pummeled and weights being lifted, so I felt a tiny bit better.

“You’re not,” she argued. “They’ll fight and get it out of their system. Bucky’s just worried about you, but so is Steve.” She sighed. “Anyway, better Bucky go and tell Steve off for how he’s been acting with you, because if it was me?” She trailed off, chuckling sinisterly. I shuddered at the thought of her ‘talking’ to Steve. BR moved just then, causing me to cry out in pain. Alice rounded the table, grabbing my arm to help hold me up. I heard the door open, followed by the sound of Steve and Bucky running in.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? Are you okay?” Steve fired off, not giving me a chance to answer. I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it as hard as I could.

“I’m fine Steve. Your kid is just stretching,” I panted as the pain went away. I sat up straight, leaning back in the chair and huffing out a breath. “I didn’t even do anything that time. What the hell?” I looked up at Alice, the resident authority on pregnancy.

“You were resting,” she stated simply, a smirk on her face. I felt my eyes grow wide. “Baby will move when you eat and when you stop to rest or go to sleep.” Her smirk grew wider. “If you think it’s bad now, just wait until baby gets bigger and has no more room to move.” I glanced at Steve, and he looked about how I felt.

“Great. That’s fucking lovely,” he snarled as he stood up quickly, walking back into the exercise room. I heard him grunt and then a crash. I looked out the bay window and saw the weight bench flying across the yard.

This was going to be a blast.

The day after Bucky and I chewed Steve’s ass, I began noticing bruises on my stomach. I figured I would get them, but that didn’t make it any better. The ones that Alice had were bad, but these? These were absolutely horrifying. And the kicker? They didn’t go away as fast as Alice’s did, so my rapidly growing stomach was constantly covered in black, blue, purple, hell there were colors that I had no name for.

Now the fun part: trying to hide the bruises from Steve. It was summer, so trying to wear long sleeves and pants was out of the question. Luckily Alice had given me her maternity clothes, so I didn’t have to worry about nothing fitting me or accidently showing off my belly.

We still hadn’t told everyone that I was pregnant, so we decided to enlist Bucky, Alice and Becca’s help. I scoured the internet for fun ideas and when I came upon this one, I knew it was perfect. I ordered what I needed, and when it came in, I knew that I had picked the right idea.

We decided to have another party, this time under the guise of Alice’s birthday. I was just starting to show, so we wanted to tell everyone before I got too far along to hide it. The day of the party, we were all ready when the Team began to arrive. Once they all got here, I was the one who began to hand out presents, claiming that they were long overdue gifts of our own. They all opened them, puzzled looks on their faces. I kept an eye on Bruce, who stood there staring at his shirt in stunned silence. Bucky and Alice took off their outer shirts then, showing off the matching shirts they were wearing underneath. 

No one was catching on yet, so Steve picked Becca up, putting her onesie on display.

It still took a while, but suddenly, Bruce grabbed me in a hug, sobbing into my shoulder. Nat snatched his shirt from where he dropped it on the floor and gasped, turning it to show everyone. 

The Team then swarmed around us, hugging and congratulating.

Once the initial shock wore off, Bruce wasted no time in yelling at me for not telling him that he was going to be a grandpa sooner. His smile afterwards, however, made me realize that he didn't mean it. Everyone was so incredibly happy for us. Nat and Wanda demanded to throw a baby shower, but we turned them down, saying that we were going to have a little party after the baby got here so everyone could meet him or her. They weren't entirely happy about it, but they agreed to it.

I began to notice that things were changing inside me, apart from the child growing in my womb. It began with my hearing. I was able to hear things I hadn't been able to hear before, like Hunter and Howie barking at Steve and Bucky while they played outside. ‘Oh that's normal’ some might say, but they were on the other side of our yard and I had the washing machine and dryer going while I folded laundry.

Then, one day I answered a question that Bucky had asked Alice about me. I was met with three sets of wide eyes. Why were they staring at me like that?

Because Bucky and Alice were in their apartment when he asked, and I was in the kitchen. Obviously Steve had been able to hear, but I shouldn't have been able to.

Then, the strengthening started. I could tell that Steve definitely realized what was happening, because the first time I hugged him harder than usual, he stiffened up and pulled back, a quizzical look on his face. “Oops,” I had said. He had chuckled darkly, saying that ‘sex is going to be a lot more fun after the baby gets here’. I remembered how much he holds back, so I was even more eager for the baby to get here.

The next few months passed by rather quickly, and before I knew it, Steve and I were celebrating our first anniversary. Tony had insisted on throwing us a party, to which we accepted. The party itself had been thrown a week after our actual anniversary, as we has opted to spend it together, since it was our last anniversary as a family of two.

The morning after the party, Alice and I were in the kitchen getting lunch ready for us and the guys. I was now six months along, and Baby Rogers was quickly running out of room. So much so that I couldn't wear light colored shirts anymore because the ever constant bruising would show through.

“You still doing okay, Evie?” Alice asked from in front of the stove. I looked up from chopping vegetables to answer.

“Yeah I guess. Listen, Alice, say I had bruises like you did,” I started, not sure where to go from there. She slowly turned around, glaring at me.

“Evie, tell me you don't,” she begged. I hunched down in my seat, not able to meet her gaze. She walked over to stand in front of me, eyes boring a hole in my skull. “Have you told him?” I knew who she was referring to, so I shook my head.

“Alice, I don't want to tell Steve-"

“Tell Steve what?” I heard from the hallway. Bucky and Steve walked in, apparently done changing the oil in all of the vehicles. Bucky kissed Alice on the cheek before leaning against the refrigerator. “What don't you want to tell Steve, hmm Evie?” he asked again, quirking an eyebrow at me. Alice went back to the stove, Steve slowly walking up to stand where she had been, hands gripping the counter.

“Evie, what's going on?” he hissed through his teeth. I gulped, knowing that I was in deep shit. I stood up and grabbed the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and showing the three of them the discoloration on my stomach. Alice gasped, dropping the spatula she was holding. Bucky's face went white as he saw the damage his niece or nephew was causing.

And Steve?

His face was expressionless, almost as if he was just reading a book.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked, eerily calm. My shoulders sagged, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

“Since the day after you broke the weight bench,” I murmured.

CRACK

Steve broke part of the countertop off in his anger and I flinched. Alice and Bucky looked between us, not sure what to do. Steve grabbed my arm and escorted me out to his truck, opening the door so I could get in. I did as I was directed, afraid of what he'd say or do if I didn't. He chucked the piece of granite outside before climbing in the truck and peeling out down the driveway.

I've never been so scared of Steve before. I was literally shaking, not daring to even look at him. I could hear the leather on the steering wheel tighten every so often, meaning that he was gripping it as hard as possible.

We finally arrived at the Tower. Steve parked the truck and got out, coming around to open my door for me before escorting me to the elevator. I snuck a peek at him and what I saw shook me to my core. He's never looked this angry before, not even in the Siberia footage.

“Steve, I'm sorry,” I squeaked. He remained silent, clenching his jaw. The doors opened and we got out, him gripping my arm and dragging me into Davidson’s office. Steve let go of my arm and stared me down.

“Explain,” he snapped in his ‘Captain’ voice. Kevin’s eyes were twinkling, gesturing to me in a ‘you’re up’ way. I took a deep breath and started.

“So, not sure if you remember, but Alice had bruising from her pregnancy.” The doctor nodded so I went on. “Well, I have them too, but a lot worse.” I lifted my shirt then to show him, his eyes wide.

“How long has this been going on? Has there been any pain with the bruising?” he asked, walking around his desk to inspect my stomach up close.

“The bruising has been going on since the middle of July. There’s been pain, but it only comes when the baby moves,” I answered. He poked a particularly nasty looking spot and I winced. Steve broke the chair that he was holding, managing to look embarrassed and angry at the same time.

“Sorry. So, these haven’t gotten any better?” When I shook my head, he scoffed. “And you’re just now coming in to see me?” I looked at Steve out of the corner of my eye and he nodded in understanding. “Ah. He just found out about them, didn’t he?” He walked back to his computer and typed something in. “I’ll give you props for being able to hide this from Captain America for three months. I’m going to run some tests and do an ultrasound. There’s a few things that I want to rule out before I make any decisions.” I nodded before following him to the exam room, Steve right behind me.

The ride home was tense. After I had blood taken and an ultrasound done, Dr. Davidson realized what was happening. He insisted that I go on bed rest immediately, which I honestly didn’t fight this time. I had more meds to take unfortunately, but if it helped, then I’d take it forever if need be. I tried to talk to Steve, but he was still angry. I felt terrible for not telling him about the bruises, but I didn’t want him to freak out. I should have learned by now that keeping things from Steve was the dumbest thing I could do. We parked in the garage and I got out, going straight up to our bedroom and getting in bed. I didn’t want to face angry Steve anymore, because he honestly terrified me.

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[theuninspirednovelist]

Blind!Loki fic

I wrote this for @florbe-triz YEARS ago and I just found it and thought I could share with you guys <3 <3

Warning for angst, guys.

@raven-brings-light, you Angst master, this could be right up your alley :)

The first inkling Thor got that something was wrong with his brother, was when Loki dropped the goblet Thor had been handing him, letting it shatter to a thousand pieces between them. Loki has gasped and pulled away looking down. “Thor, you oaf!” he cried in his rage, “Look at the mess you have made!” Thor apologized profusely, and he bent down to pick up the shards along with Loki, taking them from him when Loki held them out to him to take. There had been nothing wrong with that, nothing other than the fact that Loki hadn’t really been looking at him the whole time and that his hand has been held out rather than search for Thor’s But it was quickly put aside when Loki went on about how Thor lost his balance after being hit with his hammer so many times on the head. Thor had been offended and Loki had pressed on. It had succeeded in distracting the first prince long enough and soon the man stormed off, leaving Loki at peace with himself as he picked up the book he had been reading ~~

The second time had been slightly violent. Loki had been lounging on his chair when Thor entered his room, loud and brash as usual. “Brother!” he howled “It is a wonderful day, come join me for a race around the palace” Thor knew Loki didn’t race, he knew he didn’t exactly prefer horse riding either, but there was nothing wrong in asking. Loki took his time looking at Thor, closing the book and fixing his gaze on his brother. “What makes you think I will say yes to that?” Thor laughed and skipped over and Loki huffed as Thor sat on the arm of the chair, then groaned as Thor let himself fall back, landing on Loki’s lap. “Because I asked nicely” Loki smirked “This is you asking nicely?” “Of course” Thor beamed “Want me to kiss you as well?” Loki made a face “You are disgusting.” Thor smiled, then tapped Loki on the nose, making the other blink. “Come on” Thor beamed at him “Why don’t you come out, look at the skies, brother, the beautiful sun, the lack of clouds…” “I rather like the clouds” Loki said, his head tipped to the skies “The sun is too bothersome” Thor beamed at him and looked at Loki. Loki was always strange, but at the moment, his head tipped up, his eyes shining in the sun, he looked beautiful. Thor blinked and shook his head. “So, you wish to come?” “Can’t” Loki looked at him. Thor yelped as Loki pushed him off his lap and onto the ground. “I have to read this book and tell Father what I think” “I will help!” Thor sat up and took the book off Loki’s hand. He had expected Loki to ask for it back, but the reaction he got was much different. “No!” Loki shouted, lashing a hand through the air “Thor, give it back, it’s mine!” Thor was so startled he obeyed instantly. Loki, who had looked terrified for a moment, snatched the book to his chest and gazed at the floor. “I think you should go” Thor nodded, scared and bothered before he turned and ran out again, Loki’s frightened face imprinted on his mind. ~~

The third time Thor felt something unreal was years later. Loki was in his cell now, the actions of the past and their brotherhood long forgotten by the younger. After what he had done with the Avengers, Loki had been sealed in here, magic and all, unable to get out of the pearly white prison his mother had insisted he get. Thor was outside his cell, looking at him, watching as he sat with his back to the future king. Loki had always ignored him, but something about this was different. For the first time, Loki genuinely didn’t seem to know he was there and though Thor came into the line of his vision, the very corner of his eye, Loki didn’t make any sort of indication that he knew he was there. Perhaps he was ignoring him, but that wasn’t the case because the moment Thor’s boot creaked, Loki went on alert. He slowly looked up, closing the book he had been reading and turned his green eyes to his brother. “Thor” he sneered “Have you ever tried not stumbling about like a drunk animal?” Thor felt himself go red in the face, his cheeks becoming heated. He scoffed and Loki smiled. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” “Why do you do this, Loki?” Thor asked “Why must you hurt and push me away when I have nothing but the desire to help you?” Loki hummed, mockingly “Has it occurred to you that I do not wish to have you in my company? That your entire being is so repellant and all it takes is a glance at you to have my good mood withering?” Thor had almost flinched at that and then turned, without a word, to leave. Loki shook his head as he left then turned back to the book he had been holding in his hands, reading once again. ~~

The next time Thor visited Loki, it was a month later. And it was dark. All the prisoners down in the cells were sleeping and Loki was possibly the most comfortable of them all. Even though he was a prisoner, he was very well treated and Thor moved to where his cell was, raising a finger to his lips to silence the startled guard. The man had been dozing. Thor placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and nodded to the side. “Rest, my friend” Thor whispered so as not to disturb those that slept “He will not do anything while he sleeps” The guard nodded to him sleepily and walked off and Thor looked to Loki’s cell. It was darkened and Loki was probably on the bed, sleeping. He would not take kindly to having the lights wake him up. Thor waved his hand over a pad, activating Loki’s cell. The lights flickered and Thor hardened his heart against whatever Loki would say to him. He walked closer, however, intent on talking to Loki, but froze. Loki was not asleep at all and for a moment Thor feared Loki had known he was coming. But that was not the case. Loki’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling above, blinking slowly. He was humming to himself, very softly, the sound coming to Thor’s ears barely and shielding Thor’s soft gasp of surprise. His knees were drawn up and a book was placed on them. A book that had embossed paper, tiny bumps and dots littered the page and Loki’s finger moved over them. Thor froze where he was, so many things making sense and horror crashing down on him. Without a word spoken, Thor turned and fled, letting the lights close as he all but ran out. ~~ He didn’t come to see Loki for days after, lost in his own misery. It wouldn’t be what he thought, it could have been anything. Loki could have been studying it, researching that particular type of book. Maybe he was just curious. But nothing, nothing that Thor did would make him believe that the book did indeed belonged to Loki. But at the same time, a certain memory came forth and before Thor knew what he was doing, he was making his way to Loki’s room. ~~ Loki’s room was empty, save for the sounds that came from the lone god sitting on the bed, weeping. Around him, littered and opened were all of the books Loki had read in his life time. They were all the same. Embossed, little dots on them. And as Thor looked about the room, he found more things that bothered him. Behind Loki’s dresser lay a long, slim stick. Thor had always thought Loki neat, but the longer he looked, the more the pristine, perfectly neat condition of Loki’s room became like a wraith over him. There were little dots everywhere. Thor had never seen them, never taking the time to notice anything other than Loki’s obsessively clean room. The drawers had dots on them, the wardrobe, hidden in the designs so clever that Thor would never had known if he hadn’t seen them. He went further, they were in the bathroom, a trail of them on the bathtub, the sink, the tiny cabinets, everywhere. When Thor went into his study there were more. Everything was neat, everything was in place, nothing was moved, nothing that would make it hard for Loki to – to live. Dots lined the scrolls he never let Thor touch, dots fixed on the bottom of the bottles Loki used in his experiments, bumps on the doors of the cabinets embedded in the walls. And the most heartbreaking… Dots on a large sheet, shaped into runes and letters that helped Loki write all those letters to him when he was gone. Thor felt a lump in his throat and the book he had in his hand fell with a thud to the floor. Thor bit his lip, looked around. It was true. Thor had never even noticed it, so involved was he in his own life. He had never noticed it and now that was all he could see. Loki not riding a horse, Loki not liking it when Thor dragged him out on hunts and made him get lost until he came to find him. He saw Loki not bothered by the sun when he stared at a bird, he saw Loki training with his mother rather than his father. It had been after a lengthy trip to Vanahiem that Loki returned to se Frigga in place of Odin. His father had given him no real response when he asked him why it had happened, opting to train with him. The whole family had been on the tarps and it was one of Thor’s cherished memory. Thor heaved a broken breath and looked down at the book. Gently, he reached down and picked it up, dusting it off before he turned and headed back. He picked up all the books, put them exactly where he had found them, made Loki’s bed and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him. ~~ “How long?” Thor asked, his red rimmed eyes looking at his mother “When did this happen?” Frigga was sitting at her table, making another book for Loki to read. She punched dots into the pages as Thor sat opposite, looking hurt and confused. A sad expression came over her face. “When he was twenty three” she said “Do you remember that trip you took to Vanahiem?” Thor nodded “Aye” Frigga smiled “He was experimenting. He wanted to make you a potion that would heal you faster and some of the ingredients he used were like acid. He …” Frigga bit her lip. “Somehow he got it into his eyes” Thor stared at her, his eyes filling with tears once more. “They exploded in his face” her voice shook “And because he worked alone, no one knew. He lay there, for god knows how long and…” Thor looked at her face. “By the time he called for help, it was too late” she sniffed “the acid had already done its work.” “The healers…” “They couldn’t do anything” Frigga wiped her eyes “He was using magic and the acid combined with that to make him …” Thor’s lip quivered and he could have sworn his soul was in anguish but he said it. “Blind” Frigga nodded and looked at him. “He didn’t want us to tell you” she said “We sent him off to Alfhiem, after that, remember?” Thor nodded “He left a few days after I arrived” “They have experts there since so many of them have the same impairment. Loki was always intelligent and quick to learn. He learned their ways and his magic aided him. He relies in that more than I can tell you Thor. With his primary sense gone, he uses his magic to sense beings, which was how he fought for so long. But now…” Thor stared “What happened?” Frigga swallowed “The void he fell into. It ruined his magic, mutated it somehow. He can still use it to sense things, but if he stays locked on them too long, it attacks them. He tries to control it and I think he is managing well, but it’s still dangerous” Thor blinked and thought back to a moment. We can do this … together… Loki had stabbed him then. And before that, his gaze had been fixed on Thor. If there was a slightest possibility that Loki had hurt him to keep his magic from doing it, Thor was going to take it. Thor licked his lips and nodded. “You made these for him” Frigga smiled “For years. He loves to read and I cannot let that be taken from him” Thor felt a tiny smile curve his lips. And he wondered what his mother had went through for Loki. Thor stood and went to his mother, pulling her up into his arms and kissing her. “I am” he kissed her hair “So proud of you” Frigga laughed softly and held him tightly for a long time. And neither moved. *** When Thor finally had the courage to go to Loki again, he was relieved to see that his brother had the same snarl upon him he always did when he saw – No, not saw. When Loki sensed him. Thor walked over to the cell and Loki looked up. He was in the middle of the room, pacing as he read a book. His eyes were focused on it, pretending to read and he snapped it shut. Loki always snapped his books shut when he saw him, Thor had always thought it was his way of greeting him and giving him his full attention. Now he wished that was the truth. Loki turned to him, and again, Thor noticed how his gaze remained downcast as helistened to him, trying his best to figure out where Thor stood. “Well” Loki scoffed “Have you come back for a reminder on how low are in the list that contains the names of people I long to meet? Or would you like to know how high you are in the list of those I want to kill?” Thor scoffed. Everything Loki did, suddenly made sense. If Thor spoke, Loki would get a better idea of where he stood. And even though it broke his heart to take advantage of it, Thor refused to speak. Loki seemed to tense a moment before he scoffed. “Giving me the silent treatment?” he asked, again trying to get a response from him “I approve of this” Thor kept his mouth shut and walked over, passing the barrier between them soundlessly. He had taken off his shoes and he was in a simple tunic and trousers, not enough to make noise. For a moment, Thor saw Loki panic. If it was a killer or someone else, Loki would not have known where he stood and would have to wait for the first attack to get an idea of his bearings. He took a step back and Thor took one forward. “You are really stupid, Thor” Loki said, looking for him “If you think that I will…” “Loki, enough” Thor said sadly “No more lies” Loki frowned and looked at where his brother – no, not brother – Thor stood, giving him a smile. “Lies?” Loki asked as he sneered He couldn’t see him. “And what lies could you refer to?” Loki asked sweetly “The lie of our brotherhood or the fact that…” “What is the color of my tunic, Loki?” Loki blinked, a confused expression on his face. “What?” he snapped “You came here to ask me that stupid question?” He scoffed “You’re more of a fool than I previously thought!” Thor didn’t respond. He took another step closer. “Humor this fool, then” he said “Tell me. What is the color of the tunic I wear?” Loki blinked a few times and Thor could sense the nervousness around him. “I don’t have time for your…” “Loki” Thor cut in “Answer me” Loki didn’t. He shut his mouth and opened his book. “I will do nothing” Loki said, turning his gaze on the book before him “Leave me alone, Thor, stop mocking a criminal you obviously downed” Thor sighed. He hated what he was about to do. “I would” Thor said “But it would be cruel of me to leave a blind man helpless in his cell” The book fell from Loki’s grasp and his brother turned, facing him. For once, his face was open, frightened and vulnerable as he looked for Thor. “You …” Loki gasped “Have you lost … I am not blind!” “No?” Thor had a glass of water in his hand and, he cursed himself, he hurled it at Loki’s face. Loki gasped as the water hit him. He had been unable to see it, so, unable to flinch away from it and now stood, wiping his eyes and face. He’d been caught. “You fool!” Loki shouted “Have you lost what small mind you, had, you …” He broke off, inhaling sharply when two thick arms came around him from the side. And Loki realized his mistake. He had been talking to Thor while staring ahead. Thor hadn’t stood there. “You fool!” Thor sobbed into his shoulder “Why didn’t you tell me!?” Loki had stilled. His heart was racing in his chest, he could feel the pain of the movement against him, against Thor’s arm. His mouth hung open a little and he didn’t know what to say after that. Thor knew … Something he had hidden for so long! Loki took a shuddering gasp. “Let me go, Thor” Thor held on tighter and Loki began to push at him. “Thor, I said let go!” “Father agreed to free you” Loki stilled “But there is a catch” Thor whispered, very softly “As much as I hate it, I want you out of this cell, Loki, I will do whatever I have to - to get you out.” Loki swallowed, his anger forgotten at the moment. “Thor” he whispered “What did you do?” Thor held his brother, gave him a squeeze and rubbed his face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry” Thor whispered back “But Father said if you wanted to come out of this cell, your magic has … it has to…” Loki felt the color drain from his face. “No” “Loki…” “I said no” Loki struggled against him and managed to get out, stumbling back and turning to face Thor. He couldn’t look at him, he never would, but somehow he felt better when he was staring at his direction. “I will not!” he said “I would rather rot in here than to have my magic taken away!” Thor knew this would be hard “Loki, please” he pleaded “I don’t want you to be here alone” “Why not?” Loki scoffed “You think someone will take advantage of me?” He gave a high pitched laugh. “Odinson” he sneered “I have been dealing this longer than you have known. I have fought battles, defeated enemies and ruined everything important to you. I can handle a few unruly prisoners.” Then Thor felt something prickling up his arms and legs and realized Loki was using his magic to sense him. He was right, because not a moment later, Loki turned his unseeing gaze to where he stood. “Look at you” Loki scoffed, taking Thor in “The powerful Odinson, the soon to be heir of Asgard standing there, feeling sorry for the monster he brought to its knees” Thor felt his throat constrict and he felt the prickling become painful. “Loki…” Loki cut him off with a laugh. “Will you bring me presents, Thor?” he asked “Get me a walking stick, a dog to help me walk along so everyone in Asgard knows how weak I am?” Another wave of magic, angry, this time, sensed Thor and Loki could almost see him, feel his shake before him. “You think just because you pity me, that I will listen to what pathetic attempts you made to save me?” he rasped “You will never save me, Thor, because I am perfectly capable of taking care of my…” “Loki!” Thor’s pain filled shout cut him off and a moment later. The entire cell exploded. ~~ Thor woke slowly, the sounds of a sunny day outside. He could feel warmth against him and he could feel the bed under him as well, soft and firm. He groaned, not wanting to open his eyes. But he did, a moment later when he felt something soft brush his hair back over his face. Thor looked up, from where he lay on his side, his eyes wide as he stared up at the person sitting beside him. Loki smirked. “You’re awake” “Loki!” Loki didn’t move as Thor sat up. His hair was sticking on end and he was staring at Loki, lookin him up and down for injuries. There was a bandage around Loki’s wrist and forearm and one on his forehead, but other than that he was fine. Thor was fine, too, in fact there was nothing wrong with him once he looked down at himself. Loki sniggered “You are fine, Thor, worry not. Mother was very liberal with the healing.” Thor blinked and looked at him. “W- what happened?” Thor asked. Loki shrugged “An explosion” An explosion. As though it was some random thing that Loki didn’t know the cause of. He had caused it, he had tried to hurt Thor. Thor’s mouth firmed. “Are you alright?” he asked “Yes” Loki lifted the arm for Thor to examine “See? Just a burn” Thor hummed and sat back, the urgency and grief gone, replaced by irritation, perhaps anger. “You are angry with me?” Loki asked. Yes, Thor wanted to say. But he remained silent and stood, feeling the room spin a little before he gained his balance and started to walk to the washroom. Behind him, Loki sighed. Thor had not seen them and for the moment, Loki was safe. The bands around his wrists were tight against his flesh, a punishment for almost killing his brother and future king. They held his magic back completely. It was gone. And it left Loki truly vulnerable. He was about to be thrown into his cell, but Frigga had intervened, begged Odin to leave that decision to Thor. For Thor had a good heart and Loki knew his brother would not throw him back. Without his magic, there were things even Loki couldn’t control. There were enemies after him, all of them angry and most of Asgard. They did not like what he had done and liked his punishment even less. They were looking for a way to harm him and contrary to his actions, Loki didn’t want to be hurt. And if he had his magic, he would not have been worried, but now … Now he longed to be safe, he longed to be with someone he trusted and since Odin would never let Frigga near him, Thor was the next, logical choice. The doors clicked open and Loki pasted a smile on his face. Thor walked out, gave him one look and scoffed. “Are you planning on trying to kill me again?” Loki controlled the flinch that almost ran through his body and smirked. “Maybe later” Thor walked to the wardrobe and Loki extended his hand to the side of the bed. His pale hand touched the stick he had so long used and he gripped it tightly, raking the floor with it before he stood and began to walk. Thor heard the clicking and turned. His expression became pained and he longed to pull Loki into his arms. But the man had hurt him – again. And it stung. So Thor gave Loki his back and pushed a few clothes aside, moving to get the tunic and trousers he wanted before he took his bath. “You won’t look at me?” Thor felt Loki behind him and stopped. He bit his lip, allowing himself a moment of indecision before he began to work again. Loki sighed from behind him. “You won’t talk, either?” Loki asked “At least yell at me, Thor, get the anger out.” “No” Loki blinked and used his stick to look for Thor’s leg. “Please?” Thor sighed, getting irritated “Please what?” “Look at me” “Why?” Thor asked “So you can poke me in the eyes and laugh at me? I’m done with your tricks, brother, stop it” Loki bit his lip to keep from sniggering and lowered his head. “No, Thor, I just…” “Just what?” Thor asked “You don’t need to look at me to…” “Apologize” Loki said very softly. Thor heard it, because he stopped. His hands were still in the wardrobe and he turned, just a little to Loki. “I want to tell you I’m sorry” Loki said “For what I did, for what I have done and will doubtlessly do to you in the future, I … I’m sorry” Thor was looked at Loki over his shoulder. There was nothing on his features that indicated he was tricking – but then again, Loki was the Trickster – in fact, there was nothing there, nothing other than an expression Thor had not seen on him for a long time. Loki’s sightless eyes were focused on nothing but he the stick he held to Thor’s ankle alerted him of Thor’s movement. He smiled. “You …” Loki swallowed “Do you want a trophy for getting me to apologize?” Thor stared and shook his head. “If you are shaking your head, Thor, I can’t see it, remember? So you have to speak” Thor swallowed and laughed, choking a little. “Perhaps just an embrace” Thor said “just something we haven’t done in a long time” The end of Loki’s mouth curved and he sighed. “If I must” Loki extended both arms and Thor smiled. There were tears in his eyes, but he smiled. He moved and pulled Loki into his arms, feeling Loki’s come around him. Thor squeezed him closer, burying his face on Loki’s shoulder. “I’m sorry” Loki whispered “I’m sorry” “Hush” Thor cradled his head in one hand “It’s okay.” Loki held on tighter and Thor could feel two thick tears drop on his shoulder where Loki had his head set. “It’s okay” ~~ “Thor, I swear if you let me go, I will…” Thor laughed “Don’t worry, I won’t, now come on” Loki was taking a walk in the gardens. Thor was holding both his hands and making him walk on the grass as he stood before him, retreating with every step Loki took. There were butterflies and flowers and Thor wanted to enjoy the sunlight. Ever since that day, Loki had stuck by Thor like a shade. Thor hadn’t minded, he had wanted this for so long. Loki seemed to mind, even as he tailed Thor. Often, the end of Thor’s tunic or cape would be held in one of Loki’s hand as he walked around with Thor. The elder had ‘punished’ him, as he told Odin, to remain without magic until Thor told him otherwise. Loki hadn’t asked for it back and Thor had not brought it up. Instead, he had brought up a walk in the gardens and since it was new, Loki would need help. The younger didn’t mind, so long as he had his stick, but after the first stumble, he had been very careful. Thor had been doubly so and now walked on the smoothest grass, waiting to go where he had their picnic laid down. Loki was grumbling the whole way through, calling Thor an idiot and calling him sentimental, but Thor knew Loki secretly liked it. And it became apparent when Thor pulled him on the soft cloth and told him to sit. He handed Loki his stick, which made Loki feel easier and then crossed his legs, looking at the flowers before them. Thor sighed. Loki turned to him. “Will you recite poetry now?” Thor chuckled “No. Unless you want me to. But then you would have to kiss me, because what is poetry without kisses?” Loki sniggered and sat back, bracing himself on his hands “What indeed?” Silence fell between them, but it was good, not like the one where Loki had stumbled and fell over the boot Thor had carelessly thrown, or when he had hit and tumbled the chair Thor had not put back or when Loki had stepped on a blade Thor had forgotten he had yet to polish. Those were angry, this was nice. And Thor realized that as he helped Loki see without seeing, Loki was turning him into a better man without asking. ~~ “Thor?” “Hmm?” “May I …” Loki hesitated, licked his lips. They were sitting before Thor’s fireplace, having their dinner as it snowed in Asgard. Loki had become a new feature in Thor’s now clean room and Thor realized he didn’t mind. Not at all. But he looked up when Loki hesitated. Loki had never hesitated. Thor frowned “What is it?” Loki blushed and Thor couldn’t stop staring. He had been doing it a lot. Staring. Looking at Loki, memorizing him, his hands clenching with the need to feel something of Loki’s against himself, just something to get the feeling of Loki beneath his palms, perhaps his lips… Loki cleared his throat and once again, Thor was grateful he couldn’t see. “I was wondering” Loki whispered “May I … see you?” Thor frowned and blinked. “See me?” Color heated Loki’s cheeks again “Yes, I just …” Loki shrugged “The last time I saw your face was when you were leaving for Vanahiem, and you were younger – much younger. You had long blonde hair and eyes what shined like the sky itself, I just …” Thor’s eyebrows raised slightly as Loki broke off. “I wanted to see” Loki said “How you look” Thor nodded “Of course. Uh – how?” Loki gave a nervous chuckle “You have to come here” Thor skid over immediately and Loki sat cross legged. “Sit before me” Again, Thor obeyed and waited. Loki raised his hands, clapping them on his tunic to get rid of the crumbs from his dinner and then lean forward. “Don’t … don’t laugh” Thor grinned immediately, but then sobered when Loki lifted his hands. Loki held his finger tips against Thor’s face. He touched his forehead with one hand. “Hard headed” Loki announced “No shock there” Thor laughed “Stop laughing” Thor obeyed Loki brought his hand down, over Thor’s eyes and his nose, when he grabbed between two knuckles and shook. “Loki!” “Okay” Loki laughed “I’m sorry! I’ll behave” So Thor let him do it again. Loki touched his cheeks “A beard” he sniggered softly “How shocking and …” He fingers went back up, tracing Thor’s eyebrows, his eyes, then the side of his face and to his jaw. “Strong jaw” Tracing his chin, Loki moved up again. “And these must be…” “My lips” Thor whispered against Loki’s fingers “Y – yes” Loki said , his voice low “S- so soft…” Thor didn’t move and Loki didn’t pull back. “Firm” Loki used his middle finger to trace Thor’s mouth, his lips, the top one, slowly, taking in the shape, the outline, the part where his moustache ended and his smooth, pink skin began, then his lower, fuller lip, the plump, flesh, the sensitive… Loki gasped as he felt those lips kiss his finger. His heart started to race and he gulped, especially when he felt Thor lean closer. His hand dropped lower, down the column of Thor’s throat, the sensual, slightly stubble filled neck, and the Adam’s Apple. It bobbed as Thor swallowed and Loki bit his lip when he felt Thor’s breath on his cheek. He was too close But Loki kept on going. His eyes were closed and he touched Thor’s collarbone, the place between them. Thor’s hands came around him, resting on his back and Loki let out a soft whimper when Thor’s soft lips landed on his cheek. “Thor…” “Don’t stop me” Thor whispered “And don’t stop touching me” Loki gasped, his head turning aside when Thor kissed his neck, just below his ear and a shudder went through him. His hand travelled to Thor’s chest, to the chiseled muscles of his pectorals. Thor was tense, and the muscles were framed harder, Loki would feel them in harsh relief against his fingers and he placed his hand flat on Thor’s chest, above his hammering heart. Thor’s hands on his back were distracting and Loki fisted his own hand on the front of Thor’s shirt, pulling at the tunic. Thor made a soft, short noise and a moment later, Loki was lying on his back on the rug. “Thor, what are you…” “Hush” Thor was levered over him, Loki could tell. He raised a hand to feel his face, then raked it through his hair. Loki gasped as Thor’s mouth landed on his collarbone. “Your hair” Loki held a strand between his fingers, pulling it a little. “You cut it” “Aye” Loki swallowed as Thor’s hands went up and down his sides. The clothes rustled and Loki felt his body heating up. “Thor?” “Hmm?” Thor was mouthing at his shoulder, his mouth damp and warm. “Please, stop” Loki could feel him tense and for a moment, he thought Thor was not going to move. But then a kiss landed on his mouth and Thor pulled back Relieved, Loki waited until Thor’s heat was gone from his body and he sat up. His face was flushed and Loki rested his palms on them to make them cool down. He looked in Thor’s vague direction. And to Thor’s relief, he smiled. And Thor knew things would never be the same again. ~~ After that night, they found more and more reasons to be together alone. And more and more reasons to touch. Every time Loki handed Thor something, he lingered, his fingers caressing over Thor’s hand. Every time Thor maneuvered Loki away from an obstacle, his hand would drop, lower than his waist, lower than it was right. Loki would lean into his, his useless eyes fixed ahead. Every time Odin or Frigga looked at them, Thor would move away. And every time he moved away, it would make Loki restless. Neither knew when this change happened, when they started behaving like this, perhaps it had always been there, perhaps it was new, they didn’t care. They silenced the forbidding voice in their heads and continued, laughing, smiling … …kissing. They kissed, it was something new and dangerous and Loki hadn’t been dangerous in a long time. He huffed, the breath knocked from him as Thor pressed him into the wall and he moaned loudly when Thor snatched his stick and tossed it aside, pinning him back. “You think…” Loki gasped “I am completely powerless without a weapon?” Thor growled. They were in Thor’s room now, they spent most of their time there. The door was locked and they were free. “I think” Thor pressed him back until Loki moaned and smiled “You like it when you are powerless.” Loki’s arms were around Thor’s shoulders and his breath hitched when the elder lifted him up and placed his hands under his hips, his legs around his waist. Loki pressed his knees into Thor’s sides and pulled him closer. “I think” he whispered in Thor’s ear “You’re right” Thor tipped his head up and kissed Loki, humming and closing his eyes. His blood rushed through his ears and Loki moaned, pressing against him tighter. ~~ “What is going on here!?” Loki and Thor both gasped. Loki shoved Thor off and Thor stumbled back, horror etched on both their features. Loki couldn’t see and Thor hadn’t seen. But Odin had. He stood by the door, his face a mask of red rage. The vein in his temple was hard against his face and Thor gaped, spluttering. He was at a loss. “What” Odin rasped, taking a step forward “Are you two doing?!” Loki flinched. If there was one thing that truly frightened him, it was Odin. Not as a father, no, but as a King, a warrior. And he took a step back, his hand looking for his stick. “F- Father” Thor shielded Loki “I … we….” “Move” Odin rasped. Thor’s eyes widened “Father, please, Loki has nothing to do with this, punish me if you have to, but…” Thor broke off as Odin took another step closer “I said” Odin hissed, beyond furious, he was murderous “Move” Thor was trembling, Loki could feel it as he stood behind him, and he wanted to protect Loki. But it was too late. Something boomed and a moment later, Loki cried out as Thor’s presence was taken from him. “Thor!” A hand, hard and cruel, grabbed his wrist and Loki was yanked forward. A loud gasp tore from him as Odin pulled Loki along. “Thor!” Loki held an arm out for him, blindly searching “Thor!” “Loki!” Thor’s voice came from somewhere but Loki didn’t know where and he felt tears spring into his eyes. “No, stop!” he pleaded “Please, All Father, don’t do this!” Odin didn’t listen and Loki stumbled behind him. Thor was on the floor, groaning, from the blow Odin’s magic had given him. He was stunned, dazed, and when he tried to move, he stumbled. And that delay, no matter how small, ended up costing him too much. Because the moment he gained enough coherence and looked up. Loki was gone. ~~ Vanahiem: Thor had come here after a seven month search in Asgard, he searched his kingdom, left his father, ignored his mother, and searched. He screamed a lot, too, angry, helpless. And he cried at night. He cried himself to sleep, or drank if he couldn’t bear it. He wanted to see Loki, he wanted to touch him again. He wanted his Loki. But he didn’t find him Alfhiem: Vanahiem wasted more time. There was nothing there for him, no one knew where Loki was, most of them hadn’t even known what he looked like. Thor was alone. Thor was scared. So Alfhiem, it would be Midgard: Alfhiem was unfruitful. Midgard had allies. And Thor could finally wail in his agony. Svartalfhiem: There was nothing in Midgard. Nothing. He searched this debris until his hands were bloody from moving obstacles out of the way. He wanted Loki Jotunhiem: Thor fell into the snow and ice, sobbing. There was no hope. And his search in Svartalfhiem had been cut short. Odin’s men had come for him, to drag him back, but he fought them off. He fought them away and fell, he didn’t even know he could fall through realms like this, but he fell. And he ran. Then he hit the snow and ice and he knew he was lost. This is where he would end, at the feet of Jotunhiem’s snow. He was cold, he was hungry and he was miserable. And he didn’t have Loki. Thor’s heartbreaking scream broke through the skies and the winds swallowed the sound. ~~ Snow crunched somewhere and Thor tensed. He looked up, then around, searching. His hand went to his hammer and he sat up, the gusts of wind slowing down as he stood, his eyes ready to kill the monster that approached him. He could see it, several yards away, a furry thing, tall and slim. It stared at him, as though unsure of what to do. Thor’s hand tightened and the creature took a step forward. “Halt!” he commanded “I may be trespassing, but I will not hesitate to kill you!” The figure stopped. Thor glared. “I am Thor Odinson” Thor said “And if you value your life, you will step back and go back the way you came. I have neither the patience nor the will to deal with you. Leave or I will kill you” A scoff cut through the air and Thor froze. The creature lifted its hands and lowered the hood on his face, the fur falling to reveal him. “You really think I am that helpless, Thor?” Loki It was Loki ~~ Thor sobbed into Loki’s neck, wailing as Loki held him tightly. He was so different, his brother, so beautiful They were on their knees, Loki in furs, Thor in love. Thor kissed him over and over as Loki’s arms went around him, his clothes tight and warm as Thor kissed him on the cheek, the neck, his eyes. Loki smiled as he closed one unseeing eye shut, his hands in Thor’s hair, a smile on his face. Thor held him tightly, held his slender waist tightly, traced his arms, his back. Then he shuddered. Loki smiled. “Let’s get you warmed up, darling” Thor nodded, but he didn’t let Loki go. Two years, it had been. Two years. ~~ Asgard: He groaned when Thor’s weight crushed him but he didn’t break off their passionate kiss, so involved was he in it, opening his mouth wider to let Thor’s probing tongue sneak in and mate with his own, to pin it down just like his own massive body was doing. Loki gasped when Thor broke off and began to mouth his neck, licking his neck before rubbing his lips against it and kissing it. He choked when Thor blew on it. “Thor…” Thor chuckled and his other hand reached down between Loki’s legs and started to knead him. Loki arched his back sharply and would have screamed had Thor not caught his mouth and pushed in tongue in as he gasped and panted. Loki’s hands fisted in Thor’s clothes and he pulled, frustration and senses mounting as Thor continued to pleasure him, panting and writhing in his arms. Thor chuckled “Eager little Trickster” Loki had wanted to reply, he really had, but at that moment, Thor palmed him again and all that Loki could let loose was a tapering whine that spoke of his desperate need. Thor’s other hand went to the hem of Loki’s tunic and he lifted it off, taking it over Loki’s head and tossing it over his shoulder. He then started pulling off Loki’s trousers, looking up for confirmation. “May I?” “I’ll kill you if you don’t” Thor sniggered and lowered them off Loki’s hips and off the bed they occupied. Loki moaned softly at the feel of silk upon his skin and couldn’t help move, slither, against it. It felt wonderful. And Thor felt that little movement break him further. He cupped Loki’s cheek, continued his palming and smiled when Loki gasped, fisting his hands and trying to focus even as his eyes went wide, even as he couldn’t see. But he felt everything “Thor…” “Hush” Thor kissed his slack mouth and pulled his hand around his shaft, giving it a squeeze “it will happen” His hand started to pump Loki and his mouth took in every sound his surprised, red mouth made and soon, so soon that Thor laughed and Loki felt embarrassed, he felt the hit burst Loki gave and felt the slick around his hand signaling his release. “That didn’t take long” “Be quiet” Loki moaned, “it wasn’t … I was surprised” “Right” Thor said dryly before kissing the back of his hands “now up. We need to move if you want to finish this” “How romantic” Loki drawled but waited as Thor undressed himself “Are you sure, Loki?” Thor asked, his face serious “we don’t have to…” “I want to” Loki said, smiling at him “please” He lifted his hips and felt Thor shudder when he touched his crotch. “Please” Loki moaned, eyes large and pleading Thor growled at him and lowered his head to kiss him once more. ~~ Loki arched against Thor as that hand began to pleasure him again, giving him more than he thought he could ever take and taking everything he needed. Thor’s mouth was fixed on Loki’s and he groaned as Loki’s hips moved with his hand as he prepared him, his fingers slick with oil and Loki’s spend. He began to scissor is fingers, moving them inside Loki and touching a spot that made him keen and arch in pleasure, made him moan and gasp into Thor’s mouth before he pulled away to get air into his lungs. It was difficult; especially with the way he was trapped under Thor, pressed into the mattress with his legs spread open for Thor to do as he pleased. It was driving him insane. “Thor…” Thor watched him as he lay, spread open before him, helpless and beautiful. He watched his reactions as he moved him, spread him and opened him for his taking. He watched the way Loki’s neck arched back and the way his toes curled in the sheets, he watched that red, soft mouth part on wordless screams and he watched the way his sightless eyes went wide and Thor realized he was mesmerized. “Loki?” “Please” Loki panted “I’ve had enough … take me” Thor didn’t know he was dying for those words until that moment. At that gasp, he realized he’d wanted this as much as Loki did and he pulled his fingers out, looking at the passage that was probably still tight and looked to Loki again. But the man was gone within his pleasure and Thor had no idea what to do other ran start to push within him. Loki gave a sharp gasp and Thor pressed an open mouthed kiss to it, tilting his head to slot their mouths together, running his tongue inside to explore. Thor spent long, agonizing minutes moving into Loki, filling him up slowly, so slowly because he wanted to keep from hurting him and he wanted to remember this forever. He was deep, so deep inside him, so natural with their skin against each other that he wanted more, he wanted to go deeper, to mark him and have him. “Thor…” Loki whined from beneath him, as lost in his pleasure as Thor was. It broke Thor. He began to rut into Loki now, the pleasure burning him and startling Loki. His gasps got louder and for a moment, Thor thought he was hurting him. But then Loki’s legs came around his waist, his heels digging into his waist as he pushed him, in, took him deeper. Loki threw his head back and gasped, panting loudly as Thor went on and on inside him, claiming him, marking him, giving him pleasure he didn’t think was possible anymore. Even if he wanted to, Thor couldn’t stop. Loki’s soft gasps and moans drove him on. He was so perfect, so pliant and so responsive that Thor didn’t realize he loved it until now. He rammed into Loki, rocked him and marked him, never wavering in his rhythm and strokes. And Loki arched against him, moaning his name, gasping and arching against him, pleading with him as he raked his slick skin with his nails. And Thor heard him. Every moan, every slick, silky movement Loki made, every order he pleaded, Thor heard and obeyed. He moved within him, kissed his red mouth, turned it even redder, he marked his neck, his shoulders, chest, everywhere he could reach, he marked him. “Thor…please…” The headboard banged against the wall and Loki gasped, raking Thor with his nails, clawing his back and leaving angry red marks behind, gasping and moaning as Thor moved inside him, pounding him into the bed with remarkable power. “Thor!” Loki screamed and came over himself and Thor, making a huge mess before falling back on the bed, limp and panting, his chest heaving up and down as testament to his passion. Thor moved within him, holding him to mark his arms as he thrust in and out of that body until his own release came and he fell on Loki after his bellow. Pale arms wrapped themselves around him and Thor panted, listening to their heartbeat and their breathing as he let exhaustion take him over and he lay on Loki, content with his plaint partner. His beautiful Loki. His love His life ~~ Odin had not been pleased. But Thor didn’t listen this time. Loki was nervous, but Thor made him walk forward, made him stand before the throne, made him raise their arms high in the air, before all Asgard. His coronation. And Loki would be beside him. Even if Thor had to fight everyone in Asgard, Loki would be beside him. ~~ And he was. ~~ A year after, Thor and Loki stood on the balcony. To Asgard, they were brothers. Thor was King, Loki was his counselor. In secret, they were lovers. They loved each other, drove each other to heights of passion, made each other wild. Loki felt everything Thor did to him and Thor saw. He saw the change in Loki, he saw the change in himself. They fought together, Thor trained Loki himself. Frigga accepted their relationship from a distance, she was not keen on it, but she wasn’t against it. Not like Odin. Odin had changed. Thor knew sooner or later that he would have to talk with his father about how ruthless and cruel he was to Loki. He knew he would have to get Loki’s magic back to him. There was nothing else left for him to do. Well, there was one thing and Thor realized as his heart beat against his chest that he probably should. Loki was standing beside him, his eyes closed. He had his stick in one hand and he smiled softly at the breeze that played with his hair. He had no idea of what Thor was planning, so Thor swallowed and reached out for Loki’s hand. Loki’s smile widened. “Eager already?” He turned to Thor and opened his eyes. “Didn’t we just do it, Thor?” Thor laughed “Three times, if I’m correct” Loki hummed in laughter “Can’t believe you kept count” “How could I not?” Thor asked “When something so beautiful is within my arms, how can I not count how many times it has happened and thank the norns for each time?” Loki blinked a few times then a blush came over his cheeks. “Stop it” he smiled, turning away. And he would have left but Thor’s hand tightened on Loki’s. There had been a speech, there honestly had, but one look at that beautiful face and Thor forgot it all. “Marry me” Loki stilled, a gasp catching in his throat. He didn’t turn back. “Marry me” Thor repeated, holding Loki’s hand on both of his “Be mine, before all Asgard, be mine. I love you, Loki, I love so you much nothing can take precedence over you. Everything you are, everything you do … I love. I love you. I will not, I cannot live without you so please” Thor went down on his knees, Loki could feel it. “Please” Thor kissed his fingertips. “Marry me, Loki” Loki swallowed and turned to him, looking at him without seeing him. His mouth worked and Thor went pale, for fear of Loki saying no. He would have ruined everything if Loki said no. ~~ Loki turned as Thor entered, a nervous smile on his face. It was strange because things had changed between them, again. Everything had changed ever since Thor had asked him to marry him, since that day on the balcony. The door locked and Loki felt a shudder go through him. Thor looked imposing, no doubt, in his royal armor, his cape and crown. He must look beautiful. And Loki felt a sharp sense of loss at the fact that he couldn’t see him, that he couldn’t take the beauty in. He would never know what his husband looked like and it made him sad. Thor sensed what he was feeling and walked over, smiling as he pulled him into his arms. “What’s wrong?” Thor kissed his hair and Loki looked up at him. He shook his head. “Something has to be” Thor said “You’re crying” Oh Loki lifted his hand and wiped tears from his eyes. He hadn’t known he was. “Oh” he said, his voice shaking “I – I didn’t know” He gave a nervous laugh. “Well, it’s good to know these things are still good for something, then” Loki said “If it is just crying” Thor raised a hand and tipped Loki’s head up. “I love you” Loki smiled “When have you ever told me otherwise?” “Never” Thor kissed his lips “And I never will. You are special, but better than anyone I have ever been with or talked to or …” He ran his fingers gently over Loki’s eyes, making them flutter shut. Then he kissed them. He liked doing that, Loki realized. Thor kissed his eyes until they closed and then his mouth, his face – everywhere. “Or seen” Thor said “but you have done better” Loki opened his eyes again. “You feel me” Thor whispered against his forehead “You feel who I am, you sense me, you love me like no one has ever done. You love me for me” “I never said I love you” Loki smiled, kissing Thor back “You’re just assuming that” “Well” Thor grimaced “I could always make you” Loki sniggered “No you can’t” “Yes, I can” A moment later, Loki screeched as Thor hauled him over his shoulder. He ignored Loki’s halfhearted struggles and laughs as he carried him to their bedchambers, closing the door behind him. And he got to work. And a few minutes later, Loki’s voice whispered how much he loved Thor, how much he needed him and how – if Thor wasn’t and arrogant little bastard – Loki would already have said it. But then Thor wouldn’t have made wild, passionate love to him. And if nothing else, Loki needed that. Because at that moment, he convinced himself that yes, he could see. That he could see Thor more clearly than anyone else in the realms. And he was right. For the first time in a long, long time… Loki was right.

[taehyungiestummy]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears -- Chapter Six

Masterlist        Previous        Next Warnings for this chapter: Cursing Word Count: 4940

I take a deep breath, looking up at the cloudy sky that is threatening to rain on my walk with a cute boy. “So, how long have you been working for Bangtan?” “How long has your mother been dead?” Taehyung’s voice doesn’t come out harsh. In fact, he’s genially curious, as if it will help him figure out the answer to my question. “Well, it has to be over ten years now,” I slowly bite my lip. “Honestly, I lost count a long time ago. It wasn’t helping that I was dwelling on the past.” “I guess you’ll go back to counting now.” I sigh, “Yeah, I’ll have a new number in my head. I can’t believe I’ll have a new number in my head.” “Your father,” Taehyung places his fingers on my elbow to steer me onto the left path in the garden. “I am very thankful for him and all he has done for me. He saved me from a life in prison.” “Did you hack into government files and get caught?” I tease, smirking at the boy. “Actually, I didn’t know how to hack until I came here,” he pulls his hand away from me. “I had read a few computer books because people just throw those away, but I had barely touched a computer.” “You learned everything in the mansion?” I shudder as a breeze slices through me. “Pretty much. I have been sent to classes all over the world to hone my skills too.” “Now you are the best hacker in the country. Maybe even the world. Good thing you are working with us, and not against us.” “I don’t think I am the best in the world,” he messes with his watch. “Bangtan is the best fit for me, so I don’t think I would have ended up anywhere but here.” “Enough work talk,” I smooth my hands over my black dress. “I want to know more about you. Can you tell me anything?” “What do you want to know?” “I don’t know. Usually we would ask each other questions, but you are like an encyclopedia when it comes to me.” “That was your father’s doing too,” Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. “One of the best jobs I’ve ever been given, to be honest.” “I can’t be that interesting,” I nervously tuck some hair behind my ear. “How can you stand watching me all the time?” “Do you really want me to answer?” Taehyung stops us in front of the rose bushes, stepping in front of me so he can look me in the eye. “Yes, I really do,” I firmly nod. “When you are studying, or doing any kind of schoolwork, you always do this cute thing where you twirl your pencil. Your random dance parties that you have with Snow, or Sooyoung, or whoever else you call to hang out with you, make me wish I could come hang out with you. Even though I don’t dance at all, and would just hum along to the music.” “I can always teach you how to dance,” I tenderly smile. “You scare me a bit when I catch you training, but I am also really impressed that you can fight like a totally badass. I have watched you improve so much other the years. Then there’s the times that you hang out with Seokjin in his kitchen, drinking hot chocolate as chaos ensues around you. You are an angel in those moments.” “I am far from an angel,” I look down at my shoes, fingers messing with one another. “A fallen angel, maybe.” “I don’t understand why you don’t wear your glasses more, like you are right now, because you are the cutest when you have them on. Like when you are playing video games, and you get really stressed out, and your glasses are sliding down your nose. Or you are reading a book, and you didn’t notice they fell off your face because you are so into the story.” “Now you are just flattering me,” I giggle, lifting my head up to connect our gaze again. “Do you really think I am cute?” “There’s a lot I do for this job, but lying to the boss’s sister would not be one of them. I’m usually not this forward to a girl I just started talking to, though. There’s just something about you that makes me want to talk about everything.” “I’m not like most girls, you know?” I smirk, linking our arms. “Lead the way, Taehyung.” He begins walking, taking small steps so I can keep up. “What else do you want to know about me?” “You don’t watch me in the bathroom, do you?” I feel my cheeks heat up. “N-n-no,” he stutters out. “Oh god, no. Did you really think I would be told to do that? I am not a pervert. I respect your privacy. I even turn the sound off when you go to bed, and try to sleep when you do. Doesn’t always work, but I try.” “I just didn’t know,” I shrug. “Do you have sound in my bathroom? Do you hear me sing?” He chuckles, “There is sound in your bathroom. I have listened to you sing a lot. Does that embarrass you? Are you nervous for next time?” “A little, but I’m sure you would have hacked into my stereo and turned the music off if you thought I was really bad.” “Your singing voice has actually gotten a lot better over the years. It’s a talent that you have to practice at, and the more you sing, the better it gets.” “Do you also have knowledge on random things?” “I read in my downtime, so yes.” “You have downtime?” “Very rarely.” “Maybe you could come hang out with me when you have downtime next. We could read together, or play video games, or watch a movie.” “Areum, as much as I would love to do that, and keep an eye on you while being in the same room, I don’t think it is a good idea. You are persistent, though.” “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I shrug. “You just tried almost two hours ago. I don’t think I would have changed my mind.” “Then maybe I will just come to you,” I poke Taehyung’s side with my free hand. “I don’t know where you work, but I’ll figure it out.” “I’m sure you will,” he pats my forearm that’s linked with his. “Not many people know where the hackers work, and I don’t work in the same area as most of the others.” “I’m sure I could get you to tell me. After a few dates.” “That’s not going to happen.” “You keep saying that, but it’s very clear that we both feel something for the other, and you are probably the sweetest, most boyfriend worthy boy, I have ever met.” “I don’t think Jimin would like to hear that,” he teases. “Jiminie and I made a pack years ago to always be friends and nothing more.” “I already told you that you do not want me to be your boyfriend.” “And I don’t care what you say, I am going to keep trying-” I gasp as a raindrop plops on top of my head. “I just felt a raindrop.” “So did I,” Taehyung unlinks are arms and looks around at our surroundings. “Fuck, we are the farthest from the mansion right now. Do you think you can run?” “There’s a reason it’s not a tight dress,” I do a few kicks to show the mobility of my dress. “I just hope that you can keep up.” In the next moment, the heavens open up, and rain is pouring down on us like it hasn’t rained in years. Taehyung leads the way through the maze of the garden, glancing back every few seconds to check up on me. Both of us laughing as we become soaked in seconds. I feel so alive in this moment. All the worries of the world drifting away as I run through a downpour with a boy that I am crushing hard on. The blood pumping through my veins reminds me of how alive I am, and that I still have a lot to live for. “That was so much fun!” I grab Taehyung’s hands, teeth chattering as I smile up at him. “I do have to admit that I haven’t felt that happy in a while,” Taehyung smiles down at me, giving my hands a squeeze before releasing them. “You are crazy, you know that?” “Just a little bit,” I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying anything to warm up. “You need to go dry off and change into clothes that will warm you up.” “Can I just ask one more question?” I take a deep breath, calming my heart rate. “Just one, or else I’ll be the reason you get sick,” he slips his shoes off, socks squishing on the hardwood floor. “How hard is hacking?” “Depends on who you ask. It is like second nature to me, but it would be like learning a foreign language to you.” “Follow up question, could you teach me? Or help me find some things?” “I’d rather help you find things. Depending on what you are looking for. What are you looking for?” He scrunches up his eyebrows, curiously looking at me. “I need help getting some memories back that were taken from me by my shrink,” I cross my arms over my chest; my tone no longer light and cheery. “And to find who killed my parents.” Taehyung nods, “Give me some time to think about it.” “If you don’t help me, Taehyung, I will do it on my own. I’d rather have someone like you by my side to keep my secrets, and make the process go by faster.” “But Yoongi-” “Forget about my brother for a second,” I place my hands on his chest, widening my eyes as I plead. “Don’t think that I am asking you because I am your boss. I am asking you as a friend, as a girl who is now an orphan. As a girl who wants answers because so much is still hidden to her. Please, Taehyung, I trust you, even if I have only known you a few hours. I need your help.” “You are so lucky you are cute and I consider you a good friend, even if you don’t know me. I’ll help you, but just give me a few days to figure everything out. And to get you through this funeral.” “I’m okay with that,” I can’t control myself as I wrap my arms around the boy in front of me. “Thank you, for today. It really helped. I feel a lot better.” “I’m glad I could come to your side,” Taehyung pats my back. “I really do think you should head to your room and change out of this wet dress, though.”

********

“This fucking sucks, you know?” Sooyoung spreads out on the floor of my office alcove. Snow and Lola are playing tug-of-war in the main part of my bedroom. It is quite obvious that neither of them are trying to beat the other. It’s a sweet relationship that they have. “Even the heavens are weeping for my father,” I sigh, lying down on the couch-like seat. I’m quick to cover up with a blanket, even if I am in sweatpants and a sweater. Getting stuck out in the rain really chilled me to the bone. A crack of thunder makes the walls shake. “I don’t think they are just weeping,” Sooyoung chuckles. “That is a full-on bawl going for your father. The world lost a great man.” “This organization is so great today because of all the hard work that my father did. I’m sure Yoongi and I will be able to keep that status, but, I can’t believe how much pressure that’s going to put on the both of us. Especially on Yoongi. He’s going to try to do everything by himself.” “That’s Yoongi for you. He always wants to be all in control. That’s how he is in meetings, and the times he leads missions. Bangtan will be perfectly fine. Don’t even worry about it.” “There will be struggles, as there were for my father, so I still think it will stressful at some points. I have no doubt that Bangtan will continue to be a force to be reckoned with in Seoul. Clearly, whoever my father was visiting right before he died, they want to make Bangtan even bigger.” “Or they killed him,” Sooyoung raises her arms for a few seconds. “Though, that wouldn’t really make any sense. I’m pretty sure it was the Red Wolves.” “There is no doubt in my mind that it was the Red Wolves. Most of the other gangs that have messed with us in the past understand that there is no way they can take us out, so they just go off doing their own thing. The only time we mess with those gangs is when they are really doing harm to the community. The Red Wolves have never learned. I don’t understand why.” “Definitely something happened before we were born that made them hate the organization as much as they do.” “I’m going to take them out,” I clench my fingers into fists, curling into a ball. “One way or another. I am going to find who killed my parents, and take them out. Then I will get into all their files, figuring out all the secrets that have plagued me for years. They will regret messing with the Min’s.” “It’s a good thing your father found me before they could,” Sooyoung pushes herself into a sitting position. “Enough about that, what did you do after the showing?” “Came back to the mansion like everyone else,” I meet Sooyoung’s gaze. “Thanks for covering up my stitches with makeup, by the way. I don’t think I would have been able to handle questions about a bandage on my arm.” “It is healing nicely, and faster than I would have thought. Do the stiches just dissolve?” “They will, yes. Boram is the best nurse in the country, with the best doctor for a brother. Her stitch work is better than any others. She knows how to do it so it heals as quickly as possible. She knows I have important things to do. Jimin won’t let me train until the stitches are totally gone.” “That’s why I like that boy. He knows how to keep you safe,” Sooyoung grins. “Now, I know that isn’t all you did, because I stopped by your room a couple hours ago and you weren’t here. Where were you?” “Getting a new bandage,” I push my right arm out of the blanket, showing the giant band-aid that now covers my stitches. “Boram had to clean the make-up off and make sure it has healing the way she expected it to.” “That didn’t take a couple hours,” she tilts her head to the side, looking at me with an accusing glint in her eyes. “If you really must know,” I bring my arm back into the warmth of the blanket. “I was out walking in the garden.” “By yourself?” “No, I was with someone. A new, old, friend, I guess you could say. He knows me more than I know him, so I was balancing it out.” “Do I know this boy? Or do I need to get to know him? I will not let my best friend go through another heartbreak.” “You may know him,” I nibble on the inside of my bottom lip. “He works in the mansion.” “Ah, the one thing that Yoongi would hate for you to do, date a mafia boy. Where does this boy work? Is he a field worker? Taemin’s helper? A doctor?” Her eyes widen slightly. “Is it Minho?” I giggle, “Minho is very handsome, but it is not him.” “Then who is it?! Tell me!” She pleads, scooting over to kneel right in front of me. Snow and Lola let out barks from the other room, wanting to know who my new crush is just as much as Sooyoung. “Calm down,” I slightly smile, wiggling around so I can sit up. “His name is Taehyung, and he is the head hacker for Bangtan.” Sooyoung’s face goes slack, “Are you being serious?” “Please, Sooyoung, don’t be like that. I know he comes off as a bit harsh, and rude, and a dick. But if you talk to him for a little bit, he opens up so much. And he’s so cute and sweet. That might be just for me since he keeps watch over me every day, but he isn’t that bad of a guy. You just have to give him a chance, so whatever experiences you have had with him, forget it right now. Hackers get a bad rap, and I judged him right off the back, but he isn’t like all the others. He isn’t as bad as what you might think. I really like him, Sooyoung. I feel like we know each other. Even though I just met him today. So, please, let me have this.” Sooyoung lips slowly curl up into a smile, “That’s just what I wanted to hear. I wanted to make sure it was real, and not just wishing for a boy. This time is hard enough for you already, and your heart wants to fill a hole that has been made.” “Don’t worry, I’m doing everything I can to make sure I don’t make the same mistake as last time.” “Ah, I can’t believe my best friend is crushing again,” Sooyoung stands up, and then plops down next to me. “Could you imagine the two of us going on double dates? Jungkook works with the hackers all the time, so he must know Taehyung. They might even be friends if they have to work together all the time. It would all be so perfect. Kind of cliché, but so cute.” “Taehyung rejected me,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “What?” Sooyoung maneuvers so she can look me in the eyes. “He did what?” “I asked him out at the viewing, and he shot me down. He doesn’t want to date his boss’s sister, and I understand.” “He’s so stupid,” Sooyoung runs a hand over my hair. “You are so beautiful, and he’s an idiot to say no to a kickass like yourself. I can’t believe you didn’t walk away and forget about his ass right then and there. Why did you go up to him in the first place?” “To talk to someone who wouldn’t treat me different. I was sick of all the babying. I know I am now parentless, but that doesn’t change who I am. I didn’t want to be treated like a child, so I spotted him at the back of the room, and took a chance.” “And then you took a walk in the garden, to be with him more. Correct?” “Yes,” I break our gaze, looking down at my lap. “Is love at first sight real? I don’t think I love him, but I really do like him, Sooyoung. How is that even possible? Does it make me weak?” “Well, he must be your soulmate,” she slings her arm around my shoulders. “And it does not make you weak, Areum. It makes you human.” “Well, if you are listening, Taehyung,” I look around the room, trying to spot a camera. “I am not going to stop trying to get you to go on a date with me.” “What are you doing?” “I told you, he keeps an eye on me every day with cameras and microphones somewhere in my room. They must be very well hidden because I have never noticed them.” “Well, if Taehyung is listening, then I would like to say something to him,” she clears her throat. “If you hurt my best friend, Mr. Hacker, I will personally make your life a living hell. She’s already been through enough, and I would like to see her happy for the rest of her life.” “Pebble,” I give her a shove. “That’s so embarrassing. You’re like my mom.” “Well, someone has to be,” she grins. “Oh, and also, Taehyung. Please put in a good word with Jungkook for me. That would be very much appreciated.” I roll my eyes, “You are such a dork.” “It’s nice to see you smiling, and just being yourself, again, Bambi,” she wraps her arms around me in an awkward hug. Her forehead touching my temple. “We are going to get through this together. I promise.” “I know,” I let out a heavy sigh. “This is the start of something, and I am going to figure it all out.”

********

I sigh as I fire off yet another email to another professor. Every single one of them I saw just hours ago at the viewing, but school doesn’t stop for anyone. Not even the daughter of the most powerful man Seoul has even known. I pick up my pencil, twirling it in my fingers as I go through my mental to-do list. My cheeks heating up when I remember the words that Taehyung said to me just hours ago in the garden. The rain has yet to cease, and it’s hard to even try to be happy when the weather is depressing. Not to mention my mind won’t stop thinking about a certain boy that has invaded my heart. “What the hell,” I stop twirling my pencil as my laptop screen goes green, and what I can only guess as code fills up the space. It’s all over in seconds, with no evidence that anything happened except for the chatroom like window on the right side of the screen. | Tae: I saw you messing with your pencil. It was super cute, ya know? I smile, shaking my head as I place my hands on the keyboard to respond. | Min: I know, my habits are super cute. Why just Tae? | Min: Whoa, why is my name just Min? | Tae: The chat names can only be three characters, so that’s why. | Tae: I can change it to something else if you’d like. I bite my lower lip, trying to think of something catchy. | Min: Well, I used to be called Ari when I was younger, because Areum was too difficult for some. It doesn’t really matter to me. | Tae: I just learned something new about you. Let me change that right now. The chatroom goes green, code filling it up, and then everything is back to normal. | Tae: Now, please say something. | Ari: Something. “Or did you want me to actually say something out loud,” I smirk. | Tae: You are a bit of a smartass. A giggle escapes my mouth. | Ari: So, is there a reason you hacked into my computer so you could talk with me? | Ari: Instead of just coming down to my room to have an in-person conversation. | Tae: I have some work to do, so I can’t come down there and talk to you. It’s easier to type and hack. Though I can talk and hack. | Tae: You were on my mind, though, so I had to talk to you. | Ari: Is it because I was talking about you with Sooyoung? | Tae: A little bit, you tease. It’s hard enough already with you being my boss’s sister, and my own boss, kind of. Keep trying for that date. | Ari: I will get a date with you, Taehyung. Don’t look at me like I am your boss. Yoongi will probably keep the hackers under his watch. “But I will get you to take me to a coffee shop,” I look around my room. “Even if it is just as friends.” | Tae: You are such a dork. I hope no one walks in on you talking to yourself. | Ari: I wouldn’t need to talk out loud if you would just accept my date offer, Mr. Hacker. | Tae: Mr. Hacker, eh? | Tae: No dates, though. No matter how much you say you like me, or how I feel. | Ari: That makes me sad. I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. | Tae: Please don’t be sad. | Tae: This is just the best for both of us. Yoongi would be furious if he caught us. | Tae: And I am just a hacker with a twisted past. I am not boyfriend worthy. | Tae: Please, Areum, stop pouting. Your smile is so beautiful, I want to see it. | Tae: I can’t stand to see you sad. I’m sorry, but it’s not right to date. | Tae: At least for now. I feel my lips curl into the smallest smile, and I uncross my arms so I can respond. | Ari: No more pout, okay? I really don’t care about Yoongi finding out about us. | Ari: My past is twisted, so we would be perfect. You are so to boyfriend worthy. You treat me way better than any of my boyfriend’s ever have. | Ari: Sometimes you have to jump off the edge to see if you can fly, and I want to take the leap with you. | Ari: I also see me spending a lot of time with you, if you really will help me find what I am looking for. | Tae: I am a man of my word, don’t you worry. I will help you. | Tae: You just deserve someone better than me. I shake my head. | Ari: You watch over me every day, making sure that I am okay. You really care about me. If I deserve any one, it is you. | Ari: It makes me sad you don’t think that you are good enough. You must know my past boyfriends. Especially the last one. I shudder as I remember the last boyfriend I had, and how our relationship ended after the biggest fight I have even had with anyone. That cheating bastard. | Tae: You cried for hours. Really, days. My heart shattered. | Ari: You are already leaps and bounds ahead of that asshole. So, please, stop pushing me away. | Tae: You do know we have only been talking for less than a day? You sound like I’ve been friend zoning you for years. | Ari: Well, I feel like I’ve known you for years. It didn’t hit me until we were in the garden. I felt like I could tell you anything. | Tae: Maybe that’s just because I know you so well, so you can trust me. | Ari: Maybe, but I don’t think that’s it. “What if I knew you years ago?” I breath out, feeling my stomach clench at the thought of my therapist having taken Taehyung’s entire existence from me. “But why would he do that? It makes no sense, I know everyone in the mansion.” | Tae: I promise that I will look out for you tomorrow at the funeral. If you look uncomfortable, I will be right by your side. | Tae: That’s as much of a boyfriend that I can be right now. I will do my best to keep an eye on you. | Ari: I will take it. As long as you keep warming up to me. | Ari: That date will be mine before long. | Tae: I am going to leave you to your fantasies and your school work. I need to get back to all my hacking jobs. Don’t need Yoongi on my ass. | Ari: Thanks for checking in on me, Taehyung. It cheered me up. Today has been a rollercoaster. | Ari: And I am glad that you are now in my life. As a boy, who is a friend. | Ari: Please feel free to hack into my computer any time and talk with me. | Tae: Of course. And maybe one day I’ll teach you to open the chatroom on your own. | Tae: I have been smiling this whole time, so that is nice. I have liked seeing your beautiful smile all this time because of me, too. | Tae: Now I am going to really leave. See you tomorrow, Areum. | Ari: See you tomorrow, Taehyung. My laptop screen flashes green, and the chatroom has disappeared. I feel my smile fade off my face; a sadness settling over me. Snow lets out a bark, drawing me away from my laptop to see her jump into my bed. “I agree, Snow, it is time for bed,” I close my laptop, standing out of my chair. “It has been a long day, and I need some sleep.” Snow does her best to pull back the covers with her mouth, but ends up just curling up in the middle. I climb into bed, scurrying under the covers as Snow adjusts to be closer to me. “Goodnight, baby,” I run my fingers through the fur near her ears. “And, Taehyung, if you are listening, don’t stay up too much longer doing whatever hacking job you are doing. You need rest too, so goodnight.” I close my eyes. “Snow, lights, please.” Before Snow can even stand up, the lights shut off, and I know just who it is. “See, Taehyung? You are boyfriend worthy. I don’t know what you are talking about. Just jump off the ledge with me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So sorry it took forever to get this chapter up! I hope you liked it even if you had to wait so long. This was a lot of fun to write, like a silver lining for the characters. I needed it a little bit too. I’d love to know what you thought, so shoot me an ask with your thoughts on this chapter. :D

[stitchyalgerknot]

been writing the story of how my dnd character met his husband. this happened somewhere along the lines and I felt like sharing.

It was dark, and he was crying.

Agnimar’s fingers bled, as he desperately scratched at the cell floor with his tiny claws in the vain hope that he could dig his way out. Pained moans came at him from all sides in the other cells and suspended cages, but he tried to drown them out with his own sobs and screams.

“Balazar! Kriv! Let me out! This isn’t funny! Please!” his cries were met only with the other prisoners yelling at him, cursing he and his family, and telling him they hoped they really would forget him this time. They said they hoped he rotted there with the rest of them, and eventually his fragile mental state snapped, and it was all he could do to huddle up in the corner of the cell and cry into his knees as he struggled to breathe through the panic attacks.

He lay in that state for hours, weakening steadily until only his gasps for air and sniffles could be heard, then there was the sound of a heavy door far away coming open. When he started hearing multiple sets of footsteps coming closer his eyes opened a bit and the little yellow light of an approaching torch put enough hope in him that he struggled to his feet and ran to the bars and cried with what little of his voice remained.

“Letoclo! Letoclo ve, petranas!” the footsteps all moved a bit faster, until the torchlight could finally shed light on the weeping and shakey 3-year-old dragonborn boy. Holding the light was a guard with pity in his eyes, followed by his mother, a servant, and the two brothers that had put him in there in the first place.

“See, dask?”

“He’s safe, just like we said!” but a fiery look from the duchess caused them to go silent and shrink a bit.

“Bale, please take these two naughty hatchlings to their room at once, and see that they stay there.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the servant said with a bow, then led the two grumbling boys away while the guard finished unlocking the cell and opened the door. Duchess Korin went in immediately and knelt before her smallest son.

“Erthenuwa’jimos, it’s alright now, please don’t cry,” she said in a voice soft and ever-loving as she held her arms out to him, to which the child only responded with a few teary hiccups and climbing into his mother’s arms so she could pick him up. She did so without complaint, and guided by the guard’s torch, she walked out of the dungeon whispering softly to her little boy. “My garden needs tending this morning. Why don’t we take our breakfasts outside and work on that together, just you and me?” he gave a small not in response, but was still too shaken to use his words yet.

Once out of the darkness of the dungeon, he saw that it was now well into the morning, which meant that he really had been down there all night… again. But his mother continued walking with him until they reached the dining room, empty now, as it was long past the end of breakfast. She set Agnimar into his seat at the table and gently pried his arms off of her so she could stand straight again.

“I’m going to go have a word with your brothers, I’ll be right back, okay danthe?” he gave a watery nod, so she took up her little bell and gave it a short ring. A servant arrived almost instantly with a bow.

“Your Grace, what can I do for you this morning?”

“I would like my usual, Agnimar, go ahead and let him know what you would like, I’ll return soon,” she finished that with a kiss to the top of his head, then left the room, picking up the skirt of her lavish gown in order to move at a more brisk pace.

He waited at the table after his order of ‘lots of ham and fraberry juice’ was meekly placed, when he heard the hurried footsteps and swishing skirt of one of his sisters approaching. He looked up to find Akra running over with a tin in hands until she set the tin at the table and sat breathlessly at her own chair next to his.

“Did the mouth-breathers lock you in the dungeon again, Agni?” he responded with a solemn nod and she shook her head sadly, “I figured when you didn’t show up at breakfast, so I asked them in the kitchen to make you these,” she said as she pulled off the top, revealing a batch of cinnamon rolls, which actually managed to make his face light up a bit, to this she smiled proudly, “I helped put the icing on them!” then she whispered conspiritally in his ear, “I snuck extra on for you when they weren’t looking.” He gave her a grin, and she launched into telling him about the new book she had started the night before and how excited she was to show him. She was in the middle of describing a scene when their mother returned and gave the two an affectionate smile.

“Akra, my sweet, did you make your brother cinnamon rolls to cheer him up?” the little girl gave a proud nod, which earned her a kiss on the temple, “That was very kind of you.”

“Momma, are you two gonna work in the garden together? Can I come too?”

“Tomorrow you can, dear, but this morning I’ll just be doing it with your brother. He needs some air and snow on his scales.”

“Okay,” she said a bit let down, but recovered quickly, “come to my room when you’re done so I can show you the book, okay?” He gave her a nod and she scurried off. Not a minute later, their food arrived, and the pair marched together, followed by a couple servants carrying their trays, out of the castle and to his mother’s garden. Their meal was set in a gazeebo, then the servants left them to their conversations. It was quiet at first, as Agnimar ate his odd combination of ham and cinnamon rolls, and his mother watched sadly.

“Hatchling, would you like to talk to me about what happened?” she began cautiously. Agni’s eating slowed to a halt, and he slumped in his seat.

“…I don’t know what I do wrong, dask. They hate me and I don’t know why,” his voice cracked, both from tears building in his eyes and from screaming the night before until his throat was now raw, “Why can’t I be big like them? Why can’t I make them stop hurting me?”

“Eritov… they just don’t understand you. You’re different, you have talents they just don’t understand.”

“Opsola thinks my violin is dumb…”

“What? Darling, when did he say this?”

“That’s what Kriv says. He says opsola thinks my violin is dumb, and that he thinks I’m a dud…”

“Agnimar, your father would never say anything like that, your father loves you very much,” she said as she reached across to take his scabby little hand in hers.

“Why doesn’t he play with me like the others?” He wanted more than anything for her to tell him all the answers. He wanted the secrets to their love and acceptance, and she was the only one who could possibly know, but she just looked so sad in response.

“Your father… just gets very busy, and his job is quite stressful. He plays with your brothers more because your brothers do things he’s familiar with, so it’s easier for him. That doesn’t make what he does right, and I’ll talk to him about spending more time with you.”

“Dask?”

“Yes, Agni?”

“I wanna learn how to fence like Hugo. Can you ask opsola if he can teach me too?” He saw how his words seemed to pain her, like she had just found a blight that had killed all of her favorite flowers.

“You don’t have to fence to get your father’s attention…”

“But everyone might like me better if I did.” She opened her mouth to respond, but she could see the fires of determination alight in his eyes, and she knew he would not be swayed.

“I think you would be very good at fencing, erthenuwa’jimos. Would you like to start gardening now?” Agnimar nodded and got down from his chair. When she also stood he reached up to put his hand in hers and she led him to the first patch that needed tending.

“One way or another, hatchling,” she told him earnestly, “all will be well…”

                  “All will be well…"

His amber eyes opened slowly in the dark mountain cave. The night before he had honestly been afraid to fall asleep here, the small dark space reminding him too much of that place and he was almost sure he would wake up thinking that was exactly where he was. However, with his mother’s words still echoing in his mind, he had never felt more at ease. He set aside the fur that had been over him that night and stood to carefully make his way to the mouth of the cave. The sun was only just beginning its slow ascent into the sky, to which he frowned. He shouldn’t have woken up so early, especially since this was supposed to be the day they would finally face the dragon. But then again, maybe that was why he was so restless. He looked back at Zeddkil, whose brown curls were a hopeless mess, meaning he wasn’t much better off.

Agni hummed softly, a random tune off the top of his head. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was soft, sweet and melodic, and the tenseness left the dwarf so he could better rest. He should probably sleep himself. More rest would make for better chances in their fight, but for some reason he wanted nothing more than to sit in the mouth of their little cave and watch the sunrise as some of the wind ruffled his feathering scales.

“Why are you not asleep?” came Zedd’s voice quietly from behind, and Agnimar was proud of himself for not jumping.

“I woke up and wanted to watch the sun rise,” he said whistfully, and didn’t move from his spot, nor look away from the beauty before him. He heard the shuffle of furs, and soon there was a dwarf seated beside him and also watching the sky. For a while they were quiet, and were able to focus on every detail of the scene with awe.

“Do you still believe in us?” Zedd said without taking his eyes away.

 “I do.”

 “What if we’re wrong?"

“Then this is a wonderful last dawn, don’t you think?” Zeddkil turned away from the sunset to look up at the dragonborn, and watched how all the colors reflected off of his metallic scales, then smiled sadly and looked at the sky again.

“Agreed."

[tvserieshub]

In general, I have very few complaints about the adaptation of the novels to the TV show. There is one scene from the prior episode I would have wished was closer to the book, and that was when Gunny sees the Protomolecule on Ganymede. In the book, Protomolecule Man picks Gunny up and in the process of this interaction, it hurls her a large distance, which simultaneously seriously injures her, but actually saves her, too. It reinforces her memory of Protomolecule Man, as well. In the show, in the small snippet of the battle, Gunny sees the UN team FIRING BACKWARDS, but she is prevented from elaborating on this during her questioning by Martens or her testimony to the Earth and Martian diplomats. This might mean that many viewers didn’t completely catch that either. However, I fully trust that the writing and production team will integrate this information into the ongoing story.

The reviewcap begins here:

It doesn’t take long to find out the basis of the name of the episode. It’s the name of one of the Ganymede relief ships. The ship is crewed by two people, Santichai Suputayaporn (Peter Williams) and Melissa Saputayaporn (Valerie Buhagiar), and they are complaining about Mars’ heavy-handed interference with them delivering their relief shipment. The ship is boarded, and the boarders identify the crew and check the ship. The voices sound familiar…and that is because the boarders who want to impound the ship are Holden (Steven Strait) and Amos (Wes Chatham).  They are unmasked in a struggle. “Well, this is off to a good start.” Amos gets all the great dry lines.

Gunny Bobby Draper (Frankie Adams) receives medications and is caught leaving her Purple Heart behind. She says she left it on accident, but clearly she doesn’t feel she deserves it. A common reaction from battle survivors. The medications are to help her, as a Martian, to survive her time with the much more significant gravity on Earth (although not ALL of them were fully explained). Gunny asks Martens (Peter Outerbridge) what Earth is like, and interestingly, he mentions that the ocean (and Earth) is dirty and has a stench. This would definitely be the impression of people who live in a far cleaner and sterile surroundings. The earth is a messy place. Martens says that it’s one more thing Earth takes for granted. When they land, even Martens is breathless. They exit the ship and stagger the short distance into the Martian compound. Gunny sees a seagull (and she has deliberately left her sunglasses behind).

Avasarala (Shohreh Agdashloo) checks on the status of the Arbogast, sent to check on Venus. Not sure that is such a clever idea. Playing with Venus is playing with fire. She discusses this with Errinwright (Shawn Doyle), and Cotyar (Nick Tarabay) is in the room. Errinwright confirms that he has been receiving information, which he has kept from Avasarala. She suggests she’d like to hear this, as well, but Errinwright says she needs to focus on diplomacy with Mars. After Errinwright leaves, Cotyar asks if Avasarala really believes that Errinwright hasn’t had any contact with JP Mao, and she reminds him that it’s HIS job. He says they are being very quiet and also, that it would be helpful to have information on the Arbogast. She says that’s why she has an inside man. (Side note….Avasarala’s jewelry is so on point and gorgeous…).

On the Arbogast, Col. Janus (Conrad Pla) is clearly annoyed with the “insider” that Avasarala has placed on the ship, Dr. Iturbi (Ted Whittall). They wrangle a bit before an officer detects a Martian ship, which was cloaked. Janus tells Iturbi that when he was young, he thought stars were magic, but then he grew up and learned science.

Holden checks in with Alex (Cas Anvar) and reminds Alex to keep an eye out, which of course Alex was going to do. On the Weeping Somnambulist, Melissa still thinks that the Roci crew people are there to steal the supplies. Naomi (Dominique Tipper) tries to reassure her the supplies will get where they are supposed to but Melissa doesn’t believe her and calls her a Welwalla. It looks like Melissa is wearing some aged uniform (UN?).

Praxidike (Terry Chen) records a message for Doris’ cousin to let them know that she died, but the message wouldn’t send. Prax calls Amos. When Amos finally arrives, Prax says he wants to send the message, but Amos says he can’t. Prax asks if he is a prisoner, and Amos says no. Prax says that he has a right to know why he can’t send the message and he isn’t going anywhere unless he’s told why.

On Earth, negotiations begin, and especially given our current political turmoil, the jockeying for position is literally nauseating, but effective. Earth makes it clear they had the upper hand in locating where they would conduct negotiations. Mars says it doesn’t matter because they are tougher than shit. Avasarala says they should take a moment to remember the loss of lives and they both poke at each other. Errinwright shocks Avasarala by interrupting this solemn moment WAY too early. He wants to get down to brass tacks. One thing Errinwright is not, is subtle.

On the Arbogast, Dr. Iturbi and Janus discuss their concern over what the Martians are doing there. Dr. Iturbi can’t imagine that the Mars ship would do anything to them. Janus disagrees, showing  how mad they are that Mars destroyed several ships and killed over 500 people. The crew looks angry too.

Holden explains to Prax that his daughter was taken by Dr. Strickland prior to the mirror coming down, and they think if they can find him, they will find her. Prax doesn’t believe that they care about his daughter (but Amos clearly does). Amos has told Prax about the Protomolecule (the rest of the crew is shocked, but Amos said that since Prax was helping them, they owed it to him to be straight about what was happening.) Prax explained that Dr. Strickland helped keep his daughter alive and that she has a rare genetic disorder. The crew doesn’t think this is a coincidence. Prax asks how they will find anyone because Ganymede is in such disarray. They are going to wing it. They discuss that since they are going in on a ship that isn’t theirs, they will try to hitch a ride out, but if that doesn’t work, Alex will be lurking, will scoop them up and then max burn away, with a shitton of missiles being launched at them. Sounds like a plan.

On Earth, Bobbie takes her medication and prepares to make a presentation to the peace negotiators. There are some cool effects with the windows, which can be opaque, clear or mirror. Draper looks disoriented when the windows are clear. Bobbie is introduced to the diplomatic group, and tells her story. (And, Errinwright, as usual, is a pain in the ass). Earth disbelieves that Earth fired first. Bobbie’s reiteration is faithful UNTIL she gets to the line where she states that her team mistook a training exercise and that they fired without provocation or permission (because communications were down for everyone). Avasarala is observing this entire dialog like the highly trained hawk that she is, and she detects when Bobbie’s story strays from truth. Bobbie is a very loyal Martian, and is doing what she was commanded to do. Unfortunately, everyone has decided that Private Travis (Mpho Koaho) will be the fall guy for this disaster. But, Avasarala does not believe this is what really happened. Back in her room, Gunny goes wild at Martens, because she hadn’t realized they were going to pin this mess on the utterly innocent Travis. He says that they needed to do this. Errinwright discusses the information with Secretary General Sorrento-Gillis (Ted Atherton), who is thrilled and tells Errinwright to squeeze Mars for all they can get out of it. Avasarala notes that Travis was a perfect scapegoat. Errinwright recaps how this works out for everyone (but it makes the viewers ill and mad, rightfully so).

On the Weeping Somnabulist, Santichai and Melissa hold hands before they go to Ganymede. On the Roci, Alex has whipped up a batch of lasagna for the crew, and you can see the closeness between him and Amos. The team arms itself. They separate and the Weeping Somnambulist heads off to its mission, and the Roci parts ways.

The negotiations continue, with Earth pressing Mars for all its worth. Already paying for a lot, Mars agrees to pay for everything if it can get full authority over Ganymede. Errinwright presses for a statement accepting responsibility, but Mars balks at that. Just as they are about to conclude the session, Avasarala insists upon speaking to Draper again. Avasarala points out that service on Mars is compulsory and asks Draper if she would still serve if it wasn’t so. Draper says she would to achieve the vision of another Earth on Mars. Avasarala notes that a huge amount of Earthers get basic assistance and clarifies that they aren’t lazy, there just aren’t enough opportunities for them to be productive. She notes that Travis’ parents gave up everything. Bobbie acknowledges that Travis was one of her best soldiers. Avasarala asks if Bobbie really believes that Travis would panic or give up everything that was sacrificed for petty revenge. Bobbie becomes very uncomfortable and confused. Bobbie starts to explain about Blue Goo Man, but she’s interrupted by Martens. Avasarala presses, and the lead Martian negotiator, Korshunov (Jeff Seymour) VERY CLEVERLY tells Bobbie “Do as you’ve been instructed,” which of course has TWO meanings. Respond to Avasarala, but make sure it’s the story you were told to tell. Bobbie chokes it down and blames Travis, because she is a loyal Martian marine.

The irony is that Mars wanted control of Ganymede and, by paying for everything, thought it would get it. They went into this negotiation with that express objective. Avasarala sees this, but Errinwright and Sorrento-Gillis don’t have a clue that while they think they’ve won in this negotiation, they’ve actually LOST.

Earth has actually lost, they just don’t know it yet

The Arbogast notes that the Martians are matching every move they make. Dr. Iturbi shows the Drake equation trying to make a point of what communication or lack of communication with other sentient beings could involve. He’s suggesting that maybe they are deliberately not communicating. Janus doesn’t even really seem to believe there are aliens, and accuses Iturbi of more magical thinking. But, the Drake equation math is on Iturbi’s side. The ship finally reaches orbit and a location where they can scan the Eros impact, and the information is stunning. Iturbi transmits this to Avasarala and notes that what is being accomplished should be impossible. Avasarala notes that just like with an entity on Ganymede without a space suit, this changes everything.

On the Roci, Alex talks to both the moon Ganymede and the Roci. Ganymede is now under Martian control. Santichai tells the crew that the shakedown when they land is perfectly normal. It bugs Holden, but Melissa says she doesn’t want them doing ANYTHING. Leaving the Weeping Somnambulist, Amos and Holden observe armed thugs entering the ship. There’s no way they are going to let the thugs get away with the shakedown. The thugs are so greedy they want the whole shipment and also want the ship, too. Holden and Amos come in to rescue the crew. It doesn’t go well. Although they take out the thugs, unfortunately, Santichai is killed and Melissa goes wild. Although it’s clear that it was NOT the Roci Crew’s fault, Holden always internalizes responsibility for bad shit. It’s sort of part of his DNA.

Grade: A-

As usual, a rewatch is invaluable. Watching once gives the broad strokes, but this show is full of subtlety, easily missed, particularly if viewers live tweet. My recommendation is to watch twice. At a minimum, make sure you watch this show carefully at least once. This episode was all about people being short-sighted. Errinwright and Sorrento-Gillis don’t fully grasp what is going on, and Janus doesn’t understand what is happening on Venus. People’s limited views have really significant impact and this is setting up the continuing storyline. In the meantime, large swaths of people are impacted by events which have been set in motion. I’m looking forward to seeing what action Avasarala will take in reaction to her clear disbelief in Bobbie’s story AND her concern over what is being observed on Venus. Also, what will the crew find out on Ganymede?

Next episode: “Cascade” airs on Wednesday, March 29 at 10 pm on Syfy.

The Expanse (S02E09) “The Weeping Somnambulist” In general, I have very few complaints about the adaptation of the novels to the TV show.