#i know the answer to any attempt to sort through a timeline must be 'forget it jack it's xena'

[keyofjetwolf]

No commentary, just enjoyment.

[lokislittlesigyn]

You and Me - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

Part 2 of Sigyn’s Angst-to-Fluff Drabbles

Inspired by Cozy’s Fluff-to-Angst Fun and Games!

Pairing: Loki / Female reader

Warnings: Strong themes of depression and suicidal ideation/a near attempt. Mention of Infinity War and Endgame and all the things that happen there. Fluff awaits at the end.

Author’s Note: A nearly-impossible prompt to turn happy, but I tried my best without taking an easier route like “it was just a dream” etc! I wanted to give it my all. This is the most.. sensitive-topic fic I’ve posted here, so please, skip it or skim it if you need to. <3

@silver-lupines:

Ohohohohoho Loki’s permanent death and the reader is left as a widow. No resurrections.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You still remember it.

You’ll never forget.

Never.

The smell of the air. Thick smoke in your lungs. The colors. The sounds. Death, all around you. Permeating you. You begged for it to end.

He was not so kind.

No, He was not the kind type.

He killed half of every whole. And Loki - Loki had made you feel whole.

What were you now?

You were still a full person, but broken nonetheless. A ghost. Yes, you were a ghost of who you were before. You haunted your own body, desperate for it to stop. Stop aching, stop hurting, stop feeling - let you go, release you to the endlessness of whatever unexistence was, because any unknown it held was surely better than knowing Loki was gone.

You had lived five painfully long years without him. Your husband. The boy you’d known on Asgard, fallen in love with, married and loved and lived through the pain of losing. Twice. 

No, thrice. But the third you had to watch.

You had to watch everything. Leg pinned under the rubble on the Statesman, no more than entertainment for the creatures around you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, unwilling witness to-

You couldn’t bear to think of it.

Sure, you weren’t completely alone. You had your remaining friends: the ones that were not also ripped from you, destroyed for the sake of an asinine plan that made you want to scream and cry and unleash all your anger on the monster who caused it.

You never got the chance.

The others fought. You joined, but you never were close enough to attack The One You Wanted. You were wounded early on. And now He was nothing. No more than dust.

But you felt more despair than comfort.

When the portals had opened, you’d turned, tears pricking your eyes as you scanned them. Loki would be there, you were sure of it. He’d find you. He had to. They knew what he meant to you - they knew to bring him back, too. You pushed through oncoming allies, looking for him. But with every new face you saw only made your heart sink further.

He wasn’t there.

He’d never be there again.

That realization dragged your hope away with it. 

Now you’d made the preparations. Everything was laid out. You even left notes. Your friends would know it was nothing they’d done, because it wasn’t up to them. You didn’t blame anyone that was left. They hadn’t taken Loki from you, that Creature had. And carrying on without him? It was just all too much for you, now - you needed an escape.

But as soon as you closed the door of your room, intent on your next action, someone behind you spoke. With a jolt, you faced them.

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby charge you with crimes against the sacred timeline.”

You went agape. How did they get into your room? Officers of some sort, suddenly standing before you. A glowing orange door pulsated behind them.

This had to be a dream. Yes, you must be dreaming. Your mind was cooking up something bizarre in a last-ditch effort to pull you back to the land of the living. Not that it would matter. The gleaming sword on your bed held promise. You just had to reach it.

“What?!” Was all you could manage. One of the people moved forward, hand outstretched- Now this, this you could do. Life on Asgard trained you for combat. You grabbed them, leveraging your body weight to flip them over. But the other agent swung, hitting you with a baton-

Time stopped.

Or, slowed, to the point that you felt as though you were frozen in place, yet you listened as the one officer brushed themselves off, grumbling about Asgardians, while the one who hit you secured something around your neck. 

“Let’s get her back.”

As you were escorted through the door, you turned and growled in your throat, arm outstretched to grab your sword - but as soon as you were through the door, it closed. 

~~~

The next minutes - hours? - were a blur. You were escorted through a strange place you didn’t recognize - you figured it must be the TVA your captors spoke of, whatever that was - but before you could ask any proper questions, you were tossed into a room. And another room. And another.

In fact, you had been to so many places that were all the same drab beige, and had your clothes removed and replaced with a horrific jumpsuit, you weren’t sure where you were until at last you were taken to a long room, flanked with booths. Down at the end of the room sat someone who was clearly a judge. 

A trial. This was a trial.

So what in Odin’s name were you guilty of?

You were pushed onto a small podium, glaring up at your captor. You’d already tried to escape - but had been overpowered, the collar firmly around your neck offering no chance of liberation.

The woman before you, now clearly visible - or, part of her was, as most of her person was concealed behind the mountain of wood between you. 

She was well-dressed. Professional. Her hair drawn back, her gaze stern. She looked like a leader, and practically radiated power. 

But she was wrong. You were blameless. Why were you here?

“(Y/N) Lokiwife,” The judge spoke, gazing down her nose at you. “Or Leifdottir, if you prefer.”

Your glare didn’t waver.

She cleared her throat.

“You are charged with sequence violation seven-thirty forty-one. How do you plead?”

You sighed. “You must be mistaken. I have done nothing wrong.”

The judge tapped her pen against the paper below her.

“Are you guilty or not guilty?”

“Of a sequence violation, whatever that means? No. No, I am not. I was in my room, minding my own business, when your goons barged in and brought me here.” You clenched your jaw. 

The judge smiled - a forced, strained sort of smile, where her teeth remained hidden behind her lips. You matched her expression with one just the same.

“Those goons, as you call them, were tasked with bringing a criminal,” She pointed the pen at you, “To justice. How. Do you. Plead?”

“Not guilty.” You hissed.

“I highly doubt-”

She was cut off by a new individual running over, whispering into her ear. The judge tensed. You saw her brow furrow, her jaw clench. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was curt.

Silence hung over the courtroom as the other individual left. 

The judge shook her head. “I sentence you as not guilty.” She took her gavel, pounding it in a swift, final motion.

Your breath caught in your chest. “Not guilty?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Not guilty. I suppose this was all more for formality, anyway;” Renslayer motioned to the trial room and straightened a stack of papers, “You’re merely assurance.”

“Assurance for what exactly?”

“A mission.”

You felt like screaming. Everything was so vague, so mysterious - couldn’t they just let you go? Or else kill you and get it over with?

“Fantastic. Glad to know I can help your cause.” You sneered.

The judge raised a brow, then looked past you. “You’d better be right about this, Mobius.”

“Not to worry, I can handle it from here.” 

A new voice sounded behind you. You whipped around to face it. 

“Woah, hey there.” A man walked toward you, his hands raised. Wearing a suit - much like those you had seen on Midgard, yet somehow different - his short hair streaked silver, a mustache over his crooked-smile lips. Mobius. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“What do you want with me?” You glared, not moving from your place.

“Not one to trust easily. I get it. Listen, I’ve got someone you’ll want to see. But you need to trust me now, okay?”

He held his hands out, palms up. You looked at them. Then back at his face. His brows were raised, he seemed hopeful - expectant. You sighed through your nose, and took a wary step toward him.

“That’s better.” He looked at the judge, pointing at her. “I owe you one, Ravonna. I’m telling you - irreplaceable help, you gave today. Irreplaceable!”

The judge rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips.

Mobius turned to you. “Shall we?”

~~

Your next journey was far more welcome. Mobius didn’t manhandle you, thank the Norns, though you did sense the eyes of surrounding agents on you. Agents, dressed in the same black armor as those who had fetched you. You stared ahead, avoiding their gaze.

“Where is this place?” Finally, you broke the silence.

“Where, not what?” Mobius answered, smirking.

“This is the TVA, whatever that means. But where is it?”

“You thinking of running away?”

You looked at him.

“Right. Of course you are.. Outside of space and time, if it matters.”

You raised a brow. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Mobius exhaled through his lips, chuckling softly. “Ideally, yeah.” The two of you walked through a corridor, apparently intent on a destination you had no idea about.

“Well- Well why am I here?” You stopped in your tracks. Mobius turned to face you, hands in his pockets. You continued, “The judge ruled me not guilty. Said I was assurance - assurance for what?”

“A mission.” Mobius spoke carefully. You narrowed your eyes.

“What?” He asked. “You weren’t exactly busy.”

“Actually, I was in the middle of something.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was! I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be anywhere-” You stopped yourself. You felt heat rush to your eyes and nose, but forced yourself to swallow the knot in your throat. You couldn’t, wouldn’t break. Not here. Not in front of countless strangers.

You just wanted to go back to Loki, wherever he was. You didn’t care where.

Mobius watched you. “Come on, I think this will help.”

Giving him a look, you let your shoulders slump, then followed him. Felt your eyes go dull. When you reached a door flanked by two guards, which Mobius quickly dismissed, you straightened up.

Mobius turned to you. “Now, this is going to be a little weird, okay? But bear with me. Just, go with the process, laugh or cry or whatever you need. Got it?”

You stared at him. “I.. What are you even getting at? I told you, I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I don’t want to be alive, I don’t care if it’s here, or on Earth, or anywhere else, I do not want it-”

Mobius sighed, placed his hand on the small of your back, and urged you into the room, shutting the door behind you. You gasped at the motion and moved to stop the door - but it shut with a resounding thud. Tears betrayed you, streaming down your face. 

“Let me out!” You pounded your fist against the door, “I don’t want to be part of your sick game- Do you understand me? I have nothing to live for, nothing-”

“(Y/N)?” A quivering voice pulled you back to reality.

No, not just any voice.

That voice.

The voice you knew. The voice you missed.

You turned on the spot. Your body froze. There, before you, stood Loki.

“Loki?”

Loki rushed to you. You were frozen, staring up at him. Afraid to touch him. Afraid that if you dared to feel his embrace again he may disappear.

He looked familiar, but not the same as when you last saw him - thank the Norns for that.

No, he looked almost.. Younger? His hair was shorter, not so long nor so wavy as the tresses you remember playing with on the Statesman before He came.

And his clothes. The same as yours: a demeaning jumpsuit. They must’ve put him through all this, too.

What could he possibly be guilty of?

You looked at his face. Your vision, blurry, your body, shaking - you reached for him. He met you. His hand touched your face, cupping your cheek. You felt yourself sob without fully realizing, certainly not controlling it.

He was here. He was alive.

You broke. Melted into his touch, embracing him.

“My love.. Oh, my darling…” His arms enveloped you, his hand sliding to the back of your head, cradling it against his chest.

Your ear pressed to his body, you smiled past your tears, gripping his clothes as though he could disappear at any moment. But you could hear his heartbeat. You savored it, the rhythmic beat, which seemed to steady as you held him in turn. You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“L-Loki, you.. You were gone,” your voice cracked, “You... He took you from me.”

“I know.” Loki kissed the top of your head, “I know, I saw it all.”

“You - what?”

Loki pulled away, gazing into your eyes, though never letting you go. He swallowed. “I saw it. All of it. My entire life, as it was, apparently, meant to be. I know what you had to endure.”

Tears formed in your eyes again.

“My love, I am so sorry.”

“N-No, I..” You cupped his face, hands stroking his cheeks. One of his hands found yours, and grasped it for him to press a kiss to your knuckles. You smiled. “I have you. You’re back, you’re alive, you…” You huffed a soft laugh and leaned in to kiss him. His lips met yours, and you could feel a tear from his cheek slide onto yours. He broke the kiss, pressing your foreheads together.

“I love you. I missed you terribly. Darling, I can’t express how good it is to see you,” he let himself grin, another tear squeezing out onto his cheek at the movement. He steadied himself, watching you with adoration shining in his eyes.

“I-I missed you too.. Norns, I.. I thought they would kill me or something.. I wished for it.” You swallowed.

Loki’s expression stayed composed, but you saw fear flash in his eyes. Pain. “I heard.”

“I.. I’m sorry-”

“No. You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not your fault. Neither of us caused the pain we were put through, do you understand? And I am never leaving you again. Never.”

You stared into his eyes. Somehow, the surety with which he spoke seemed… Real.

He wasn’t leaving.

He’d never leave you again.

Silently, you nodded. “And I’ll never leave you.”

He smiled. “I know, my sweet. I know you never will. ”

You remained a moment, until the both of you calmed enough to part - now standing near each other, the tears ceasing. 

You wiped the back of your hand across your cheek. “I can’t believe you’re real,” you joked, weakly, “You’re here.”

Loki smiled, letting out a small chuckle. He gave you another small, loving kiss.

“I’m here.”

[twelvemonkeyswere]

very intrigued by hermione/jaime crack 😳😳

thank you both @halfagod​ and @forbiddenfantasies1​ for asking about this! and sorry it's so long okay so - right off the bat, this isn’t anything romantic or anything, but it is crack.

you’ll likely remember there was some fanfic grrm was writing about his own characters fighting other characters. one of the first ones was Jaime Lannister vs Hermione Granger, and since he hates JK Rownling his descriptions of what a showdown between them would be were very uncharitable to the characters to say the fucking least, especially Hermione.

the whole thing is quite a bad read and it sent me thinking that there were a LOT of variables that would play into it if taken seriously, starting with their personalities, ages at the time of the match, reason why they’re fighting in the first place, etc.

and since I like world building and whatnot, I began thinking how to make their showdown realistic and feasable obeying the laws of their respective narratives, and then I decided it would be even more fun (hah) to make as many scenarios with those variables as possible, because that’s the sort of person i am. and then I realized... well. asoiaf began to be published in the 90s.... 1996, to be precise, when hermione was 17, and facing a war against a madman. and the parallels were right there, and thus I made a timeline to see how things would fit, and then some other ideas sprang up from that.

so now the main idea is that it all starts the year after the war, when Hermione comes back to Hogwarts to finish her studies while everyone else goes on with their lives. she’s alone, she has to deal with everything she saw and everything she had to do, and with everyone else in Hogwarts being traumatized too... so she’s depressed, and trying to get better. and in my idea, one of the things she tries is to get back to the things that made her happy before it all went wrong, reading among them.

particularly, reading muggle books. because since she knows real magic now, well, regular fantasy books must lose some of their charm, right? but what if that was what she loved as a kid, and she’s desperate enough to get away from what reality is now, in real-magic world? so maybe she tries new stories, see what she’s missed in the last couple of years.

and maybe she is afraid of being judged for having some of those books or she just wants some peace and quiet, so she sneaks into the room of requirements and foolishly and naively asks for a room where she can “immerse” herself in the book she’s trying to read that night.

and that’s how she meets Jaime, by going into the world of the book. and the idea was then that she would periodically travel into the books and see Jaime at different ages, and as she gets older and processes what happened during the war, her perspective of the events and her life shifts and changes, not unlike Jaime’s story changes through the books.

anyways i wrote some 2k words about grief and healing and it’s been sitting there, looking at me and threatening to become too long.

here’s the bit where she first meets Jaime in case you’re interested

(be warned, I never read HP in English and I haven’t consumed any media about it in YEARS. also i suck at actions scenes)

come ask stuff about my WIPs if you want!

“Who are you?” The white knight demanded.

Hermione frowned and ignored the question, inspecting the trees behind the man, the grass of the meadow under her feet. She had clearly been portkeyed somewhere, where was the artifact? 

“Answer me!” the man demanded. He shifted on his feet, his armor creaking and clinking. “Who sent you?” 

“He said,” a second voice drawled behind her. “Where did you come from?” 

Jumping to one side, Hermione noticed another knight, much closer to her, but also much younger. He was tall, but had a leaner frame even with the white armor, same as his companion. He didn’t have his helm on either, and she spotted it on the ground, likely dropped so the boy could hold his sword with both hands, the point of which was angled at her throat, even at a distance. His curly hair, golden and sticky with sweat, enveloped two emerald green eyes that moved with the murderous intent of a cat. 

Hermione swallowed.

If velas were male, she blinked in confusion, this is what they would look like.

It was stupid to realize that at a moment like this, given the fact her life was being threatened, but no human being was ever that beautiful. It had to be magic. 

She looked around, trying to remember what had been next to her in the Room of Requirements. Where’s the bloody thing?

“Accio portkey,” she swished her wand in a circle above her head, but nothing happened.

“Get her!” the man ordered the boy, and both stepped forward, closing in. Their swords drew up, the man holding it above his head, the boy raising the pommel to his cheek.

“Whoa!” Hermione reached instinctively into her robes and got her wand out. Her mind raced, trying to recall everything she knew about metal charming, but when the knights were upon her, she disapparated with a faint pop. 

She apparated a couple of meters away, shaking her head off the unpleasant feeling of being vaccumed through space. As she opened her eyes, there was a loud clank from the swords that met where she should have been. The boy trembled below the man’s strength, holding his ground with some difficulty.

“Oi, please!” she called to them, holding a hand out in a placating gesture. “Where am I? Who are you?”

As one, the man turned with fury towards her, and the boy frowned in angry confusion. She had a second to recall Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, and, not without failing to see the irony, felt grateful she had learned forgetfulness spells from the best.

“Witchcraft,” the older knight muttered, and the boy only glanced at him for a moment, returning his eyes to her. “Cut her throat!” 

The boy hesitated a second, but when the older man charged towards her, so did he. 

“Wingardium leviosa!” she yelled at the armors, to no effect. “Shit.” She disapparated again, just before they reached her. She apparated by a tree this time, to their right. She aimed at the clothes they hopefully had below their armors and forced herself to speak through the haze. “Wingardium leviosa!” 

Both knights lifted into the air like they weighed less than feathers. 

“Seven hells!” the older knight screamed, anger and fear mixing as he balanced unceremoniously on his spot. 

Iron, Hermione breathed with relief to herself. It was the iron.

She didn’t know what to expect, she had never tried to charm uncharmed metalwork before. Unless you counted locks. Then again maybe that charmed the air around the metal, or maybe there was more magic in this particular iron, she didn’t have the time to--

“What is this?” the young man demanded, as he waved his sword around, testing if he was being held on the spot like a puppet.

Hermione walked towards them with caution. 

“Gentlemen, please!” she called to them through their grunts and curses. “Where am I? Who are you?” 

“Silence, witch!” the older man ordered, trying to stick his sword to the ground in an attempt to descend.

“I’ll let you down as soon as you answer my questions,” she swallowed, reminding herself of the many times she had fought against enemies bigger than her. “I just want to get home.” 

The boy bore his eyes into hers. “Where is that?” 

“None of your bloody business,” she replied instinctively. 

“She’s not from here, ser,” the boy said to the older knight. “She wears odd clothes, speaks strange words.” 

“Shut up, Ser Jaime, get to--”

But Hermione didn’t get to hear what the man wanted the boy to do.

“Ser Jaime?” the name was out of her mouth before she knew it. She squinted at the boy’s armor, saw the seven swords engraved on the plate, and realization hit her. She looked at the boy, then at the man. I’ll be fucking damned. 

“Jaime.” she repeated, bringing the boy’s attention back to her. “Jaime… Lannister?”

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fifty-Three) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Talk of PTSD, hostage situation, shooting, murder, bombing, physical trauma. I’m pretty sure that’s it!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7900

Timeline: Season 7 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-two.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

As the sun began to set, a specialist came back in with my release form for Hotch to fill out while he talked to me about what the next steps for my recovery were. While Hotch worked on the form, we both listened to the endless number of rules I had to follow. They were giving me top notch pain killers to help with the inevitable constant pain I’d feel after the hospital’s morphine would wear off. I had to take two in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two before bed. I wasn’t allowed to take them on an empty stomach, and I wasn’t allowed to have alcohol at all— no cheating. After running us through the medication rules, the doctor handed me a piece of paper he ripped out of his notepad. I read the name, the phone number, and the address on it while he explained that it was the information of the best physical therapist in the state. He told me that if I were ever going to get better, then I needed to see him sooner than later. The longer I waited to seek out the proper help, or the longer I pushed myself without guidance, the higher the chances got of me fucking my back up forever.

“That isn’t to say that you can’t walk around at all,” the doctor backpedaled for a moment. “In fact, you should try walking around every thirty minutes or so. You can go up and down stairs, you can pace around the house, you can go on walks in the park. But no running, jumping, bending, strenuous exercises, bike riding— anything like that. The point is that you can do the bear minimum so that your back can start the healing process. If you ever start to feel the pain again, it means that you need to stop what you’re doing. You need to go lie down, put ice on your back, and relax. The ice will help with the pain and swelling.” The doctor turned to Hotch, “Your job over the next few months, Mr. Hotchner, is to make sure that they’re not pushing themself at all. If you notice that they’re trying to do something that they shouldn’t be doing, you need to stop them. Unfortunately, it’s going to feel like babysitting,” he addressed both of us, “but it’s for the best.”

Hotch’s phone started ringing. He apologized profusely while trying to dig it out of his back pocket. The doctor and I watched as Hotch stood, put the form down on his chair behind him, and hurried out of the room to take the call.

The doctor turned back to me. “Painkillers, rest, ice, walking occasionally. Got it?”

I nodded.

“That was Rossi,” Hotch explained, returning from the hallway. “Will and JJ are getting married at his place tomorrow night, apparently.”

My face brightened. I thought to myself, finally… The two of them had been together forever. I always figured that they would have gotten married before me and Hotch, but they had been holding off for some reason. Despite having Henry and being entirely devoted to one another, it took them forever to finally do it. I mean, the decision probably came with the aftershock of the day they just had, but still. This was great news—news that we needed when everything else seemed so shit.

“I want to go,” I insisted.

Hotch’s attention turned to the doctor. “What do you think?”

The doctor shrugged slightly. “I think it’s fine as long as you keep up with the medication, stay away from the champagne, and don’t attempt to do any splits on the dance floor.”

The three of us chuckled.

----

When we got home, Hotch helped me up the steps to the porch, then hurried to open the door for me. Just as we saw the living room, I caught a glimpse of Jessica and Jack on the couch, watching a movie together. I smiled. Home. I survived all that shit with The Face Cards just to come home, and I had never been more relieved in my life. As we stepped inside, I looked over at Scarlet’s bouncer to see that it was empty. She must have been asleep upstairs already.

“Mom! Dad!” Jack cheered as he pushed himself off the couch and sprinted over to us.

I crouched down as far as I could go and pulled him in for a tight hug, trying to lift him off the ground somewhat so that I could swing him around. I cringed slightly at the pain shooting down my back, but tried to hide it so that none of them could notice. Hotch was watching me like a hawk, though. My change in posture, my wincing face, and the groan that left my throat as I struggled to pick up Jack, all of that was apparent to Hotch. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to convince him that I was alright. Now I understood why he was always so annoyed with me after New York and Foyet.

“Be careful, bud,” Hotch warned. “Mom hurt their back at work today.”

Jack looked at me as I let him sit on my thigh as I stayed crouched. His index finger curled a strand of my hair loosely. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded. “I’m okay, little man. I promise. How was your day with Aunt Jessica?”

“We went on a bike ride, then we played soccer with Scarlet—”

“Did you win?” I asked.

He nodded. “Of course!”

“Good job, little man.”

“Aunt Jessica took us for ice cream.”

I squinted at her, but she was laughing and hiding behind a pillow in order to avoid my playful glare. I looked back at Jack. “What flavor did you get?”

“Chocolate fudge.”

“Of course you did.” I kissed his cheek and stood up straight as slowly as I could, reaching for Hotch’s help when I felt my back sting again. I whimpered. He stepped closer to me and kissed my temple to comfort me. “Hey, Jack, Henry’s parents are getting married tomorrow. Do you wanna go with us?”

“Do I get to play with Henry?”

“Duh.”

“Yay!” He jumped forward to hug my legs. I was going to take that as a yes, then.

“Did you guys have anything besides ice cream for dinner?” Hotch asked, but it was more directed to Jessica than Jack.

She nodded. “I took them to Olive Garden.”

Hotch ruffled Jack’s hair. “Spoiled kid.” Well, that was what he deserved, considering we got called away for work at the last second on a weekend, as usual. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start getting ready for bed, bud.” Jack released me and immediately started running for the stairs. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” He kept running, though, pretending like he didn’t hear his dad. Really spoiled kid. Hotch dug his wallet out and pulled out some money for Jessica. “I’m so sorry again for today—”

“When will the two of you get it?” She laughed while standing up, gathering her things. “It’s okay!” She walked around the couch. “I love spending time with my niece and nephew. It’s not a job. It’s a chance to help them grow up.” She took Hotch’s money, but then quickly stuck it in his back pocket before he could catch her. “No money, no apologies.” She glanced at how I was leaning on Hotch to offset the chronic pain that was fucking killing me. “You okay?”

“Rough day,” I answered.

She threw her arms around me for a gentle hug. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Jess.”

“I’ll see you guys soon.” She parted from me and headed for the door. “No money, Aaron!” She closed the door behind herself.

“That woman’s a saint,” I told Hotch, walking with him through the house. “We don’t deserve her.”

“No, we do not.”

When Hotch and I headed upstairs, he held onto my hand, his other arm wrapped around my waist so that he could keep me steady as we carefully made our way up one step at a time. He was hovering too much. I was completely capable of making it up the freaking stairs myself, yet he wasn’t going anywhere. So, I just gave in. I let him corral me up each step and through the hallway, all the way down to our bedroom where he helped me lay down on the bed. He lifted my feet up slowly.

“Baby,” I whispered, catching his attention. He looked so worried, as if he had done something wrong or hurt me, which he hadn’t. I smirked at him. “I’m okay.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes at me before standing up straight and moving towards the closet to grab a few extra pillows for me. He slid one under my knees, two under my ankles, and he left a third next to me in case I wanted it for something else. When I was drowning in pillows, he hurried back downstairs to make sure that there was ice if I needed it. We were getting an ice machine that just needed cold water to make it run, but that wasn’t going to show up for at least another few days, so he was going to have to run to and from the kitchen every time I was in pain and needed ice on my back.

“Here, baby,” he whispered, helping me adjust so that we could get the icepack under my back. He kissed my temple. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He kissed me again, recognizing that I was just being playful. After a moment of standing at my side, Hotch remembered that he had to get my medication around, so he hurried over to the bag on the dresser and started sorting all of the pills. I watched him carefully. I wondered if he was going to actually keep this up for the next few months or if he was going to forget about our deal back at the hospital and just let me back into the field once I was feeling a bit better. Could he really afford to keep an agent benched for months? I mean, we were barely holding on when he was gone in the Middle East and Emily was still… I don’t know… dead? Sure.

“You know, at some point, you’re going to have to realize that I’m not entirely bedridden. I’m going to have to leave the bedroom sooner than later.”

Hotch glanced over his shoulder and glared at me. “I will tie you to the bed, if it’s the only thing that will keep you there.”

“That’s less of a threat than you had intended for it to be,” I teased.

“Ha. Ha,” he said plainly. I chuckled in response. “Take these,” he told me, turning from the dresser to give me my medication. “I’ll get you some water.” He skipped to the bathroom, and I heard the sink run for a bit before he returned and handed me a half-full glass. He sat on the edge of the bed as I popped the pills and chased them down with the water.

“Tada.”

“You’re sure about going to the wedding tomorrow?” he asked, taking the cup back.

I furrowed my brows. “Of course.”

“I’m worried that your back—”

“Aaron, I’m going to be fine.”

“I said that after New York, too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I actually believe it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know it’s my job to worry about you, my love.”

“I know,” I accepted, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I know. But, my love,” I teased back, “I can go to a wedding, and I promise I won’t break. I’ve already agreed to staying out of the field until I’m better, so just let me have this one.”

He huffed at the fact that he wasn’t going to win this argument before getting up to put the glass back in the bathroom, then head to grab our pajamas. He helped me out of my gross, dusty clothes and into his clean, cologne smelling sweatshirt and blue flannel pajama pants. I immediately felt cozy and relaxed. When Hotch tore off his shirt, I could tell that he was considering taking a shower, but he looked so tired, and he seemed desperate to stay at my side.

“It can wait ‘til morning.” He changed into his grey sweatpants then snuck into bed with me. He sighed. “I say we stay here for the rest of our lives.”

I nodded. “I agree.” We reached for each other’s hands, and I tugged to try to kiss his knuckles, but he beat me to it. “Sap.”

“Yup.”

We both stared up at the ceiling. We were silent, both of us just catching our breath, reflecting on the day. I could have lost him again. He could have lost me again. At what point was it going to get too scary and we would finally call it? I wasn’t ready to leave the field yet, and I was sure that he felt the same way, too, but it was something that we had to consider. I mean, we had to retire at some point. Right? We couldn’t do this forever…

----

The following evening was the wedding. Hotch spent the afternoon helping Jack get ready—making sure he actually showered, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and picked out an appropriate outfit. Towards the time when we were about to leave, I caught Hotch kneeling in front of Jack, teaching him how to properly put on a tie. I smirked and continued to spy into the room. I had a bad habit of eavesdropping on them, but who could blame me when those moments weren’t going to last forever? Before we would know it, Jack would be all grown up and heading off for college, and we weren’t going to get any daily memories at all. I had to make them count while I still could.

As for Hotch and I getting ready, I took longer than he did. Considering I was somewhat immobile, I spent most of my time going between getting ready and laying down with an icepack when Hotch wasn’t looking. I was wearing a pant suit, something simple and light. Easy to get on and off. I barely even bothered with makeup because it hurt too much to hold still while trying to get everything perfect, and I just kept my hair out of my face. Nothing too fancy. As for Hotch… I wasn’t sure if he understood that a few years ago, he would have worn a work suit or that brown quarter zip to the wedding, but this time around he was wearing a well fitted all black suit, and all I wanted to do was literally jump him. Every time I saw him walking around wearing just the dress shirt and pants—no jacket yet, I could see his muscles and abs, and I wanted nothing more than to just have him pin me down and fuck me. Fuck. It was weird to think how when I was told to not do something, I suddenly wanted to do it. Specifically, I wanted to do him. I supposed that was just the brat in me, though.

Before we were about to leave, I went to go check on Scarlet in her nursery real quick when I noticed that it was a total mess with all of the toys scattered around. I groaned quietly as I bent over to grab her koala stuffed animal off the floor. It hurt like a total bitch, and there was no good way to go about doing it besides making sure I went slow and easy. As I carefully stood back up, screwing my eyes shut and wincing at the pain on my lower back as I did so, Scarlet cooed in her crib. I tried to smile while holding my back with one hand and her toy in the other. She was staring up at me, waiting for me to pick her up or give her the toy— either way, she would have been content.

“Y/N,” Hotch whispered from the doorway, making me jump in my own skin.

I caught my heart as I turned to glare at him for scaring me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Hotch—” I knew what he was going to say. I knew that he was going to give me a talk about how I needed to be more careful than I was being, but I really didn’t want to hear it, not for the hundredth time, at least. I was sick of people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. I could afford to clean up my kid’s room, alright. That wasn’t going to break my back. “It’s fine.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but both of us fell into silence when we heard: “Mama” come from Scarlet’s crib. I froze in place, thinking about what could have possibly just happened. Maybe I misheard, or maybe Jack was calling for me from downstairs, or maybe he was watching TV and they said it, or—

“Mama,” I heard it again, snapping my attention to the crib. Scarlet was still smiling— almost giggling, actually— and she was dancing around on her feet. “Mama.”

“Aaron…” I mumbled, too scared to move a muscle, thinking that if I did, she’d stop saying anything. Hotch took careful steps towards me, also trying to not startle her. “Did she—”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

“Mama!” She did a “grabby-grab” gesture with her hands, reaching out for the koala toy that I was still holding.

Finally, a year old, she was finally talking, and of course her first word had to be just for me. Morgan wouldn’t believe it. I mean, statistically speaking—at least, according to Spencer—Scarlet was a late bloomer when it came to walking and talking, but she wasn’t entirely behind the curve either. Just yesterday, I had been thinking about how I couldn’t wait until she would start talking. How the fuck did she know?

I did a little dance, too, before handing her the toy. She fell onto her butt and gave the koala a Superman hug. Hotch and I chuckled at the same time. Mama. Yeah, I’d take that. I kind of wished we got it on camera or something, but I think it was better that it was in the moment and that Hotch and I were both there, taken aback by how shocking it was when it came out of the blue. My perfect lil’ bug… I laughed again.

----

“Uh oh, trouble just walked in!” Morgan cheered from the living room as we walked into Rossi’s house, the door having been left open for all of the guests. Emily and Garcia turned to see who he was talking about, and they all smiled when their gaze met me, Hotch, and Jack. “Where’s my goddaughter?” he inquired, walking over to me.

I rolled my eyes as he kissed my cheek and I hugged him. “Jessica’s watching her.” I turned and hugged Emily. “No more almost dying,” I whispered in her ear. “We need you here.”

She smiled shortly as we parted but didn’t say anything. As I hugged Garcia next, Morgan crouched down to talk to Jack. They were talking about the chocolate fountain that was in the dining room, and the next thing I knew, the two of them were running off together to go take a look at it. Garcia and I laughed before she insisted that she should go keep an eye on Morgan.

I turned to Hotch. “I am not responsible for his sugar high this time. You’re on your own, Agent Hotchner.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “I should go find Rossi and thank him for inviting us,” I told him quietly as he kissed my neck.

“No alcohol,” he warned.

“Yes, Sir,” I saluted to make my comment look innocent to Emily, though it was anything but innocent to Hotch. After I pecked his lips with a grinning kiss, I snuck out of Hotch’s arms and headed to the backyard so that he and Emily could talk since he said that she was acting off.

As I was wandering around in search for Rossi, I discovered that he was nowhere to be found. Somehow, our host for the evening had completely vanished. I shook my head. Well, I’d find him later, I supposed, and maybe Hotch would be free then to thank him, too. So, for now, I tapped Anderson’s shoulder, catching his attention, and I asked if he had seen Morgan around since I spotted Jack running around in the backyard with Henry, which meant that Morgan had disappeared somewhere.

Anderson pointed me in the direction of one of the rooms on the first floor that was acting as a coat room for the night. I thanked him with a smile. He waved me goodbye before taking his girlfriend Angelica’s hand and leading her outside to go meet everyone. It was so funny to see him with her because they reminded me so much of how Hotch and I used to be when we first started going out, and we were just so naïve, hands all over each other all the time, smiles constantly plastered to our faces, no problems between us yet. Life used to be so simple. Hopefully Anderson and Angelica wouldn’t get as complicated as Hotch and I were.

When I stepped into the temporary coatroom, I found Morgan hiding in the corner, sitting on a leather footstool, drinking a cup of scotch. He spotted me and forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

I sighed heavily, taking a seat beside him. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about me shooting you or Rossi for getting on my ass about not leaving the bank for the hospital the other day.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m leaning more towards shooting Spencer or Hotch are this point.”

Morgan chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no freakin’ idea. And I can’t even drink it all away because of the painkillers. So. Yay me.” I rolled my eyes.

Morgan didn’t respond, though, which was concerning. I half expected him to back up Hotch and Spencer, or maybe say something snarky about he was glad to be rid of me for a few months until the doctors could clear me again. But nothing. Even his smile faded into the unnatural silence between us.

My eyes pouted as I put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged my touch away, which also wasn’t like him. “Nothing.”

Oh, yeah. Sure. Nothing. Recently, Morgan had a terrible habit of pushing everyone away because he thought that it would somehow protect us, but all it was doing was hurting everyone involved. He knew that he could tell me anything and I would always understand. He knew that I would always stand by his side and back him up, no matter what. So why was he so afraid to open up to me recently? Had I done something to break his trust in me? Was I somehow involved in this secret he was keeping? I just wanted him to give me some kind of answer so that I could stop worrying about him for once.

He sighed when he saw my mind churning. “I can’t tell you what’s going on because it’s not my secret to share. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “If that’s the case, then I won’t pry. But… I’m always here to talk, Derek. Always.” I tried to lighten the mood by joking, “Especially since I can’t go anywhere anymore.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

Silence settled for a bit as both of our chuckles faded. Now, we were just staring at the wall together. There had to be something more for us to say, something that would lift his spirits. Oh—

“Scar said her first word today,” I admitted, biting back a smile because I knew that it would cheer Morgan up to hear the good news.

Morgan looked up at me, shock mixed with excitement washing over his face. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Who won?”

“I did,” I smiled. He groaned, rolled his eyes, and dug into his back pocket for his wallet. I grinned as he gave me a ten dollar bill reluctantly. “Sucker.”

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” someone said from the door. Morgan and I both glanced up guiltily, as if we were two teenagers who got caught smoking pot at prom or something. It was just Hotch, though. Actually, no, that was too nonchalant for referencing him. It was Hotch, yeah, but he did, in fact, look like a stern and disappointed principle who had caught up smoking pot at prom. “I’ve been looking around for you.” He looked directly at Morgan to ask, “Have they been drinking?”

“Nope. They’ve been doing a lot of complaining about not drinking, though.”

Morgan poked my side, laughing at me in a teasing way, skipping towards the door, barely dodging around Hotch in time. He sent me a thumbs up for good luck. I groaned and hit my head against the wall behind me, looking at my husband out the corner of my eye as he took Morgan’s spot beside me.

“If it weren’t for your back, I’d have you over my knee right now for breaking the rules,” Hotch whispered in my ear.

I gulped. The idea sounded so appealing. I wanted nothing more than for life to just get back to how it was. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to touch me, or to kiss me, hold me, fuck me. The next few months were going to be excruciatingly long without being able to have all of him. I was so fucking pissed.

“Mmm… and what if I were to be good for you right now…” I tried playing with him, sneaking my hand onto his thigh, making an attempt to work my way upwards towards his crotch, but he snatched my hand away. “Please, Sir. Something.”

“You behave, take all of your meds, work on getting better, then I’ll consider it—But only after the doctors say we can.”

“Come on, baby,” I pleaded with a pout. “We don’t need doctors to tell us how to be us…” I tried putting my hand on his thigh again, but he kept me away. “Aaron, I’m not going to break.” I instead moved my hand to his cheek. “I love you, I trust you, and I know that you would never hurt me, and I know my own limits when it comes to—”

“Y/N, stop, please,” he whispered. “Please. I love you, Y/N, and I want to do… I want to be us again, more than ever, but I just want to be 100% sure before we do anything. It’s only been a day. A day, baby girl… You heal fast, I know you do, but not that fast. One wrong move, and you might not ever go back into the field. Sex is nice and all, but it’s not worth it if that’s the price you have to pay.”

I chuckled lightly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“Hey, you two love birds,” Rossi interrupted, sticking his head into the room, “everyone’s waiting on you two.”

We hurried to follow Rossi out to the backyard where everyone was gathered in front of the priest, Henry, and Will. I slowed when I noticed that it was standing room only. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to stand through the whole thing without literally wanting to tear my own spine out and throw it across the fucking yard. I looked at Hotch, tugging him back towards me. He searched my eyes with worry, and when it finally dawned on him, the worry intensified, and he neared me to hold me close.

He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll hold onto you. If it gets bad, we’ll quietly excuse ourselves.”

“It’ll be rude,” I whispered.

“Everyone will understand. Come on.”

He continued to lead me to the group, a few of them shuffling around so that they could make room for us. Hotch was standing behind me, his arms under mine, hands on my hips, swaying them barely, almost as if it were some kind of hypnotizing therapy on its own, and he was kissing my neck gently, not passionately enough to leave a hickey, but enough to tell me that he loved me a million times over.

As JJ and Will kissed, Hotch pulled me closer and whispered, “You remember our first kiss as husband and wife?”

I nodded, smiling through the happy tears that drifted down my cheeks. I was just so happy and relived that we were all safe, and that we were a family again. Even though things didn’t go to plan yesterday, at least Will was there, and JJ would never have to know what it would be like to raise Henry without him. Even though I hurt myself, I at least had Hotch and he had me, and we would never have to know what it would be like to live without each other.

Everyone started clapping, which pulled me out of my trance. Hotch let go of me so that he could clap, too, and I turned to look up at him and kiss him as we both smiled and wiped each other’s tears away. He smiled against me, leaning into our kiss. He didn’t recognize what he was doing. He had been so careful with me since the bombing yesterday, and yet, for a moment, he forgot about everything and just kissed me the same way he kissed me the day we got married. And I kissed him back. I didn’t stop until the clapping stopped and he realized what he had done, quickly pulling away from me so that he could make sure that I hadn’t shattered to a million pieces. I hadn’t shattered, but I had certainly melted.

During dinner, I sat between Hotch and Morgan, just across from Spencer and Garcia. We were all eating—the rest of them drinking while I watched—and talking the night away, not even pondering for a second that yesterday we nearly died on multiple occasions. It was like all of the bad had been washed away. There wasn’t a single bad thought at the table, and there wasn’t a single frown on anyone’s face. Was that normal? I mean, our lives had never been normal, so I was pretty sure I forgot what “normal” was, but that kind of felt familiar, like that was how we would be if our jobs weren’t so time and emotionally consuming.

Garcia asked how I was, and I lied, telling everyone that I felt okay, that they were just overreacting yesterday. Spencer, just as he had at the hospital, actually told everyone the truth. I glared at him again. He didn’t recognize what he had done, however, and continued on to insist that he could help Hotch keep an eye on me since he could recognize the silence signs that I was trying to mask my pain in order to not worry everyone. I silently cursed him for being so damn smart. And oblivious. But the last part wasn’t necessarily his fault, especially with all the theories that had been circulating around the office since I first joined.

After we finished eating, Hotch held his hand out and asked if I wanted to dance. I stared at him for a moment. Was he really going to let me move? I mean, I wasn’t going to second guess him vocally, of course, but I couldn’t believe that he was asking. I jumped at the chance, though. I accepted his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. The two of us laughed excitedly as we carefully hurried to the dance floor and he turned me around so that I was facing him and we could start slow dancing.

Hotch was so gentle with me. We were hardly swaying, taking slow, gentle, and small steps in circles. His arm was barely even touching my waist. I rested my cheek against his chest and inhaled his scent. I loved him beyond words. Despite our ups and downs, despite his lies and my hurt feelings over and over again, I couldn’t shake that I loved him. I couldn’t help that all of that bad times just couldn’t compare to all of the good times, which made everything worth it at the end of the day.

“What are we going to do?” Hotch asked, sincerely baffled. I didn’t say anything. “This isn’t like when I left… You could move then, take care of the kids, and Morgan was always around… But now you’re actually hurt, and I’m going to be gone all the time. What… What do we do?”

“Nothing really changes, baby. I can take Jack to school; I can look after Scarlet. And, you know, Jessica will always be around to help, too, if I need. We’ll be fine.”

“You could barely pick up Jack yesterday.”

“In my defense, he’s getting too big to keep picking up.”

“Y/N, come on. I’m serious. You can’t put any stress on your back. That includes picking Jack up, and cleaning up the house, doing laundry, doing dishes— anything. You need to be really careful.”

“I’m fine, Aaron.”

“You couldn’t even bend down to grab Scarlet’s toy from the floor.”

I furrowed my brows at him when I noticed the way his hold on me loosened even more after recalling the memory of me in the nursery only a few hours ago. He wasn’t upset about that. I mean— he was. Obviously, he was. But there was something else stirring in the mind of Aaron Hotchner, and it had to do with his own guilt. That was the only explanation I could account for.

I brushed my hand over his hair. “Baby,” I cooed, waiting until he looked at me, “I’m going to be okay.” I scratched his scalp gently. He slowly melted against my touch, nuzzling into the way it relaxed him whenever I played with his hair. “It’s not your fault. I need you to hear that.”

He froze. “I—”

“Aaron, please, listen to me. It’s not your fault. I yelled at you, and I told you that I wanted to make the choices with SWAT, and you gave in. I made the call to send everyone into the bank, and I was the one who neglected to think that there could be a bomb inside. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t have sanctioned an approach if JJ hadn’t compared you to Will.”

My face softened at the realization. I had only thought that he blamed himself, but I didn’t know it for sure, and I hadn’t realized that this was buried so deep. This was far worse than I could have anticipated. “That’s why you’ve been all protective like this.”

I mean, he usually got protective when something changed drastically in our lives. Haley and Scarlet were prime examples. But this was… different. Instead of ordering me to do things that would force me to protect myself, Hotch was coddling me and attending to my every wish. He was trying to make up for what he did. He was trying to apologize to me for something that he had no right blaming himself for; and he was trying to relieve the guilt he felt by catering to me constantly.

Hotch pressed his forehead against mine. “You could have died, Y/N. I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was wrong to make a move like that again so soon, and I should have said something—but when JJ put it into perspective for me by asking what I would have done if it were you in that bank… I knew I had to help her. I had to help Will. And I forgot that it’s my job to protect you—to protect our team. I let my emotions get in the way. I shouldn’t have done that. It goes against everything we believe in at the BAU, and it nearly got you killed.”

“It was my choice, Aaron.” I brought my hand to his face and ran my thumb over his mole on his cheek. “Please, hear that. I made the call to move in with SWAT. It was my decision to push the front doors with you, and it was my decision to stay on site instead of going to the hospital afterwards. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But I do.”

“I know.” I felt a tear hit my thumb, making me pout. “It was an accident, baby.”

“Yeah, but it was an accident that could have killed you.”

I leaned in to kiss him because there was this overwhelming urge in the pit of my stomach to somehow comfort him, yet there weren’t enough words to tell him what I meant, and there wasn’t enough time in the world to hug him for as long as I wanted to—and even if the time existed, my strength to give him a Superman hug was too limited. But I could kiss him. I could press my lips to his until we couldn’t breathe, until he would grab my face and hold me there with him, leaning into me until I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him there with me. So, I kissed him. I kissed him as hard as I could. We exhaled through our noses, turning our faces to kiss from a different angle while catching our breath. But he didn’t hold me as close as I wanted him to. In fact, he pushed me away somewhat, and I could tell that it was because he was terrified that if he tilted over me at all, it would hurt my back.

My shoulders fell. “Aaron Christopher Hotchner, you are not stupid. You did not make the wrong call. Stop thinking that way before I smack you.”

He chuckled. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” I kissed him again, finally feeling his arms snake around the small of my back, giving me the chance to fling my arms around his neck, just like I wanted. I smiled against him.

Someone beside us cleared their throat. We parted to see Morgan standing there, gesturing to ask if he could dance with me. What a way to be a cockblock, am I right? Not that Hotch would have actually fucked me, even if I were on my knees and begging. He made it entirely clear that he wasn’t ready to have sex with me yet, knowing just how bad my back actually was, and he probably wasn’t going to give in for a very long time. I was going to be miserable. Miserable and horny. What was the point of being married to the love of my life if I couldn’t fuck him every chance I had? And then motherfucking Derek Morgan had to come along and ruin the slight chance I had by asking to dance with me. Oh, boy, he was really lucky I loved him.

Hotch was polite about it, though. We smiled, patted Morgan’s shoulder, then stepped away to go dance with Emily since she looked all lonely on her own on the side. Morgan took one of my hands in his, then wrapped his other arm around my waist while I put my free hand on his shoulder. I was staring at him, trying to gauge if he was any better since earlier. He wasn’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted before I could say anything. “But thank you for being in my corner, sunshine.” I smiled. “And for always being so damn stubborn, too.”

I laughed. “Only for you.”

“That’s a blatant lie.”

I laughed again. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Can I sneak in a dance?” Emily asked, sneaking up behind me. Morgan and I turned to face her. I saw that she was forcing a smile, and behind that illusion of happiness was a desperation to dance with Morgan, so I nodded and stepped away. “Actually—” Emily started before I could walk away. “I was hoping to dance with you,” she told me. She reached out and grabbed my hand before I could get too far.

I smiled and took her hand. “Okay.”

Morgan didn’t walk away, so we both glared at him slightly as Emily took the lead. She put her right hand on my waist, her left hand clasped tightly with my right hand, and my left hand was on her shoulder. We still glared at Morgan.

“What? Can’t I watch?” he questioned through a chuckle.

I shooed him away until he gave up and went to grab Garcia from her seat. When I looked back at Emily, she was smiling for real this time, which eased my nerves. Despite how happy everyone seemed, there was something off with her. I could tell that she was the secret Morgan was keeping. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but some part of me just put the pieces together, and I supposed I should have attributed it to being a profiler, but I didn’t want to be that stuck up. I just knew. Something told me that she wasn’t entirely okay, and my heart sank.

As Emily looked away from me, almost like she felt too guilty to keep eye contact, I started putting the pieces together. Morgan was as upset that night as he was when he found out Emily “died”. Hotch stayed back to talk to her when we arrived. I didn’t like where this was leading me.

So, I just asked. “You’re leaving again… Aren’t you?”

Emily snapped her attention back to me, her smile falling from her face quickly. But she didn’t deny it. In fact, she didn’t even question it. The look on her face wasn’t confusion over what I was talking about, instead it was about how I knew. So, it was true. I had this feeling boiling in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong with her, and for some reason her leaving the team was the only thing that made sense to me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because if I were in her shoes, I would have felt the same way. I couldn’t imagine going through everything she went through; from finding out that Ian Doyle was back, to the fact that he was coming after us in order to make her life hell, in order to being tortured and stabbed by him, then… dying on the way to the hospital. After all of that, she still had the strength to come back when it was safe. But it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. Since coming back, something had been off about her, and I really hadn’t put the pieces together until she went out of her way to come up and ask to dance with me. She knew she was leaving, and she wanted to cherish the moments she had left with us.

“I don’t want to talk about it—” she began.

“Don’t leave. Please.” I didn’t know how I could be more clear and sincere. “Please.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry.” We were silent for a moment. “How did you know?”

“Morgan was being all weird and keeping secrets from me, which was how I knew it had to do with the team. Since Hotch isn’t acting weird, I know he’s not keeping anything from me. The next option was you… and when you asked to dance… I just… I somehow knew.” I shrugged. “Profiling or whatever.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“We need you here. I need you here. Scarlet—”

“I’ll still be around, Y/N, I promise. I just need to do something else. The BAU isn’t what it used to be for me. I think I burned too many bridges when I was away.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

I felt a sob bubbling in my chest, even though I was trying my very hardest to suppress it. I didn’t want to be sad at a wedding. I didn’t want to even think that I would be sad in the future, missing one of my best friends, wondering if she was okay wherever she was, doing whatever it was, doing whoever it was. There was a time when Emily and I… We just clicked. I mean, at first, I was indifferent because she came shortly after Elle left to go travel and do something new with her life that she loved; but once I warmed up to her, we had a flow at work. Morgan and I were together in the field for almost every case, but there were instances when Emily would tag along, and it made sense. The one thing I could vividly remember about her before she left was the time we were working that swinger case and we were in the car together… With anyone else, I think it would have been awkward. But with Emily, I didn’t blink twice. Being stuck in that car with her—though I didn’t recognize it at the time—was actually funny, and I enjoyed little moments like that. If she actually left, I wouldn’t have those anymore. Hell, since she got back in the first place, there was hardly a chance to have little moments like that, and it broke my heart, but I thought that we were going to have a long time to make up for it.

Emily caught a tear running down my cheek with her thumb. Shit, I swore I wouldn’t actually cry. She searched my eyes for a moment, debating on whether or not her next words would force an actual sob out of me; but I was pleading with her for answers. “Clyde Easter called… He wants me to run the London Interpol office.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re taking it?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’ll make you happy?”

“I hope so.”

I sighed quietly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Okay. If it makes you happy, then I can’t tell you not to jump at the opportunity, Em. Once upon a time, you told me that no one else’s opinion matters unless it’s optimistic and helpful. I want my opinion to matter to you. I want you to know that I will always be in your corner, and I will support whatever endeavor it is you choose to seek out because I want the best for you. Because I love you.”

She finally smiled again, almost like she was relieved to hear that from me. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” She stopped dancing with me so that she could hug me tightly. “I love you, too.”

And that was how we said goodbye because seeing her off at the airport a few weeks later was just too painful.

-----

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel @peggy1999 @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[9worldstales]

MCU Loki Ep 2 “The Variant” intensive analysis

So, the 2nd “Loki” episode come out and, again, I couldn’t stop myself from talking about it.

Beware about spoilers!

After a brief summary that’s basically made by showing us the most relevant scenes of Episode 1 we’ve the Marvel opening, this time with its usual music… though the Marvel studios logo is still in green and gold.

We start this episode in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, 1985, the year of “Back of the future”, only there’s no Martin or Doc or the DeLorean, but just some sort of medieval fair.

Pity.

Anyway Minutemen get on the place and didn’t care at all about how they’re attracting the general attention with their look. We know why, because they think to reset the timeline before leaving so it’s not like their magical apparition might change something.

They believe they’ve detected the Variant so they enter in a tent thinking they can capture them… only to fall straight in a trap, as the Variant was waiting for them, starting a registration as soon as they are where the Variant wants them to be.

Yeah, the registration was meant to be for the show that should have taken place there but the Minutemen are smart enough to get it’s a trap.

After a recorded message that seem to imply in that tent there was meant to happen some sort of contest or show about saving a princess…

My lords, my ladies, welcome and thank you for joining us, here at the castle. Please, settle into your seats for a great battle is about to commence. The prize? Our princess. Will evil prevail, or are we holding out for a hero?

…the song by Bonnie Tyler “Holding Out For A Hero” starts and, as it does Hunter C-20 gets possessed by the Variant (we can see a hand touching her head, green magic on the tip of its finger, and then Hunter C-20’s eyes take an odd green colouring for a moment, a sign she’s possessed) and starts murdering out her own men in a joint effort with the Loki Variant. However while she fights she suddenly drops unconscious and a figure in a cape, clearly our Variant, stabs with her sword the last minuteman. Then, as usual, the Variant steals from the Minuteman what she needs and, this time, also kidnaps Hunter C-20 before disappearing.

Many have seen in the scene a reference to the Shrek 2 scene in which Shrek and his friends storm the castle in order to stop Fiona from kissing Charming, disguised as Shrek.

Me, I would just want to know if the princess is meant to be Hunter C-20 or this Loki Variant.

We’ll see.

Well, anyway we get the Loki title and them we find ourselves with Loki reading a jet ski magazine when Miss Minute would want him to review what he had learnt instead. She tries to quiz him but, although Loki seems to know the answers, he’s not interested in being quizzed, defining it boring.

His attention focuses on Miss Minute, asking her if she’s a recording or alive. She explains she’s both.

Loki looks around then tries to test it, rolling the magazine and attempting to use it to hit Miss Minute, who jumps around in an effort to avoid his blows. He seems to have fun. If this is idea of venting for the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of the TVA or he’s just being playful that’s up to speculation.

Miss Minute escapes inside the pc, complaining he’s being a jerk.

Mobius joins him and from his dialogue we discover the magazine is actually Mobius’ not Loki’s. The guy gives him a package, telling him they’ve to go and that he has to wear what’s inside it, which is actually a jacket, which Loki wears.

They join the others and Hunter B-15 explains how C-20 and her team disappeared in 1885 and they expect it to be an ambush by a Loki Variant, although they don’t know which kind of Loki Variant it can be. Loki suggests they’re the lesser kind, lesser than him, of course.

Hunter B-15 demands to see the back of his jacket on which we can see the writing Variant. She laughs seeing the writing, mockingly, the way one would when he has managed to put an insulting sign on someone’s back without them realizing.

Loki points out she was very subtle in it and she explains she doesn’t want anyone to forget who he is… which, I guess, means Hunter B-15 found yellow, star shaped badges too subtle or maybe not fitting to everyone they deemed a less human to prune away.

Still Loki asks her back if she means they shouldn’t forger he’s their only hope of capturing a murderer.

B-15, who never believed him to be capable of something, correct him saying they should never forget he’s ‘a cosmic mistake’. In short the writing is there to make him recognizable, to ostracize and to humiliate him. He’s not like them, he’s a Variant.

She’s not doing this because he’s dangerous and they should be wary of him, just because he shouldn’t exist.

Mobius states that this is enough… which hints he’s not enjoying this, but he allowed it to happen and didn’t even warn or prepare Loki about it.

Long story short he’s clearly different from B-15 who relishes in all this (and mind you, this is not a critic to Wunmi Mosaku, who’s awesome in the part, just to her character) but he still doesn’t really take a big stance against it as he stopped it only when it dragged on too long.

Mobius brings them back to business, telling everyone they’re looking for a Loki, a variation of the guy with them. He reminds them they should be familiar with Loki because they had pruned more Loki Variants than any other Variant and they’re all different, in appearances.

As Mobius speak we’re shown some Loki Variations with their numbers. Our Loki is the Variant L1130.

I wanted to check the numbers near the Lokis but it seems there had been a mistake in the handling of the numbers

Jotun Loki appears to have first the number L1247 but in the close up it switches to L6792

Cyclist Loki is L1247 and the hulking one is L6792 while the green dressed one is L8914 and the last one with the big helmet is L7803.

Long story short Jotun Loki has probably 2 wrong numbers pasted on himself as they belong to other variations but all the Lokis’ numbers has in common the letter L at the beginning which I guess, stands for Loki.

The visual makes something interesting, projecting the various variants on Loki, which makes us immediately aware of the differences but also reminds us they’re all still Loki.

What leaves me perplex is how those Variants became so different from the original Loki. I mean, our Loki was caught few minutes after he escaped. Unless those Loki managed to escape to the TVA for a while (which would risk the timeline to reach a red line so it seems unlikely it happened) how did they manage to deviate so much from how they were meant to be in the Sacred Timeline?

I mean cyclist Loki would have needed the time to take part to a race to in that cup!

It’s true that in this episode it will turn out the TVA worries only of deviations that impact the timeline, so maybe the TVA started worrying late in their case but it’s still weird.

Anyway Mobius starts digging into the powers they’ve in common which are shape-shifting, illusion-projection, duplication-casting and Mobius’ favourite, which we don’t get to hear as Loki interrupts Mobius saying he got one of the names of his power wrong, it’s Duplication-casting, not Illusion-projection and explains the differences between the two, finishing with:

“But you already knew that.”

… which they didn’t. In short it’s Loki’s turn to point out they act as if they know him when they don’t know him and his powers as well as they think and that he’s actually of some use.

On a sidenote there’s to wonder which one is Mobius’ Loki’s favourite power and if it’s meant to be relevant. This Variant showed it could posses people, and I wonder if what happened to Selvig at the end of “Thor” is a hint our Loki can as well. Our Loki could travel through the secret paths… in “Thor” he could spell his knives, which we know he can make appear out of nowhere. In deleted scenes we learn he could cause mist to appear. “Thor: Ragnarok” said Loki turned Thor into a frog. I wouldn’t mind if he were to start turn people of the TVA into frogs.

Anyway Mobius accepts his explanation and tells the others they’re gonna break in two teams, one of which will include himself and ‘professor Loki’.

B-15’s words about Loki being a cosmic failure clearly made an impression as one of the minutemen question the idea and Mobius is forced to admit since they can’t find this Loki Variant they need an ‘expert’.

Loki takes his chance to remind everyone that by expert Mobius means him. He’s there because he has a use, an importance, a role and they shouldn’t look down on him.

The scene switches.

Loki and Mobius are walking toward the door that will bring them in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, 1985.

Loki, repeating a pattern seen in “Thor: The Dark World” asks for a weapon…

Loki (Thor: The Dark World): “You could at least furnish me with a weapon. My dagger, something!”

Loki (Loki): “Do I get a weapon?”

…which Mobius refuses to give him. Loki though points out once out of the TVA he’ll have his magic back and asks Mobius if no one is worried he’ll betray them.

Loki: “Well, I'll have my magic back. Is no one concerned about that?”

Mobius: “Of what?”

Loki: “Me betraying you.”

This also is something we saw in “Thor: The Dark World”.

Loki: “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. What makes you think you can trust me?”

Mobius can’t say Frigga did trust him or that he promises him vengeance in exchange of loyalty so he tries to go for something he knew Loki wanted, a meeting with the Time-Keepers. Considering Renslayer, who’s above Mobius, couldn’t grant Loki that, if I were in Loki I would genuinely doubt Mobius can. He just tries to dangle in front of his eyes something Loki might want to win him over.

Loki pauses as Mobius mentions he could meet the Time-Keepers and asks if that’s what’s on the table. Mobius doesn’t really give him a straight answer, just a ‘Keep that focus’.

I wonder if Loki really wants to meet the three space lizards or he just let Mobius believe so because, by acting that way, he made clear he’s interested.

Oh, now that I look at it behind the helmets of the minutemen there are codes which could be their identification codes or names, since they don’t seem to use names.

B-15 has obviously written B-15 while other minutemen had much longer codes.

The group arrives in 1985 and Loki makes a relevant question:

“Let me ask you this, why don't we just travel back to before the attack, when the Variant first arrives?”

It’s something many viewers have been wondering and it turns out that the answer is:

“Nexus events destabilize the time flow. This branch is still changing and growing, so you gotta show up in real time.”

In short the authors knew this could feel like a dumb plot hole so they made a rule to explain why this couldn’t be done. It’s still not perfert… I mean, what it means to show up in real time? They aren’t in the same time as 1985, when itìs real time for them? But whatever, it’s nice they tried to fix this problem.

Mobius asks Loki if he watched all the explicative videos he was supposed to watch and Loki replied only as many as he could stand because he find that their ‘TVA propaganda is exhausting’.

I’m glad Loki and I see things in the same way. Most of the TVA babbling is propaganda meant to brainwash people’s mind.

A Minuteman then asks Loki what ‘these’ (these being the Time Charges) do.

Loki knows perfectly and gives us the confirmation to the thing I, and many others, suspected in the past episode.

Time Charges…

“Reset charges prune the affected radius of a branched timeline, allowing time to heal all its wounds. Which sounds like a nice way of saying disintegrate everything in its vicinity.”

So yeah, it’s genocide or total destruction of that timeline and all the people in it.

But also yeah, Loki studied all he was supposed to study although he insists he watched only some of the videos. I’m not surprised though, a wizard had to be good at studying things and Loki clearly wanted to know how that world worked so of course he would have watched the video even if he’s downplaying it.

They reach the place in which the TVA fought Loki and discover the Loki Variant kidnapped C-20. It turns out that it’s the first time that Variant kidnapped someone. A minuteman suggests the Variant might have pruned (aka killed but the TVA doesn’t use that word) C-20.

B-15 acts defensively, saying a Loki couldn’t have beaten C-20. She clearly views the Lokis, the whole of them as this time she’s not even saying Variants, as inferior. She should probably remember she got collared by one Loki.

Loki tries to warn her saying she’s underestimating the Variant… which she’s doing as the Variant could have very well ‘pruned’ C-20 had the Variant wanted to.

B-15 isn’t interested in hearing him out as she interrupt him and tells the other to fan out and starts searching for C-20 fast as they’re approaching the red line.

Loki stops them, telling them if they’ll leave the tent they’ll end up killed. B-15 thinks it’s a waste of time but Mobius is willing to hear him out.

Loki launches himself in a long explanation, the gist of it being he thinks there’s a scheme behind the Variant’s actions, that they should be aware of their surrounding, listen more (like he does) and less prone to underestimate him or the ‘lesser Loki’.

Now… he’s not completely wrong, the TVA underestimates him, and they has underestimated the other Loki Variant, which we saw lead to some of their losses.

Loki claims the Variant wants him because they know he’s the stronger Loki and so wants to join forces with him to overthrown and rule the TVA. I’m not sure how the Variant would have known there’s a Loki working with the TVA but let’s assume they do and that Loki’s reasoning could make sense… or could be explained with him trying to paint himself as more important than he is.

But then he goes saying that this isn’t what he wants as he’s now a servant of the Sacred Timeline… which is patently untrue and hard to believe… who can hand them the Variant but what assurances he won’t be disintegrated once the job is done.

And okay, his own is a legitimate worry and a legitimate request.

It’s actually clever to ask for reassurances the TVA won’t dispose of him once the job is done… though it’s not like there’s an actual bargaining ground because, if Loki isn’t cooperative and therefore is useless, the TVA will dispose of him anyway.

It’s not so clever he would try to pass himself for a servant of the timeline when he clearly didn’t play the part well. Of course since he said Asgardians were fundamentally naïve, maybe that’s the kind of people he’s used to deal with… but he has experienced distrust in Asgard in “Thor”, proof his own people isn’t so naïve… and he should have figured out Mobius isn’t either.

And then he presses for urgently meeting the Time-Keepers saying they’re in grave danger… and this jump isn’t smooth.

Mobius knows Loki wants to meet the Time-Keepers, so of course if Loki pushes the issue in this way he’s going to be prone to assume it’s a trick. The speech doesn’t even keep a logical flow because Loki first presented himself as better than the Variant and capable to handle it but reluctant to do so for fear of being erased… but now he’s presenting the Variant as a grave threat that requires them to urgently talk with the Time-Keepers.

So from one side it’s pushing for too much when he hadn’t even shown himself to be useful yet and for another it makes for a weak argument if he’s really as superior as he claims to be.

So… hum… the speech seems to tumble down in an unsatisfactory manner, ‘seems’ being the operative word because, if there’s a goal behind its weak points, then they still have a reason to exist.

I’m actually not quite sure which game Loki is playing with the TVA.

He’s for sure trying to survive but then what else does he want to get? I don’t believe he aims to control the universe but I’m pretty sure he’s not swallowing the TVA propaganda and he doesn’t enjoy to be there.

His timeline was pruned so he can’t go back there. Does he want to save Frigga? Is that what he aims to do? Does he want to go into the timeline after… let’s call it ‘canon Loki’ died so as to replace him?

Prior to it?

I don’t know.

Is he saying all those things for the Loki Variant’s benefit? He hopes the Variant is out there hearing him and his speech would make the Variant interested in joining forces?

I don’t know. We’ll see.

Anyway as expected Mobius figures it’s a trick and, since there’s no more time to do anything else, they just reset the timeline and leave.

On another note I like how Loki uses an Asgardian way to say. Way too often in movies even aliens feel compelled to use English ways to say instead than way to say from the world they belong to.

We also see how a time charge works. Loki hurries to move away as soon as he sees them starting it.

They… do something with the top part of it, I’m not sure if they push a button or pulled some sort of safety pin. We see something yellowish being released in the fluid inside the time charge which then turns purplish. The purple colour expands to the whole glass of the time charge until from below it something like a coloured expanding pool comes out. Everything that gets touched by that pool ends up being disintegrated.

At the TVA the monitors show that the ‘reset’ (read ‘disintegration’) of the timeline is done and that C-20 ended up MIA.

A music that’s half sad half… disquieting, start being played and we move into Renslayer’s office.

Mobius is complimenting for her office, pointing out how there’s a new snow globe in it and how he doesn’t remember bringing it to her.

She replies he’s not the only analyst working for her, which seems to imply analysts working for her are meant to bring her souvenirs from their missions. Or better… not quite. Mobius asks her why she gets to keep all the trophies from his cases, which seems to imply they weren’t given willingly.

Still, he tries to get her to admit he’s her favourite analyst.

I’m not really sure what’s going on between these two. They don’t seem to be in a relationship and I’m not sure if Mobius’ attempts at flattering her are because he’d like to be in a relationship with her but doesn’t dare to push the issue or because he’s currying her favours.

We’ll see.

Renslayer moves the discussion to the mission Mobius just botched and I don’t know if I would define it as such. Okay, so they didn’t find C-20 nor the other Loki Variant but chances here are two:

- the Loki Variant was out there using C-20 as bait as Loki said, setting a trap for them, and they successfully avoided it

- the Loki Variant wasn’t out there and so wasn’t C-20 and therefore was nothing for them to find.

Either way the mission wasn’t botched as they came back and successfully disintegrated… pardon, the TVA doesn’t like that word, they prefer ‘purged’ the branched timeline and any living being inside it.

Renslayer, referring to Loki as just ‘this Variant’ complains he’s insubordinate, stubborn and unpredictable like Mobius.

Honestly I think the whole series is trying to draw parallels between Loki and Mobius, where Mobius is however the one who chose to submit to the system where Loki just can’t stand it and wants to break it down.

So, although Mobius should be ‘all lawful’ we can see there’s a bit of ‘chaotic’ inside him.

It’s probably worth to remember that ‘lawful’ and ‘chaotic’ are nothing else but the two opposite extreme on the Ethical axis used for RPG alignment where Lawful represents obedience to the law and Chaotic leans toward personal freedom, without regards to the law.

There’s another sign Mobius isn’t fully lawful, the fact he has the bad habit to leave the glass rest on Renslayer’s furniture, leaving rings, and then insisting he’s not who caused them as they were already there… when Renslayer points out they’re all there due to him.

I know a part of the fandom loves Mobius but I wonder if he’s in the story not only to interact with Loki but also to work in contraposition to him. There are two paths for him, either he chooses the same path as Loki or the opposite. We’ll see.

Mobius tries to blame the ring on Renslayer’s other favourite analyst. I wonder if such person exists and is meant to have a relevance in the story. It’ll be interesting if it’s the other Loki Variant in disguise.

I mean… the other Loki Variant knows plenty of things about the TVA which hints at how they should have a previous and prolonged contact with them because the TVA explains nearly nothing about how their things work to their captives but the other Loki Variant knows what Reset charges are and how they work or how to use a TemPad to open Timedoors.

Yet Mobius doesn’t seem to have info on when they captured that Variant, carried it to the TVA and then let them escape, so again, how did the Variant learnt so much about the TVA?

From another escaping Variant?

Hard to say?

Did they saw the TVA and tailed them till the TVA unnoticed?

I can’t really tell, we’ll see.

Anyway, back to their conversation, Renslayer points out the issue isn’t Mobius’ methods with Loki, but the fact he towed a dangerous Variant into the field… meaning they consider Loki dangerous.

Mobius claims that from that they had learnt ‘the Variant’ likes to stall for time, so the other Variant might end up doing the same, because, to Mobius, understanding one Loki leads to understand the other.

And I’m:

- actually you didn’t need to bring Loki to the field to learn this, didn’t you notice that’s what he did in other circumstances?

- if the two Lokis are different, no, understanding one doesn’t mean understand the other. I mean you had a Loki who was fine living as a Jotun while this one was traumatized by the idea he was a Jotun, Loki can be pretty different about them, enough to be complete opposite so no, nobody said they’ll surely share that particular trait.

Whatever, let’s go on.

Renslayer says Mobius has a soft spot for broken things (which Mobius denies because he’s a bit like Loki and doesn’t want to show weakness), which acknowledges this Loki is broken… but gains him no sympathy from Renslayer as she said that ‘Loki is an evil, lying scourge’. Because he attacked New York? Nope, just because this is the part he plays on the sacred timeline and he can change only if the Time-Keepers decree so, not because he wants to.

Renslayer is big on the predeterminism when it’s about Loki (who’s a Variant by the way and therefore already out of the Sacred Timeline) but why doesn’t she apply it to the TVA as well? They’ll take the Variant only if the Time-Keepers will so.

I think the TVA’s faith in the Time-Keepers has plenty of weak points and is hypocritical. I wonder if the show will explore this.

Mobius switches topic asking how the Time-Keepers are and it turns out he NEVER met them. So he basically can’t even be sure they exist or not, yet he’s pouring all his faith in those three space lizard.

Mobius seems kind of glad he hadn’t met them, which seems to hit they’re either dangerous to meet or he doesn’t have a good opinion of them.

Renslayer says:

“The Time-Keepers are monitoring every aspect of this case. I've never seen them so involved. They want that Variant caught.”

…which seems a way to put Mobius under pressure but really, if they decide the flow of time, shouldn’t the decide if Mobius will catch the Variant or not? They can decide if a Variant Loki can change or not but they can’t control the other?

Anyway Mobius signs the event report Renslayer already signed. We can see Renslayer signs R Slayer while Mobius signs M. M. M.

Mobius notices the pen he used for signing has the writing ‘Franklyn D. Roosvelt High School’ on it and complains that pen too should be from the other analyst Renslayer favoured. And I wonder again, who they are? They’re meant to be relevant? Or they’re only a plot device to make Mobius jealous?

Renslayer only tells him to stay focused. As he’s about to leave though, she stops him asking him if he believes in that Variant. Mobius doesn’t confirm this, saying Loki believes in himself enough for the both of them, complaining Loki is really arrogant and that he will delete him himself if this doesn’t work.

Of course these might be just words he tells to Renslayer but we saw him taking part to erasing timelines and even if he showed sympathy and kindness to the French boy he met in the cathedral in the very first episode, he let him be reset.

“Don't worry, that devil's afraid of us. We're gonna take care of him. And we're gonna put you back where you belong.”

This apparently kind sentence meant they disintegrate him and his timeline so the place the boy belong is basically oblivion.

But I’ll dig on Mobius and Loki in a moment.

For now let me pause a moment on the pen, another gift of Renslayer’s mysterious over analyst, with written on it ‘Franklyn D. Roosvelt High School’.

Franklyn D. Roosvelt, ex-president of the united state is also relevant for the MCU.

In 1940 Roosevelt ordered the formation of the Strategic Scientific Reserve (SSR) to fight the Nazi Party, even though the United States was still at peace with Germany. To ensure that only the greatest scientists work for the SSR, Roosevelt ordered Chester Phillips to recruit Howard Stark into the agency. SSR works in the creation of the Super Soldier Sierum, which ‘gives birth’ to Captain America then it is the re-tasked to fight Hydra. Later it will become part of S.H.I.E.L.D.

So yeah, maybe it’s a coincidence but it’s interesting.

Back to the story.

Mobius leaves Renslayer and we discover Loki has been left outside Renslayer’s office to wait.

Mobius whistles and also motions to Loki to follow him.

Some has compared this with how one would act to a dog. It’s possible they’re not so off track.

The TVA is a world that discriminates Variants and find them worth only being erased. They shouldn’t exist, they’re cosmic jokes, no one should forget someone is a Variant.

Mobius too in his discussion with Renslayer referred to Loki as just “the Variant”. Yet Mobius also feels some sympathy for Loki. Renslayer says he has a soft spot for broken things, if can mean she acknowledges Loki was broken by his experience… but she might also refer to the mere fact he’s a Variant and Variants, in a way, can be seen as ‘broken’ as they didn’t function properly but followed their own path instead than the one the Time-Keepers traced for them.

So the idea Mobius sees Loki as some sort of pet can be fitting. Mobius is growing fond of Loki… but he’s still imbued in all the TVA’s beliefs and teachings about predeterminism and how Variants are bad.

He doesn’t want to be needlessly mean to Loki, but the latter isn’t equal to him, he’s a tool, as everyone reminds him and as he has to remind to everyone else.

Variants has no rights in the TVA, they just exist to be pruned, reset, or, in less pretty but more realistic words, disintegrated.

And Mobius is a guy in the middle.

While he doesn’t want to be a jerk to Variants… or to people in the Sacred Timeline who’re going to die, he’s not really willing to fully fight against the system because he has faith in the system and a side of him he thinks Loki should just accept his place.

We see it in their discussion.

Loki is somewhat nervous… which, I’ll be honest, feels a little weird to me because he’s being openly nervous when usually Loki can keep controlled and hide this sort of things.

He had played a high risk bet during the mission and lost, he had time to think at what to say to Mobius while Mobius was discussing with Renslayer yet what he comes up isn’t really worth of someone who’s supposed to have a silver-tongue.

Okay, so it’s not like we were shown him using his silver-tongue in the movies, as people tended to do the opposite of what Loki asked them or not listen him at all, with the exception of Malekith and the Grandmaster… but we don’t get to see how Loki won the Grandmaster over.

Whatever, maybe there’s a reason, maybe not, we’ll see.

When facing the Variant later, Loki will say he kept the TVA vulnerable at the Renaissance Fair for some time and also that he has been working on gaining their trust. Presenting himself as openly insecure to Mobius, instead than hiding it as he would usually do, might be part of winning him over. As I said in the past commentary for ep 1, sometimes there are more benefits in being honest than in lying, so it can be that it’s not that Loki isn’t nervous, it can be he sees more benefits in showing it to Mobius.

We’ll see.

Mobius is in a bad mood. Although it didn’t seem Renslayer had given him a earful for his failure, it can be his failure burns. He tells Loki to show up, reminding him in the elevator he said he didn’t like to talk… which is something else that makes me think Loki is trying to give Mobius EXACTLY what Mobius asked for, so as to fulfil his expectations and lower his guard.

The following conversation is relevant.

Mobius: Okay. Just shut up! Please. What happened to the guy I met on the elevator? Who didn't like to talk. Remember him? Now I'm stuck with this guy who won't stop yacking away about what makes a Loki tick!

Loki: What? Isn't that precisely why I'm here?

Mobius: No. I don't care what makes you tick. You're here to help me catch the superior version of yourself. That's it!

Only Mobius in the previous episode told him he wanted exactly this from him.

Mobius: I'm serious. All I seek is a deeper understanding of the fearsome God of Mischief. What makes Loki tick?

This is the problem of an unequal partnership like their own. Loki isn’t there because he’s Mobius’ partner and equal, Loki is there to serve a purpose, capturing the other Loki. Renslayer might be right and Mobius might have a soft spot with him, but in the end Mobius ends up reminding Loki his place in the TVA, he’s there to be useful.

Loki takes offence by Mobius calling the other Variant “superior”.

Mobius gives us a slice of his mind… and Loki calls him out on his attempt of manipulation.

Mobius: See? There it is. Right there. I believed, stupidly, that insecure need for validation would motivate you to find the killer. Not 'cause you care about the TVA mission or bein' a hero, but because you know this Variant is better than you and you can't take it.

Loki: Very nice. I mean, it is adorable that you think you could possibly manipulate me. I'm ten steps ahead of you. I've been playing a game of my own all along.

But there’s something else worth pointing out. Mobius clearly believes working for the TVA equates at being a hero… and also that Loki would be so prideful he would serve the TVA merely to show them he’s better than the other without caring of how the TVA then might dispose of him.

And again Loki shows his cards way too openly so Mobius calls him out.

Mobius: What, charm your way in front of the Time-Keepers, hustle them, and seize control of the TVA? Am I getting warm? A double cross by history's most reliable liar.

Is really this what Loki aims at? This is what he’s telling around but is really this? Maybe but it seems so obvious, even Mobius could guess it in 5 minutes so… I don’t know, it seems too predictable for someone who’s supposedly smart.

The discussion goes on. Loki has figured since Mobius didn’t have him erased after that failure he is sticking his neck out for him so he asks him why.

Mobius: I'll give you two options, and you can believe whichever one you want. A, because I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold. And you kinda feel bad for that ice runt. Or B, I just wanna catch this guy, and I'll tell you whatever I need to tell you.

I think both options are true, although usually, when proposing two options, the implication is the speaker is telling us to chose the last one… and it makes sense because this is the main motive Mobius is helping Loki. He could do nothing for him if it wasn’t because Loki could be useful… but this doesn’t men Mobius has no sympathy for him.

On another note it’s the second time the scripts hints at Loki as being young

Loki: I was young (in 1971), and I lost a bet to Thor. Where was the TVA when I was meddling with these affairs of men?

I really wonder if the idea is that Loki is young for Asgard standards.

Anyway Loki points out he doesn’t need Mobius’ sympathy, at which Mobius replies that’s good because he’s running out of it.

And again in itself there’s a problem. Mobius probably sees himself as a good person, because the fact he’s using Loki also means he’s sparing Loki from being pruned but, of course, if he has no use for Loki, this wouldn’t save him any longer.

If sympathy is tied to personal convenience, it’s not really sympathy.

As soon as they caught this Loki Mobius ran there to get him for himself because he thought it would be useful. He could have grown fond and it’s fine because it happens… but the key is still Loki has to be useful to him in order to be kept. So he’s not a really selfless act.

That’s why Mobius is no hero, who selflessly sacrifice for Loki, because he hopes in personal gain and… and it’s absolutely human. Mobius might have studied Loki but he basically just met him. Mobius has his own life. Why should he sacrifice it for Loki?

He’s planning for their allegiance to offer mutual benefits, Loki helps Mobius to wipe another Loki out of existence and Loki gets to live a little longer even though, being a Variant, Loki should have been already disposed of.

Mobius probably feels very kind and the other at the TVA would probably agree with him, because he’s giving a chance to someone who is lesser and has no right to chances and this is how their world work.

But we, viewers should be capable to understand their world works in the wrong way.

Loki: What's this? Next step of your manipulation...

Mobius: This is the final step. Your last chance.

Loki: Oh, and what does my desperate last chance require?

At this point Loki has moved back into keeping distance. He calls what’s Mobius is doing as manipulation and sounds flippant as he talks of his ‘desperate last chance’.

Mobius might have sympathy for him but Loki has likely figured out Mobius wouldn’t save him from the TVA beyond a certain point. The very best Mobius can offer him is to remain there working for the TVA to catch other Lokis, all while wearing a jacket that points out he’s a Variant as well, a cosmic joke.

Maybe Mobius might manage to have him dismiss wearing that jacket. Still, all this is tied to how much useful he can be. Mobius though can’t offer him freedom or a way back home.

Anyway Loki’s last chance is to work, to go over each and every one of the Variant's case files, and then, give him his unique Loki perspective and find something. All this while Mobius goes to eat something and keeping in mind his life depends on him proving to be of some use.

Again we’re reminded that Loki isn’t free to drop this work, he’s forced to cooperate, his life depends on it.

Loki starts looking through the documents which basically cover the various cases in which the Variant ambushed the Minutemen and stole their reset charge, clearly not finding them interesting. A woman hush him and he hush her back.

Loki tries going to the one who seems a librarian… but who’s actually so mechanical she feels more like a robot who can’t stop typing to pay attention to those who call her if they don’t ring at her first.

Loki asks her for more files. No, not files on the case, files pertaining to the creation of the TVA… but they’re all classified. The same goes for files pertaining to the beginning of time and the end of the time.

Exasperated Loki asks which files he can have and he’s handed a handful of them which, merely cover his case as a Variant and the life of his alternate self in the sacred timeline.

Loki reads them anyway and discovers of the destruction of Asgard.

As he does he can’t help but shed a tear for his former planet, before noticing the TVA also noted that during the event there was zero variance energy detected.

This causes him to connect some important dots and so he rushes to join Mobius to the restaurant.

At first Mobius doesn’t want to listen him, claiming he told him not to bother him until he read all the files which Loki claims to have done.

Honestly he didn’t seem particularly interested in them but he might have done it as someone who practices magic should have been good at studying. Mobius insists and Loki points out  what they’re searching isn’t in the files but in the timeline as the Variant is hiding in the apocalypse.

Mobius asks which one and Loki mentions Ragnarok, asking him if he’s familiar to it. And I wonder if Loki wanted an answer to this one question, if he wanted to know if Mobius knew his homeland was wiped away, that this is something the TVA allowed.

Mobius confirms he knows about it and apologizes to him.

Loki pretends not to care and goes on discussing how a Nexus event is the result of someone doing something he’s not supposed to that causes a chain reaction of things that aren’t supposed to happen.

Mobius confirms.

At this point Loki steals the salad Mobius was eating for his example and decides in his metaphor that salad will represent Asgard.

And tell me whatever you want but, as far as I’m involved this is Loki paying back Mobius for letting him to work while he went to eat.

Mobius gets immediately that his lunch is going to meet an abrupt demise but Loki doesn’t let this deter him.

Loki suggests if he were to go on Asgard before Ragnarok he could do whatever he wants, even push Hulk off the Rainbow bridge, and to prove his point, he adds more salt to the salad. He then says he could also set fire to the place. I don’t know what he adds to Mobius’ salad as he says so, maybe pepper, but this is enough to make Mobius beg not to set fire to the place, which I find hilarious. Loki continues to put salt and… pepper? Into Mobius’ salad commenting that he can do whatever he wants without going against the dictates of the timeline.

He then picks up Mobius’ drink only to find it empty so he goes to get the drink from the nearby’s table, Casey’s table. He then pours it into Mobius’ salad, likely making it impossible to eat, explaining how the drink represents Surtur who will destroy Asgard no matter what Loki does so what he does doesn’t matter.

In short, in addition to making his point, Loki let Mobius too without lunch.

Fair since Loki didn’t have lunch at all.

Mobius still doesn’t get it so Loki goes further on explaining if they have an apocalypse of whatever kind it doesn’t matter what one would do in it because everything would get destroyed so the Variant has to be hiding in an apocalypse, doing whatever they want without them noticing.

Mobius is forced to admit it’s not a bad theory and Loki tells him to bring him to an apocalypse and he’ll show him.

Mobius accuses him of wanting to run back to his homeland and Loki says whatever apocalypse will do. Mobius makes clear he’s afraid to bring Loki around and Loki insists they’ve to test his theory. Mobius makes clear he’s afraid Loki would want to test how stabbable is his back.

Loki complains stabbing someone in the back is a boring form of betrayal. Mobius said he has done it 50 times… which is really not much for someone who lived as long as Loki especially since most of those stabbing if not all took place during battle, because Mobius is talking of literal stabbing here, not metaphorical one.

Loki is not really interested in arguing this one though and just says he won’t do it again because it got old which causes Mobius to laugh. Loki insists that he understands Mobius doesn’t trust him but he should trust something else, Loki loves to be right… and this seals the deal.

So the guys are at Pompeii, Italy – 78 AD, though it would be more correct to say they’re at Pompeii, ROMAN EMPIRE – AD 78 or 78 CE.

Eruption day.

While Mobius is absolutely scared they might mess up the timeline Loki is as overexcited like a kid on a sugar rush.

Loki cried reading of the destruction of Asgard but here he seems pretty giddy.

To Mobius scolding him because ‘it’s just not in good taste’ he replies ‘they’re gonna die anyway’.

And in itself is interesting. Mobius said he’s sorry for Asgard destruction, now he worries about ‘good taste’ but in the end he’s not going to do anything to spare those people’s lives.

The dead count will be of over 2.000 a good part of it dying a horrible albeit fast death as they’ll be literally vaporized by the heat of the pyroclastic flow.

In face of so many people about to die Mobius worrying Loki’s behaviour isn’t in good taste feels hypocritical, a mere care for the form, in fact he agrees with Loki it’s ‘cool’ the whole city will be wiped off the planet and his main worry is they shouldn’t create a huge branch.

Anyway, while Mobius insist they should start creating only a very small disturbance, Loki ends up freeing animals and announcing the eruption and the following death of everyone to the people.

Loki making all that chaos feels as if this is way to distance from the apocalypse that hit Asgard. Honestly I don’t think he wanted to go there during Ragnarok if there was nothing he could have done to save it.

However his speech is also an interesting way for Loki to try and pry info from Mobius about the TVA

Loki: ( Speaking latin ) You’re all about to die. That volcano is about to erupt! I would know, because I’m from the future. ( In english ) We are from the future, right? What is the TVA? I mean, it's from the future. It sounds from the future. It's pretty future-y.

Mobius won’t reply to him but the eruption will start right there, the Tempad continuing to sign zero variance energy, proving Loki was right. I wonder if this was also Loki’s way to try and see if an apocalypse could be prevented.

Oh, Loki talks Latin here but I’ve already talked about the language problem in the MCU and how the TVA seems to have a tv series version of Allspeak which, evidently passed to Loki too as he showed he previously couldn’t talk to Mongolian people.

On another note… the eruption, as depicted in the show, is not historically accurate.

Around 1:00 p.m., Mount Vesuvius violently erupted, spewing up a high-altitude column (the column supposedly as high as 30 km) from which ash and pumice began to fall, blanketing the area. Rescues and escapes occurred during this time.

It’s only much later, in the night or during the day after that the pyroclastic flows began and it Pompeei 4 minutes later, murdering everyone there.

The show instead seems to mix up the first eruption with the beginning of the pyroclastic flow (which is the one we see approaching from behind Loki), skipping the fall of ash and pumice.

Of course from a storytelling point of view it works a lot better, so it’s not a big deal and it’s just artistic freedom, it’s just my history lover’s heart which is bleeding.

If you want to enjoy how the eruption looked like there’s a nice video on Youtube “A Day in Pompeii - Full-length animation”.

The switch between Pompeii and back to the TVA feels a little abrupt, as if the Pompeii scene was meant to last more and they cut it.

Anyway they’re back on TVA and Mobius is summarizing Loki’s theory. Loki tells him he’s welcome, which, I take, is Loki’s clue he’d like to be thanked for his contribution. Mobius though is more focused on the mechanics of their new discovery.

He believes for Loki’s theory to hold the disasters have to be naturally-occurring, sudden, no warning, no survivors. So Ragnarok wouldn’t be okay because Loki and Thor triggered it and there were survivors. That is unless the TVA retconned “Thor: Ragnarok”.

Anyway, they decide they’ll have to find out how many of those natural disasters there are… but in the end Loki falls asleep on all the documents they’re checking.

I know there’s a debate if this proves he trusts Mobius or not… but the point is, he just proved himself he was of great help, so Mobius who has shown to have some measures of sympathy toward him despite his strict adherence to the TVA code and that make him capable to disintegrate him should need arise, has really no reason to harm him, quite the opposite.

Also he’s likely quite exhausted, both physically and emotionally otherwise he clearly wouldn’t fall asleep on an uncomfortable position over a stack of papers.

And differently from Mobius he supposedly didn’t even had lunch.

Mobius yawns which shows he’s clearly worn out as well, wakes him and tells him they’re going for a walk. So no bed, they’ll only take a small break.

I take they end up in the TVA version of a cafeteria where Loki asks Mobius about the jet ski magazine. Mobius ends up showing his total love for jet skis.

“Yeah. You know, some things... Actually, most things in history are kinda dumb, and everything gets ruined eventually. But in the early 1990s, for a brief, shining moment, there was a beautiful union of form and function, which we call the jet ski, and a reasonable man cannot differ.”

Actually he sounds like a fanboy, dismissive of everything he doesn’t like and imposing his own likes claiming no one could have a different opinion from him. It’s not a complain, it’s human. I like how the TVA members, despite their dystopian setting and their fanatic faith to the TVA religion have characteristics, both good and bad, that made them human.

However, at Loki’s question if he has ever tried a Jet Ski, Mobius admits he never been on one because if a TVA agent were to show up on a jet ski that would create a branch. It’s a poor excuse since they show up in timelines in their everyday clothes in time periods in which those clothes aren’t appropriate and anyway, who cares since they reset the branches so they could even show up naked and everything would get erased?

In this Mobius is the opposite of Loki, although he too has wishes that make him similar to Loki he doesn’t dare to fulfil them, he completely focuses on his work, he claims to read the magazines because they remind him what he’s fighting for… jet skis appearing in the Sacred Timeline in early 1990s apparently.

Okay, it’s more that he believes if the Sacred Timeline gets destroyed everything would but people who were believing to be heroes like he does would say they would fight for people, not for a beautiful vehicle that could be enjoyed only for a brief amount of time.

Mobius in a way is disconnected by the people on the sacred timeline, maybe because he never met them, he met the Variants, which are considered something to be pruned and nothing more and he actively help in pruning them.

So maybe he can’t work for people, because as soon as those people become variants, bang, they need to be wiped away. I think Mobius would like to be a decent person, I think he doesn’t want to harm people so he keeps distance and blindly swallows the TVA teaching and this discussion further proves it.

Loki asks if he really believes in all the TVA preaches and Mobius replies:

Mobius: I don't get hung up on, "Believe, not believe." I just accept what is.

It reminds me of a discussion he had with Loki in the past episode:

Loki: So that had the Time-Keepers' seal of approval, did it?

Mobius: Well, I wouldn't think of it in terms of approval and disapproval. That's sort of a... Let's get back to escapes...

Mobius just accepts things as they are presented. But why he accepts them?

Loki goes on summarizing how  the TVA’s beliefs are that three magic lizards created the TVA and everyone in it including Mobius, which for Loki is clearly something dumb to believe.

Loki: Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that.

Mobius tries to retort it by turning tables on Loki.

Mobius: Okay, who created you, Loki?

Loki: A Frost Giant of Jotunheim.

Mobius: And who raised you?

Loki: Odin of Asgard.

Mobius: Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars. Frost Giants. Listen to yourself...

Loki: It's not the same. It's completely different. No. It's not the same.

Mobius: It's exactly the same thing.

The HUGE problem in Mobius’ reasoning is that he’s mixing up what Loki has experienced, his skin turning blue, proving he’s a Jotun, living his whole life with Odin, believing him to be his father, with Mobius merely believes as Mobius has no knowledge of what the Time-Keepers are since he never met them and likely doesn’t even remember when he was created or things like that.

Loki believes in what he lived though because he touched and sampled it and, in fact, he had a breakdown when he discovered part of it, the part he had no memory about but embraced out of faith was a lie (Loki couldn’t remember his Jotun heritage or his birth so he accepted what he was told, that Odin and Frigga were his parents). This likely makes even harder for him to accept that Mobius would just blindly believe in something he hadn’t experienced in the slightest.

Mobius had said:

Mobius: I don't get hung up on, "Believe, not believe." I just accept what is.

But at the end of it what motivates him is blind belief.

Mobius: Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real.

The TVA is real because he believes so. It has to be or his own ‘glorious purpose’ would mean nothing. Loki got burned by the truth. Mobius doesn’t want to end up the same, he doesn’t want to think at the absurdity the TVA feds him, he doesn’t want to question if what he does is right or wrong because the truth might disappoint it, it might be ridiculous, in bad taste, like being excited as Pompeii is about to be buried by the volcano.

The TVA is Mobius’ religion, and, to paraphrase Karl Marx faith in the TVA ‘is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.’

But this kind of mindset is also the mindset of whose who represent the ‘banality of evil’ of those who indulge in the capital vice of Acedia, whose who do not care, who do nothing to stop evil empower it and support it.

“...morally speaking, there is no limit to the concern one must feel for the suffering of human beings, that indifference to evil is worse than evil itself, that in a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.” ― Abraham Heschel

And, after all, Mobius works to support it, to support the TVA as they prune/reset countless lives.

There’s something else that’s interesting.

Mobius is supposed to be a lawful character… yet he doesn’t believe existence is order. Existence is chaos. And, in the same way as he’s afraid to try out a jet ski and making excuses for why he doesn’t do so, I think Mobius deep down is scared by chaos. Fascinated by it but scared by it as well. In fact he’ll later says that he believes when it all will end and the Time-Keepers will have finished untangling the timeline all that will emerge will be order.

Loki: Ah, I see. So, when they're finished, what happens then?

Mobius: So are we. No more nexus events. Just order. And we meet in peace at the end of time. Nice, right?

Loki: Only order?

Mobius: Mmm-hmm.

Loki: No chaos? It sounds boring.

Mobius: I'm sure it does to you.

Order is reassuring, it gives people a sense, a purpose, order is explainable. Order follows laws so it’s lawful. But order, like Loki points out, is also boring, predictable.  No bad surprise would come out of it, true, but no good surprise either. No change. No possibility to get worse… but no possibility to get better either. Order is static where chaos is always changing. You need a mixture of both to make a worthy life.

Besides the idea they ‘meet in peace at the end of time’ to me feels more like an attempt to use a different wording to say ‘we’re all dead’ or ‘we’ll be all pruned/reset’. So not particularly encouraging.

But I’m running ahead a bit. When Mobius says Loki that the TVA is real because he believes so, Loki accepts it. For the moment.

Loki: Fair enough. You believe it's real.

And I wonder if, in a way, Loki can understand. Because the chaos, the unpredictable, is what made him discover he wasn’t an Odinson. If he hadn’t questioned Odin’s words, if he hadn’t gone and taken the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hands but just turned his eyes away when his skin turned blue, if, like Mobius said, he hadn’t thought to hard at it, or at how bad Thor could be as a kind, if he just had shrugged everything off and said ‘yeah, I’m sorry Thor will be a poor kind but that’s what meant to be, who cares?’ and ‘yeah, it’s weird my skin turned blue but Odin said I’m his son so who am I to question him?’ he would have spared himself many unpleasant things.

He would be at Asgard, thinking to be Odin’s son, trying to help Thor, who prior to his banning to Earth was completely unfit to rule, not ruin completely the planet. That would be his own glorious purpose. Nothing more.

And while it wouldn’t be a great purpose… well, it would have spared him of a lot of pain so I think Loki can see the charm of it… but at the same time he can see the danger of it. If we’ll blindly follow the rules we give up on our free will.

Loki: So everything is written. Past, present, future. There's no such thing as free will.

Mobius: Well, I mean, you know, it's an oversimplification...

Mobius thinks it’s an oversimplification but it’s not. He’s probably telling himself since he submits to the rules willingly, well, that’s his free will. But we’ve seen that the other option is being reset. The Variants are nothing else but people who didn’t follow the dictation of the Time-keepers, a dictation they didn’t even know existed, but merely followed their free will. And the TVA erases them.

It’s true, the ones that follow the Sacred Timeline, not knowing they’re following the dictation of the Time-keepers, are still, in a way, following their free will, but it’s actually a pretty tricky situation because their options get pruned by the TVA.

People don’t exist in a vacuum. We take decisions according to what happens around us.

Now think to a world in which Odin tells Loki the truth right from the start. This would lead Loki to get very different decisions… only that Odin, if it ever existed, got pruned.

Think to a Thor who’s ready to rule when he’s about to be crowned so that Loki doesn’t have to disrupt the coronation. Well, think twice because that Thor got pruned.

Think to a Frigga who hands the crown to Loki but also sits next to him instead than next to Odin to support him while he’s going through his worst crisis. Pruned again.

Think to the Warriors Three and Sif not attempting to go fetch Thor after he’s banned. Sorry, they got pruned.

Think to Heimdall not allowing Thor to go to Jotunheim. Never mind he got pruned.

Loki made his choices. It was his free will. But his choices were tied to all that happened around him, and since all that happened around him was decided he was channelled toward certain decisions, everything working to make him take such decision.

Actually, each time he tried to take a different decision he too got pruned.

The resulting Loki that inhabits the Sacred Timeline, more than the result of his own free will, is the result of manipulation of the events and TVA selection. Which is kind of creepy.

But okay, it’s interesting how, in a way, Loki tries to connect with Mobius.

Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome as Loki was someone held captive and sentenced to death and then Mobius came in and made clear that Loki’s survival depended on him, maybe it’s just that Mobius showed him some measure of kindness and appreciation and it doesn’t matter if he was being manipulative or not, Loki was so starved for it he fell for it, or he caught up on some similarities between them.

Sure, it can be that by connecting with him he can better use him but I don’t think that’s just it.

Mobius is someone Loki can connect with on an intellectual level, where Thor was just ‘let’s hit things’ and the Warriors Three and Sif were just, let’s do what Thor says.

And after Thor and his friends there were Thanos and the Other and clearly Loki couldn’t connect with them. So it doesn’t matter how screwed up the situation is and how Mobius manipulated Loki in their first meeting and what he told him, fundamentally Mobius is the only one Loki, who’s forced to go around with a jacket saying ‘Variant’ because no one has to forget he’s a cosmic joke, has in that setting.

So yes, it’s VERY screwed up but it makes sense Loki would partially latch on him. It’s human.

On another note I’m not really fond of the idea of Mobius using the French ‘au contraire’ while talking with Loki. Maybe it’s an ad-lib but since there’s already enough mess on how the TVA can talk all the languages and Asgardian somehow don’t have Allspeak, I would have preferred if they hadn’t mixed English and French now. Whatever, maybe that’s just me.

Loki goes on.

Loki: You called me a scared little boy.

Mobius: I called you a lotta things.

I wonder what Mobius means here, if he’s just telling Loki he shouldn’t focus on that (as calling him as such was Mobius’ attempt at showing him sympathy), but Loki nails another relevant topic.

Loki: You did. You're wrong, though. You see, I know something children don't.

Mobius: What's that?

Loki: That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.

It’s interesting it’s coming from Loki because it means, differently from how sometimes Marvel movies seems to depict a world in black and white, Loki could see the shades of grey.

In his family. In the Avengers. In Thanos and the Other. Maybe even in the TVA people. And this means in himself as well.

And we go back to what he said in Ep 1:

Loki: I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline. I don't enjoy hurting people. I... ( Sighs ) I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to.

Mobius: Okay, explain that to me.

Loki: Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.

Mobius: A desperate play for control. You do know yourself.

Loki: A villain. ( Sighs )

He painted himself as a villain, as someone all black, to show as if he was someone in control… in “Thor” when he was in an emotional storm, in “The Avengers” when he actually was working for Thanos.

But if we consider Loki’s words solely for their tie to the present discussion, he’s trying to tell Mobius that the black and white vision Mobius is trying to adopt doesn’t work. If there’s good in bad and bad in good, the perfect world Mobius thinks he can archive doesn’t exist and his glorious purpose is not so glorious.

Nothing is perfect and so no perfect order or perfect chaos can exist and trying to paint things or people black and white as the Time-Keepers are doing and the TVA as well, is a mistake.

Loki’s words though cause Mobius to remember the boy he met in the cathedral before going to Loki’s trial and how he had a candy box left by the Loki Variant. And I’ve always wondered WHY did the Loki Variant left that candy box behind? Is like she’s leaving breadcrumbs for the TVA or someone working with them to track her down.

Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051. While it wouldn’t be easy to track the Variant with just this, the Variant limits the place they’ve to search for them to only 4 years.

On an interesting note although Mobius claimed to know everything about Loki’s life he evidently had no idea if Asgardians had candies or not. So yeah, I think Mobius didn’t exactly knew EVERYTHING about Loki’s life, only what the TVA deemed relevant.

Anyway Mobius decides since they now know the Variant is hiding in an apocalyptic event in which Kablooie are involved they can cross-reference the two things.

Mobius has probably more clearance than Loki as he gets the files and then gives Loki a half, encouraging him to search fast through them by making it a competition… which actually is dumb, because the Variant can only be in one place so only the one who got that file among them can find it, no matter if he’s fast or slow… but whatever, Loki is motivated enough by this because he likes to win.

However, although Mobius asks him if he wants to bet on something, then he demands they’ll play for pride.

Anyway, as Mobius realizes it’s one apocalyptic event after another (all in 5 years) Loki finds what they’re searching for in an apocalyptic event in Alabama, 2050.

This gains him Mobius’ praise as he tells him he’ll take his job if he’s not careful.

I remember reading some interviews suggested Loki and Mobius had a mentor/student type of relation. Well, Mobius definitely feels like the mentor, one who takes care of Loki and teaches him how it works at the TVA, completely not focusing on how Loki was basically kidnapped by the place, doesn’t aim to stay there and people look down at him and is always ready to dispose of him because he’s a Variant… and what’s worse, the Variant of someone who, according to the Time-Keepers is meant to be ‘an evil, lying scourge’.

On the other side… working for the TVA is Loki’s only option to survive in that setting so Mobius likely sees it as Loki having to stop ‘thinking too hard’ and also make the TVA his life. In short he should just be like him and submit to the Time-Keepers.

So yeah, his point of view make sense but… it’s terrible, it’s actually telling people not to resist to wrong conditions but submit to them. It’s the typical mindsetting of a bureaucratic huge corporation or system, where no one matters and everyone obeys without worrying to much about what they’re obeying at.

But back to the story Mobius goes to Renslayer to asks her ‘to approve deployment of a fully-armed task force to the Variant's potential hiding spot’.

By the way said hising spot is in ‘Haven Hills, Alabama, corporate town owned by Roxxcart until it's wiped out by a hurricane’.

The name Roxxcart might remember to who read the comic or watched “Agent Carter” of the Roxxon Corporation, one of the world's largest conglomerates, founded in the 1940s. It also appeared in Marvel “Cloak & Dagger” and “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”, with vague references at it in “Iron Man”, “Iron Man 2”, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Thor's Hammer”, “Iron Man 3” and the MCU comic “The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week”. It’s hard to say if this will be another vague reference or there will be more.

Renslayer is prejudiced against our Loki as she continues to call him a Variant and tries dismissing the whole thing merely because HE suggested it and the other time he ‘blew up’ the previous mission. Which he didn’t but of this I’ve already talked.

Mobius is all happy Loki proved himself useful and his idea to use him was right but Renslayer instead insists on not trusting him, even though he just discovered a huge hole in their security system.

Now, okay, Loki isn’t to be trusted blindly, but Renslayer isn’t really giving a rational reason why this theory, which actually makes a lot of sense and is supported by some evidence Mobius collected, would be wrong. If they’re going to shot down any theory Loki comes up just because he’s Loki then she shouldn’t have even given him to Mobius.

In fact when Mobius point out how Loki HELPED discovering the hole in the security she’s only more worried.

Anyway Mobius is so excited he manages to get her to agree, although she warns him she won’t be able to help him if this doesn’t work out.

They kind of repeat something that was included in the video/commercial of the TVA Miss Minute showed Loki in the previous episode.

Mobius: For all time.

Ravonna Renslayer: Always.

I wonder if this is actually meant to be the TVA catchphrase.

Anyway Mobius leaves Renslayer and we see Loki is out of the room, nervous, waiting for him. He seems quite satisfied when Mobius says they’ve got permission.

Mobius is still all excited… and make a vague promise that amounts to… basically nothing, to Loki.

Mobius: I'm tellin' you. You actually help us catch this Variant, and who knows, my friend.

Loki: What, good enough for a face-to-face with the Time-Keepers?

Mobius: I didn't say that. One step at a time.

Loki: All right. One step at a time.

He actually promises nothing to him, because, as he said, he said nothing. ‘Who knows’ can mean anything, even that after they catch the Variant they’ll prune him, or they’ll merely allow him to live at the TVA, forcing him to work for them. Who knows what ‘who knows’ mean!

Loki tries to have some more solid confirmation and basically gets nothing, which is not very promising.

As far as I’m involved I think Mobius is doing this promise more because he’s trying to keep Loki loyal than because he has something solid to offer to him. In fact he hadn’t bargained with Renslayer for this. Loki is there to catch the Variant, catching the Variant would end their need to use Loki but, as soon as Mobius got permission for the mission he left without insuring if they were to succeed he could keep him.

Does Loki really want to meet the Time-Keepers? What he aims to get from them?

Anyway Mobius is so excited he tries to give knives to Loki.

Enters Hunter B-15, who strongly despise Loki who takes them away from him (I wonder if Loki managed to steal them back unknown to her. I would love if he did). She briefs her men for the mission, which also allows us viewers to get some info and orders them to prune Loki at sight. Clearly she doesn’t even believe in putting him to that mock trials the TVA offers to its captive Variants.

Loki makes present they should preferably prune the bad Loki, not him and then the scene moves to Haven Hills and I love how this time they had introduced it not by writing it on the screen but by showing us a sign saying we’re in Haven Hills, Alabama… before having it destroyed.

I really love this scene.

The TVA arrives at Roxxcart and they’ve the good sense to open their Timedoors outside of it.

It’s interesting how Loki looks up at the storming sky. I wonder if he’s searching for thunders (we saw one hitting the ground before the TVA appeared) as a way to check if Thor is around, even though it’s clear Thor wouldn’t cause such destruction.

To Hunter B-15’s surprise Loki uses his magic to dry up, which somehow seems to make her even more suspicious of him. Because yeah, drying yourself is such a sinister act.

Mobius would like to go with Loki at the Green House but Hunter B-15 forbids it, wanting to part them. Mobius has to go with Hunter D-90 while Loki has to stay with her.

And I’ve the personal suspicion that’s because she hopes in a not to obvious chance to prune him too away from Mobius’ eyes.

B-15 tells Mobius if he’s not fine with it, he can go argue with Renslayer about it.

It’s interesting how they’re arguing. I wonder if Hunters and Analysts actually form two different and opposite classes in TVA who argue against each other despite a poster depicting them as working together.

Anyway Loki gets in between and tells Mobius it’s fine, that he can trust him and that he’ll understand trust has to be gained so he’ll gain it.

Honestly the way Loki puts it makes him even more suspicious for me, but I wonder if the key is it has to work for B-15.

Mobius complains about how is always the people you can’t trust that tell you ‘trust me’. Well, the people you trust wouldn’t need to ask you your trust so they won’t tell it to you.

Mobius though at this surrender as well, he’s so excited to get the Variant he doesn’t consider he could ask to stay with B-15 as well, or that he could say B-15 is asking this because she wants to try to harm Loki. He just let the issue go after a jab about how the past time B-15 ended up wearing the Time Collar.

Meanwhile the Loki Variant has noticed they’re in thanks to all the cameras in the place, as if they were waiting for the TVA. Again I wonder if the Loki Variant has someone supporting them in the TVA because they seem to know too much, later they’ll even show knowing the other Loki was brought in by the TVA to capture them.

We see the Loki Variant leaving down a tempad on which there’s a countdown that’s at 20 minutes.

Back to Loki he’s in the greenhouse with B-15, trying to chat with her… which could be a genuine attempt at communication or an attempt at warning the Variant they’re there. I’m not sure on which side Loki is… but I wonder if his goal is to stall things.

He might suspect if they get the Variant he’ll be disposed off so his aim might be to show he’s useful but also to stall the capture of the Variant. This might be what he was trying to do in the previous mission as well. So it’s not exactly he’s trying to help the Variant, he’s trying to gain time for himself.

B-15 doesn’t feel like talking with him but then they find a guy who claims to be shopping for plants despite the hurricane.

B-15 asks Loki if the guy could be him and Loki points out he ‘probably would have worn a suit, but, yes, maybe’, hinting at how Loki cares about how he looks.

B-15 gets too close to the guy who manages to grab her. We see some green magic pass to B-15 and then the guy faints. Loki asks if he’s dead but ‘B-15’ tells him ‘they usually survive’, making clear she’s no more B-15 but the Variant possessing her, who also recognizes Loki for who he is:

“So, you're the fool the TVA brought in to hunt me down.”

As I said this sentence gives me the feeling the Variant knew the TVA brought him someone to hunt them, in short they’ve inside intel about the TVA and I would love to know how.

Now possessing B-15 is a good move as she’s a good fighter with a weapon in her hands and this also leaves Loki on her own.

Loki recognizes the speaker for what they are, the Loki Variant possessing B-15, in short himself.

The Variant points out:

“Please. If anyone's anyone, you're me.”

Implying the Variant saw themselves as the better/original Loki version.

Wunmi Mosaku does a good work at playing the Loki Variant here, really.

Back in the shelter people is clearly in deep distress and a guy thinks the TVA is there to help them.

I think Mobius is torn, a side of him would just search for the Variant, the other is being affected by the situation but he tries to suppress it.

D-90 instead doesn’t care and pushes the man away as if he didn’t even exist. Which he doesn’t for him.

Mobius: What are you doing? Hey! These people are scared.

Hunter D-90: They're about to die. They should be scared.

Mobius: Okay. Not of us.

Even though those people aren’t Variants as they’re going to die the TVA doesn’t acknowledge them right. Like the Loki Variant they don’t care what they do because everything will be erased, either by a reset charge or by the apocalypse.

Mobius doesn’t like this… but again it’s not like he’s trying to save those people, he’ll let them die because the Time-Keepers dictate so.

Hunters in the TVA are somehow all jerks. Again they would work well as stand in for police brutality but I don’t know if the series wants to go this way.

Mobius and D-90 are interrupted when a Minuteman informs them they had found a tied C-20 who’s in state of shock and repeating over and over ‘it’s real’.

So C-20’s role isn’t to be a bait, I think it’s possible the Variant wants to use her to deliver a message to the TVA.

Back to Loki he comments on the spell used.

“Enchantment is a clever trick. Cowardly, a bit amateur-ish, but clever.”

The fact enchantment was used seems to be a nod to how the Variant might be Sylvie Lushton, who also went under the alias of enchantress.

In the comics Sylvie is not the original enchantress, that one was Amora, sister of Lorelei who appeared in “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”. Sylvie was supposedly a human created by Loki who also gave her her magical powers.  Although she has no training she has amazing magical powers and moved from wanting to be an Avenger to trying to become a Villain.

We’ll see what this Variant will turn out to be.

Anyway the Variant blames Loki of being the coward one because he works for the TVA. She mocks this asking him if he really believes that, which he confirms so she dismisses him:

Hunter B-15 (possessed): ( The variant chuckles ) And here I was worried that they'd found a better version of me.

And this again seems to imply the Variant KNEW the TVA got themselves a Loki but who told them? They just discovered it at the fair?

A person, Randy, appear and B-15 touches him then faint. Loki almost hurries to help her before realizing what had happened.

Well, the Variant could have disintegrate Randy instead she preferred to transfer themselves into him. This is interesting because it seems although they’ve no hesitation in killing TVA people they’re against harming normal people.

Loki still go to check B-15… or can it be he placed something in one of her pockets? Like a message for Mobius? Loki touches his jacket before bending down on B-15 and this time we don’t see what he touches as she’s cut off the screen which is odd.

The Variant thinks he’s trying to search a transmitting device to call the others for help. Loki tails the Variant, challenging them to face him and then explaining how he had gained the TVA confidence.

The Variant is not that much impressed but they continue to give Loki their back. Not that it matter as that back isn’t really the Variant’s back.

Loki explains his plan… which I don’t know if it’s really his plan or a trick.

Loki: I'm going to overthrow the Time-Keepers. And, uh, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant.

It’s relevant how Loki, talking with the Variant, uses a more polite and Asgard like language.

The Variant is clearly not interested in working for Loki but what hits me is that they don’t want to be called ‘Loki’ which could be because they aren’t Loki after all.

Loki: What say you... Loki?

Randy (possessed): Ugh. Don't call me that. You can call me... Randy.

I love how this meeting helps Loki to realize why Thor found these techniques annoying.

Loki: God. Now I understand why Thor found this so annoying.

Loki claims he has helped the Variant at the fair so yes, apparently he has played that risky bet back then for a reason. I really would love to know which game Loki is playing.

Loki: Listen. Enough with your games. I've been trying to help you. I kept them vulnerable at the Renaissance Fair for some time.

The Variant still isn’t interested in joining him as they don’t care about ruling the TVA.

We see that there are Time charges placed all around, partially hidden from sight which don’t promise anything good and someone, likely the Variant, is tweaking with them while ‘Randy’ keeps Loki distracted. So yes, this Variant too is good at stalling.

C-20 is still babbling, while Mobius tries to get something out of her.

D-90 just waves her off saying she’s off the dial and showing a worrying lack of a care for a companion.

Although C-20 says she wants to go home when Mobius offers to send them back she says she can’t as she gave away the position of the Time-Keepers.

Oh, so C-20 knew it? Did she, differently from Mobius met them?

D-90 tries to contact B-15 causing her to wake up.

Loki tries to get what the Variant wants but the Variant refuses to explain themselves saying Loki is too late. Loki counters he’s ahead as he found the Variant’s hiding place, then notices the Time charges and thinks the Variant lead them there to blow the place up.

As he turns his gaze Randy has disappeared and the Variant has possessed a big guy who starts beating Loki. Loki is not really fighting back. Are possessed people really so powerful or Loki is trying to pass himself for weak?

Anyway, after pointing out:

Loki: I would never treat me like this.

Which might be our clue the Variant isn’t really a Loki but someone pretending to be one, Loki starts more actively to try to avoid blows and even use his magic to get something he can use as shield.

The Variant’s language is nowhere near as polite as Loki and the possessed guy manages to send Loki on the ground. The idea of a toy dachshund bumping against him is cute.

B-15 manages to find Mobius and she’s forced to confess she lost Loki. Likely she thinks it’s due to Loki but doesn’t know how to explain it while D-90 just says  Mobius’ favourite Loki betrayed him as they run to search for him.

The possessed guy is using another tempad connecting it to another mechanism. Although Loki couldn’t move he hadn’t tried to kill him and now Loki wakes up and demands to know what the Variants wants from him and what is this about. He’s clearly angry.

The possessed guy stands up and then tells him to brace himself before fainting, a sign the Variant isn’t possessing him anymore.

A recording keeps on repeating Loki’s last two sentences ‘What do you want from me? What is this about?’.

I’m not sure why the Variant would record those two sentences and play them over unless we’re to assume they’re actually only playing in Loki’s head.

The Variant appears, removes their hood to reveal it hid a blond woman face then in an unfriendly tone she states:

“This isn't about you.”

Loki’s surprise lasts only few seconds before he says ‘right’.

Meanwhile the countdown has reached 0, the light shot down, the time charges, tons of them, turn on but then below them timedoors appear, sending them away.

Mobius notices what’s going on and worries about where the Time charges are going.

Back at the TVA we assist to the sudden formation of LOTS of branches. The Analysts come to the conclusion someone ‘bombed’ the Sacred Timeline.

Renslayer, who has a hunter helmet that starts with A-25… which might mean she was one of the first hunters of the place, grabs her weapon as Minuteman spun to action.

Loki sees the Variant grabbing the Tempad again and using it to open a human size timedoor as she watches him. She waves at him the way he did at the Hulk when he went on the lift and goes through the Timedoor. Loki considers following but stalls for a moment. Mobius is running there, telling him to wait. Loki sees him but decides to go through the timedoor anyway and, as he does the timedoor disappears, leaving Mobius and the hunters outside.

The episode ends here.

People had been wondering what was Loki thinking when he went through the Timedoor and Tom Hiddleston explained it in an interview:

There's a very big moment at the end where Loki steps through that portal. From your perspective what is going through Loki's mind when he looks back at Mobius and then decides to go through the door anyway? Is he feeling any remorse there at all?

I think certainly there's conflict. I think he… you know, Mobius is someone who, perhaps for the first time in his life, he thinks he might be able to trust, and perhaps trusts him, and he doesn't want to betray that trust, but at the same time he has to go and see what that's what's going on, he has to do that. I think it was he can't help himself but follow… uh… because it's too strange and to, you know, provoke so much curiosity within him. So there is a huge conflict there, he thinks “I probably shouldn't do this, maybe there can be repercussions down the line, but I have to see what that's about”. ['Loki' - Tom Hiddleston & Owen Wilson Talk Ep 2 Twist! _ TVLine Interview]

Now this might be not the full truth because Tom might have been forced to withhold information in order not to give away the plot of future episodes but it’s worth considering it.

Undoubtedly following the other Loki is a risk. It’s clear the other is challenging him to follow… and he knows next to nothing about the other Loki so, if the TVA is bad for him, the other Loki could be worse and he might be trading a bad place for a pure hell. Who says the other Loki doesn’t work for Thanos for example?

In the TVA he has Mobius as some sort of interested ally, with the other Loki he has no one. You know, "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know". At the same time it makes sense he wants to try following the other Loki because he’s not the type to stagnate and remain there. He has to see, he has to try. Where Mobius wouldn’t risk, Loki does. I hope for him the bet will be worth it.

Last but not least it’s worth to mention in the ending theme they’ve replaced two photos of Loki with one of the Loki Variant and another with just a different image of Loki with the TVA jacket.

So anyway we’ve gotten to the end of it. I still wonder if the Loki Variant as an insider in the TVA passing her info and if she’s really a Loki or she just pretends to be. How she came to make all this big plan? Why she had looked like she wanted Loki to tail her?

We’ll see.

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 10: The Flower Who Bloomed in April

Sehun’s POV

Once upon a time, in a year I can’t remember, Lei wrote a note for my birthday that claimed, “All flowers bloom in April.” I guess I’m somewhat inclined to agree. That idea breaks through all of my thoughts and colors them a faint pink whenever winter melts into spring and all of nature seems to celebrate us. 

I was considering that old note while pulling my car into the driveway of Lei’s house, which was too big for just her and her mother. 

“What is this place?” Chanyeol asked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

Aware that he wouldn’t rest until he received an answer, I said, “It’s Lei’s house,” and braced myself for his predictable (but still annoying) jokes. 

Chanyeol almost laughed, and he reached over to ruffle my hair like I was a child. “I should have known that you’d have to visit your little girlfriend!”

The tips of my ears burned as I gnawed on my cheek. I didn’t say anything at first. After the incident at the SM Town concert when I made Lei cry, I decided to just let Chanyeol say whatever he wanted as long as she couldn’t hear. I decided not to waste my energy arguing with him. 

I swallowed the uncomfortable lump in my throat. “I told you to drive yourself to your little fling’s house if you didn’t want to make stops.” 

Chanyeol watched me grab the small gift box— which I asked Junmyeon to wrap— from the center console. I watched the smirk curl his lips with the realization, “Oh! It’s the princess’s birthday!” He cheered like he cared. “How old is she now?” 

When I didn’t dignify him with a response as I forced the box into the pocket of my loose jeans, Chanyeol started to count the years aloud. “Okay, so if you’re turning 23 in two days, that must mean—” 

“Eighteen,” I spoke flatly. “Lei is eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Chanyeol repeated in a low whistle. “That’s crazy! You know, if we were in America, she would officially be an adult now.” 

I squirmed in my seat. “Well, we’re not in America,” I reminded him. I told his obnoxious skeptical expression, “And it doesn’t matter how old she is. I’m not holding my breath until she’s an adult because, like I’ve told you a thousand times, we’re just friends.” 

I almost said, “We’ll always be just friends,” but it didn’t seem like the right thing to say. Always— never— those words didn’t sound right about Lei except to say that I would always want to be good to her. 

“I really don’t understand you.” Chanyeol drummed his fingers on the center console. “Doesn’t it kinda annoy you that there is only one girl who hasn’t been deterred by your resting bitch face—” I narrowed my eyes, and Chanyeol nodded— “yeah, that one!”

I rolled my eyes. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that the only girl you’ve never run from— the only girl you’ve ever loved— is too young to be, like, your soulmate or something?” 

“No,” I answered honestly, “because I don’t believe in soulmates.” 

Probably because I didn’t deny loving Lei, Chanyeol’s jaw dropped. Once I believed that love is just wanting what’s best for someone, it wasn’t hard to admit that I loved Lei. I decided that it would be a shame to allow Chanyeol’s jokes or misunderstandings to pervert something so wholesome. 

Although it wasn’t any of his business, I explained, “I’m not here to celebrate Lei’s passage into American adulthood or whatever the hell you’re thinking. Her Mom is still managing Super Junior’s tour abroad, so I promised Donghae that I wouldn’t let her be lonely all day.” 

“What, so you’re gonna invite her to tag along with us again?” Almost a decade had passed since I took Lei to the Sanrio store for her tenth birthday, but Chanyeol clung to his grudge against us as if we left him alone in the arcade just yesterday. 

I frowned at his childishness. “I doubt that Lei wants to waste her birthday by tagging along on our two-hour drive to your fling’s apartment. I’m just gonna give her a gift—”

“A kiss?” Chanyeol puckered his lips and made disgustingly exaggerated smacking sounds. He laughed while dodging my half-hearted attempt to swat at him. 

I didn’t tell Chanyeol that I had gotten Lei a cherry blossom charm because then I would have had to tell him about the charm bracelet I got for her debut, and then he would joke about that too. I wasn’t a sensitive sort of guy— not usually, anyway— but I liked to avoid as many Lei jokes as possible. 

I continued, “After I give her the gift, I’ll come right back out. Then I’ll drop you off at what’s-her-name’s place, and—”

“You should stick around,” Chanyeol urged for the thousandth time. “My girl has a friend, and—”

For the thousandth time, I responded, “I’m not interested.” 

Chanyeol knew that I was opposed to dating even in the most casual sense of the word, yet he kept encouraging me to meet people who I didn’t want to meet. He kept encouraging me to kiss people I didn’t want to kiss— people who I could probably never develop any real attachment to— people who could probably never develop any real attachment to me. No matter how many times I swore that I wasn’t lonely— and even if I was, shallow physical relationships would fail to fill any void— he didn’t get I didn’t want to open myself up to women who would only ever be strangers. 

Maybe I wasn’t opposed to falling in love with somebody who knew me and accepted me, but I was opposed to taking that first step into the unknown. Furthermore, I knew that I wouldn’t find my soulmate— if such a person existed despite my disbelief— through Chanyeol’s hookups. 

Don’t misunderstand. I didn’t care that Chanyeol and others tried to fill their voids with people. It’s up to others to behave and experience life as they see fit. It’s not my place to determine whether their relationships are truly fulfilling. It’s just— I knew that kind of thing wasn’t for me. I had never experienced love at first sight, and I doubted very much whether it existed, and it was always clear to me that if I were ever to ‘find love’ — well, love would have to find me because I would never look first, especially not with everyone watching. 

“I’m tired,” I said, and it wasn’t technically a lie, “so as soon as I drop you off, I’m going home.” 

“Whatever.” Chanyeol shrugged. “If you ask me—”

Figuring that he, like Junmyeon, would try to impress upon me the importance of companionship, I said, “I’m not.” 

Chanyeol continued anyway. “This is all a waste of time. I doubt that kid—” he was referring to Lei— “is lonely. I bet that boy with the big head—” he was referring to Lucas— “is in that giant ass mansion with her, eating cake, watching cartoons, or making out on the couch since the Super Junior dudes aren’t around to scare them apart.”

With his words, Chanyeol painted a vivid picture that I couldn’t quite erase from my mind. My stomach turned with my failed efforts, so I reminded myself aloud, “They’re just friends.” 

“Believe what you want,” Chanyeol scoffed, “but something is going on. How else is our little princess wrapping him and you and who knows who else around her finger?” 

“Just shut up and wait here.” I jumped out of my seat and slammed the door behind me before Chanyeol could say anything else to convince me to punch his face. 

He rolled his window down to yell, “Jealousy is not becoming, Sehun!” 

For the sake of preserving our friendship, I pretended not to hear him as I climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. After minutes passed with no response, I figured that Lei had gone out with some friends. Although she claimed Lucas as the only cure for her loneliness, she had surged in popularity among other idols, so she could have been out with anybody. Pushing through my disappointment, I reached for my phone to text her and arrange some other time to meet— probably on my birthday. 

Then, before I could press send, her voice beckoned from the other side of the door, “It’s open! Come in!” 

She didn’t even ask me to identify myself. What if I was some crazed fan? Because it was her birthday, I suppressed my worry with the reminder that I wasn’t a crazed fan. I wasn’t a stranger. There was no real harm in trusting me. 

Still, if she was going to be irresponsible while her Mom and Super Junior were away, I would have to appoint myself as her protector. I would have to drive by to check on her every day until their return; the daily check-in texts would do little to prevent her from inviting strangers into the house.

Nothing in Lei’s tone— except for the giggles, I realize in hindsight— prepared me for what I found behind the door. On the white couch, as if positioned to greet anyone who entered with a scene from nightmares, Lei was pinned under Lucas while SpongeBob played on the widescreen television. I tried to fix my gaze on the scattered cupcake wrappers on the coffee table, but I couldn’t. The scene wouldn’t have been so revolting if a.) Chanyeol hadn’t predicted it, b.) Lucas hadn’t been shirtless, and c.) Lei hadn’t been too busy giving Lucas her brightest smile to notice me, frowning in the doorway. 

Maybe it’s best that she didn’t catch me staring at them. Maybe it’s best that she didn’t notice me until I regained my outward composure. 

Once I realized that I was witnessing the last thing I ever wanted to see— what I was afraid happened behind closed doors— my heavy gaze crashed somewhere around my feet. In the reflective hardwood floor, I met my own downcast expression. Although I wanted nothing more than to forget how I looked in that moment, I couldn’t turn my head or raise my eyes without confronting the fear— the reality— of seeing Lei so close to, so engrossed with someone who—

Someone who wasn’t me.

My stomach lurched so violently with that thought that I gagged. I rushed to pack that thought, which was too jealous, selfish, embarrassing, and inappropriate to embrace, into a box in a dark corner of my mind where I could never find it again. The problem was that no matter how I tried to avoid that dark corner, I always wandered there with my eyes closed. The thought was strong enough to escape from its box, and it was smart enough to find me, and it was quick enough to chase me, and I was stupid enough to keep running long after it caught me. 

I thought that my burning face, which must have been red, could have been cooled by the spring breeze. I thought that I would stop falling— I would stop sinking if I didn’t have to stand in the same room as their laughter. I would have bolted out of the house and away from the spiraling emotions that I never, never expected to experience, but I was paralyzed by Lei’s giggles filling the static air. I was numb with the desire to hear them still, even when I wasn’t the cause. Even when I needed to, I couldn’t walk away. 

For a second, I think, my heart stopped. Once it started pounding again, I found the voice to ask, “What’s going on here?” It was lucky that anger— not whatever sadness nagged from that dark corner of my mind— was the primary emotion in my voice. At least, that’s what I told myself. 

They stared at me with identical slackjawed, wide-eyed expressions, and I had to roll my eyes because the only alternative was to cry or something. I didn’t cry. 

“Hey, Sehun!” Lei turned her smile to me, and I eagerly accepted what I couldn’t return until she hissed, “Get off, Lucas! Don’t you have any idea how bad this looks?”

Was it right to be proud of her for abandoning her laughter for the warning scowl that darkened her features? Was I proud of being the person who, by my voice or presence, forced that distance between her and others— even people like Lucas who I knew were good? Even when I reminded myself that I was just protecting her, I was stiff with guilt. It was my first time feeling that way. I didn’t like it. 

“I don’t care how it looks!” Lucas transformed into a little kid when he pouted. He almost looked like Lei used to look. “Just lay still, and let me finish—”

“She said to get off,” I growled at Lucas, knowing that he wasn’t trying to cross inappropriate boundaries. He was completely innocent— almost to the point of stupidity— and I was perverting the situation by assuming the worst. 

Lucas didn’t argue with me, though. He didn’t assert himself. He raised his hands in surrender, mouth falling open, and that’s when I saw that he was holding a black marker. That’s when I realized that I hadn’t interrupted any romantic moment. It was all a misunderstanding. 

So why didn’t I feel better? Was the thought, the misunderstanding, the imagination that Lei had been close to somebody else terrible enough to ruin the day? 

Lucas climbed off of her and stood straight as if to boast the handwriting (which I recognized as Lei’s) sprawled across his chest reading: LEICAS 4 EVA. Leicas— the word fans used to refer to their friendship and alleged romantic attraction. How foolish to make light of such rumors that could damage their reputations. 

When Lei stood next to Lucas, I saw not only a tattoo identical to Lucas’s on her stomach, exposed under her white cropped shirt. Bright tattoos marked every inch of skin on her arms, legs, and even on much of her face. On one cheek was a sparkling silver heart drawn around the name Baek, penned by Baekhyun, no doubt. On the other was a larger, sloppier heart drawn around the name Ten. How childish. 

As if attracted to the chance to deepen my scowl, Chanyeol barreled through the door. “Sehun, you promised you’d be right back! You said—” He fell silent at the sight of Lei. “What the hell happened to you, Princess?”

A blush broke out across the bridge of her nose as she scratched at the back of her neck. “Minseokie bought temporary tattoo markers and handed them out to all of the party guests so they could give me tattoos for my birthday! Apparently, he saw something in a movie, and—”

I blurted, “What the hell kind of movies is Minseok watching?” 

And Chanyeol blurted, “Party guests?” 

And Lucas told him, “Everyone’s out by the pool! Lei turns eighteen today!”

Chanyeol turned to me with a sick smirk as he repeated, “Eighteen, huh?”

I would have glared at him had I been able to tear my eyes away from Lei. Even while I glared at every mark on her body, I knew that the rage fuelling my every thought was an overreaction. I knew that I shouldn’t have wanted to scold Minseok for encouraging Baekhyun, Ten, Lucas, and everyone else at the party to make their mark on Lei. 

“Come here!” Chanyeol called her toward us, holding his hand out for Lucas to give him the marker. 

Because Lei and Lucas were foolish enough to obey, I had to intervene before Chanyeol could join the trend of writing on her. He probably would have written some insult on her skin for everyone to see, so I didn’t feel bad about snatching the marker and stuffing it into my pocket. “She’s a girl, not a piece of paper.”

“Come on, Sehun!” Chanyeol whined at my reaction before another smirk twisted his lips. “You’ll get your turn to mark the birthday girl!”

Lucas’s jaw dropped, and Lei grimaced, and I would have yelled at Chanyeol myself if Lei hadn’t beat me to it. 

“Way to make it pervy, Chanyeol!” She rolled her eyes at him as she crossed her arms. When she rounded on her bare heels, deliberately whipping her ponytail, I caught the bright pink lettering on her shoulder reading, quite simply, “Yuta’s.” Something about that made my blood boil. 

“Hey!” Kyungsoo’s deep voice preceded him. He stomped into the living room carrying a tray of uncooked meat and pointed his glare at me and Chanyeol. “Who invited you two?”

While I wondered just how many boys lurked around Lei’s house, Chanyeol retorted, “Well, it wasn’t you, Minseok, or Baekhyun!”

Kyungsoo didn’t bat an eyelash at Chanyeol’s harsh tone. Grinning faintly as he met Lei’s eyes, he shrugged. “Nobody ever invites Baekhyun, but he somehow manages to crash every party.”

Although nobody was looking at him, let alone talking to him, Lucas lowered his sunglasses over his eyes and chirped, “I like Baekhyun!”

“Anyway—” Kyungsoo resumed glaring at me and Chanyeol after smiling at Lucas— “I’m not going to allow you two to ruin the perfect pool party that Minseok and I planned for months at Manager Kim’s request!”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed at Kyungsoo. “Well, we didn’t want to come to this stupid party anyway! Come on, Sehun!” He wrapped his hand around my arm and tried to pull me out the door that he left open, but I wouldn’t budge. 

Tugging out of Chanyeol’s grip, momentarily forcing myself to pretend that others weren’t watching, I met Lei’s gaze head-on and said, “I didn’t mean to crash your party. I only wanted to tell you happy birthday. I didn’t mean—”

I didn’t mean to slip into a fight, but I didn’t say that. 

“I didn’t know—”

When I pulled into the driveway, I didn’t know that I was walking into a situation where I would have to compete with Lucas and Baekhyun and Ten and Minseok and Kyungsoo and Yuta and who knows who else for her attention. Obviously, I didn’t say that either. 

Chewing on my tongue, burning under everyone’s stares, I wheezed, “I’m sorry.” That was all I said those days. It never got easier. 

Tugging at the ribbon in her hair, Lei said, “It’s okay, Sehun,” even though it wasn’t— even though my apology was incoherent. She tried to bite her smile as she said, “You can stay if you’re not busy.” I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t smile at me if she wanted to. 

I would have dropped everything, said anything, done anything to inspire her to give me the smile that always used to be mine, but Chanyeol tried to speak on my behalf again. 

Hands on his hips and thoroughly unapologetic, Chanyeol said, “Sorry to break it to ya, Princess, but your Prince Charming promised to drive me across town to meet up with my girl.” 

“Your girl?” Kyungsoo and Lucas parroted. Lucas spoke with an open-mouthed grin, and (beneath his sunglasses) hearts probably gathered in his eyes. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo spoke through a tense frown, eyes devoid of everything but sheer annoyance. 

For the first time I could remember, Lei was the first to look away. “Hey,” I said so quietly that nobody else in the room noticed. Lei heard, though, and she looked up instantly despite the distance between us. I said, “Don’t worry. I only make cross-town trips for true love.” 

Her smile inspired my own even after Chanyeol focused his glare on me. I tossed my keys to him. “Feel free to take my car or call an Uber or something.” 

“Are you serious?” He gawked at me when I nodded my head. “You’re staying? Just because she asked you to?”

Meeting Lei’s smile, I reasoned, “It’s her birthday,” but I knew that I would have done anything she asked any day of the year. Maybe that wasn’t how things had always been— or maybe it was— but I decided once and for all that I would be responsible for as many smiles as possible from then on.

As if he heard my silent vow, Chanyeol shook his head before shouting, “Well, I’m not staying!” He slammed the door on his way out. 

When Lei winced at the sound, Lucas threw a protective arm around her shoulders. Watching her lean into his embrace, I wondered if she would have been comfortable enough to lean on me if I were the one standing by her side. Knowing that I would never reach out to her first, I tried to comfort her from afar by reminding her that she didn’t have to care about Chanyeol’s outburst. 

I didn’t get the chance to say anything. Kyungsoo filled the silence. “If you’re going to stay, Sehun, do me a favor. Grab the other tray off the kitchen counter. And Lei—” his entire face changed— brightened— when he said her name. I wondered if I ever looked that happy when I said it. “Can you grab the cup of sliced watermelon and give it to Mark?”

Stepping out of Lucas’s embrace, Lei winked at Kyungsoo and saluted him. “You got it, Soo!”

Because he was usually opposed to being called anything other than Kyungsoo or D.O., I almost expected him to correct her or at least tell her not to wink at him. He didn’t. Kyungsoo winked back at her. “Lucas, can you come open the back door for me?”

Lucas ran to help Kyungsoo, and I followed Lei as she skipped into the kitchen. She spun behind the counter, grabbed the clear plastic cup containing sliced watermelon, and— after popping a piece into her mouth— caught me staring at her. Eyes widening, she held the cup out to me and offered through her mouthful, “Want one?”

I shook my head, and she shrugged, giggling, “Your loss, Sehun!”

She was set to dash out the back door, but she stopped when I asked, “Why don’t I have a nickname?”

“What?” She blinked at me, smile fading until I grinned at her. With my encouragement, she smiled that genuine smile that deepened her laugh lines and wrinkled her eyes. 

“You call Minseok ‘Minseokie,’ Kyungsoo ‘Soo,’ and Baekhyun—” I pointed to the silver heart on her cheek— “‘Baek.’ So why am I just plain old Sehun?”

“I dunno.” She furrowed her brow and looked up at me. “What do you want me to call you?”

I mimicked her tone. “I dunno. I can’t come up with my own nickname, Lei.”

She pointed out, “You don’t call me by any nickname either. Chanyeol calls me ‘kid,’ and ‘princess,’ but you’ve always called me Lei.”

As if she didn’t know, I told her, “Chanyeol calls you those things just to be an asshole.” 

She playfully gasped, “Language, Sehun!” She swatted at me and laughed when I cried out in exaggerated pain. 

To get our conversation back on track, I said, “Everyone else calls you Lei.”

She said, “Well, you’re not everyone else to me, Sehun,” with such an emphasis on my name that I swear I felt it all at once— every emotion she ever spent on me. To this day, I haven’t stopped feeling it. 

Trying to distract myself, I reached for the other tray that Kyungsoo piled high with meat. I tried not to cringe when I confessed, “I’ll always call you Lei because it’s the prettiest name I’ve ever heard.” And while she was busy gawking at me, I took the chance to run away in the futile hope of escaping further embarrassment. 

I have always regretted leaving Lei alone in the kitchen because of how nearly impossible it was to get her attention outside where NCT boys seemed to multiply by the second. After dropping the tray off with Kyungsoo, who manned the grill while wearing a novelty apron whose punchline made no sense, I sat back in a lounge chair under an orange umbrella and tried to calm the weird palpitations in my chest. 

From that chair, I watched Minseok make his rounds around the pool with a handheld camcorder. A smile grew on his face when we locked eyes, and he almost tackled one of the NCT kids— Taeyong, I think— on his way over to me. 

Holding the camera just inches from my face, he asked, “Is there anything you wanna say to the birthday girl?”

I stuttered, “Um— happy birthday— Minseok, what are you doing?”

“I’m immortalizing the best pool party ever!” He whirled around to capture footage of Johnny leaping off of the diving board. “Oh, look!” He whirled around again to record Lei walking out of the house, cup of watermelon in hand. “Here comes the birthday girl!”

Her surprised expression was short-lived. Her free hand waved to the camera as she asked, “Aren’t you hot, Sehun?”

As a matter of fact, even when shielded by the umbrella, I was in danger of sweating to death. Still, I politely shook my head. “I’m fine, birthday girl.” 

“You’re supposed to always call me Lei, remember?” Lei teased, and — of course— Minseok cackled as he filmed my resulting blush. “Seriously, Sehun, if you’re hot, you can borrow some swim trunks from Lucas’s room and jump in the pool.”

I repeated, “Lucas’s room?” but Lei didn’t respond, and Minseok didn’t film my stunned reaction because he was too focused on the boy who approached Lei. 

“Whatcha doing there, Ten?” She took a cautious step away from him, and he batted his eyelashes as he smiled at her. 

“Turn around, Lei,” he bossed. “I wanna give you another tattoo.” 

Her bangs fell into her eyes when she shook her head. Cupping her cheek, she replied, “I think you gave me enough of a token to remember this day by, thanks.” 

Minseok, Ten, and I snorted. 

“I’m being serious this time,” Ten swore, smile melting into an earnest expression that almost anyone would fall for. “Turn around, and I’ll give you a serious tattoo.”

Lei rubbed the base of ner neck and averted her gaze from him. She said nothing until I urged, seeing that curious spark in her eyes, “Go for it.” She and Ten turned to face me, and I promised, “If he draws something stupid, I’ll mark it out.”

Ten brandished a glittering sky blue marker, and Lei turned her back to him with a weary sigh. “If you draw something stupid, Ten, I’ll kick your ass.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ten grabbed Lei by the waist to pull her closer. When he glanced over at me and caught my cautionary scowl, he smirked. “You and your boyfriend have me absolutely terrified, Lei. I’ll be a good boy.”

“Boyfriend?” Lei repeated in a gasp. She looked back at Ten, followed his gaze to me, and went pink in the face. “Oh.” A tiny smile played on her lips after she looked away from me. She never reacted that way when people mistook Lucas for her boyfriend. “Get your facts straight, Ten. Sehun is my Guardian Angel. Don’t taint our pure loving friendship with your filthy mind.”

Minseok repeated, “Guardian Angel,” looking to me for a reaction. I shrugged and looked away from him, but my smile spoke for itself. 

“Oh, I see.” Ten nodded, still smirking. “How sweet. Anyway, what do you want me to draw?”

Lei shrugged. “You’re the artist, aren’t ya?”

“Well, you didn’t like my last masterpiece.” Ten traced his thumb over his heart on her cheek and laughed when she swatted him away. “So help me out a bit here. What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

Again, Lei shrugged, and Ten turned to me. “Well, what do you think, Guardian Angel? What’s Lei’s favorite thing?”

I didn’t have to glance up to see its faint shape in the sky to know the answer. “The moon.” 

“How ‘bout it, Lei?” Ten barely glanced at her smile before penning a small crescent moon on the nape of her neck. After dropping the marker into the pocket of his black swim trunks, he puckered his lips to blow air on the tattoo. 

Before I could scold him (and Minseok for filming such promiscuity) Lei rounded on Ten. “That wasn’t a part of the deal, you pervert!” 

The flames in her eyes should have scalded him, but Ten didn’t flinch as he hummed, “I dunno what you’re talking about, silly.” He was bold enough to smile at her, and something about that gesture slightly quelled the fire in her eyes. “I was just helping the ink dry!”

Unconvinced, Lei blinked at him, and Ten winked at her before strutting away. Peering into Minseok’s camera, she griped, “The nerve of some boys!” and giggled before walking off, I assumed, to find Mark and give him the cup of sliced watermelon. 

I swear, Minseok winked at me before he left in pursuit of the next exciting exchange to immortalize on tape. As I sat back in my chair, trying to come to terms with the fact that I had just watched somebody flirt with Lei out in the open, Lucas crash-landed into the chair nearest to me. 

The chair was far away enough that he had to raise his voice to talk to me. “If you’re hot, you can get some swim trunks out of my room.”

“Your room?” I raised an eyebrow at him, but he wasn’t looking at me.

“Yep.” He rested his hands behind his head. “My room has an Avengers poster on the door, so—”

I interrupted to ask, “You have a bedroom in Lei’s house?”

Lucas nodded like it wasn’t a big deal. When I rolled my eyes and started slipping into annoyance, Lucas swore, “My intentions— they’re still friendly.”

Flatly, I told him, “Friends usually don’t move in together as teenagers.” I don’t know how true that is, but I believed it when I said it. 

“Then maybe my intentions are — what’s the word? — familial.” 

When I didn’t respond except to cross my arms over my chest, Lucas leaned over his seat to whisper— if you can really call it a whisper when he talked so loudly, “There is nobody here that you should be jealous of. We’re all friends, and everyone knows that Lei is totally hot—” I grimaced— “and sure, some of us are dumb enough to try to take a shot with her, but we all know about her dating ban. We all know that she would only make an exception for one person. None of us have been dumb enough to believe even for a second that the exception would be us.”

I started to tell him that I wasn’t jealous of anybody, but the words died in my mouth when I caught him looking at me over his glasses as if to imply that I was the one for whom she would cast aside logic and principles. 

Although Lucas hadn’t said so explicitly, I hissed, “You should do a better job of guarding her secrets.” 

Leaning back into his seat, he replied, “She doesn’t consider her feelings for you a secret.”

I couldn’t argue because he was right. As if it were all too easy— as if she couldn’t keep the words to herself— as if she didn’t want to leave the words unsaid— she told me, “You’re the handsomest person I’ve ever seen,” and “I haven’t outgrown my crush on you,” and, “I love you,” and she said my name in that way that made my heart swell, and—

I almost think that if somebody loves you the way Lei loved me, you have to surrender to love too. Maybe not at first, maybe not all at once, but eventually all of those years of being loved so completely, so unconditionally— they surrounded me, and maybe I didn’t want them to end. 

In that moment when I couldn’t quite admit that I would also make an exception for one person, I could admit that if Lei wanted to love me where the whole world could watch— if she wanted to follow me again— if she wanted to hold my hand in the dark again— if she wanted to lean on my shoulder and trust me with all of her troubles again— if she wanted to take the first step toward me, I would never again try to stop her. 

I was distracted from my romantic thoughts by an ear-splitting scream, a loud splash, and Lucas scrambling to sit upright in his chair and yell, “Dude, Johnny, Lei can’t swim!”

I could only shake my head. How stupid to live in a house with a huge pool without learning to swim. Obviously, I set aside my frustration and fascination that Lei had lived through childhood to jump out of my chair. I would have dove into the pool— wearing my jeans with my phone and her gift tucked into the pockets— but I stood still once Lei resurfaced, clinging to Johnny. They laughed so hard that water shot out of their noses. 

Once I sat back in my seat and started to catch my breath, I mentally cursed Lei for being so irresponsible. Maybe she could stand to be careless enough to laugh in the face of near-death, but I couldn’t stand to watch it. If I was going to love her— out loud or in that dark corner of my mind— she needed to be more careful for my sake. 

As soon as she found her footing in the shallow waters, she struck Johnny’s arm once, twice, three times until— still laughing— he finally released her from his embrace and allowed her to climb out of the water. 

Staring down at him from higher ground, she yelled, “You ruined my shirt, Johnny!” And she wasn’t wrong. The white cropped top— now translucent— clung to her body like a second skin. 

“Sorry!” Johnny grinned at her, and— again— the rage in her eyes was extinguished. “I didn’t really think about that when I pulled you into the water.” Johnny was polite enough to train his eyes on her face, but I noticed that many of the other boys allowed their eyes to drift lower. 

Lei must have noticed too. After sticking her tongue out at Johnny, earning more of his boisterous laughter, she retreated to an abandoned corner by the pool. After ensuring that nobody was watching, she peeled off the white shirt to reveal the top half of her black bathing suit. Somehow, to my disappointment, all of her tattoos remained intact after being submerged in water. 

From his place in the center of the pool, where he laid in a pink donut-shaped inner tube, Baekhyun whistled, “Take it off, Lei!”

When all heads turned to her at Baekhyun’s urging, she pressed the soaked shirt flat against her chest and dashed toward me and Lucas. It was kind of funny, charming in a way, that she could be so modest at a pool party where everyone— excluding me, Kyungsoo, and Minseok— was proudly shirtless. 

Lucas said, “She’s really something, isn’t she?” 

My face burned scarlet with the realization that anybody could have caught me staring at her. Anybody could have misinterpreted my motivations. Before I could say anything to Lucas, Lei was in earshot. I had to swallow my embarrassment. 

“Move over, Lucas,” she wheezed, standing over him. When he only grunted in response, she frowned and climbed over one of his legs— which were placed on either side of the chair— to sit between them. She crossed her legs and turned her back to the pool. 

“Are you asleep or something?” Lei leaned forward to lift his sunglasses, but Lucas swatted her hand away. 

“No,” he answered, “I’m just trying to relax, and—” Lei lifted his sunglasses anyway, and Lucas whined, “back up, dude! You’re dripping pool water all over me!”

“Boohoo,” Lei mocked, poking her bottom lip into a pout. “I just got yanked into the pool by goofball Johnny, and then Baekhyun saw my bathing suit, and—”

“Dude.” Lucas’s calm voice thawed the anxiety etched into Lei’s features. More than ever, it was clear why they were close. “You look great! Calm down a bit.”

Lei raised her eyebrows uncertainly, tracing one of the tattoos on her thigh. “Really? You think I look great?”

Something about that bothered me. Did Lei have no idea that she was beautiful? Did the voices of those bullies from her trainee days still follow her? Had she fallen into the trap of reading online hate comments? 

I didn’t know, and I never would have known how to approach the topic. I never would have known how to convince her that she was radiant inside and out. I get that beauty is usually one of those subjective concepts, but, objectively, Lei was beautiful. Anyone could have seen it from her ability to draw everyone’s attention without saying a word. 

“Yeah!” Lucas assured her with a smile. “Who knows how many people were checking you out!”

I knew that he was eyeing me behind his reflective lenses, so my eyes darted away from their scene to look up at the sky. 

Lei clicked her tongue. “I don’t want people to check me out—”

Before she could finish her complaint and I could feel culpable for my part in making her so neurotic, Kyungsoo tripped toward us, flip-flops slapping against the wet pavement. “I heard a scream and a splash and Baekhyun’s whistle! I would have come to check on you earlier, but the pork— I—” His eyebrows twitched as he took in Lei’s disheveled appearance. “What happened to you?”

Lei seemed reluctant to fuel Kyungsoo’s protective rage. She passed her shirt to Lucas and mumbled, “Wring that out, please.” 

I knew that Kyungsoo would stand there, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, until he received an answer, and then lunch would never be finished. Stomach growling, I rose to my feet, grabbed the towel that was draped over the back of my chair, and took a protective stance behind Lei to shield her from curious stares drifting her way from the pool. 

Dropping the folded towel onto Lei’s lap, I told Kyungsoo, “Johnny pulled Lei into the deep end of the pool, and—”

“WHAT?” Kyungsoo’s face went white before burning crimson. “But Lei can’t swim!”

Lei forced a smile. “I’m okay, Soo. Johnny kept a hold on me the whole time, and—” 

Kyungsoo didn’t seem to hear her. He waddled to the edge of the pool, formed a megaphone around his mouth with his hands, and announced, “Attention, party people!” 

In the process of lowering my head in embarrassment, I noticed that Lucas was wringing Lei’s shirt with unnecessary force. Lei was too busy drying her hair with the towel to notice and correct him, so I set to unbuttoning my shirt to offer it to her. 

“Do NOT pull people into the pool— especially not the birthday girl! If you do, Minseok will tell you to get out and go home!” Kyungsoo gestured to Minseok, who forced his smile into a threatening glower that probably threatened nobody before Baekhyun yelled, “You don’t scare us!”

Minseok took a step toward Baekhyun, eliciting a scream. I rolled my eyes, and Kyungsoo shook his head before walking back to the grill. 

“Lucas!” Lei shrieked and snatched her shirt from him. When she held it against her chest, what once fit perfectly was now two or three sizes too large. “What did you do?”

His only response was, “Oops.” 

Lei launched the balled-up shirt at his chest, and her visible disappointment only faded when I, stifling my laughter, dropped my unbuttoned shirt over her shoulders. The sky blue fabric suited her better than me; it made sense that she should keep it, then. 

She turned around, looked up at me with wide eyes, and said, “Thank you, Sehun.” 

The voice that she spoke to me with was softer than the one she trusted to Ten, Johnny, Minseok, Kyungsoo, and — yes— even Lucas. Something about that made my heart swell. 

I nodded to say, “You’re welcome,” because I couldn't string two words together to make a sentence when Lei was looking at me like that. 

“Wow, man!” Lucas beamed at me too. “You’re a real hero!”

When Lei turned away from me to laugh at Lucas’s reaction, I crossed my arms over my plain white t-shirt. I guess I was disappointed yet again by her fleeting attention. I just didn’t hold it like I used to. 

She frowned at her shirt in Lucas’s hands. “Well, you might as well just throw it away now.”

“Throw it away?” Lucas hugged the shirt against his bare chest. “Just because it doesn’t fit you anymore doesn’t mean it should end up in the trash!”

Lei’s eyebrows shot up at his passionate argument. “What? Do you want it or something?” Lucas nodded his head eagerly, and Lei shrugged before giving him his way. “Whatever. Just don’t hang it up in my closet when it’s your turn to do the laundry.”

“Yay!” Lucas squealed as he flew off of the chair. “Thanks, Lei!”

Smiling, she watched him dash into the house. Then, she took his place in the chair. She pressed her back against the chair, crossed her legs, and draped the towel over them before looking up to see that I was no longer behind her. I was before her. She gasped, raised her hands to shield her eyes from the sun, and the sleeves of my shirt— which were too big for her— slid down her arms. 

“Hey, Sehun.” She couldn’t quite smile while squinting her eyes. “Having fun?”

I moved a few steps to the left to block out the sun, and she lowered her hands and laid them flat in her lap. 

“I’m having a blast.” Was I being sarcastic? Probably. But I was happy to spend time with her then with few distractions. 

“Aren’t you tired of standing?” She tilted her head aside. Patting the space on the chair before her, she suggested, “You can sit with me if you want. Or you can grab that chair over there, and—” She bit on her tongue in surprise when I sat on the edge of her chair at the earliest invitation. 

Glancing around at the thriving party, I observed, “You have a lot of friends.” Of course, I knew it, but knowing it in theory was a lot different from seeing it in real life. 

“They’re nice.” She smiled, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It reminded me of the void in her chest that she tried to fill with Lucas. It reminded me of the secret that, at least in Donghae’s mind, threatened to clear out this gathering of flirtatious well-wishers. 

Suddenly, she sat up straight and motioned for me to move closer. “Come here, I have to tell you a secret.”

Forgetting for a moment that I didn’t want to learn another secret for the rest of my life, I obeyed her. She whispered, “I think they like me because a.) I have a pool, and b.) no matter how much they flirt, I’ll never give in. You know, some people are into that— chasing somebody they can never catch.” 

She was flirting with me, I realized, when she winked to mask the blush staining her face. 

I tried to flirt back. “Are you into that?” 

When she sighed, dropped our eye contact, and forced another smile, I realized that she did not yet know that she caught me. It was still the beginning of reimagining her. It was the beginning of the heart-fluttering moments. I didn’t know where the road into the unknown would lead, but I saw no option other than to follow it— to follow her. 

She said, “I was raised to never chase after boys. I’ve only ever followed one—” she nudged me— “and I promised not to do that anymore.”

Even without her pointed touch, I would have known that she was talking about me. Despite the deflation in my chest, I praised her. “Good. Don’t follow anybody. Continue on your path, and if somebody wants to walk with you for a while—”

When she poked my cheek, I realized that I was frowning. Her frown mirrored mine. “Don’t look like that, Sehun. It hurts my feelings.” 

For her, I forced a smile, and she laughed an airy sort of laugh. “I dunno why you’re so sentimental today, but—” her eyes widened— “oh.” 

“Oh?” My forehead wrinkled. “Oh what?” My heart raced with the fear that she was seeing me clearly. 

“We’re on the same path right now.” She smiled, and my heart raced with the hope that she was seeing me clearly. 

“We’ve always walked together,” I told her. “It’s just—”

Seeing that I had gone stiff with anxiety, she said, “It’s okay, Sehun. I understand.” 

I couldn’t quite believe that she understood, but because I didn’t know the words to explain my feelings, I didn’t say anything. 

“It’s probably not going to last.” She didn’t frown, and I couldn't understand how she could smile while saying, “It— we— I know that we won’t be in the same place at the same time forever, but I’m so happy that you’re here now.” 

She was crushing me under the weight of an unfamiliar sadness, but I promised, “I’m happy too,” and it wasn’t a lie. 

Still smiling, she said, “You can walk with me anytime, Sehun.” 

I can’t explain why remembering that makes me want to cry. She was saying something kind— loving— but her words felt so much like a goodbye. Maybe they were a goodbye to days that were already past— the days when she followed my shadow. It felt so much like she would fade or fly away or find another path or another companion if I took the time to blink. 

Fear prompted me to grab her hand as if that touch would keep her within arms reach, within eyesight, with me. Her eyes were rounded and filled with every shining star, and I— I had to look away. I had to play off the act of pure affection by digging the tattoo marker out of my pocket.  

“I thought you were opposed to marking me like I’m a piece of paper,” she teased. 

Probably blushing, I scoffed. “It’s different when I do it.” 

She asked her favorite question: “Why?”

“Because I love you,” I almost said, “and I have to show it somehow.” 

Instead, I shrugged, closed my eyes, and tried to think of a drawing that would compete with— no, triumph over all of the others on her body. Ideas didn’t come easily. I didn’t watch dramas or read romance novels or even listen to romantic music that much (or at all), so I had to card through my memories until I remembered a craft I did on Valentine’s Day in the third grade. 

Then, we dipped our thumb in red paint and pressed it twice to a piece of paper to make a heart to give to our parents. The idea was profound enough, I guess, since it relied on the concept that like no two fingerprints are identical, no two loves are identical.

Bearing that in mind, I coated my thumb with the marker’s black ink and softly pressed a heart into the skin on the back of Lei’s hand. 

I watched her smile at the symbol. Just because I was curious to see whether she would react to me the way she reacted to Ten, I raised her hand to my lips and blew on the heart. She didn’t swat at me, glare at me, flinch away, or say anything. She just watched me. 

Maybe Lucas was right. Maybe she would make any exception for me. That probably wasn’t wise or safe, so why did her lapse in judgment make me so happy?

“Okay,” she hummed. She snatched the marker before taking my hand in hers. “Your turn!”

Within the blink of an eye, she had placed her heart on my hand. I wanted to carry it everywhere with me. I wanted to boast it to everybody, but I didn’t know how to do that. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t know what to say to make them understand how much it meant to me. 

Something about the electricity in Lei’s touch— something about the thought that the heart would fade from sight— sent me springing to my feet with the blurted excuse, “I’m not feeling well.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Suddenly, my heart was pounding in my chest, ringing in my ears, and my stomach was knotting and rising and sinking, and my palms were sweating, and there was a lump in my throat, and I was sick. I fished the gift box containing the cherry blossom charm for the bracelet that she still wore— that I hoped she would always wear— out of my pocket. Careful not to allow our skin to touch, almost afraid of the shock, I left it in her palm. 

I ran into the house, regretting that I sent Chanyeol away with my keys until I found him sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. 

Through a mouthful of blue icing, Chanyeol asked, “Are you done now?” He glanced over at me and sat upright. “Hey, are you alright? Your face is a little green.”

I shook my head. “I’m sick. I’m going home.”

“Okay. Let’s go, then.” He snatched my keys off the table and stood from the couch. “I was gonna leave, but I don’t know how to drive a stick shift, and—” When I reached out for the keys, he offered, “I’ll drive if you don’t feel good.” 

I assured him that I was fine before beelining to the car, keys in hand.

Chanyeol was quiet until I raised my hand to the steering wheel. The moment he saw the heart, he broke into brain-rattling, side-splitting laughter. “Wow.” He wiped amused tears from the corners of his eyes. “I remember doing that craft in, like, first grade. Your girlfriend is real creative.”

Something in my stomach fluttered, and I don’t think I liked it. Tightening my grip on the wheel, I instantly retorted, “It was my idea.” I should have said, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Chanyeol noticed my mistake. “Oh,” he nodded his head sagely, “so she is your girlfriend!”

My face flushed, and my heart pounded again, and all I could think to say was, “Shut up, Chanyeol.” 

[welllpthisishappening]

One Foot In (6/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

—–

Rating: Teen, but eventually they’re going to kiss Word Count: 9K’ish this chapter and some ‘ish is going to happen AN: Hello, hi, here are some explanations and feelings and then some more feelings and drama and stuff is going to happen, guys. Thanks for being top notch and excellent and reading all these words. I think you’re swell. 

|| Also on Ao3 or you can read all those words from the start ||

@shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488​, @greymeetsblue​, @jennjenn615​, @heavenlyjoycastle​, @klynn-stormz​, @superchocovian​, @onepunintendid​, @jonesfandomfanatic​, @lfh1226-linda​ @thejollyroger-writer​

—–

Emma Swan is twenty-nine years, six months, twenty-four days and, approximately, eleven hours old when the Earth appears to lose its entire atmosphere. 

She doesn’t gasp, which is kind of disappointing. She just, kind of, sort of freezes, muscles tensing and body going taught with the tension that had been lingering just under the surface of everything since she made the one decision that changed everything. 

Someone curses. 

Emma can’t tell if it’s Ruby or Shakespeare, but there’s some kind of scuffle happening just out of the edge of her vision and there are goons in the living room she hadn’t noticed before. 

She still hasn’t moved. 

She isn’t entirely sure she can. 

Coward. 

The Darkness laughs gleefully, a sound that grates on Emma’s ears and feels a bit like nails on a chalkboard or just, actual, literal nails. He’s moving his fingers, a quick tap against each other, bouncing from one foot to the other and it’s as unnatural as it is disturbing. 

“Oh, I knew that would be good, but I never expected it to play out like that,” he says. The words rush out of him, as if he can’t say them quickly enough to keep up with whatever dance he’s doing in the middle of the rug. 

The rug has tassels on it. 

“Beautiful,” the Darkness continues. “Absolutely beautiful. Tell me, Savior, how does it feel to get that off your chest? I’d imagine it’s a relief.”

Emma exhales, another mistake, but she’s piling those up faster than she can count them at this point and the space between her and Killian feels as vast as several Grand Canyons. She turns her head slowly, not trusting herself to go any faster and he’s staring straight ahead. 

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t close his mouth. 

She can see him breathing, shoulders shaking with the effort of doing it consistently and she understands that. She assumes the oxygen levels can’t possibly be the same once the atmosphere has been compromised. 

“Although,” the Darkness says, leaning towards Emma with a very specific glint in his eyes. “It appears to be quite a shock to both of you. Thoughts, dead man?” Killian doesn’t answer him. His gaze snaps towards Emma, darker than she can remember it and that’s not right at all. 

He’s not supposed to look like that. 

He’s not supposed to feel like that. 

The buzzing in her head is barely more than an echo now. 

“Say it again,” Killian mutters, and at first Emma doesn’t understand. She’s half a second away from mumbling what under her breath, but then he’s half a step in front of her and it somehow feels even farther away. “Say it again. The truth, Emma.” Her eyes flutter closed at the sound of her own name, the pain and disappointment and absolute hurt obvious in all four letters. 

“I’m the reason Liam is dead.” “How?” The question catches her off guard, an edge to his voice that’s brand-new as well and maybe they’ve just been teleported to a different timeline entirely. That would almost make more sense. 

“I don’t—” Emma starts, but Killian’s already shaking her head and a goon groans when Ruby, presumably, kicks him in the heel. “Yeah, that’s not fair, is it?” “You’re asking me about fair? Honestly? With a goddamn demon a foot away from us?” “Oh now, I resent that,” the Darkness chides. Ruby sounds like she’s trying to actually beat several people with her Louboutins. “I’m hardly a demon.” “What the hell are you then?” “Something the world has been waiting a very long time for. But you haven’t gotten your answers yet have you? And you want them. Oh, do you. I can feel it you know, dead man. The need and the questions and the certainty that something was wrong since the start. Because you’ve always believed that haven’t you? It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong.”

The Darkness grins again – slow and reptilian, the movement snaking across his face until his entire expression looks twisted and inhuman. His eyebrows jump and twist, certainty in every shift as the lights flicker around them. 

Emma does her best to stay upright, but it’s becoming an increasingly difficult challenge. The words keep bouncing around her head, ricocheting off nerve endings and synapses and whatever else makes up the human brain. 

It’s like a scratched CD, stuck on one string of lyrics and one sentence, a few words that play on repeat and threaten to drive Emma even more insane than she already is. 

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

She’s been wrong since the start. 

“It didn’t make sense,” the Darkness whispers, leering at Killian with wide eyes that have suddenly taken on a distinctly yellow pallor. “Even then. Even now. He was young. He had his whole life ahead of him and she stole that from you.” Emma must make a noise because she can feel Ruby’s eyes land on her, but she’s not entirely sure what it is, just knows that it hurts every single inch of her. She wraps her arms around her middle, desperate to keep herself together in a metaphorical and literal sense. 

Killian keeps blinking. 

Like he’s trying to figure out what is and isn’t real.

“How, Swan?” 

Her breath catches when he looks at her – pleading and desperate and so impossibly blue she knows she’d never be able to forget it. He called her Swan again. 

“Ingrid,” Emma whispers. “She, um...well, she died. I went back across the street, remember? It was..it was lunch and I was soaking wet and—” “—You kept trying to spray me with the hose.” “That’s not what happened at all.” Killian doesn’t quite smile, but there’s almost an attempt and Emma appreciates that. “We were going to go ride our bikes down the hill later.” “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, and her tongue feels far too big for her mouth. “I went upstairs, to change and get the mud out from underneath my fingernails and I heard a crash and I...I got back to the kitchen and Ingrid was dead.”

“She wasn’t later, though.” “Yeah, I think you’ve already figured out how that happened.” “Did you know?” “That touching Ingrid would bring her back to life? Or that she could only stay alive for a certain amount of time? Or that when she kissed me goodnight later I’d kill her?” 

Killian’s eyes flash, another string of fairly impressive curses from the peanut gallery and, maybe, one of the goons and the Darkness is frustratingly silent. Emma drags her hand roughly over her cheek, no doubt leaving an angry red streak in her wake, but the tears have started to fall or are still falling and she’s kind of angry now. 

She’s kind of furious. 

And so goddamn alone she’s positive she reeks with it. 

“Any of those actually,” Killian mumbles. He doesn’t reach towards her, but he doesn’t back away again and Emma’s really starting to cling to these half victories. 

“No. That was—” “—That was the first time.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact and a little pitying, which is a little disappointing, but Emma barely musters up a nod of agreement so maybe she deserves the pity. 

“And you,” he whispers. “You didn’t…” “What was I supposed to say? I had no idea what had happened. It was all...everything happened so quickly. Ingrid was dead and I didn’t want her to be dead and then suddenly she wasn’t and—God, I didn’t want Liam to be dead. I wouldn’t…” Emma runs out of air, lips dry from breathing erratically through her mouth “I couldn’t do that to you,” she whispers. “Not when—” “—Not when she was so consumed with several other very important emotions,” the Darkness interrupts, a note of impatience in his voice that seems more unfair than just about anything else that’s happened in the last few minutes. 

One of the lightbulbs in the nearest decorative lamp shatters. 

“And that, of course, is the crux of our little meeting here.” Killian tilts his head. “It’s a meeting then, is it?” “Have I brought you here against your will, dead man? Have I bound you? Gagged you? Dragged through the streets kicking and screaming?” “You did kill me.” “No, no, no, that wasn’t me. That was Mr. Teach. We’ve covered that already.” “Seems a little bit like splitting hairs,” Emma grumbles, a hint of decidedly out of place sarcasm. She knows Ruby is smiling at her. 

“It’s a fact, Ms. Swan,” the Darkness corrects. “And very important to our little tale. Are you and the dead man done discussing things? Because I’d like to get to the point of all of this.” “There’s a point?” He scoffs, almost amused. “Of course there is. And it’s a very important, very sharp point that will change the course of everything.” “Why did you bring up Liam?” Killian asks. “That—Emma hadn’t told me before.” “You know it’s rather disappointing to be proved so incredibly wrong in such a short span of time. You’re quite lacking on the intelligent front. I explained that already.” The last few words come out a bit like a hiss – more reptilian jokes and puns and allusions and Emma can hear the disappointment lingering in Killian’s voice. She licks her lips again. “And you seem like you’re wasting time,” Emma challenges. “Teach said you were trying to bring someone back. Someone important to you? A kid, maybe? Where are they?” She regrets the question as soon as it’s out of her mouth. 

The Darkness doesn’t yell. Doesn’t say anything. But his eyes go impossibly dark, no color, just a vast expanse of nothing that seems to stretch out in front of Emma and she can feel the rage ripple in the air around them. 

It tastes like rotten eggs, a stench that doesn’t remind her of anything and yet somehow feels impossibly familiar, as if it’s always been lingering just on the edge of her consciousness, an almost that threatens to drag her away. 

“Don’t talk about him,” the Darkness seethes. “Not yet. Not until I explain what has to happen.” “And what has to happen, exactly?” Ruby asks, twisting against her own strand of rope and there’s suddenly a gag in her mouth. She flinches at the fabric, stuffed in between her lips, and both Emma and Killian lunge forward at the same time. 

The Darkness clicks his tongue. “No, no, none of that. I have the upper hand here. I do.” There’s a distinct lack of confidence in the sentence, like he’s convincing himself or reminding himself and the realization sends a rush of something that may almost be misplaced confidence down Emma’s spine. 

“Of course you do,” she says, doing her best to keep her voice even. “Why did you bring up Liam? And what...you keep calling me different things.” “I’m not.” Emma opens her mouth to object, but reconsiders it as soon as she sees the look on his face and the floor creaks under Killian’s feet when he shifts towards her. Her lungs appreciate that. It’s easier to breathe when he lingers in her space. 

“I’m not,” the Darkness repeats. “I’m telling you what you are. This is the start. This house and the belief it fostered in you. You’re brimming with belief, Savior.” “That’s not true.” “Ah, but isn’t it? You grew up here, trusted everything that happened here and even after it all disappeared, you remembered it, didn’t you? Knew it was true and honest and it kept you both of those things. It made you even more powerful.” Emma blinks. “I don’t—” “—I know, I know, you don’t understand and it can’t possibly be real and you couldn’t be more wrong. Haven’t you ever wondered what happened to your parents?” She stumbles over her own feet, an impressive achievement since she doesn’t really move, but it feels as if the foundations of the entire goddamn house shift underneath her. Killian’s breath is warm on her neck as soon as Emma rolls her shoulders, desperate to maintain her flimsy grip on the situation. 

“Just keep breathing, love,” he whispers. 

“Yeah, easy for you to say.” He chuckles, and Emma isn’t sure if the brush of something she feels on the curve of her shoulder is his lips or just her own misplaced and decidedly wishful thinking, but it’s nice either way and she inhales until it feels as if her lungs will burst. 

“Jokes at the end of the world, Swan? That’s impressive.” “Something, something full of surprises.” It’s definitely his lips. 

Ruby groans through her gag. 

“You know they loved you quite a bit, Savior,” the Darkness says, seemingly unperturbed by flirting at the end of the world. Emma assumes that’s not exactly how he sees it. “Your parents, that is. Fought tooth and nail to protect you.” “My parents gave me up,” Emma argues. She’s been told the story hundreds of times, heard it in every house and from every social worker, the ones she barely remembers before Ingrid and the ones that are ingrained in her memory after. 

The story never changed. It only ever seemed to get worse, more proof that she deserved everything she got and needed to push and run and the Darkness shakes his head deftly. 

He’s got that amused look in his eyes again. 

“Tell me something, Savior, what do you know of magic?” “Aside from my ability to wake the dead?” He hums, stuffing his hands in his pockets and Emma only just notices how unkempt he looks. There are wrinkles in his pants and a few tears in his jacket, a hole in his right sleeve that looks large enough to stick several fingers through. The hem of his shirt is frayed and he’s missing a button on his waistcoat. 

He’s wearing a waistcoat. 

That seems strange. 

“Yes, aside from that.” Emma shrugs. “Nothing. This is...this is the real world. Magic—” “—Oh, don’t tell me you believe magic isn’t real, Savior. Don’t insult both of us like that.” “Explain it then.” It’s more misplaced confidence – a demand Emma can’t possibly make, but it makes the Darkness laugh again and half a dozen frames fall off the wall by the staircase. Killian shifts, fingers brushing over the side of Emma’s arm and it’s selfish and greedy and absolutely, positively wrong, but she twists into. Like a selfish, greedy asshole.   “That,” the Darkness says, nodding at their hands. “That’s it.” Emma tries not to growl. It does not work. “What’s what?”

“Magic. We live in a world where magic used to fill the air. It lingered in the wind and the trees, grew out of certainty and feeling and love. It was...rampant. It was a wonderful place.” “And then?” “And then something happened. The world grew too lopsided. There needed more of a balance and magic started to grow more and more scarce. It started to change as well, a twist and a bastardization to it that shifted the very fabric of magic as itself. There was a split, Savior. Between light magic and dark, between those with power and those who understood it. And for quite some time that was acceptable.” “Who accepted it?” Emma asks, but she’s got a horrible feeling that she already knows the answer. “You? The Darkness?” “In the flesh. As they say.” “Did you twist magic yourself?” He waves a dismissive hand in the air, as if he’s almost embarrassed, but Emma can feel the surge of power and she’s certain the walls have started to shake. A few of the goons mumble something that sounds like master and power and the whole thing has taken a rather cultish turn. Killian’s fingers tighten against her sleeve. 

“How old are you?” he asks. “And how long has your son been dead?” The rest of the frames fall off the wall. A few more lights shatter and one of the chairs not currently being occupied by someone who may actually be a hostage at this point, topples over. 

Killian arches an eyebrow. “It’s been quite some time hasn’t it? That’s what Teach said. You’d been looking for something...something that would be able to bring him back. How long has it been? How many times have you been wrong?”

“Enough,” the Darkness shouts. “We’re not talking about Baelfire yet.” “Yet.” “You’ve already been dead once, I wouldn’t try to push my luck. Not when you’re standing so close to your own personal noose.” Emma hisses, the words slamming into her like shards of glass and she actually has to look down to make sure she’s not bleeding out on the rug. She assumes neither Shakespeare nor Nemo would appreciate that. 

And she’s already done a shit job of making a good first impression. 

“What happened to my parents?” she asks. “Everything I was ever told was that they were gone, gave me up and didn’t—didn’t want me. That’s...there was no one there.” The Darkness shrugs, rocking back on his heels and his confidence appears to have returned as soon as Killian tensed at his threat. He moves, circling around the room like a goddamn vulture and the death puns really need to stop. 

Emma wishes she could sit down. 

“Some of that is true,” the Darkness concedes. “But I suppose part of the reason there was no one there had to do with me. And, well, as the dead man says, I’ve been looking for something that will fix things for quite some time.” “You’re still talking in riddles.” “And you keep interrupting. Where was I? Magic changing?” 

Emma nods, and it feels absurd, a hint of normal in a conversation that is anything but. She can see Nemo trying to unknot the rope twisted around him out of the corner of her eye. She bites her lip. 

“That’s right,” the Darkness muses. He tilts his head up towards the ceiling, a forced casualness to it that Emma couldn’t possibly hate more. “The universe is big and vast and obnoxious, Savior. It has rules and regulations and power is never given to those who really, truly deserve it. There are limitations to all magic, always some kind of price that must be paid, but there was also a rumor, about a magic that was stronger than anything else. That could defy the laws and exceed expectations. That might be able to change things that otherwise ought not to be changed.” Emma’s throat is shrinking. She’s positive. “And what was that?” “Why, True Love, of course.” “That’s impossible.” “Is it?” The argument is sitting on the tip of her tongue, begging to be made. It’s there and real and rational, a hint of normal, but Emma’s never been entirely normal and she can’t bring herself to actually say anything. 

The Darkness grins. “It’s nice when I’m right.” “What does that have to do with me, though?” Emma asks. “I’m—I’ve never seen anyone else go around waking the dead or—”

“—Being the product of True Love with her own True Love, makes the power run twice over.” It’s honestly a miracle she hasn’t fallen over once during this conversation. In the grand scheme of almost victories and emotional upheavals, Emma might be most proud of that one, particular thing. Her knees feel like they’re made of granite at this point. 

“Excuse me?” she breathes, and Ruby might try and laugh at her poor attempt at polite. 

The Darkness stops walking. “What part of that was confusing?” “Well...I mean, all of it?” “Ah, this is why it would have been better to find you earlier, Savior. You’d get your answers, I’d get my boy and we’d rule the cosmos.”

Emma still doesn’t fall over. She makes the single most ridiculous noise in the history of any noise made by any living organism, but she doesn’t actually fall over. She does, however, sag slightly, a rush of oxygen and emotion and hair in her eyes. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Emma breathes, voice turning manic and she’s started looking for escape routes and windows to jump out of. 

She’s fairly certain they can’t outrun the Darkness. 

The Darkness shakes his head in frustration. They are all in desperate need of haircuts. “It’s growing incredibly difficult to spell out every single thing to all of you,” he sighs. “There was a rumor, of a magic that was going to change everything, a strength that had previously never been seen and, very likely, would never be seen again. It was a convergence of everything, a happy accident that could change the fates with a flash of her fingers. And, well, I regret to tell you, Savior that, at first, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“You thought it was my parents.” “I did. That kind of love, oh—” He lets out a low whistle, shivering exaggeratedly and Emma has to bite down on both of her lips to stop herself from doing something foolish. “It was potent,” the Darkness continues. “Like a field of flowers and sunshine and all those particularly good things. Nauseating, if not useful. They loved each other and they loved you. And I believed if I was able to bottle that, then I’d be able to bring my boy back.” “It didn’t work, though.” “Obviously not,” he growls, and Emma doesn’t think she imagines how his teeth have been growing sharper every time he flashes them. “I’d never dealt in True Love before. It was intoxicating, that kind of power and the rush of what I could do. But it was also volatile and it knew that I was, well, not of the same cloth shall we say.” “You’re talking about it like it’s alive,” Killian says. The accusation in his voice is obvious and the Darkness laughs softly at it. 

“Because it is. Magic is a living, breathing entity that’s part of everyone in possession of it. The people are alive, why shouldn’t the magic be?” Emma considers that for a moment, loathe to admit that it makes more sense than just about any of the shit the guy has been spewing. She’s never been entirely sure what happened that made her this, but ever since that first moment on the other side of the street, she’s been aware of it, of the hum beneath her skin, the rush in her veins and the buzzing in her ears that roars to life every single time Killian glances her direction. 

The Darkness makes another noise of triumph. 

“Oh, this is going to work,” he says, sounding as if he’s half talking to himself again and possibly doing his best to psych himself up. “Where was I?” “You’re a shit story teller,” Killian hisses. He’s moved again, turning his back on the villain and staring at Emma with a look that’s different and the same as all the other ones, treading a line that feels impossibly important. His lips twitch slightly. 

“And you’re incredibly rude, dead man.” “Did you kill my parents?” Emma asks. She reaches out again, more instinct and want and less-than-good adjectives, but she swears she can feel the warmth radiating off Killian and he feels so goddamn alive, she’s got to make sure he’s real. 

“Not on purpose.” “I’m not sure the universe gives a fuck about that.” Emma jerks her head towards him, almost prepared for the slink of a smile that moves across his face. “I suppose you’re right,” the Darkness shrugs. “It wasn’t my intention to kill them. That would have been foolish. I wasn’t sure how any of this was going to work, why would I use my entire magic supply in one fell swoop?” Her stomach leaps into her throat as soon as the weight of those words settle into every single corner of her brain and the sob that wracks through Emma’s entire body hurts more than those metaphorical glass shards from a few minutes before. 

She can’t catch her breath, feels like she’s run several marathons and sprinted up and down the hill on the other side of town. Her vision swims in front of her, black spots appearing in her eye line and everything feels as if it’s flipped over and then being kicked for good measure. 

And it’s everything she’s always feared, the deepest, darkest worries in the deepest, darkest corners of her, the certainty that someone, eventually, would find her and keep her and make sure they wring every last bit of magic out of her, until there was nothing left, just a shall of a something that maybe belonged to someone at some point. 

“It was admittedly a little frustrating when they went and died like that,” the Darkness mutters, no trace of actual remorse in the words. 

Emma isn’t sure who tries to move quicker. 

Ruby kicks at the goon closest to her, drawing a hiss of pain out of him when it appears her heel has actually made him bleed. Her eyes are no more than slits, but the anger is practically reverberating around her, and Nemo has gotten rid of the knots twisted around his wrists with relative ease. 

He slams his right fist into the face that lunges towards him. There’s a crack of skin and skin and more yelling, something that sounds like a jaw snapping and Emma can’t stop shivering. Shakespeare doesn’t bother undoing anything. He just stands up with the chair still strapped to him, swinging it around like it’s an actual weapon and managing to take down three men twice his size in the process. 

Killian, for his part, hasn’t moved away from Emma – or turned back around to the scene that’s dissolved into absolute chaos behind him. He drags his hands over her jacket-covered arms, scrunching fabric under his fingers and she can’t blink, can’t look away or breathe or do anything except tilt her head up and try and remember that there's something good and something to believe in and it’s not the right moment, is the absolute worst moment, but there might not be another moment and—

“I love you,” Emma whispers, barely loud enough to hear herself. She knows Killian does. 

The force of his smile is so strong she swears it settles into the pit of her stomach and the base of her heels, a weight that doesn’t threaten to yank her down, but steadies her and calms her and his grip on her arms tightens slightly. 

Like he’s making sure she’s there too. 

Killian’s eyes flutter, Emma’s nails digging into her palms again to stop herself from tracing her thumb over the scar on his cheek. He doesn’t sigh, but he might exhale, letting go of something that might just be everything and—

“Thank God,” he mutters. “I love you. I can’t...I can’t remember when I didn’t.” Emma’s relief is wrong. It’s out of place and ill-timed, but that could probably be the subhead of her life at this point and she needed him to know. 

At least once. 

And she doesn’t realize at first, can’t hear anything over the rush of magic and belief, but then Ruby yells her name and some goon slams his foot into her stomach and everything that might have been good suddenly comes crashing down. 

Literally. 

Another lamp falls over 

“I’d hate to interrupt and I really do loathe rehashing plot points, but I do love being right,” the Darkness says, slow and measured and so victorious Emma is certain it will be the reason she can’t ever get the goosebumps off her arms. “Now, none of you are going to try that again are you?” he asks, glancing back over his shoulder at the re-tied rope and upright chairs. 

There are tears on Ruby’s cheeks. 

“I’d hate to have to take steps,” the Darkness adds. “Savior, please tell your friends not to distract me again.” Emma swallows back the lump of emotion sitting in the middle of her throat. She tries to take a step towards Ruby, but two different goons move into her space and they must be multiplying somewhere. Maybe they’re actually clones. 

Magic clones make sense at this point. 

“It’s ok,” she whispers, a lie that makes even more tears spring to her eyes. She must be close to setting a record. “It’s...we’re going to be ok.” The Darkness hums in agreement. “There, now that that’s settled. Let’s get back to the task. True Love, dead parents, a missing baby who just...disappeared as soon as I turned my back.” “What?” 

“I genuinely do not know how to make that any clearer.” “Your magic, love,” Killian mumbles. “You must have...have you ever teleported before?”

She gapes at him. “Are you serious?” “I have no idea, at this point.”

“It’s entirely possible that you did,” the Darkness says. He’s stopped walking, perched instead on the top of the slightly ornate couch in the corner of the room. Every kick of his legs out makes Emma grit her teeth. “As I said, your magic is quite a bit different than mine. It might not have appreciated being, well, targeted like that. Although it did set us on this path now.” Emma lifts her eyebrows. “And what path is that?” “I need your magic, Savior. The same magic that was prophesied as the strongest of any magic the world has ever seen. You see, it’s taken a very long time to make sure that that happened, but your little display with the dead man helps explain it.” “Why did Killian have to die? That’s...that’s the one part I can’t figure out.” “That’s the one part you can’t figure out?” Killian mutters, grunting slightly when Emma steps on his foot. His grin is absurd. It makes it easier to breathe. 

God. 

“You met Cora again recently, yes?” the Darkness asks, Emma nodding before he’s finished the question. “Then you know that our former Madam Mayor had quite a talent. She could see what people wanted and was particularly good at discerning those with other abilities. I’d almost given up on finding you, Savior. I’d been searching for so long and, well, it’s not as if True Love happens every day. In fact, your parents are the last case I’ve found until today.” Emma’s knees finally give up. 

She crashes to the ground in a heap, a twist of limbs and Killian’s distinct inability to hold onto her when she moves. The tears on her cheeks feel as if they’re burning their way down her skin.

Killian’s head snaps towards her, eyes wide and that same pleading look from before. As if he’s desperate for more confirmation or more magic and Emma is loath to realize she can’t bring herself to produce either.  

She feels drained and exhausted and the Darkness is still talking. 

“Is that surprising?” he asks lightly, another leg kick that ends with his boot ripping the back of the couch. “I’m honestly a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t realize from the very beginning. As soon as I got to this charming little hamlet, it was obvious. The feel of it. It hangs here, like a blanket. But, as they say, when you want something done right, you have to do it yourself and, well, I trusted Cora. That was foolish of me.” “Is that why you killed her?” Emma rasps, voice scratching its way out of her. 

The Darkness quirks his lips. “It was certainly part of the reason. A large part. Cora was positive that Mr. Jones had magic. She told me he was desperate to leave this life behind, couldn’t stand to be holed up in this house for a moment long and, oh—” He glances at the stunned expressions on Nemo and Shakespeare’s faces, another smile and press of his tongue against his cheek. It’s disarming, the confidence there and the evil that makes the word evil seem less absurd in context. 

“Touchy subject, isn’t it?” Killian can’t seem to decide where to move. He wobbles on his feet, jerking between Emma, still on the floor, and his uncles, still tied up in their own goddamn chairs. His hand shakes when he reaches up to tug on his hair. 

“That’s not,” he starts, but the rest of the sentence gets caught in his mouth. “I’m so sorry.” “Can I get back to my story?” the Darkness asks lightly, and Emma doesn’t think before she reacts. She throws her hand out, swiping it through air that suddenly feels a bit like soup and the rush that flashes through her veins is as overwhelming as it is intoxicating. 

She’s got no idea what she’s trying to accomplish, only knows that she has to do something, anything, and Killian’s strangled Emma as soon as it happens seems to slink down her spine. Right next to the promises and the guarantees and that one, particular smile. 

Emma’s never actually seen a body fly across a living room that’s decorated well enough to belong in several different magazines and someone gasps when the Darkness slams into the far wall. It might be her. She might gasp. 

The Darkness laughs. 

Loudly. 

He stays down for a moment, shoulders shaking until he lifts himself up, sitting cross legged on the floor with his chin resting on his fingers. It’s ridiculous. 

“Power,” he says simply. “And it was never the dead man’s.” “Explain that,” Emma demands. She doesn’t remember standing, but her knees crack with the effort of it and there’s sweat pooling at the base of her spine. 

“Cora was wrong. Well, not entirely wrong, but not entirely right. You’ve always had magic, Savior. The power of your parent's True Love passed onto you. And that would have made you a valuable ally. But then you ended up here, in this town and in that house, with this very specific house across the street. 

“You grew up and you believed and you trusted and you fell in love didn’t you? You didn’t know what that would mean, but you were only a child, so I suppose it’s an acceptable naiveté. It festered in you and grew, every single time you were here and every single time you promised. That’s why it’s stronger in some places than others in this town. This house, the hill—oh, it’s rife with magic, that sort of thing always leaves a mark behind.” “You’re avoiding the answer,” Emma accuses. Her fingers twist at her side, something that feels like actual sparks shooting out the ends. 

The Darkness shakes his head. “I’m prefacing. There’s a difference. I’d hate for the dead man to accuse me of pitiful storytelling again. Your magic grew here, Savior and it latched onto the subject of your own True Love. That’s what Cora felt. That exchange and that want. It took root in him, even after you were gone.

“She believed that the dead man could do a job for me. Use his magic to help me retrieve a water that would bring my boy back. I needed magic to transport that water, and then if it didn’t work, I had his True Love power. Of course none of that was true, and the dead man was a stubborn fool.”

Emma sighs again, not sure where to look. She hates that it makes sense. She hates that she wants it to make sense even more, but she’s been on some kind of greedy kick over the last few days and a mythical, magical connection with Killian would almost be reassuring. 

The floor creaks when he moves. 

“Something about the sun, probably,” he mutters, and Emma’s laugh isn’t really that. It’s an exhale of disbelief and the absolute opposite of that. 

“Orbiting or whatever.” “It’s really not helping my non-stalker claim.” “Yeah, I’m kind of almost ok with that.” “That’s good news.” They really are very good at flirting at the most inopportune times. And the Darkness is standing up again, moving across the room with measured steps and a hint of magic that casts a shadow on the edge of Emma’s vision. 

“He’s a bit like a puppy dog, isn’t he?” the Darkness asks, and Emma doesn’t miss the acid there. He may be right and True Love may be a real thing that can alter the fate of the cosmos, but the villain of the story is very clearly starting to grow impatient with all of them. “Following you around as easily as if there’s a leash there. Doesn’t that bother you, dead man? It’s made all of this almost too easy.”

Emma lowers her brows in confusion, startled by the distinct lack of consistency in this conversation. Killian flinches, grimacing in something that might be pain. 

Of the excruciating variety. 

“Hey, hey,” Emma says, already drifting dangerously close to desperation. “What’s happening right now? Hey, look at me.” She can see every one of his teeth when he shifts his head, the cords of his neck standing out and the pinch of his forehead will probably last weeks. 

Emma hopes they have weeks. She’s suddenly not so sure. 

“C’mon, look at me,” Emma presses. She rests her hands on his chest, pulse racing under like it’s trying to prove a point. 

He might shake his head, but it’s difficult to tell, everything coming to some kind of metaphorical head and the Darkness is frustratingly silent. Emma’s eyes drag across his face, trying to find something or a clue and she can’t believe she just thought the word clue, even in her head. 

She gasps when Killian moves, wrapping his fingers around the end of his left arm and Emma wishes she’d stop just realizing things. 

It’s jarring. 

Particularly when the villain of the story has stopped being silent and started laughing again and he’s definitely taken lessons from comic books. 

“Magic,” Emma mumbles. Killian still hasn’t opened his eyes. And the Darkness is getting stronger – metaphorically and literally and it’s hard to see her own hand on Killian’s shirt. 

“Leaves a mark,” the Darkness says. His skin glitters in the shadows, a hint of light that doesn’t do much to help the twist of Emma’s internal organs. “I’d imagine feeling the loss of one’s hand when one isn’t, in fact, dead would be rather traumatic.”

He moves his eyebrows, letting them fly up towards his hairline and Emma has no idea what to do next. Her own magic feels like it’s fizzling out in her right foot. “What say you, dead man?” the Darkness continues. “Does it hurt a little bit?” There’s a muffled groan, but Emma isn’t sure if it comes from Killian or one of his uncles and she has to lean back when his head drops forward. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Emma chants. She also wishes she could stop lying. “Just look at me. I’m right here. You’re fine.” She casts a glance towards Ruby, not sure what she’s looking for but the edge Emma suddenly finds herself perched on feels perilously steep. Ruby does her best to mumble something against the gag, jerking her shoulders and twisting her head until the fabric falls to her chin. 

She’s definitely kicked another goon in the process. 

“God, shit, fuck,” Ruby hisses, and Shakespeare may actually snicker. “Why’d you cut off his goddamn hand? Jeez, Em, the question is obvious.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ve been a little busy.” “Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey, over here, Dark One—” “—You know, I do have a name,” the Darkness quips, easy as ever, but Emma is far too busy trying to avoid as much of Killian as she can to be bothered with it. 

“Yeah, I genuinely do not care. Why’d you have to cut off his hand? Wasn’t he already dead?”

“Oh yes, exceedingly dead. Six feet under, metaphorically speaking. As dead as a doornail. One foot in the grave. Several other clichés. But I needed to know why Cora was wrong. I could feel it you know, when I saw him, the magic—” “—Wait, you felt it?” Emma snaps. The Darkness smirks at her. 

“I wouldn’t have trusted Mr. Teach with a task quite that critical. After all, the water was gone and I still wasn’t sure where to find you, Savior. But then Mr. Teach summoned me and what did I find? A man with True Love magic practically percolating off him and, well, True Love has to work both ways, doesn’t it? So I took a little souvenir. It’s been a rather expansive plan, dearie, I’d think you’d almost be impressed.”

“Only if you explain it.” The Darkness’ eyes, well...darken, and Emma can feel her own magic react to that, a pleasant return, although the power she can tell is simmering in the pit of her stomach isn’t particularly good. It’s anger and something drifting closer to hatred and she wants to do something, wants to destroy and ruin and— “Emma,” Killian breathes. He’s still bent awkwardly in front of her, hair hanging in the minimal space between them, and his voice is barely that, but his fingers reach for her and that may be something. 

Or everything. 

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to...we’re going to figure it out, babe. It’s going to be fine.”

He makes a noise at the endearment that she absolutely, positively was not planning on saying, although, to be fair, she also wasn’t planning on telling him she loved him, so Emma can’t be all too frustrated with her own subconscious. It felt kind of nice to say anyway. 

“Don’t,” he says, a contradiction she doesn’t entirely understand. “Please.” Oh. She understands. 

And the shadows on the floor are getting longer – she’s positive. 

“I’m not leaving,” Emma promises. “Right here. I’m staying right here. No more running. I wouldn't. Not...we’re going to be ok, right?”

She means it as a confirmation, but it sounds like she’s double checking too. Killian grimaces. HIs hair is matted to his forehead, moisture on his cheeks that may be sweat or tears and Emma’s fingers tingle. 

“It hurts.” “I know it does. I know. I…” Emma’s head snaps around, trying to find something, anything, that will help but the Darkness is back on the couch and the goons are moving closer to them and she’s only like sixty-seven percent positive Ruby is trying to untie Nemo. 

Killian cries out, a flash of pain that Emma feels in every inch of her. His eyes fly open, not quite clear and not quite looking at her and something is very, very, inextricably wrong. 

He stumbles, wobbling on his feet as his knees buckle under him and Emma takes another step back, twisting her arms behind her. One of his uncles tries to move, but there are more punches thrown and Ruby’s heels should be marked as their own brand of weaponry and the tears on Killian’s cheeks feel as if they’re branding themselves on Emma’s soul. 

“What the hell is happening right now?” she demands. 

The Darkness giggles. Honestly. It’s a giggle and it’s horrible and horrendous and some other words that starts with the letter ‘h.’ 

Hopping off the couch, his feet barely making any noise on the carpet. They’re going to have to buy a new carpet. This one is probably marked or something now. 

And the shadows have started creeping up the wall. 

Emma can hear her pulse hammering in her ears as the Darkness moves towards her, slow measured steps that don’t match up to the sneer on his face. She ignores that for a moment, dropping to her knees instead to try and work her way back into Killian’s eye line. She can’t – his head is pressed against the floor, body taut with tension and an impossibly straight spine, a few noises every other second that sound like complete and utter agony. 

“It’s not real,” Emma says, another lie or promise she can’t keep and she doesn’t mean to gasp when he looks up at her. 

The expression there doesn’t make any sense. It’s not hatred, it’s more, the opposite of everything she’d felt during impossibly out-of-place declarations. The blue in his eyes has turned nearly black, everything a hint darker than it was a moment before. 

“You left.” Emma swallows, terror climbing up every one of her vertebrae and taking root at the base of her spine. Her eyes are ridiculously dry. It’s probably because she can’t remember the last time she actually blinked. 

“You left,” Killian says again, voice not quite as gruff as it had been. “You left. You said you wouldn’t and you did. You never came back.” “Killian, I…” “No, no, no, you left. You said you’d come back and you never did and then it was too late and everything got so quiet. It all stopped. Like I stopped. Just...drifting on waves.” Emma’s breath is coming in pants, not doing much to help the sting in her lungs and the possible crack forming in her heart. There are still tears on Killian’s face, falling over skin and into the scruff of a beard that’s become almost familiar and oddly comforting in the last few days. 

God, she wants to touch him. 

She wants to kiss him and fix this and stop whatever the hell is causing that look on his face. 

Like he hates her. 

Like he knows she’s wrong. 

“It got so quiet,” he whispers. “It was...I knew it was wrong and I...it was too late and I…” Killian trails off, face contorted in pain again. Emma’s hand darts out, a mistake and an instinct and those two words don’t seem like they should go together. 

The Darkness clicks his tongue. 

“I think,” he starts slowly, feet moving in front of Emma’s outstretched fingers, “what the dead man is trying to say is that he thought of you in his final moments. Isn’t that interesting? Some would almost say romantic.”

She doesn’t stand up easily, which is a little frustrating because Emma assumes the hero of the story should be able to support her own weight, literally and metaphorically, but she eventually gets back to her feet, rolling her shoulders and shaking her hair onto her back. 

It’s fake confidence, a mask and another, slightly more necessary, lie. And she knows she’s not fooling anyone, but she doesn’t have another plan and—

“Why’d you take his hand?” The Darkness laughs. “I needed it.” “Why?” “Several reasons. The first, and most important, was to find you. As I said, I could practically taste that magic. Sweet on my tongue as soon as I set foot on that deck. It almost made the blood less obvious.”

Emma bites on her lip to stop herself from making any noise – and the peanut gallery is doing enough of that anyway, low curses and louder grunts and Ruby’s taken one of her heels off, swatting at goon hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark. 

“There was quite a lot of blood, Savior,” the Darkness adds, nodding towards her like he wants to make sure she’s still a rapt audience. “Did you know that True Love magic has a tendency to focus itself in certain locations?” Emma shakes her head. She thinks she shakes her head. She’s not entirely sure how she’s still standing. “It does,” the Darkness guarantees. “Settles into something that’s of relative importance to the person. Of course, that’s usually the heart, but occasionally, it’s something else.” “And I couldn't take the dead man’s heart. People knew he’d left Storybrooke. He still had a family and Cora...oh Cora. She’d made so many mistakes, she severely limited my options. Luckily for her, there was another spot that felt particularly magical, maybe even more than the heart. I was pleasantly surprised.”

Emma falls over. 

It’s disappointing. 

So I can hold your hand. 

“His hand,” she mumbles, and the Darkness honest to God winks at her. 

“His hand. Chock full of magic. To an almost absurd degree. I knew that it would lead me to the true source of the True Love magic and, well, I’ll be blunt with you Savior, I had hoped it would lead me to you. Because, still being blunt of course, holding your True Love’s hand may be your greatest undoing.” Emma is never sure what happens next. She can feel the surge of something wash over her, a snap of fingers and rush of power and every single light on the entire goddamn street goes out. 

Killian screams. 

It feels a bit like being thrown into boiling pitch, every single one of Emma’s nerve endings jolting under her skin until she’s certain she’s being ripped apart at the seams and nothing has ever felt worse. Her head is on a swivel, looking for an ally or a friend or those people from her dream that she’s fairly certain she understands now, but there’s only darkness and a hint of laughter that lingers on the edge of everything. 

She crawls forward, trying not to get too close to Killian while also getting close to Killian. 

His whole body is shaking, vibrating with pain and the distinct feeling of being alone and trapped in that house for the rest of his life. 

“Killian,” Emma breathes, but he doesn’t look at her. She’s not sure he even realizes she’s there. “Killian, please! I’m...here. I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t real. None of it is real.” “Ah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that Savior,” the Darkness contends. “Because, you see, having that little bit of the dead man in my possession has made it very easy to get, well, forgive the pun, but to get a hand on that same dead man. He’s not magic. He’s been holding onto it, trying to remember and linger in it, a hint of a memory I’m certain was very comforting in his final moments. Did you think of her when you died, dead man?” The question hangs for a moment and Emma can’t hear Killian breathing. Until she hears him speaking. “That was…” he mutters, every letter an obvious pain, “all...that was all…” “That’s what I thought,” the Darkness says. “Would you look at that, Savior? You’re right smack dab in the middle of both of the dead man’s worst moments. Losing his brother and losing himself. And now I’ve got that as well. Right in the palm of my hand. Or his hand? Ah, the specifics don’t matter.” “Speak goddamn English,” Emma shouts. 

The smile disappears. Any sense of polite disappears. And Emma sees the Darkness for what he is, just that. The villain of the story and a man who’d stop at nothing for his magic and his power and the chance to have what he’d already lost. 

“I can control him,” he says softly. “Twist those feelings, that hint of magic to my own being. That’s why he had to know what you’d done to his brother. To clear your heart and purify your magic and make him absolutely, completely mine. Because you see, Savior, True Love is a two-way street, but I’ve just washed out his side of the road. You’ll still feel it, and he’ll have wisps of it, when I let him. So you’ve got one option now. Help me, bring back my son and, occasionally, I’ll let your dead man remember you.” “Or?” “Or, I’ll spend the rest of eternity making him live this moment on loop. And I’ll take you without your permission.”

Emma scoffs. It’s ridiculous. Although she isn’t certain she’s ever been more pissed off, genuinely and completely furious, the kind that burns straight through her and lingers in her toes, so she figures it kind of, almost makes sense.

“Fuck you,” she sneers, gaze snapping back towards Killian. He can’t look at her. Emma licks her lips, mind racing and heart racing and the magic she’s apparently full of feels as if it’s crackling between every strand of her hair. “Killian,” she says, softer that time and she’s got half an idea that may work. “How often did you go to the hill? After, I mean. When it was...when you were a kid, after me, and after I left. Did you go to the hill a lot?” He winces. 

It’s honestly not the response she was hoping for. 

“There’s got to be something good, Killian,” Emma presses. The floor creaks underneath the Darkness’ feet. She assumes that’s a sign. This might work. “Some memory or some moment. It wasn’t all bad, was it?” He can barely shake his head, eyes screwed shut in pain, but his hair shifts slightly against his forehead and Emma’s laugh rattles out of her. “No,” he breathes. “It wasn’t.” “He went up there all the time,” another voice adds, and Emma looks up to find Nemo's eyes serious and gaze intent as Ruby tries to work the gag away from his chin. “Every other day at least. If we couldn’t find him, he was there.” “Yeah?” Nemo nods. “He’s got a picture of you. Stuck in the back drawer of his dresser. I know—I know he doesn’t think we realize it’s there, but, well...we knew it was there. The whole time. You’re young and you—you’re holding—” “—A stuffed animal,” Emma mutters, another nod from Nemo. 

“I won it,” Killian adds. His voice is still questionably soft, as if it’s a struggle to even open his mouth. “It was one of those fair games. Knock over the milk bottles and win a prize.” “But I thought it was fixed.” “Yelled at the guy until you turned beet red.” “I did not,” Emma argues, and she can’t believe she’s arguing with a man who’s already died and feels like he’s dying and the Darkness sounds like it’s suffocating behind her. She can see Killian’s eyes a little clearer. They’re the right shade of blue. 

He shakes his head, half a smirk and all her smile. “No, Swan. You yelled and shouted and called him a downright dirty liar and you stomped your foot.” “Yeah, that might be true.” “And he gave me another round for free.” “So you could win me a stuffed duck with a lopsided bill.” “Ah, not everything is perfect.” “It felt like it was.” Killian hums – a sound that quickly turns back into pain and Emma’s breath hitches loudly. “You still left though,” he whispers. “I never—Liam was gone and no one could ever tell me and—” “I kept those pictures too,” Emma interrupts, and the light that flares around them is practically blinding. “The duck was...I think the duck got lost somewhere between Florida and Minnesota and a string of houses, but I kept those pictures and they’re—they’re in my room. Now. I always wanted to come back. For you. Because—” She doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Eventually that will frustrate her quite a bit. Eventually that will feel like the single worst thing to ever happen to her. 

The Darkness doesn’t scream. He doesn’t roar. There’s not much more than a low growl in the back of his throat, but Emma isn’t sure she’s ever heard a more threatening noise and his eyes look almost yellow when she turns towards him. 

Not entirely of her own free will. 

She almost misses the snap of fingers, any hint of light from her or the power of True Love of whatever gone in an instant and there’s a bottle of something in his hand. It’s liquid, that much she can make out, inky black and sloshing against the side of a glass vial that looks like it came straight out of an 18th century apothecary. 

It honestly may have. Emma has no idea how old the Darkness is. 

“I’ve had enough of this,” the Darkness says, deceptively even. “You’ve clearly picked the wrong option, Savior. I’d rather not spend much more time fighting against you and that stubborn streak of yours. Luckily,” he shakes the vial and Emma swears her blood runs cold, “I’ve got enough of this to keep you on your own leash for quite some time.”

He tosses the cork carelessly over his shoulder, suddenly in front of Emma and she kind of resents that everything seems to slow. 

It makes it far too obvious that Killian is also moving. 

And that there is not a single glove in sight. 

Emma shakes her head dumbly, a mumbled no that barely makes it past her lips and if Killian is certain her hair is capable of reflecting the sun, then she can come up with some equally sentimental nonsense about his eyes – something about the ocean and waves and the suddenly peaceful moments after a storm has cleared. 

“No,” Emma murmurs again, the lump in her throat too large. Her heart feels like it’s about to explode. “Don’t, don’t—” “You came back, Swan,” Killian says. He smiles at her. And wraps his fingers around hers, jerking her closer to his side when the Darkness flips the vial of something towards Emma. 

Or where Emma was. 

The liquid misses her completely, body flat against Killian’s chest. She doesn’t move at first, can’t bring herself to know what is already there, but someone screams and she’s fairly certain it’s Ruby. 

Emma digs her teeth into her lip, and he’s already colder than she expected, but he’s also just as solid and certain as she always imagined he’d be and his eyes are closed when she sits up.

“Killian,” she whispers, dragging the tips of her fingers over the curve of his cheek. He doesn’t move. He won’t. Because Killian Jones is dead – and that’s not going to change. 

[abybweisse]

@gkrosental Oh, I’ve blogged about this before, but it’s split between various posts. So, it might be hard to find. You can check my blog, though, for #advanced technology, #medical technology, #technological advances, #medical advances, #reaper technology, etc. Oh... and stuff like #george and #giygas....

For one thing, that’s not Sebastian’s mobile; it’s the one Vanel’s thugs have. He just takes it from one of them to talk to Vanel.

The other thing is that modern technology shows up in the manga quite frequently, and Yana-san explained once that it’s an alternate universe to begin with, and these things are, therefore, only... slightly anachronistic. Let’s not forget that our earl has some kind of television; it’s been vaguely mentioned by our earl and Finny, and much more directly mentioned by Soma. Funny thing about the TV is that our earl must not be the only one to have one, since John Brown mentions the same TV program to the crowd at the Crystal Palace; he promotes the rumor that the show is based on Queen Victoria! But yeah... some of them are definitely still anachronistic, even for the Kuroverse.

The reapers (and their superiors) have advanced technology. We know this for a fact; even ages ago, when Othello was newer to the reaper organization, he’s seen carrying around a box of computer parts, like a keyboard. Othello says that humans can get ahold of such knowledge through demon contracts, etc. Even though Sebastian hasn’t been told (that we know of) to “invent stuff for me” by our earl, we can pretty well assume that Funtom’s innovative toys come from a combination of our earl’s imagination and Sebastian’s demonic abilities. Funtom is best known for its Bitter Rabbits and candies, but they also sell video game consoles... with game controllers connected by wires. Indeed, Funtom sells a few things that you’d only expect the reapers to have. But it doesn’t end with Funtom, not even regarding video games. How else would Chlaus show up in ch1 with that game cartridge packaging for “Mouse3”? It was actually full of the drug evidence he’d brought back from Italy... but the packaging is probably legit.

I suspect that reapers, like Undertaker, also have an effect on the advancements that humans make... accelerating the process of innovation. Those dialysis machines are a perfect example. I’m not sure yet who actually built them. Perhaps Druitt, since he has a medical license? And because Undertaker saved him on the Campania for REASONS...?

At one point, during the murders arc, Charles Grey makes a comment that Germany’s about ten years ahead of where it should be; I’m not sure how he learned that (perhaps from John Brown?!?), but this means that the Kuroverse is dealing with an accelerated timeline for its technological advances. Characters like Grey and Othello acknowledge something is amiss. But, it’s complicated why it’s happening. Germany might have some reaper or demon/angel intervention, too, but they also have/had prodigies, like Sieglinde Sullivan. She managed something her parents, with all their learning and training, had failed to do. SuLin was the result. Idk how they got the rest of the advanced technology they are using, like radar and tanks. Divine intervention? Other geniuses? Since coming to Great Britain, Sieglinde has continued to shock and amaze with her latest inventions... which seem to be financially backed by the queen....

The reason I mentioned #george and #giygas is because of my main theory regarding Black Butler... that’s it’s largely based on a Nintendo game called Mother3. I mean, that’s what “Mouse3” by “Ninkyodo” refers to, after all. But, as I’ve said in many of my posts about this, it’s not just Mother3 being used for the manga series; it’s the entire game series. And this topic is one of those situations that requires going all the way back to the first installment: Mother. In the US, it was titled EarthBound: Beginnings.

In Mother, a young alien, named Giygas (the translation varies, but this is one of the common ones), is traveling from their home planet, populated by this technologically advanced civilization. Their spacecraft crash lands on Earth and they are taken in by a couple, named George and Maria. They raise them as their own, and they later manage to travel with Giygas back towards their home planet, and Maria stays there... but George returns to Earth... with stolen technology, which he continues to research... and spreads around to other humans. Giygas is sent by their superiors to stop George, because the alien race is worried that humans will eventually use their own technology against them. However, George has died by the time Giygas returns to Earth, so they decide to target George’s descendants. Humans have started to incorporate the knowledge that George brought back; it’s even showing up in some humans’ natural abilities, as if it’s being genetically inherited. We meet one of those descendants, Ninten. He, with the help of friends, has to collect melodies from a song and sing it to Queen Mary, who is... kind of like Maria... but on another plane of existence, called Magicant.

Later, Ness (in Mother2, aka EarthBound) and his pals have to fight people who are under Giygas’ power, including a rather bothersome and wholly self-centered boy named Pokey Minch. By now, Giygas has been driven mad by his futile attempts to stop the spread of this stolen technology and knowledge. Then they have to fight Pokey Minch again, but Pokey has been drastically changed by time-traveling equipment he stole from a human inventor (Dr. Andonuts). Ness and his friends have to fight not just this futuristic version of Pokey but also an unhinged and unleashed version of Giygas; the alien has lost their physical form and now exists as an evil force of immense power. Through prayer (mostly), Ness and his friends are able to banish ... perhaps truly destroy... Giygas, but Pokey escapes to cause problems yet another time.

With Mother3, which never got a worldwide release (which is why Chlaus says in Black Butler that “Mouse3” [and the drugs] were hard to get ahold of in Italy), mirror twin brothers Claus and Lucas get separated after their mother is killed (and their father is too full of grief to help them). Claus ends up missing (he’s dead at the bottom of a cliff), and Lucas and the family dog, Boney, go on a quest to avenge his family. Lucas, Boney, and friends they make have to defeat King Porky; King Porky is what the time-traveling Pokey Minch decides to call himself when he travels to this future setting and settles down to become a tyrant. Giygas seems to be gone, but King Porky still follows Giygas’ destructive life path. King Porky is obsessed with popularity and technological advances. And, at some point, the lifeless body of Claus gets turned into a Fascinating Chimera, and the mirror twin brothers have to compete to fulfill a prophecy... of waking the Dark Dragon. Dr. Andonuts was previously forced to help King Porky, but even he eventually gets revenge.

I have a lot of posts about Mother3 theory, and I’m trying to focus here on a particular aspect, so here are some parallels, particularly regarding technology:

Our earl — Lucas

Real Ciel — Claus

Sebastian, under contract — Boney, the loyal family dog

Sebastian, aka the “Black Butler”, once the contract is fulfilled — Dark Dragon, particularly once the prophecy is fulfilled

Undertaker, bringing otherworldly technology to humans — George

Reaper superiors and/or John Brown — the original manifestation of Giygas and that alien race

Reapers, in general — Magypsies, in general

Prince Soma — Pokey Minch

Prince Soma with the Right Hand of Kali — Pokey Minch with the unhinged Giygas (This parallel would be further strengthened if Prince Soma ends up stealing anything out of Sieglinde’s lab or convinces her to make any sort of contraption for him.)

Queen Victoria, who demands unwavering loyalty and is trying to increase Great Britain’s power through technology and new infrastructure — King Porky, who demands the same and is also focused on infrustrucfure, technology, innovation, etc.

Queen Victoria with John Brown — King Porky drunk on unbridled power, basing his actions on what he thinks Giygas would want of him.

Undertaker, inventor of Bizarre Dolls — Dr. Andonuts, inventor of Fascinating Chimera

Sieglinde, chemist and inventor of various contraptions — Dr. Andonuts (also his younger version, Lloyd), inventor of various contraptions

There are so many other parallels, not just in characters and plots, but also in their timelines. However, like I said... I’m trying to focus on your ask regarding technological anachronisms.

TL/DR: It’s definitely supposed to be the Victorian era, but it’s an alternative universe to our own, so it took some different paths along the historical timeline. Add to that the fact that reapers and demons/angels (or other supernatural beings, like gods) have been intervening in human lives, and advanced technologies and innovations have been introduced along the way because of it.

There are lots of examples of this throughout the series, including the mobile phone used by Vanel’s thugs (Sebastian grabbed theirs; he doesn’t have one of his own). Other examples include TVs, video game consoles, war tanks, radar, and all the contraptions Sieglinde makes for herself and for others, like the Phantom Five.

This all works just dandy with my theory that the manga series is largely based on Nintendo’s Mother game series, since both deal quite a bit with “stolen” technology and runaway technology/innovation.

Thanks for the ask and for letting me screenshot the message to answer in a post. 😊

[ourladyoftheironmasque]

A Cross-Time Caper

When Hawk Moth's machinations inadvertently lead to the akumatization of Ladybug, it will take a bunny, a butterfly, a monkey, two ladybugs and three cats to set the world to rights again.

Chapter One of Three 3,564 words

*

It was all still very theatrical, of course. He bowed low, head nearly even with his hips, one arm bent across his stomach, the other extended up and out. The broad grin permanently etched on his face these days was the perfect compliment to his exaggerated manners. “A pleasure as always, Ladybug, but I’m afraid I must be going.” Another paw pad on his ring vanished, leaving him with two. Chat Noir straightened, and drew his baton.

Two weeks ago, this would have gone down differently.

Probably, he would have bowed over her hand. His performance against the day’s akuma victim always informed his flirting. When he was pleased with himself, he was the old world gentleman. He thought it charming to bow over her hand, kiss her knuckles and call her m’lady. Ever hopeful good work would earn him romance, he’d resist leaving her until his ring demanded it. (Or until she teased him so much that he lost his nerve.)

If he had embarrassed himself during the fight, then he’d be defensive. All sass and unearned bravado, the sort that a girl with self-respect just couldn’t let stand in a boy who couldn’t back up his trash talk. He’d call her Bugaboo just to hear her yell at him. That was his other favorite persona—the little boy on the playground who didn’t know how to tell a girl he liked her, so he antagonized her instead. Sometimes she answered his absurdity with cleverness, but more often than not she’d cross her arms and feign annoyance. Chat Noir always wanted attention, but when he was disappointed in himself, he usually tried to goad her into being upset with him, too. A good job meant looking for rewards he wouldn’t find and his easy acceptance of their absence; when he performed poorly, he’d force a scolding out of her if he had to. With hindsight, she’d let him have his way too much. When Chat Noir went fishing for a set down, his partner should have been the one propping him up.

Now she was Ladybug, always.

And she wasn’t the clever one anymore.

Giving up on Adrien and watching him ride off into the sunset with Kagami should have ended with Marinette climbing atop Luka’s white horse. He was sweet, and she liked him. Maybe he was a little too punk rock and anarchy for a beautiful house and three children at the end of their story, but it’d still be a good story. They would be happy together. The disparity of their feelings had left their friendship unbalanced, but if they were together, then Marinette could reciprocate. She could appreciate and support and respect him like he always had her.

But.

Life never wants to follow the path it should.

Her heart, Marinette learned, was interested in hopeless pining exclusively. As for her stomach, well, that started doing flip-flops for Chat Noir. And although her tongue was just as adept at barking out a plan to defeat the an akuma as ever, once that was finished so was her ability to string together a coherent sentence.

Ladybug wished she could say it was because Chat Noir had matured a lot recently. Because he had! Chat Noir stepped up during the battle against Miracle Queen and it turned out quick thinking and strategy agreed with him. There had been more equal division of labor in the past two weeks than the entire preceding year combined. Just in time, too. Without Master Fu to guide them, they were on their own. Ladybug could not have shouldered the burden of the Miracle Box and come up with all the plans and always be ready to wind her yo-yo around Chat Noir’s ankles to yank him out of the line of fire. Saving Paris had never been a game to him, exactly, but he’d enjoyed it in a way Ladybug couldn’t. To don a mask and smack a monster with a stick was how Chat Noir blew off steam. It was his escape from stress. Now even he could not deny the magnitude of the job before them.

The identities of their entire team had been compromised.

The loss of Master Fu’s memory was bad enough, but it also meant they lost their access to Guardian lore and the Grimoire.

The only council they had left was their kwamis, and transformation cut them off from Tikki and Plagg. Ladybug and Chat Noir had always been fond of using the two of us against the world as a rallying cry, but now it was true. And Chat Noir was pulling his weight.

Ladybug wished she could say she fell in love with him because of that. It would have been poetic, somehow. It would have been worthy of him.

But no.

Marinette had a good cry over Adrien—a dozen of them, really—binged ice cream and terrible rom coms with Alya, heard some variation of if he doesn’t see how special you are then he doesn’t deserve you from literally everyone she’d ever met—most in good faith, though the Chloe version was excruciating in it’s backhanded compliments and the Lila version was pretty obviously designed to make her feel worse—and bought a new diary. New pages for a new era. In general, Marinette did her absolute best to put her feelings for Adrien behind her.

If Adrien and Kagami made each other happy, then that was all that mattered, right? Right.

Right.

Right.

Right.

Marinette did her absolute best to put her feelings for Adrien behind her and they went absolutely nowhere because feelings don’t go away when you ask them nicely. But the loyalty to Adrien that had once made the idea of dating someone else feel so relentlessly wrong? That did leave. It turned out the world was filled with people as cute and smart and funny and kind and gentle and charming and vulnerable and brave and good as Adrien. Her heart scamped right up to Chat Noir and went, Well! How about this one? Isn’t he exactly who you’ve always wanted?

And when she tilted her head and squinted, he kinda was.

Only...she didn’t have to squint, actually.

Or tilt anything.

Looking back, Ladybug had probably been half in love with Chat Noir all along. Her dislike of the cute nicknames and attempts to steal kisses had simply been part of the mask. Another means of distancing Ladybug, Ultra-Competent Hero of Paris from Ladybug, Regular Teenager Making Up How to Save the World As She Went. For a while, she even fooled herself! Before Felix, she might have said Chat Noir pushed her boundaries and ignored her comfort zones. But after? The contrast between her playful partner’s irrepressible flirting and the actions of someone who pressed onwards without caring about her feelings could not be sharper.

Looking back, Ladybug had definitely been completely in love with Chat Noir all along. When viewed through the lens of having loved him, their year fighting side by side made so much more sense. It was her own love that she called upon to conquer Dark Cupid’s spell. When Chat Noir wondered if he would have had a shot in a world without Adrien, Ladybug couldn’t imagine one—but Oblivio soon stripped her of her memories, and photographic proof suggested that in a world where she was at least ignorant of Adrien, she would have fallen into Chat Noir’s arms immediately. And then there was Chat Blanc’s timeline. Ladybug could never know what really happened in that twisted world. Chat Blanc had babbled a lot about them being in love, but in the moment, Ladybug had thought nothing of it. It was simply his one track mind run off the rails. But from the safety of distance and a repaired timeline, she started to wonder if Chat Blanc had been more lucid than he let on. Maybe something had happened between them…

And ended with the boy she loved akumatized, Paris a half-submerged hellscape and herself dead.

Rationally, she knew Ladybug and Chat Noir could go get an ice cream at Andre’s together without triggering the end of the world. There must be a step in between their love and the destruction of the city they were charged with protecting. It was a moot point. He had a girlfriend now.

(Sometimes, she was confident she could steal him away if she tried. He’d wanted Ladybug for so long. Surely if she just apologized and told him how she felt, he’d forget all about other girls. But doing that would make her a bad person, wouldn’t it?)

(Other times, it wasn’t right and wrong that stopped her, but the fear that he didn’t care anymore. That Chat Noir would say no, and Ladybug would have to face that she’d lost her chance with him forever.)

“Pleasure’s yours, I mean, nine. Mine. I mean… See you next time, Chat Noir.”

At least the precarious nature of their transformations meant Ladybug was never trapped in a long, awkward conversation with Chat Noir. When she made a fool of herself in front of Adrien, that was agony for hours. Chat Noir only had two pad paws left, and her earrings were not faring any better. He was leaving, and she wouldn’t see him again until they were in the thick of a fight.

He was kind enough to never question her sudden tendency to get tongue-tied. Ladybug knew he noticed. His banter came slower, like he had to make a mental adjustment when her confidence disappeared.  

It was in that beat of silence—the one that used to not be there, but hung over her like the blade of a guillotine while Chat Noir cautiously decided how to respond—a brand new opportunity for chaos that two weeks ago would not have existed, but did today—when she wished a black hole would open up and swallow her whole

that one did.

Sort of.

“Minibug! Kitten Noir!”

It wasn’t a black hole, but the white-blue void of the Burrow. Bunnyx hung half out, arms making sweeping gestures to urge them closer. “It’s go time!”

As far as holes to swallow you up so that you don’t have to confront your own embarrassment went, the Burrow was kind of a lousy one if Chat Noir was invited. “We’re about to transform back!”

“I came prepared, Minibug. I’m sure you both did, too, with snacks for your kwamis.”

Chat Noir tossed Ladybug an uneasy smile. “Bunnyx wouldn’t be here just for chit-chat. We’d better go.”

(He had lately developed an irritating tendency to take his job seriously.)

(The love and support of his girlfriend was so freaking good for him that it was a little grating.)

Bunnyx’s security measures were, unsurprisingly, a pair of bowls slapped over their heads before she ushered them blindly into the Burrow. Well. Ladybug more or less knew to expect that. Chat Noir yelped. It was good to hear his facade drop, even if just for a second. He had come into his own recently, but underneath it all, he was the same pratfalling goofball he’d always been.

“Spots off.”

“Claws in.”

Familiarity with her purse made any awkward groping unnecessary. Producing a macaron for Tikki was as natural as breathing. For her part, Tikki seemed to be in awe of what she could see. Marinette heard a tiny “Wow” pass Tikki’s lips and from further away, de-transformed Chat Noir trying to placate Plagg. There was a job to be done. No rest for lazy cats, and no time to explore for Tikki.

“Tikki, Spots on!”

“Plagg, Claws out!”

The Burrow was full of secrets. Bunnyx monitored untold timelines, ushering their lives along the best possible path. Although she had heard Chat Noir transform and knew their identities were safe for another day, Ladybug did not dare remove the bowl. Bunnyx would tell her when it was safe to look.

“That—”

“Don’t!”

“—is the mini-est Minibug I’ve ever seen.”

Ladybug tilted the rim of the bowl back. Bunnyx was glaring daggers at a thoroughly unconcerned Chat Noir. A taller Chat Noir. His shoulders were deliciously broad, and his mop of blond hair was not a smidge neater. What should have been absurd—a grown man in a skin tight cat costume, bell and all—simply wasn’t. He stood with the complete assurance that he belonged in that outfit, and so it looked natural. Right.  

Ladybug eyes darted to the boy Bunnyx had brought with them. He’d also tipped his bowl back, and was staring dumbfounded at his future self.

“I mean it,” Chat Plus Sombre said, looking thoughtfully at Ladybug, “What are you? Thirteen?”

Ladybug bristled. So he was a grown-up, so what? That didn’t mean she was useless. “Almost fifteen.”

“She may be a newbie,” Bunnyx interjected, “but she’s good.”

Chat Plus Sombre held his hands up in surrender. “No need to remind me how fast Ladybug picked up the ins and outs of being a superhero. I’ve been playing catch-up since the day we met. I’m just surprised you went this young, Bunnyx. Isn’t the goal to pick her up five minutes before she quit?”

Quit.

Quit.

The casual way the word rolled off his tongue, as if Ladybug quitting could ever be normal, made her blood run cold. It was one thing if she wasn’t needed anymore. She’d happily hang up her yo-yo if Paris was safe. But it sounded like she’d left Chat Plus Sombre high and dry, reduced to plucking partners out of the timestream in order to keep on fighting.

She was going to quit.

Bunnyx treated the revelation like it was normal, too. “For you. They’re gonna take a quick detour. I found something else in the timestream that needs fixing. We’ll get back on track once Minibug and Kitten Noir have accomplished their mission.”

Chat Plus Sombre frowned at Chat Noir. “I don’t remember being tagged for one of these.”

“One of what?” Chat Noir cried. “And where’s future Ladybug?”

“We can’t tell you,” Bunnyx answered. “It’s bad enough you saw him as it is.”

Chat Plus Sombre shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t remember this at all. He’s definitely gonna get mindwiped.”

“And her?”

Crossing his arms, Chat Plus Sombre acceded the point to Bunnyx. “Okay, since I don’t know my little lady is also gonna get mindwiped, I’ll be infuriatingly obtuse. That suit you better?” It didn’t appear to placate Bunnyx, but Chat Plus Sombre had evidently compromised as far as he was willing. “My Ladybug—by which I mean the Ladybug of my time, attach no further significance—is fine. She’s taken a temporary leave of absence. We—she planned it in advance. No Guardian mindwipe activated. She’s coming back. But since Paris still needs a Ladybug, we take one from the timestream as needed. There’s a gap of about three years between when she made the plan and when she needed it that we usually swipe a Minibug from.”

That felt...reckless. Tentatively, Ladybug said, “I thought time is delicate.”

“It is,” Bunnyx answered. There was a slight air of scolding.

“But,” Chat Plus Sombre interjected, “you’re not replaceable, and the earrings are too powerful to sub out even if just anyone could do the job.”

Ladybug looked away, embarrassingly flattered.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” Bunnyx declared. “Better get back on track.”

“She says that,” Chat Plus Sombre added merrily, “but it really doesn’t matter. It’s time travel. She’s gonna drop you in the same nanosecond no matter how much time we spend in here.”

“You can only say that because you haven’t faded from existence.”

Chat Plus Sombre flailed. “Don’t you dare listen to her, Minibug and Mini Me! I’ve stopped existing loads of times! I’m an expert at it! You just—whoosh!” He snapped his fingers. “Stop.”

So the new and improved Serious Chat Noir was not a step away from pointless self-sacrifice. His adult self sounded like it was half-badge of honor, half-hilarious to disappear. “It isn’t funny,” Ladybug said, feeling vaguely faint.

Cat Plus Sombre softened. “You liar, you’re not almost fifteen. That was pure fourteen-and-a-half.”

Ladybug crossed her arms. “Like you can tell. You thought I was thirteen a minute ago.”

“You had a bowl on your head! It’s not fair to judge my level of knowing you-ness by what I thought when you had a bowl on your head. I demand a re-do. Get me another Minibug, Bunnyx.”

“No. Stop.” Bunnyx inhaled. “Here is what is going to happen: they are going to do their mission. We are going to wait here. If they fail, we dip back into time and try again. We’ll do it as many times as it takes for them to get the win. Then, we’re going to go back to our time for the mission we were supposed to be doing. I will not be taking questions.”

Chat Plus Sombre held up a finger. “Not a question. Comment: We broke Mini Me.”

Bunnyx fisted her hands in her hair. “You said you don’t remember this!”

“I don’t. He’s just not having any fun with this, so I have concerns.”

It was a good point. Chat Noir had been awfully quiet. “Can you give us a minute?” Ladybug asked.

Chat Plus Sombre gestured to the Burrow. Yes, it was surprisingly large, but there was no privacy to be found. “Not really.”

“Pretend.” Ladybug shooed Bunnyx and Chat Plus Sombre to the far side of the ...what even was this? Plane of existence? Pocket dimension? Chat Noir sank to the floor, knees up and put the bowl back on his head.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?”

“Him. Me.”

Well, that was just crazy. “You realize you grow up to be Doctor Who, right? Pulling companions from time and space. You should be excited!”

“I’m trying so hard to not be that guy anymore. Looks like it doesn’t even matter.”

“What’s wrong with that guy?” Ladybug happened to like that guy a lot. So much so that seeing him curled in on himself like this was a complete crisis, disastrous enough to forestall all stuttering.

“Were you even paying attention to the way he talks about you?”

“I don’t like how me quitting seems normal to him, but I guess I just don’t understand why we’re both going to think it makes sense someday.”

Chat Noir’s shoulders hunched. “Thought so. He keeps calling you his and you don’t even notice. I stopped doing that.”

“I noticed you.”

“I know the nicknames didn’t mean anything to you, but they mattered to me.”

She should tell him that she missed the nicknames. She wanted to be his lady, his Bugaboo, his everything. But that wasn’t fair to him. He had a girlfriend now.

“Are you really fourteen and a half?”

That it was even a question to Chat Noir struck Ladybug with unexpected force. That level of specificity into their ages was so far into Secret Identity territory that they’d never gone there. Chat Noir didn’t know how old she was. But his adult self could pin it down within a span of months. Chat Plus Sombre knew her better than Ladybug had ever thought she and Chat Noir could realistically know each other.

Ladybug didn’t answer, but they both knew she didn’t need to.

“You quit, and he goes through time looking for different yous instead of just getting a new partner.”

“That’s not his fault,” Ladybug protested. “If I don’t give up the earrings, what else can he do?”

“It isn’t fair. I’m trying, Ladybug. I really am.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know you are. You’ve matured so much. I’ve been really impressed these past couple of weeks. You’ve been awesome, and you shouldn’t look at him and feel like you’re not. Because he’s awesome. You’re still a superhero when you grow up, and a really good one. I’m jealous. I don’t grow up to be Doctor Who.”

Chat Noir eased the bowl back. “Let’s just do the mission and go home.”

Probably, Bunnyx and Chat Plus Sombre couldn’t avoid overhearing the conversation, but the polite thing to do would have been feign ignorance. Yet the moment Chat Noir announced he wanted to get it done and go home (and probably get an ego boost from his girlfriend), the illusion of privacy was shattered.

“That sounded like ready to roll to me!”

“Cross-Time Caper is go!” Chat Plus Sombre cocked one hidden eyebrow. “When are they going?”

Ladybug pulled Chat Noir to his feet and tossed his bowl aside. They followed Bunnyx to the window she beckoned them towards. It was Paris, of course, the beloved skyline marred by a whirling, writhing mass of red hovering in the air near Notre Dame. Bunnyx zoomed in.

The red was…ladybugs? Ladybug bit her lip. Those were her Miraculous Ladybugs of creation, but they weren’t repairing magical damage and disappearing. They were hard at work, diligently crafting something in the sky.

Bunnyx scrolled down, and on the street stood Chat Noir, (a third Chat Noir) staring up at the ladybugs, his face streaked with tears.

“Oh,” Chat Plus Sombre breathed. “This I remember.”

She had a feeling she knew the answer, but Ladybug asked anyway. “What’s going on?”

Grim, he said exactly what she suspected he would: “You’ve been akumatized, m’lady.”

[blankdblank]

Oh Honey

 … Mentions of abuse, attempted assault - not graphic, mostly mentioned...

“I thought I could always trust you!”

“Don’t! I don’t need to hear more pathetic excuses!”

…

We’re just blowing up the actual Tolkien timeline. I’m a day late and getting tired so pt 2 will be out tomorrow. :D

…

Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? The question making you smirk as you finished securing the buttons on the cinched vest accenting your bust in a drop maroon shade over a simple cotton blouse dangling over your thighs under tapering panels on the knee length vest covering the tops of your black jeans tucked into knee length boots. You would have worn your leather leggings your friend had bought you but they tugged too tightly over the bruises your step brother had left there. Lastly a grey fur coat with ears on the hood to finish off the look in securing the buttons cinching the jacket above you.

Your friends were waiting and you had to get going so right out your window you went, using the lattices nailed to the wall coated in flowering vines leading up to your father and step mother’s bedroom. He wasn’t all bad, no, to the world he was the best thing since sliced bread and your hindrance on ‘family’ gatherings since the wedding rehearsal dinner when his hand rested on then eased up your thigh receiving a fork inches from his groin triggering an all out war.

It had been two weeks while your parents were away on their honeymoon and you made sure to get gone. Though tonight you had come back for one purpose, legally you were an adult and instead of saving money to finish out your degree living at home with the sixteen year old predator you returned for a single night to finalize your plan. All week you had snuck in while he was off at team practices packing and filling your trunk to the brim and tonight you had your final bag of things to carry to your waiting car down the block.

Two fences and a hedge leap later you patted the head of a guard dog you passed a treat to in exchange for his silence to climb into your car parked in the back driveway to a neighbors’ that was gone for their night shift. It seemed so easy, just tell the truth and things would get better, but like Cassandra being cursed by Hera you were not to be believed by any wine it came to voicing injustices.

But to yourself you recited the phrase from your favorite film the Labyrinth when Sarah calls out to the Goblin King. Not noticing the glint of an icy blue eye in the crystal marbles dangling from your rear view mirror at the glare from a street light you drove under on your way to the costume party you were expected at. Hosted by the friend you would be renting a closet sized room from to share the apartment around it with six other of your friends to save cash.

Straight through a green light you rolled into the intersection only to slam on the breaks as a truck pulling what looked to be sheets of glass somehow appeared out of nowhere. Shattered shards fell around the metal body of the car contorting and warping as your eyes slammed shut. Soft chirping and bright sunlight has you squinting an eye open, looking around you gawked at the lush lands you were in filled with giggling children racing on the street in the distance into the lakeside pasture you were in. From the stump you were seated on you stood and gasps sounded with the curious children racing over to see the person now turning in circles to see where they were.

“Tiny people…” you mumbled to yourself mentally seeing a man tip his hat to you pulling a massive cow, in comparison to him, along to wherever he was going you nodded to in return.

Giggles surrounded you and you looked down flashing a grin exposing your naturally slightly pointed canine teeth and bright smile making an adorably giggly girl ask, “Are you really part wolf?”

“What?” After a moment you reached up, “Oh no, just the hood,” lowering your hood exposing your naturally silver curls with lavender dyed ends in a straightened ponytail now gently curling back in a warming before the usual sudden poof at how humid the air seemed to be getting in contrast to your former fall setting.

A boy asked, “Are you here to see the Wizard?”

After a weak chuckle you said, “Why not? Where is he?”

The girl answered, “Gandalf left last week Juniper! He’s off to Bree.”

You nodded and said, “Bree it is then, thank you.”

They grinned up at you and you tried to turn away only for the boy to tug on the tail of your shirt, “Your bag!”

Looking down you smirked seeing the carpet bag there you nodded and lowered smiling at him, “I’d forget my own head some days of it wasn’t glued on so tight.” Making the children giggle and run off again as you lifted it and started to the road they had come from.

Far behind you though the children together called out, “The other way!” Making you giggle and wave in thanks at them turning to your left instead to follow the road wherever it wandered passing the kind curious tiny people along the way.

***

Holding up the crystal ball set on his throne in the middle of a meeting in Amon Lanc Prince Thranduil wondered just when these three balls would help him find his One. A gift from Annatar of Rivendell and all he got was flashed of a gorgeous woman with absurdly colored hair. Again just now he saw her, this time with furry ears on top of her head and then suddenly shouts around him died as he fell straight to his back in a sunlit field. Groaning in his rise children swarmed him and grinned asking, “Are you here to see the Wizard too?”

“What?”

They pointed to the figure in the distance near the edges of the city, “She is off to see him as well.”

Instantly his lips parted and he shot up, “Thank you!” And darted off after that stranger in hopes it might just be you.

*

Deeply a sigh left you as you eyed the clearing with nothing but a road for miles without end making you mumble, “Years of watching Bambi is warning me against this, but, we have to get to Bree…” stepping out into the open you walked on, and on, and on. A stop for water in a small stream to fill your thermos from your bag however had brought the figure in the distance to your attention.

Continuing on subtle stolen glances back kept bringing their place to your attention quickening your pace. Up a hill you hastened and on the other side you crouched to hide behind the swaying tall grass surrounding the empty road. Soon enough the mysterious blonde cane into view turning in a circle trying to spot you only to shriek and drop a few inches in a readied stance to strike as you popped up behind him saying, “Can I help you?!”

Inhaling steadily his hand rose to smooth over his outer pale blue robe reaching to his knee over silver pants and tall boots with twin long swords strapped to his hips. “Forgive me, My Lady,” his eyes looked you over and in the warm sunlight taking in your features his words unknowingly halted.

“Are you following me?!”

Hastily he cleared his throat and said, “I am also in search of Mithrandir.”

“Mithrandir? Because I’m looking for a Gandalf.”

“Ah, they are one in the same. Hobbits refer to him as Gandalf and Elves as Mithrandir.”

“Hobbits, And Elves…” moving closer to him you shifted on your feet inspecting his ears and gasped, “You’re an Elf!! Like in Middle Earth-,” your expression shifted to a playfully curious smirk in asking, “Am I in Middle Earth?”

With a nod he replied, “Yes, My Lady. We are, and I am, an Elf.”

His eyes switched to your ears you felt with a giddy squeak at their new tips and you turned to keep going in a bouncing giddy quickstep. “So cool! Always wanted to be an Elf, but then again I’m not technically as stoic or graceful or willing to abandon my children like most self Maidens seem to be.”

“You have children?” He asked hurrying after you.

“Hmm? No. Just, in the books you can’t go without seeing six out of ten Elf mothers abandoning their children to certain doom and loneliness in the books.”

“You know of our histories then?”

“Some,” looking up at him you offered your hand, “Jaqi. But everyone calls me Tiny. You are?”

Slightly afraid to admit his title yet Thranduil answered, “Duil.” Eyeing your hand you pulled back to your side with a nod and faced forward again making his brows furrow at the drop of your grin wondering if he had issued you insult. Quietly you strolled until he noticed your hand moving to unbutton your jacket in the growing warm breeze to cool down a bit, “Is that fox fur?”

Peering up at him you shook your head, “No, it’s fake fur,” you said with a giggle, “I doubt I could ever afford a real fur coat like this.”

“Fake fur?”

You nodded and flashed him a weak grin, “It’s really soft, did you want to feel?” You said raising your arm making him side step to keep himself from issuing any unjust contact between you.

His brows furrowed in a steady inhale and he asked, “How can you fake fur?”

It was your turn for your brows to furrow as you answered, “Um, I, don’t really know. I thought it was like sheep’s wool but stripped really finely and woven into stocks of fabric. I know some use Alpaca fur, but those are out of my price range. This one was second hand and a bargain.” Curiously peering down at your still raised arm his hand rose and risking the flash of seeing the creature’s last moments only to feel nothing but the silky soft material so similar to an implacable type of fur it was trying to resemble.

“What animal is it meant to resemble?” He said withdrawing his hand only to have his brows pop up as you raised your hood with wolf ears on it.

“It’s a wolf costume.”

Lowly he repeated, “Wolf costume..”

“Ya, well, the Big Bad Wolf to be exact,” your eyes met his and you explained, “It’s from a children’s story, my friend was throwing a costume party and I ended up in, what must be The Shire. Where’d you come from?”

“Oh, my family was also having, a gathering, of sorts. In the Greater Greenwood.”

“I bet it’s lovely there.” Curiously he looked you over as you grinned to yourself looking ahead over the endless path through a low rumble of thunder building around you explaining the humidity.

“It is. You know much of it?”

You shook your head, “No, the books say more about Rivendell than Lothlorien and Greater Greenwood, mainly,” in a turn of your head you asked, “Is Feanor dead?”

With a nod he answered, “Yes,” his brows furrowed again, “Why do you ask?”

“Trying to place when I am…is this the First Age?”

“Yes, in the birth of it.”

“Hmm, ok, so no big wars yet with Sauron.”

“Sauron?”

“Annatar is his alias, if you know that one.” Making his lips part, “He’s Melkor’s student.”

“My Ada shall have to hear of this when we find Mithrandir.”

“I think we should write to Celebrimbor first.”

Thranduil’s head turned, “Why would we be writing to Curufinion?”

“Because he’s the one that Annatar possesses to create the Rings that destroy Middle Earth.”

Parting his lips again, yet the first drop of rain had his eyes turn upwards at the clouds that had rolled in above you, “We should find shelter…”

Turning around in a circle he tried to find any source of cover only to flinch at the ‘shink’ of your obnoxiously wide umbrella you pulled from your bag and opened at your side then lifted over your heads making him look at it then you in the growing patter of rain overhead. “It’s an umbrella.” His eyes met yours again, “As long as there’s no lightning we should be fine to keep going.”

Looking forward again he watched the path ahead and round you growing wetter while he couldn’t help but giggle to himself mentally at the simple contraption to ease a common problem.

..

Passing the first  street sign stating you were leaving the Hobbit territory your eyes snapped to a floating ball when you stopped in your tracks, inside which a voice emanated, “Miss Pear, you have called out to me and I have answered. Welcome to my domain! Answering your plea I have taken your brother as my hostage. Should you regret your choice-,”

“You have Kody?”

Pausing slightly the voice replied, “He is my prisoner! Should you-,”

Grabbing the ball you said, “Keep him, you took him he’s yours!” As hard as you could you hurled the ball away only to watch it shatter against a boulder in the distance and turn to a dark waft of mist fading to nothing stirring screams far off in the distance from the one who had stolen him away.

“Your brother has been taken! How-,”

“I don’t have a brother.” You snapped back at his voice raising at you.

“Then who did that person take?”

“My father remarried a few weeks ago, it was her son.”

“So you have a brother!”

Stopping to look up at him his stomach clenched at your challenging gaze, “What sort of brother tries to put a hand up his older sister’s dress?” That dropped his jaw and he turned to walk with you as you said, “He’s given me twelve bruises since then trying to force me to let him touch me, part of why I was moving out and getting far away from that little predator. Whoever took him can keep him.”

“What did your family do when you told them of his actions?”

“They didn’t believe me.”

“Why would you falsify-,”

With a sigh you said, “I don’t know, ever since I was a kid I’d be on the wrong end of situations often and when I tried to speak up no one believed me. Not until someone else spoke up. I don’t lie,” you wet your lips then said, “You wouldn’t know the story, but we have stories about beings, sort of like the Valar,” he nodded in your eyes meeting his, “Zeus would be like your Manwe, top of the gods under Eru, and his wife Hera, well she like to give curses, and one of them was Cassandra, she was a seer and she was cursed that none would believe her. The world’s full of stories like that, cursed families, maybe  was cursed, who knows, magic was so far from common knowledge in my time compared to when they were handed out so it’s all left explained to luck I guess.”

“Was your father believed?”

“I think it was from my Mom. She died when I was little, he’s always been successful, so unless he struck a deal that I get his bad luck so he gets good luck.”

“Why would a parent do that? Force suffering on their children?”

Peering up at him you couldn’t help but grin saying, “I envy you, for not knowing a world like mine. I am glad to be here now though. Hopefully I can stay and Gandalf won’t try to send me back.” Looking forward again his heart sank wondering just what sort of family you had come from and in the silence his mind wandered to just what sort of injuries were hidden under your layers.

…

Bree soon grew in the distance as the rains dwindles allowing you to fold up your umbrella again you slid back into your bag. Into the Prancing Pony you led the way and Mr Butterbur had no clue when the Wizard would be back again leading to your stop to eat, an offer from Duil, to fund before you continued on again in an agreed goal of Rivendell. Horses sounded after you however when you had left the town borders. Subtly your hand dipped into your bag remembering the pair of guys in the dining hall that trailed your path out of town.

Up to your side the pair rode and heavily hopped down with crossbows extended both at you. The pair of them smirked and the larger of the two growled out, “Hand over your goods.”

The other said noting Duil’s swords, “And no thoughts on drawing those blades or the Lady dies.”

Without looking at Duil you asked, “Can you speak to horses?”

Duil looked at you, “Yes, all Elves can.”

“Would you tell them to stand upwind a few feet, I would hate to hurt them, you as well.”

Duil looked you over as the men notched their crossbows and he passed on your request in Quenya then moved around your back as you raised the canister in your hand and in a steady sweep over the pair an orange mist exploded and they collapsed howling in pain cursing at you. Pocketing the canister you approached them nudging the crossbows out of their reach then you turned to Duil and the confused horses saying, “Bear mace. Like liquid fire. Made to scare off bears but also useful for the common thug.”

Nearing the horses you smiled at the tan dappled pair saying, “You are so beautiful. How would you like to go to Rivendell?”

Their ears popped up in glee and Duil asked, “Are you considering stealing their horses?”

“You mean the Men who just tried to kill me for my bag? Yup, I’m freeing their horses from their ignorance.” Strolling around to the side of the shorter of the two you reached up to grip the knot on the saddle and eased your foot in the stirrup to climb up on and look down mumbling, “Been a long time since I’ve ridden a horse…”

Settling your bag in your lap a gentle shift of the reigns had the horse turning and you looked at Duil who rolled his eyes and joined you on the second horse, “Let us fly before their corpses are discovered.”

A giggle from you in the gallop away had him looking at you only to hear, “Mace only lasts ten minutes at the most.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to kill the bears or the idiots, just get time to get away.”

He looked forward again uncertain what aspect made him more upset, the need for the product or the fact that he was now a horse thief even if he turned around to give them back. “My Ada is never to know the manner of claiming these creatures.”

Stroking the neck of yours you said, “I asked if they wished to go to Rivendell, just say we were heading the same way and they happened to be saddled.”

“That will never be believed!” You giggled again and he asked, “What is so amusing about this?!”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” After another giggle you asked, “How far do you think Rivendell is?”

“Roughly a month on foot, few weeks at least.”

..

Weathertop was the first stop for your night, right up to the still in tact lookout for the Western lands of Arnor you both approached and after a second flaming glass orb arrived and was destroyed you dismounted at a pair of guards nearing you. “Who dares approach the Western Keep of the King?”

Before Thranduil could speak you said, “Hi, I’m Tiny, we’re on our way to Rivendell. I was wondering if we might wait out the rain tonight?”

The guard answered back, “This is not a lodging for commoners.”

“Ok, um, what about our horses? I have a tent, but they clearly can’t fit. Could you possibly allow them in your stables tonight?” A wide grin from you came before a confusing, “Please?”

Leaving the pair glancing from Thranduil to your horses and sigh, the first guard stated, “We will house your steeds, for the night alone, My Lady.”

The second guard said, “Keep your tent off our borders.” You nodded then turned asking where they ended and to a band of bushes they pointed and you grinned again and turned to walk off as they accepted the reigns of the horses Duil informed why they were being separated from you.

Near the bushes the pair kept glancing over curious about your tent, curious himself Thranduil aided in the holding of the supporting staffs before his brows popped up inspecting the giant onion like white tent complete with rain tarp tethered down. Standing up you looked to Duil saying, “I know it doesn’t look that big, but inside,”

“Why would you purchase a tent resembling an onion?”

You looked at him then back to the tent and asked, “Why not?” And lowered to duck inside the front flap giving him a moment to rub his forehead then glance at the stunned guards before he turned to peer inside the front flap spotting you laying out two fluffy sleeping bags he looked over slightly panicked.

“I will sleep outside tonight.”

Sitting up on your knees and you replied, “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to sleep in an onion tent.”

“This has nothing to do with the onion! I cannot share quarters with you!”

With a nod you said after a clap of thunder made him tremble and you smirk, “Well, the tent is waterproof where you are not,”

“I am not afraid of the rain.”

“Oh get in the tent!”

“I cannot!”

Lifting a brow you said, “You are getting in this tent or I am going to scream, and keep screaming until you do.”

“You cannot-,” At a sharp inhale from you he frog hopped inside through the round opening to sit down wide eyed at you as you flashed him a grin, “Satisfied?”

You nodded and dug in your bag for your pop up stove and using more of your water to heat up the jarred veggies you had coated in seasonings combined with and noodles you had Thranduil watched you carefully and accepted the bowl and spoon you offered him. “Thank you,” Your thanks in place for his made his eyes snap back to you with his brows up again in shock, “If you’re afraid of being alone with me I promise not to hurt you, and with the sleeping bags there won’t be any snuggling issues.”

“Sleeping, bags?”

Setting down your bowl you tugged your bag closer and showed him how the zipper turned it into a sort of cocoon easing something close to a compromise instigated grin across his lips, “See, you have yours and I have mine. No funny business. Though I have a comforter or two if it isn’t warm enough.”

“Comforter?”

“Oh honey,” you sighed out only making his head tilt slightly, “A comforter is a decorative thick warm blanket to cover the other sheets on your bed.”

“Ah. Elves are not troubled by the cold normally.”

You nodded saying, “Well, I’ll pull a spare out just in case you change your mind.”

.

Sleeping once the cooking and eating utensils were put away was next, removing your boots you closed the tent door and secured the lock on the zippers you showed Duil how to work then moved to sit inside your sleeping bag. Shrugging out of your coat the reveal of the figure hugging clothes had Duil swallowing hard though within moments you laid a purple comforter over your feet and laid back zipping and covering up with a comfortable sigh after your wiggle onto your belly to nuzzle your head into a pillow from your bag. On his back he eventually settled and closed his eyes when your breathing deepened, silently hoping that sharing quarters unchaperoned could be taken well once all details were thoroughly explained. True you would be wed one day in the future when all priorities were met but he hoped not to hasten things too quickly and ruin the reputation of your union after having been swayed into taking a consort not two centuries past giving him a son, the birth of whom withered his mother to an early grave as it came suddenly in an attack on the edges of their borders.

.

All the way to another open clearing two weeks later an eerie chill had you up early and in a cautious stroll to the nearby stream your head swiveled hearing someone around you. Tightly your throat was gripped and a broken shriek from you ended in your back being slammed into the trunk of a tree. Tighter the grip grew until a hand reached out to cover your eyes followed by a warm splash of liquid coating your lower half.

Shakily you inhaled after a harsh cough ended with Duil’s hand on your other shoulder cluing you in he was not alone. “Keep your eyes closed, Miss Pear. We will dispose of this filth.”

Weakly you asked, “On his neck, is there a c shaped red spot?”

Thranduil, “C shaped?” Holding up your hand you made a C and he replied, “This was your brother that attacked you?”

“If there’s a C on his neck it was.” Over his body Thranduil patted Glorfindel’s shoulder then they and the twin covering your eyes peering at his brother who was looking down at the now apparently young for his size teen whose body faded to nothing. Another failed plan spurring up screams in the distance and the agitated path to drawing up a new plan for his schemes. Though back in your old world the teen awoke and was instantly infuriated and in search of you to complete his dreamed strike out against you.

Eyes uncovered you silently went back to the tent to pack up while the Elves discussed what had happened a few moments prior. It took only a few moments in sharing what he had done to you in the past for the trio to be seething with anger as to who they had saved you from. Quietly the tent fell and you stood peering over at the four as Glorfindel said, “Prince Thranduil, your Ada will be relieved to know you are safe, he has had us scouring our lands for any sign of you.”

“Prince Thranduil,” you stood with a hip cocked making him sigh at the shake of your head and turn lowering your crossed arms.

Looking to the trio he stated, “I was not exactly forthcoming of my title to Miss Pear upon our introductions.”

To yourself you mumbled folding the tent up making the twins smirk in amusement, “Exactly forthcoming, no title at all Mr Duil.”

.

Atop your steeds between the trio you rode the final stretch to Rivendell, then chatting around you while Thranduil kept peering at you longingly for your forgiveness. His lips parted and in a far from threatening tone you said, “Don’t! I don’t need more pathetic excuses!” Already he could spot the few usual markers of your use of ‘sarcasm’ and it eased his mind knowing you were in a form of jest with him, even if you were a bit upset at the moment for the initial half truth. “I thought I could always trust you!”

By chance Elrond was already out in a trip to Lothlorien so you were stuck waiting for word on what to do next. Odd ruffling sounds brought the newly discovered Prince into the doorway of the open dining area you were sitting in to remain out of the way for the workers in the kingdom all staring at your every moment.

It seemed wishes for a better look had him in the doorway watching on as you shuffled your deck of cards once again. Breaking the silence as you set up another game of Solitaire he asked, “Are you testing the fates’ path for you with your cards?”

“No. Just a game of Solitaire.” For the remainder stack if cards you swiped your hand fanning them out, “Pick a card.”

His brow inched up and Elladhan slid to his side choosing for him making you smirk asking, “Is it the three of hearts?”

Ellohrir shook his head with a chuckle before you claimed the card and turned it to peek at it reading the seven of clubs, “Hmm..” Turning it back to them your other hand rose to flick the card making them gasp seeing it now reading the four of spades. “How about now? Three of hearts?”

Again they shook their heads looking at you and the card in confused awe as you clicked your tongue then leaned to your right looking Thranduil over, “You’ve got something-,” Reaching out his ear twitched as your finger grazed his hair hanging over his ear before he heard a flick of paper sound and your hand drew back making their mouths drop open as you held the three of hearts in your hand, “There it is. Trying to spoil my tricks by hiding the card in your ear, young Prince.” Shaking you head he couldn’t help but chuckle a you said, “For shame.” Teasingly.

Glorfindel approached saying, “You are a Wizard then.”

You looked up at him shaking your head, “Nope, all slight of hand,” you said flicking the card from one hand to the other changing it to the seven of clubs again. “My father is a magician, I used to be his assistant. All slight of hand and misdirection for amusement of crowds. Easy to learn with practice. Nothing special.”

Your eyes lowered to put the cards back into the remainder deck you shuffled again before Thranduil said, “You are unfathomably special.” Making you glance up at him before he shifted to learn more on this card game of yours hoping to get back to your same joking, relaxed relationship.

…

All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25​, @tigereyesf​, @pastelhexmaniac

[kittysukagasterfics]

More Than Meets The Eye

 Note: This isn’t canon to the storyline with Gaster and the Human. Just think of this as an alternate timeline. Anyway, onto the fic!

Handplates belongs: @zarla-s

Inspired by: @randomstuff7739‘s post about Yandere! Handplates!Gaster.

Summary: Gaster has been acting strange lately. Is this really the best ending for the Human?

     The Human had noticed it, even if Gaster tried really hard to hide it. They may have been naive but they weren’t completely clueless. They had seen him sneaking weird looks at them when he thought the Human wasn’t looking. That was already strange enough behavior by itself but what happened earlier really confused them.

     Gaster had been wanting to spend more time, almost every moment it seemed, with them so the two of them were alone talking in his work room. The Human was telling him bad jokes and he would slightly chuckle at them while running his fingers through their hair. The mood between them seemed relaxed at first. That is until the Human asked him about Asgore and Alphys.

    “*You ask Gaster how Alphys and Asgore are doing.” ‘*He grows eerily quiet...”

     The tension grew thicker as the long, awkward silence dragged on. Gaster’s facial expression was hard to read but the Human could tell he wasn’t too happy with the question. They tried to get his attention by calling his name but he was too deep in his own thoughts. The Human decided to give Gaster a kiss and pet him to snap him out of it. It must have worked since he stiffened at the pet before tapping his skull against theirs a bit too forcefully.

    “Hmm, sorry, Human. I must’ve daydreamed all of a sudden.~ Did you say something?~”

    “*You repeat your question.” ‘*He gives you a long stare.”

    “I’m not sure why you’re so worried about them, Human.~ It’s not like you’ll be meeting those two anytime soon, so why bother?~”

     The Human blinked in surprise by his tone of voice. He’s usually more willing to talk about his king and co-worker than this. When they asked if he was alright, he insisted he was fine. He finally took them back to the cells with the excuse that he had work to do. Perplexed by his attitude, the Human decided to see if the brothers knew anything.

    “*You ask the brothers if Gaster’s been acting strange lately.”

     The Human was currently playing with the Rubik’s Cube with the brothers. As far as they knew, Gaster was busy working in his office at the moment. Their concerns weren’t exactly put at ease when they noticed the brothers giving each other a worried look.

    “UM, WELL, I’M NOT SURE WE’RE SUPPOSE TO TELL YOU BUT...”

    “instead of doing tests like he tells you we’re doing, he’s actually mostly talking about you...”

     While the brothers listed off all the things Gaster had said about them, the Human was lost in thought. Gaster giving them small compliments now and then was nothing new so, no surprise there. But for him to actually lie to them just to hide it? That was unexpected and out of character for Gaster. The Human needed to confront him about this.

    “*You tell the brothers you’ll be right back.” ‘*They give you a nod before going back to playing.’

     The Human got up from the table and walked down the hall towards the work room. Not bothering to knock, they went in just as Gaster was finishing up a phone call.

    “Yes, sorry I can’t make it, Alphys.~ Something...urgent just came up.~ I’ll call you back later.~”

     Without even saying goodbye, Gaster hung up and noticed the Human standing there. They noted that he looked a bit too ecstatic to see them than they were used to. He walked over to them and placed a hand firmly on their shoulder. Just as the Human was about to speak, he interrupted them.

    “Ah, Human.~ I was just about to come get you.~ I need to ask you something.~”

    ‘*You start to say something but he continues talking...’

    “I,,,I wanted to ask you to join me for tea later today.~ You know, a date of some sorts-”

     The Human's mind went completely blank when Gaster asked this. They couldn’t help but blush at his invite. The Human of course accepted and left the room, unaware of the crazed look Gaster had.

(Some Time Later)

     The brothers exchanged apprehensive looks when the Human talked about their date with Gaster later. They didn’t think it was a very good idea and started to say so, but Gaster walking in prevented them.

    “Hello, Human.~ I have everything set up in the kitchen if you’re ready.~”

     The Human nodded and Gaster put the brothers back in the cells before leading the Human towards the kitchen. When the two of them got there, they saw that he had already set up everything. From the lit candle on the table to the delicious-looking tea and cookie, it looked perfect. It felt so romantic that the Human almost started to cry tears of joy. Gaster chuckled at their reaction and sat them down at the table before taking a seat himself.

     Taking a sip of their tea, the Human immediately knew it was golden flower tea. Although, the taste was a bit...weird. It was still tasty though and so were the cookies so they didn’t think too much of it. As they ate, Gaster trailed a finger around the rim of his cup while he spoke.

    “I hope you like the tea, Human.~ The King taught me how to make it but I’m not sure it’s as good as his...~”

     The Human smiled at this and asked how Asgore came up with the recipe.

    “Let’s not worry about that, Human.~ This date isn’t about Asgore nor Alphys so just forget about them, alright?”

     They found his tone of voice alarming but let him continue talking. It was sweet at first. He talked about his growing feelings for them and complimenting them as well. The Human would blush harder and harder each time he spoke.

    “I would’ve never guessed that I could ever love a human, but being with you makes me very happy.~”

    “Your eyes always remind me of rubies, Human.~”

     But soon, the compliments turned into thinly-veiled threats. It didn’t sound like it was towards them however. Some of the things said were slightly creepy as well.

    “All I want is you, Human.~ All I’ve ever wanted was you.~”

    “Alphys honestly thought I would skip out on a date with you just to help her with a lab report.~ Hopefully she got the hint earlier.~”

     When the compliments turned creepy, the Human began to shift uncomfortably in their seat. They had a bad feeling in their SOUL after each spoken threat,. Finally, the Human decided to end the date immediately and tried to leave the room, only for Gaster to suddenly grab their wrist. They struggled but his grip was too strong.

    “*You tell Gaster to let you go.” ‘*He gives a dark chuckle in return...’

    “I’ve confessed my feelings for you, Human and this is how you respond?~ Bad. Choice.~”

    “*You tell him that he’s hurting you.” ‘*His grip on you only tightens.’

     Gaster then yanked the Human to him, tightly hugging them to his chest. They felt too weak to fight back all of a sudden. He ran his fingers through their hair while tapping his skull against their forehead. Their vision was becoming blurry now. Suddenly, they felt Gaster clench a fistful of their hair.

    “No one else makes me feel this way, Human!~ I can’t afford to lose that!~ I will make complete sure that you can’t escape me.~”

     The Human finally found the strength to break free from his grasp. They didn’t get too far though as they suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed to the floor. They tried to get back up but their body failed them. The Human let a out a whimper for help, hoping someone would hear them. The last thing they saw before they blacked out was Gaster standing over them with a deranged look on his face.

~~~~~~

     The Human was in complete agony when they woke up. Pain shot up their right arm as the apparent sedatives Gaster had snuck into their tea started wearing off. The Human’s vision had cleared slightly but they were still drowsy and confused. Attempting to sit up proved useless as they found themselves strapped to some sort of chair. Eyes trailed down to their clothing which was splattered in small specks of blood. They guessed it to be theirs but weren’t sure from where.

     The door then opened with Gaster walking in. He looked slightly less deranged now. He walked up to the Human who began to struggle and stroked their hair in a tender way. Gaster then grabbed a damp washcloth and began to clean off blood from their hand. That answered the question of where the blood came from but that still left another question.

    “*You ask Gaster what he did to you and why your arm hurts so much.”

     Gaster once again gave another dark chuckle and unstrapped their right arm. He showed them their hand, causing the Human to start crying. Screwed onto their hand was a metal plate with letters on it. The letters read: WDG-3 H, a branding of some sort. They were in so much shock that they barely registered Gaster talking as he began to unstrap them completely.

    “Do you like it, Human?~ I made it just for you and the best part is-”

     The Human felt Determination pumped through their SOUL as they roughly pushed Gaster backwards, cutting him off and sending him falling onto the floor. They ran out the open door in hopes of finding somewhere to hide long enough to form a plan. They would periodically check behind them to see if he was following them but they never saw nor heard Gaster. Filled with hope, they ran into the large storage room and shut the door behind them. The Human pressed their back against wall and slide down to the floor. They tried to steady their breathing as they tried to figure out what their next step was.

    “*You let out a scream when the door suddenly swings open.”

     They scrambled into the corner as Gaster calmly walked towards them. The Human knew there was no escape at this point. They sobbed loudly as he knelt in front of them. How did Gaster even find them?!

     As if Gaster had read their mind, he gently grasped their right hand. His voice was eerily calm as he spoke.

    “You left before I could tell you the best part, Human.~ The plate allows me to track where you are at all times.~ It may be uncomfortable for a couple of days but you’ll get used to it.~”

     Any hope that the Human may of had left completely vanished when they heard this. Even if they were to escape, even if they had any chance to find a way out, Gaster would be able to quickly find them. The Human didn’t want to risk losing a hand either so attempting to remove the plate was a no-go. They were trapped here whether they like it or not. Fresh tears streamed down their cheeks at this revelation but apparently they weren’t punished enough for whatever sins they may have committed.

     Gaster pulled the Human from the floor and pushed them roughly against the wall. His face darkened as he gripped their shoulders tightly.

     “I feel like I should give warning before you decide to do anything drastic.~”

    “If you feel tempted to leave me, I won’t hesitate to give the Subjects the same treatment.~ You wouldn’t want that to happen to the little skeletons, would you?~”

     Now he was resorting to blackmail, as if today couldn’t get any worse.

    “*You tell Gaster to leave the brothers out of this.” ‘*He seems pleased with your answer and pulls you into a hug.’

     Gaster quietly whispered into their ear.

    “Don’t worry, my dear Human.~ We’ll be together forever, and nothing will get in the way of that.~”

(Later)

     The Human found themselves one-sided cuddling with Gaster, alone in his office. They had finally ran out of tears but sadness still lingered. Looking at their new handplate, the Human wondered what went wrong in the timeline and what sick, twisted being had made Gaster this way...

Note: Like I said before, this isn’t canon to the normal storyline so the Human doesn’t actually have a handplate :D. I hope you all enjoyed reading and were patient enough for the wait. Thank you all for reading! Requests are always welcomed! I love all of you! Stay tuned for more.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT Retrospective (7/7)

[Note: I wrote this on January 16, 2013.  Originally, I had embedded a video of Goku Junior slapping his bare ass for like ten hours, but it’s down now :(   Such is life.)

Well, I know I said I finished watching Dragon Ball GT, but there's one last thing in the box set: Dragon Ball GT: The Movie

This actually isn't what it sounds like.  I'm pretty sure the "movie" was actually a TV special, and it didn't really have much at all to do with the characters or plotlines of GT.   Really, it's more of an epilogue tale of the future, set one hundred years after the events in Dragon Ball GT.   Of course, GT was set some forty years after the beginning of the first Dragon Ball storyline, so it seems like a jump too far.   From what I understand, the original plan was to wrap up the GT series with the end of the Baby Saga, but something happened and they ended up making another twenty-odd episodes.  In between all that, they had this GT special set up, probably as a final sendoff to all things Dragon Ball.   This was somewhat undermined by flashing a hundred years back for Super 17 and Shadow Dragon Sagas, but in the final episode of GT, they flashed forward yet again to tie the series finale with the special.   So, the premise of the special is pretty straightforward.  One hundred years after Baby's defeat, Goku and everyone else from Dragon Ball is dead.  The only one left is Pan, who's looking pretty spry for a a centenarian.  Actually, I'm not sure 100 years was the best time frame to use.   Goku's master, Master Roshi, was already three hundred years old when Dragon Ball started, and he survived all the way to the end of GT, never really aging much.  The implication was that his lifetime of martial arts training somehow allowed him to unnaturally extend his lifespan, but it was never actually explained.   Further, we never really found out what the lifespan of a Saiyan is.  Goku and Vegeta aged very little across the timeline of DBZ/DBGT, and Vegeta explained that Saiyans have a much longer physical prime than humans do.   Humans like.... Master Roshi?   I don't think anyone really put a lot of thought into this, probably because no one ever seriously planned to cover the world of DragonBall that far into the future.   Even if we knew how long Saiyans and humans can normally live in that universe, the Saiyan-human hybrid characters would still be an x-factor.   I guess what I'm trying to say here is that we really can't tell what keeps Granma Pan so fit.  Is it because she's one-quarter Saiyan?  Is it because of advances in that Earth's medical technology?  Is it because any human in that world could live past 100 with proper diet and exercise?   Or is she tapping into the same ki techniques that preserved Master Roshi for so long?   What I kind of dig about the special is that no one really knows, and we may never know.  The world of Goku and his friends is gone, lost forever like a forgotten dream.  Pan seems to be a minor celebrity in her own right, but it's because she's Pan, not so much because she was related to the mysterious Son Goku, daughter of the brilliant scientist Son Gohan, or the heir of the legendary world champion Mister Satan.  If she married, her husband is never seen or mentioned.   We have no idea if she had brothers or sisters.   She must have had at least one son or daughter, but the only reason we know this is because of her grandson, Goku Jr.  There's a melancholy to that.  Maybe some of these missing figures are still alive, but they're clearly not part of Pan's life anymore.   It's just her and her grandson living in Satan City.   Goku Jr. probaly knows the city was named to honor his ancestor's heroism at the Cell Games, but the information is meaningless to him.   It's ancient history, especially to a small boy.  Goku Jr. is the spitting image of his namesake, but this doesn't mean that much to him either.   He knows Goku was a great warrior, someone whom Pan respects tremendously, but he might as well be Abraham Lincoln.  He looks in the mirror and sees himself, not a cartoon character who could blow up entire planets with his fingers.   Pan tries to train Goku Jr, but he's kind of a klutz.  More to the point, he's timid and doesn't want to fight.   A bully named Puck takes a cool-looking novelty pen from him, and he just lets him keep it.   Pan gives him shit for not standing up for himself, but he doesn't see the big deal.   During this conversation she has a heart attack or something like that, and we cut to the hospital, where Pan is apparently in bad shape.  Goku desperately promises to train harder and fight anyone he has to if it means she'll pull through.   This is where Pan realizes she's been too hard on the boy.   I like this scene because it would have been too easy to forget that Pan was kind of a pushy jerk when she was a kid.   The adult Pan is still demanding and refuses to take crap from anyone, but she's been wanting Goku Jr. to be like her grandfather, and he has been all along. Son Goku wouldn't start a fight over a pen, no matter how many cool floaty things are inside it.  But he would go through anything to save Pan, and that's what Goku Jr. is determined to do, too.   When Pan takes a turn for the worse, Junior heads home, and notices a photo of Pan as a child, holding a Dragon Ball.  He flashes back to a time when Pan tried to tell him the story of the photo, but he was too preoccupied playing video games.   PAN: Hey, check this out.  It's a picture of me and my robot friend Giru.   And I had a dopey orange bandana, and I whined all the time, and Vegeta never got to do anything cool, and-- GOKU JR.: That sounds really boring, granma.  I'm gonna play more Super Mario World.   It's hard not to like Goku, Jr., is what I'm trying to say.   Anyway, Goku Jr. doesn't know the whole mythology of the Dragon Balls, but he does vaguely understand that they grant wishes, and the four-star ball was sort of a family heirloom, so he devises an ill-conceived plan to travel to Mount Paozu and search his ancestor's home for it.  A truck driver offers him a lift, but this is just a trick to get all the stuff in his giant backpack.   Evil Truck Driver is perhaps my new favorite GT character. GOKU JR.: So what's in this truck?   ETD: It's full of hamburgers, kid.  It's pretty awesome.   GOKU, JR.: Wow, you sure have a lot of food in the cab.   ETD: Yep.   I've got even more food in this bag here, too.   You want some?   GOKU JR.: Nah, I've got my own food in my backpack.   ETD: ... Really?    Uh... say, you want to hop out and take a whiz?   It's a long way to go.   GOKU JR.: Yeah, I guess I'd better.   I'll just leave my backpack stuffed with food in your truck filled with even more food.     ETD: Delicious.  Uh... I mean, scrumptious!  I mean!  I'm driving away and taking your food with me!  Ha ha ha! I feel really bad for whoever's expecting those hamburgers to arrive.   Actually, maybe he's not even a real truck driver.  He just stole the truck one day and he's been living off its cargo ever since.   Ironically, this turns into a lucky break for Goku, because he meets Puck while he walks to Mt.  Paozu on foot.  Puck had heard about Goku's plans before he left, and he was so impressed with his daring that he wants to tag along and watch when Goku is eaten by wild animals or bandits.  The thing is, Puck's a pretty fair outdoorsman, so as they get closer to their destination he's able to help Goku live off the land.  Along the way, Puck begins to bond with Goku Jr., and they have a few minor adventures.   Wolves attack them, but they're rescued by a woman with a shotgun who takes them to her home for the night.   Unfortunately, she turns out to be a witch or a demon or something.   Whatever she is, she eats people.  Goku Jr. is suspicious from the start (due to his past experience with Evil Truck Driver), so he and Puck manage to escape.   Their partnership comes to an end on a rickety bridge.   Goku Jr is afraid to cross until Puck proves it's sturdy enough.   Even so, the bridge nearly collapses, and Puck falls off in a failed attempt to rescue Goku.  Goku manages to climb back up on his own, and then he rescues a bearcub from one of the same demon bandits he escaped earlier.  In gratitude, the bear’s mother escorts Goku to his ancestor's home, but they're once again attacked by the bandits.   This time, they're joined by Lord Yao, their leader.   The mommy bear tries to fight him off so Goku can take her cub to safety, but she's hopelessly outmatched.   Worse, the baby bear slips away and tries to help, so Goku can't even save him.  Frustrated with his powerlessness, Goku Jr finally loses his shit and transforms into a Super Saiyan.  He clobbers Lord Yao and frightens his henchmen away.  When he reverts to normal, he has no memory of the battle, and believes the bears did all the work.   With all that out of the way, Goku Jr. locates the Four-Star Dragon Ball in the ruins of what was once his ancestor's childhood home.   This is really a melancholy scene.  The house belonged to Son Gohan, the kindly old man who adopted the elder Goku when his spaceship crashed on Earth.  When Dragon Ball begins, Goku leaves that home to begin his adventures, and aside from a couple of trips to pick up his things, he never really returns.   Now, some 140 years later, it's still standing, but derelict.  No one remembers the kindly old man who lived there, or how his compassion changed the universe for the better.  Someone must have left the four-star Dragon Ball there to honor his memory, but even the significance of that gesture is lost in the sands of time.   Goku Jr. doesn't understand how the Dragon Balls work, so he starts praying to the four-star ball, asking the Dragon to restore his grandmother's health and bring Puck back to life if at all possible.  When he gets no answer, he becomes upset, and then he notices the original Goku standing beside him.   He introduces himself as Goku Jr.'s great-great-grandfather, and explains that the Dragon Balls only work when you have all seven of them.   Nevertheless, he congratulates his descendant for his courage and strength, and then Pan and Puck arrive on the scene in an aircraft.   Apparently they didn't die after all.   The elder Goku disappears without a trace, and Goku Jr. is left with the lesson that his inner strength was what saved the day.     I'm not crazy about the ending of the story, since it's never explained how Puck survived his fall.   Pan's recovery is no big deal.   No one knew for sure whether she would live or die, so it's entirely plausible that she got better, went home, and realized where Goku Jr. must have gone.   But Puck fell off a bridge into a deep canyon.  Unless Pan swooped in and saved him in the nick of time, I don't see how else he would have survived.   Of course, some other superhuman resident of Mount Paozu might have stepped in, but the special seems to be built on the idea that the superheroics of old are no more.   Of course, based on the finale of Dragon Ball GT we might infer that Goku Jr.'s wish really was granted after all.   In the final episode of the series, Goku merges with the Dragon Balls as Shenron exiles himself from the earth.   So if the Four-Star Ball was sitting in his old house, it must have been Goku himself who put it there, because no one else would have had it.  And it's reasonable to assume he had the other six with him, so when Goku Jr. made his wish, he really did get it to work after all.   The implication is that Goku is the Dragon, and he's not too picky about the rules.  I think this is what Toei was going for, but they wanted to keep it ambiguous.  Maybe Goku did come back from death to grant his descendant's wish, or maybe Goku Jr. imagined the encounter, and Puck and Pan's survival was just a fortunate coincidence.   The next time we see these characters is in Episode 64 of the regular GT television series.  Goku Jr. has learned to harness and control his powers to become a talented martial artist.  He enters the World Tournament and faces one of Vegeta's descendants in the final round of the Junior Devision.  Pan is still in good health, and she meets Vegeta Jr.'s mother, indicating a friendly, if not close, relationship still exists between the two families.  The elder Goku reappears once again to watch the tournament finals, but Pan only glimpses him for a moment before he vanishes again. There's a bittersweetness to the special that really makes it worthwhile.   Beyond that, it's actually kind of boilerplate.  It reminds me a lot of the "Episode of Bardock" special that was recently produced.   In that, Goku's biological father Bardock miraculously survives the destruction of his home planet by getting thrown back in time, where he becomes the hero of the pre-Saiyan Planet Plant and turns Super Saiyan at the climactic moment.  It's not a bad story, it just doesn't have a whole lot else going for it other than being a callback/tribute to the main Dragon Ball storyline.   A lot of fun was had with these future scenarios, depicting heroes who would carry on after Goku: Future Trunks in his alternate timeline, Uub at the end of DBZ, Pan as the heir apparent in GT, and Goku Jr. in this special.  But none of these characters ever really goes anywhere new.  At best, they follow a path similar to the one charted by Goku and his contemporaries.  The moral is that the story is the same no matter who the main character is.  Goku Jr. barely knows the legend of his famous ancestor, but he carries on the tradition nevertheless.   That's the "hero's legacy".  Goku might be forgotten after a few generations, but the things he stood for, the causes he fought for, the example he set, those things are timeless.   And that brings us full circle, because I think the chief mistake of Dragon Ball GT was in trying to de-age Goku to artificially loop his character arc.   Toei wanted to make Goku his own successor, when they probably would have been better off making Pan the main character, having her own goofy adventures with Goku and Vegeta chilling out in the superhero retirement home.  Or they could have skipped ahead and made the series about this Goku Jr. kid, since he has the look they wanted without all the baggage.  GT ended with a ham-fisted morality play about how the Dragon Balls had been overused, which is humorous coming from a studio that couldn't let the Dragon Ball franchise end with dignity.  With the special, they kind of got it right, but only for a moment.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Spring Day

Well. 

A long time ago, my friend @xeraeus drew a picture of Jumin and V set to the song Spring Day by BTS. (More specifically this picture, but honestly they have a few on this topic). Anyway, I’ve wanted to write a fic in that vein, based on that song, for a long ass time now, but never had the right angle. It is so perfectly them. This fic was supposed to be smut, but lol. I played myself I guess. It was originally set to the song 2002 by Anne Marie, but became Spring Day all on its own :’). Dates are based on the original 2016 release of Mysme and timeline I made. Our boys are 30 this year!!

Mystic Messenger | JuminV (I wrote them with the idea in mind that they loved each other deeply, though I think it’s also enjoyable as simple platonic love) | Tw for suicide and dead bodies. Like legit, if you’re even slightly triggered by these things give this fic a wide berth. It incorporates the original secret endings.

~~~

1996

“Here...like this!”

Jumin picked up the nearest piece of chalk and pressed it down onto the concrete, shading in the eyes and hair of his clumsily drawn superhero.

As had come to be the usual summer routine, Jumin and Jihyun spent entire afternoons at one another’s house. Sometimes they broke through the hole in the fence at the end of Jumin’s garden and explored the street; other times they climbed the trees and peered out across their tiny kingdom.

Today they had taken to Jihyun’s porch with boxes of brightly coloured chalk, eager to scribble down pictures of their favourite superheroes.

Iron man’s armour and Superman’s boots were pink, with speech bubbles scribbled in a luminous green. Jumin and Jihyun’s hands, meanwhile, were covered in bright smudges of colour where their hands had touched the ground. At some point Jihyun had rubbed his hand across his face, leaving a smear of pink dust. 

Jumin dragged a piece of chalk across the concrete, sketching clouds underneath Iron Man’s boots. 

“He’s going to fly away to Metropolis, just like this…”

“Just to see Superman?”

“Of course!”

Jihyun took a different piece of chalk and drew over the frowning face he had put on his original sketch.

“Superman’s happy,” he said. “Look, he’s smiling.”

“Of course he is, he’s getting a visit from Iron Man!”

“Oh, it’s not Iron Man he’s excited about. It’s Pepper Potts. He wants to take her on a date.”

“But Pepper isn’t coming...and anyway, she’s Iron Man’s girlfriend. Why would she go on a date with Superman?”

“Ah, well, Iron Man and Superman are friends. Friends share the things they like!”

“I don’t know if that applies to people…”

Jihyun, seemingly unphased, reached for the bottle of sugary juice he’d been sipping at in the baking heat.

“Of course it does! See, Superman can take Pepper on dates from Monday to Wednesday. Iron Man can take her on dates from Thursday to Saturday.”

“What about Sunday?” 

“Hmmm,” Jihyun scratched his chin. “I suppose she’ll need a break from all of those dates. Maybe Superman should go to the movies with Iron Man while she’s resting.”

“That’s very considerate of them,” said Jumin. “I suppose they must be meeting on a Sunday this time, then.”

“Oh, you’re right!”

Jihyun moved to set down his juice, presumably to draw other details onto their scene. He misjudged the distance, though, and gasped as it spilled, flooding their drawings in a sea of red.

They both moved instinctively, slamming their hands over the juice in an attempt to rub it away. It only smeared the chalk, though, leaving Iron Man without a head and Superman’s smiling face a blurred mess.

Jumin watched as the colours merged into one, reds and pinks and yellows and green, so closely intertwined that it became difficult to tell which was which.

Jihyun jumped up to fetch a cloth from the house, leaving Jumin to watch in curiosity at the grazes on his hands, blooming through the mix of juice and chalk, shining like a rainbow over his broken skin.

1997

“So if we carry the one and find the multiplier…”

Jumin glanced up from his textbook, expecting a follow up question or observation, only to frown at the confirmation of his worst suspicions. It had been Jihyun’s idea to have a study party, but he had spent most of it with his head resting on one hand, seemingly more interested in the goings on outside of his bedroom window than any equation.

Jumin cleared his throat politely, watching as Jihyun’s wistful expression cleared into one of disorientation.

“Where were you?”

“I…” Jihyun ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

“No. Not exactly.”

Jihyun looked back at the window, as if searching for answers, which presumably did not come, for he stayed quiet. When he eventually spoke, it was so softly that Jumin wondered if he was really addressing him at all.

“That woman… She came again today.”

2002

“...and to that I hold.  I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone…”

“I choose a mortal life.”

Jumin and Jihyun watched in awe as Narwen let go of Naragorn’s hand, leaving behind the glittering Nevenstar.

They waited on the edge of their seats for the next line, only for it to be drowned out by thudding at the door. They peered over the back of the couch, watching as the maid scurried to greet whoever had come to visit, visibly nervous from the heavy urgency of their knocks.

“Good aft-“

The maid got only midway through her greeting before realising the visitor’s identity and, even though neither Jihyun nor Jumin could see what was going on, it was incredibly obvious from the maid’s hurried apologies that whoever it was was not only unwelcome, but unhappy about it.

“You tell him!” The visitor cried out, their words slurred in the telltale fashion of one who has lost their hearing. “You tell him he’s my son- he can’t keep him from me!”

Jumin turned back towards the television, unable to shake the feeling that he had seen something he shouldn’t have. He chanced a sideways glance at Jihyun, who still peered in the direction of the voices, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well,” said Jumin, sliding off the couch and wishing he didn’t sound so awkward. “I can’t hear the movie. We should watch it elsewhere.”

Jihyun didn’t answer, but he certainly didn’t protest as Jumin stopped the movie and put it back in its case. They climbed the stairs to Jihyun’s bedroom in silence, Jihyun lost in his thoughts and Jumin reluctant to draw him out of them for fear of saying the wrong thing.

Jihyun closed his bedroom door behind them and rested his back against the grain, squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the woman on the porch.

“It might take a while to get back to the scene,” said Jumin, getting onto his knees to fiddle with the TV. “If you just give me a-”

“Why does she do this?” 

It was rare for Jihyun to have this sort of outburst and Jumin turned to him in surprise, watching as he sank down to the floor.

“Why does she keep coming here...keep saying such idiotic things…”

Jumin wanted to say so many things, but ultimately only one thing felt appropriate.

“She loves you,” he said, thinking back to the movie scene only seconds before. “People act in unexpected ways when it comes to their loved ones..”

“In that case, I hope it never happens to me.”

2005

Jumin didn’t like the smell of hospitals. It was the smell of death, as imminent as it was inevitable, and it permeated every fibre in his clothing and strand of his hair. He thought of it every time he visited charity events with his father, unable to hide the way the chemical scent burned his nose as he posed for photographs. It gripped onto him no matter how forcefully he scrubbed his skin in the bathtub; lingering on the collar of his shirts regardless of how often he sent them away to be laundered.

This time, though, the smell was the least of his worries. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t thought about it all.

He had the luxury of only bits and pieces of the story; the smell of smoke overpowering his imagination. For the first time in all of his visits to the hospital, he had a genuine reason to be afraid of what he might find there.

He stayed silent as Chief Kim showed him into the room; saying nothing even as he approached the bed, both relieved and nervous at Chief Kim’s rapid decision to leave them alone.

Jihyun had recently had something of a growth spurt, yet looked incredibly small in the hospital bed. His face was bruised, his arms bandaged and Jumin was sure he’d never forget the expression on his face. It was as if he wasn’t truly there, staring off into space as if searching the walls for answers. 

Jumin cleared his throat and took a seat next to the bed, lifting his book bag onto his lap and reaching inside for the books and papers he had carefully packed before leaving the house.

“I made a second set of notes for you,” he said, setting them down on the bedside counter, “as well as the recommended reading.”

Jihyun stayed still and silent, as if he wasn’t there. Jumin pretended he didn’t notice, continuing to rifle through his bag.

“Our class signed a card for you,” he said, “we pitched in and bought some candies. Here, your favourites.”

Jihyun still said nothing and Jumin clasped his hands together in his lap. He didn’t know what he had expected to find there, so eager to see his friend that it hadn’t crossed his mind that he didn’t really know what to say to make him feel better. He wished he had brought another member of his class with him, someone who wasn’t as awkward as he was.

“I...um,” he said. “About what happened...I’m sorry for your loss.”

It sounded hollow, even to him, though nothing sounded appropriate. There were no words for situations like this; not one of his lessons on etiquette had prepared him, and he certainly lacked the relevant life experience to draw from memory.

He wanted, more than anything, to say that he was sorry. He was the one who had suggested Jihyun take the time to visit his mother. He wondered if any of this would have happened if he had considered his words as carefully as he was now.

Jihyun began to speak, his voice so croaky that Jumin wondered how long he had gone without speaking.

“She...she saved me…” 

“Jihyun?”

“She saved me,” he said again, turning towards the bedside counter and pile of brightly coloured candies. “Why?”

Jumin knew only the bare bones of the story and the mental image alone was enough to haunt his imagination: smoke billowing from broken windows; the crash of a falling chandelier. He knew he had nothing of value to say, so instead repeated the same words from a couple of years before.

“She loved you.”

It felt strange to say it in the past tense and he couldn't even begin to imagine how it might feel to be on the receiving end.

Jihyun clearly didn’t know either, for he never replied, instead turning back to the wall and staring back into space, as if going over the words in his own imagination.

2008

“Over here...just...aha! Like that!”

Jihyun-no, V-took a step back and clapped his hands.

“Well,” he said, “what do you think?”

Jumin pinched his chin, taking in the bright colours and practised angling.

It was immaculate, that much was true; a portrait of longing in pink and purple. Even so, he couldn’t think of the right words to describe it.

On its own it was perfect. It would certainly attract admirers if presented in an exhibition. The fact remained, though, that it wasn’t in a gallery or even alone. V’s study was full of photographs almost identical to that one, with only V’s own assurances of the imperfections that distinguished them from one another.

Jumin couldn’t help but skim the floor and desks, eyeing the endless rolls of films yet to make it to print; the makeshift darkroom and unpacked boxes.

Over the past few years, Jihyun had taken an interest in photography that quickly developed into something of an obsession. Jihyun spent most of his days travelling between his studio to one site or another to fill his photo albums with pictures of the skyline. Jumin frequently scolded him for how little he was sleeping; how dark the bags under his eyes had become. 

Since his mother’s death, he had been continuously restless, spending so long behind the camera that he no longer seemed to recognise the real world beyond it. One day he would show Jumin a new shot he was proud of, only to have archived it several days later. 

There was no denying that his photographs were beautiful and Jumin could only imagine how they must look to outsiders. Having seen them all, however, he couldn’t escape the underlying sense of desperation in each one, as if each one tried and failed to capture its true subject.

He took in V’s hopeful expression as he examined the picture in front of him, recalling his own observation several years ago.

People were irrational where their loved ones were involved and V was nothing but irrational of late. Jumin glanced at the bookcase on the opposite wall, full to the brim with the leather journals that came into V’s possession after his mother’s funeral.

He turned back to V and forced a smile.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “The best one yet.”

2010

“It’s beautiful!”

Jihyun chased the shoreline, jeans rolled up to his knee and camera outstretched in front of him. He dropped to his knees to capture the way the sun shone against the tides; his own shadow against the shore.

It had been Jumin’s idea to visit the island and Jihyun’s to bring his camera. Even though he had suggested the break in an attempt to give Jihyun a break from seeing the world through a camera lens, he couldn’t bring himself to tear it away from him. He looked so happy, gasping in genuine delight at every ripple of water and his own footprints in the sand-footprints washed away by the sea only moments after being set in place.

Jumin wanted to tell him that true beauty couldn’t be contained on something so simple as camera film, but it was difficult to follow his own advice. Camera or no camera, this was the first time in at least a decade that he had seen Jihyun so free.

“Jumin!” He cried out, dropping to his knees and setting his camera aside. “Look!”

Jumin walked over to him, concerned that he might have grazed his foot or worse, only to slow his gait when Jihyun lifted the shell in his hands.

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Sssh!”

Jihyun held the shell to his ear and leaned out towards the sea, trying to focus on the sounds within.

Jumin folded his arms, watching as the sea lapped the shore and drenched Jihyun’s jeans. He didn’t seem to care, far more interested in the sound of the ocean than anything else. 

Perhaps it was hypocritical on his part, but he wanted to capture this moment forever. How long would it be until he got another glimpse of Jihyun laughing? Would Jihyum ever see himself bathed in the sunlight he had come to love so much? 

Despite himself, Jumin reached for the abandoned camera, stealing a picture of Jihyun while he wasn’t looking. 

People weren’t themselves when it came to their loved ones and he didn't mind being someone else for a while.

2011

Jumin knew V better than most. He could tell when he was tired, coming down with a cold, hungry, annoyed and more.

It went without saying that he could tell when he was nervous, and that certainly seemed to be the case now. Jumin glanced from his friend’s nervous smile to the woman standing behind him, who had bowed so politely at the mention of her name. 

“V has told me so much about you,” she said, “it’s like we’re friends already.”

She spoke so pleasantly that it left him feeling guilty, all too aware of the uneasy look in his friend’s face.

“A pleasure,” he said, stretching out a hand for hers. 

It wasn’t a pleasure, of course, and he trusted that Jihyun knew him well enough to notice. He couldn’t escape the bright colour of her hair; the wideness of her smile as she accepted his handshake.

Never before had he met a person that reminded him so thoroughly of empty landscapes and lonely skies. She reminded him of sunlight-the same rays V so desperately tried to capture on film- and something about it sent a shiver up his spine. 

He had spent so long staring into Jihyun’s desperate portraits of loneliness and longing, yet had never come to consider his own.

He remembered the heavy thuds of Jihyun’s mother’s fists against the Kim’s front door, each one echoing through his heart as Rika and Jihyun laughed in front of him, so engaged in their own conversation that it was as if he watched them through a misted window.

He didn’t know why, but her every word cut into him like broken glass, bringing to mind events that he believed long forgotten-sugary juice seeping through lovingly drawn lines and erasing them forever. He squeezed his hands into fists without meaning to, the ghost of broken skin and scratches as sharp on his senses then as they had been so many years ago.

2012

The first RFA party was a resounding success, which came as a surprise to absolutely no one. The past few months had been a flurry of activity and organisation, communications and last minute checks. It was satisfying to see the culmination of everyone’s hard work, even if he was exhausted at the end of it.

Jumin was only too happy to take a break as the auction came to a close. He left the hall and took a seat in the kitchen, wiggling his toes and flinching at the soreness of his feet.

He couldn’t wait to get home and check his emails, his neglected cell phone burning a hole in his pocket. He reached to switch it on, considering that it would only take him a matter of minutes and it wouldn’t offend anyone if he was very much alone.

As the phone screen lit up, the door opened and he quickly moved to hide it in his pocket, only to change his mind when he saw who had interrupted him.

It was V, closing the door behind him with just as much relief as he had only a short time ago. He squeezed his eyes shut and loosened his tie, visibly startled when he realised he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, Jumin,” he said, every ounce of tension leaving his body. “I didn’t see you there.”

The irony of it wasn’t lost on him; this was the first time the pair of them had been able to talk all evening. Every opportunity he had had to speak to V alone had been interrupted by patrons and Rika alike. Now that they were very much alone, he wasn’t sure what to say. 

He had wanted to congratulate V on the success of the evening, though his own involvement in it left the compliment feeling shallow. In truth, the night was a success for both of them, yet left him feeling so empty that it was as if he had not had any sort of role.

“How goes the auction?”

“They’re about to sell the last item,” said V, taking a seat beside him. “I’m a little nervous, to be honest.”

Jumin knew the piece he referred to; the biggest and brightest photograph in the room. It was certainly beautiful and should have made him happy, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that the more colourful V’s photographs became, the more V himself seemed to bleed away into monochrome. 

His style had changed and he had a different muse, but behind every layer of colour was the same desperation as before. Even his modesty was bittersweet; Jumin knowing all too well that it came from vulnerability just as much as it did humility.

He wanted nothing more than to stay with him, away from the rest of the party. They spoke almost every day, yet it felt as if years had passed without his notice. V was always busy, always out on one adventure or another with Rika.

“Come here,” he said, regret biting through his words even as he said them. “It’s your masterpiece. You should be there when it’s sold.”

V looked just as disappointed as he felt, but got up regardless, standing still as Jumin reached to fix his tie.

Jumin focused on the material, willing himself to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than for Jihyun to stay, to let him know that he didn’t want to leave him behind any more than he wanted to be left.

He didn’t trust himself to stay quiet if V stayed behind with him; didn’t believe in heart of hearts that he would find the right words now that it mattered.

Jihyun reached out for his hand and Jumin froze in place at the unexpected warmth. He looked up at Jihyun in surprise, never once retracting his hands.

Jihyun’s gaze dropped to the floor, hair falling into his eyes and shielding him from view.

“Jumin, I…”

Jihyun squeezed his hands a little tighter, the silence between them as palpable as a winter breeze.

“I…”

Jihyun took a deep breath and then, as if reconsidering his words, let go of Jumin’s hands.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing a smile so artificial that it looked far more like a grimace. “Don’t worry about it.”

He shook his head as if shaking away his thoughts and turned away to the door. Jumin watched as he rejoined the party, stepping back into the cacophony of strong perfumes and brightly coloured dresses, leaving the peace and quiet behind

2014

“Do you ever think about the way things used to be?”

V swirled the wine in his glass, watching the shift in colours.

“How so?”

Jumin wondered what had prompted the question. Up until a few moments ago, they had been comparing notes on V’s new exhibition and the pieces he meant to include.

“I don’t know,” said V, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I guess I’ve just been very nostalgic lately.”

“...are you drunk?”

“Maybe.”

He laughed bitterly and leaned back into the couch, never once letting go of his drink.

“Do you ever think about the choices you’ve made?”

Jumin raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Not especially,” he said. “I consider most of the pros and cons before trying to reach any true conclusions.”

“Of course,” said V. “That’s just like you.”

He took a sip of his drink, seemingly still deep in thought.

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we’d made different choices? If you hadn’t gone to work for your father...if you’d gone to live with your mother…” V paused, grimacing into his wine glass. “If I’d gone to live with mine.”

“A lot of those weren’t our decisions to make,” he said. “And even so...I think that we are the product of our decisions in the end. Even if we decided differently-if I abandoned my father’s name, for example-the person I am now would be drastically different and not necessarily for the better. I wouldn’t have had so many opportunities, financially or in terms of career. We might never have been friends.”

He glanced across at Jihyun, suddenly all too conscious of the tangent he had taken. He did not seem to mind, though, resting in his head in his hand to listen and raising his glass as Jumin fell silent.

“A toast, then,” he said, reaching to tap his glass against Jumin’s, “to living… with the consequences of our mistakes.”

He laughed out loud, apparently at some sort of private joke, before leaning back to swallow the rest of his wine. Jumin did not follow, watching as some of the liquid dribbled past his lips and onto his shirt, leaving a bright red stain behind that gave the impression of an open wound. 

He wanted to ask what mistakes Jihyun could possibly be talking about, though said nothing in the end, instead reaching for the glass in his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough for one evening.”

Jihyun didn’t try and resist him, instead watching the abandoned wine glass with a dreamy smile.

“Jumin,” he said. “Do you ever wonder what might have happened if I’d never met Rika?”

In truth, he wondered almost every day what might have been. He wondered what might have happened if he had never urged Jihyun to see his mother; how things might have turned out if he had called Jihyun back on the night of the first RFA party.

He might say otherwise, but he already had a lifetime of regrets and definitely had lingered over the idea of a world where the pair of them had taken hold of their respective family businesses instead of steadily drifting apart.

“I think you’re definitely drunk.”

2016

Jumin didn’t know anything about medicine, but he knew a dead body when he saw one. His guards had reassured him that he would have needed a surgeon and full operating theatre even if they had gotten there in time.

“Sir,” said the nearest guard, voice trembling from both grief and nervousness. “We have to get going.”

“Just a minute,” said Jumin. “Just a minute more.”

Jumin didn’t know what had happened in the moments leading up to V’s death. He hadn’t heard his last words, nor gotten a chance to say goodbye. Strangely enough, though, neither of those things fueled his anger. 

Nobody had moved Jihyun’s body from the place he had died, leaving him face down on the carpet and soaking the floor with blood from his chest. No one had taken hold of his hand and Jumin had to wonder if anyone had offered any gentle words at the time of his passing.

That, though, didn’t rouse his temper either.

Jihyun was looking right at him, but his gaze was far away, as if peering into the distance. Jumin was oddly reminded of the day he saw him in the hospital after his mother's death, staring off into space as if searching for answers in the walls.

Jumin wondered if he had ever truly left that room; how much of him still searched for the answers even in death.

Only now he was dead did he truly look relaxed, as if each one of his burdens and worries had finally left him, and that was what infuriated Jumin the most. He could think of nothing but his own words in 2002, that people were at their most irrational when it came to their loved ones. He wished he could take them back; wished he could plant any other idea in his mind but that one. At some point, without his notice, V had taken his simple observation and come to the conclusion that true love meant sacrifice. 

He wanted to tell him what a fool he had been; wished he could take back each one of his mistakes. He wished he had intervened long before V met Rika, even if he knew the outcome would be the same. 

Jumin closed his eyes and pretended the copper smell of blood was wine; that he and Jihyun were still in his penthouse and at the nostalgic stage of drunk.

For a second Jumin forgot Jihyun was sprawled across the throne room carpet and looked like a fallen prince. In that moment it was his friend in his arms instead of a body.

Of course it was disappointing when he opened his eyes again to find himself sitting on the floor, Jihyun slumped in his arms and growing colder by the second. 

“Where are you?” Jumin whispered, as if Jihyun had lapsed into daydreams and nothing more. 

He didn’t expect him to answer, yet still found himself disappointed when V didn’t open his eyes. 

“Where are you?” He said again, shaking V’s shoulder.

He already knew the answer, much as it pained him to admit it. He had gone to a place Jumin could not follow; a place where it was never winter and permanently bathed in the smell of spring flowers.

2017

It took many months to find a buyer for Jihyun’s home. Despite every attempt to keep a lid on the situation, it was only a matter of time before its reputation as a suicide house became national news.

Jumin, of course, was deeply offended at the nickname. Despite rumours to the contrary, one had ever actually died there, deliberately or otherwise. Rika still lived, in a jail cell many miles from there, while V passed away in a castle, far from his own bed.

In truth, the idea of selling Jihyun’s house left him feeling uncomfortable, and he might never have gotten rid of it if the decision had been left to him. Chief Kim, on the other hand, was only too eager to be done with it and found a buyer after the house sat empty for many months. After V’s memorial and the RFA’s own goodbyes. Jumin was the only visitor.

The house remained untouched; rolls of film still left in random places and clothes folded at the foot of the bed. Jihyun’s house phone still blinked to warn of missed calls and his voicemail held a grand total of eighteen messages. He didn’t know how long they had been sitting there and couldn’t bring himself to find out.

Whenever he found a quiet moment, he returned to the house, sitting at the kitchen table and taking in the sound of the ocean outside. He remembered sitting there at the time of Rika’s disappearance, scrolling through his contacts for the number of a private investigator. V had always been reluctant to hire one, and only now that he was gone did he understand why.

After V’s death, most of his family and friends had held themselves at a distance, as if he might explode. They didn’t know what to say and he didn’t blame them. He had been in their shoes more than once, after all. They spoke on the messenger and at the memorial how much they missed Jihyun, but he had never fully been able to relate. He had, after all, missed V for many years, and most of all while he was alive.

When the final sale finally went through, he had little choice but to finally rummage through Jihyun’s possessions. Jaehee and Zen both offered, though he- perhaps selfishly- insisted that it had to be him. He didn’t want to miss any remnant of his best friend anymore than he wanted to miss any fragment of himself.

There was so many photographs and he looked over them last of all, packing every album and loose picture into boxes, examining each before setting the boxes outside of Jihyun’s front door. He had been there when he died, yet still expected him to come through the door at any moment, confused by his empty home.

The last photo sat at the back of V’s wardrobe, crumpled behind a shoe stand and it ripped as Jumin fished it out. His blood ran cold when he saw what it was-a photograph of Jihyun sitting at the shore with a shell pressed to his ear. He recognised the photograph only too well; still remembered the moment he had taken it. 

The strength left his legs and he sank to the floor, the impact of Jihyun’s absence hitting him all at once. They would never go to the beach again-Jihyun would never see how gently the sunlight kissed his hair. He would never again lift his camera, never again pore over the colours of the sky, and Jumin found himself hating him for it.

He moved before he realised what he was doing, storming out of Jihyun’s front door, down the cliffside  and lifting each box of photographs to the sky, watching with a fluttering heart as they each took to the wind and landed across the water, too light to break the surface and floating out to sea in a cacophony of different colours-a portrait of a summer sky he would never see again and never wanted to.

Jihyun had died long ago, before ever picking up a camera. Only his body died at the castle and it filled Jumin with rage. He wished he could go back and smash each one of Jihyun’s cameras; take him by the collar and shake some sense into him before it was too late.

Wishes counted for nothing, though, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t matter how often he wished; how many days he waited for Jihyun to come home; how many photos he cast out across the ocean. None of it mattered now that it was too late.

It was almost too ironic that he only really understood Jihyun now that he was gone. He finally understood Jihyun’s final toast-to regrets, and living with the consequences of their actions. He knew then that he hadn’t been drunk at all.

The water as cold at first and it sent a chill through his body. He stared ahead at the withered tree in Jihyun’s garden and abandoned photographs floating above him, decorating each branch in a flash of cover.

He closed his eyes with a smile, allowing the tides to take him, lulled into sleep by the knowledge that when he opened them again the blossoms would be real and winter would be over.

??????

“Jumin…”

Someone poked his cheek and he frowned, turning over onto his side.

“Jumin!”

That same someone reached for his shoulder and shook him, leaving him no choice but to open his eyes. 

“Where am I?” He said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He head was spinning and stomach fluttering, every scent and ray of light hitting him all at once.

He was sitting under a tree, the perfume of its flowers gentle on his senses and petals scattered on the floor around him. His face was wet with morning dew and a five year old Jihyun sat next to him, laughing out loud at his confused state. Jumin reached out his hands, taking in their size and the pitch of his own voice, concluding that he was five as well.

Something about it struck him as strange , but he couldn’t quite figure out what.

“Don’t you remember? We’re at my mother’s house!”

Jihyun pointed across the lawn, towards a house surrounded by fruit trees.

“But...that house…” He said, confusion overtaking him again. “It burned down, didn’t it?”

He was sure he remembered the ashes and aftermath, yet could see it clear as day.

“What are you talking about? There’s never been a fire here.”

“No...I suppose you’re right.”

Someone emerged from the doorway of the house; someone he had seen before, though couldn’t quite remember when.

She waved to them both, motioning for them to come into the house.

“Come on, you two, it’s time for dinner!”

Jihyun jumped to his feet, beaming as his mother climbed the hill towards them.

“Coming,” he said, running towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Say, did you make our favourite?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she said, before glancing towards Jumin. He was sure he caught a flicker in her eyes-sadness, or something like it.

She reached a hand towards him, smile creeping across her face.

“Are you coming?”

Jumin stood up, linking his fingers in hers. For some reason, he still felt nervous. His chest was tight and he took a deep breath, turning back to look at the tree behind him. Its petals were beautiful, luminous pinks and golden hues shimmering in the light. Somewhat strangely, its highest branches had been decorated with hanging shoes, each carefully tied together like baubles on a Christmas tree, shifted gently by the breeze.

Something about it was both strange and reassuring, and he turned back to Jihyun’s mom with a smile, flooded with warmth as she stroked her fingers through his hair.

“I’m coming!”

"So what did you two get up to?” Jihyun’s Mom asked as they returned to the house. ‘Return’ being as strange word, as Jumin was sure he had never been there.

“We played the imagination game,” said Jihyun.

“Oh? And what did you imagine?”

“Iron Man flew away to Metropolis!”

“Just to see Superman?”

“Of course!”

[ghouliday-music]

To Save Those Who Can’t Be Saved Chapter 9

Beginning

<– Previous

To Save Those Who Can’t Be Saved

AO3

Work Summary: Frisk, Asriel, and Chara go back to Waterfall to solve the mystery of the lone statue sitting deserted in its halls. Along the way, they uncover more questions than answers, and find themselves forced to face their greatest faults and failures.

Chapter 9: The Right Thing

Chapter Summary: Frisk sits down and reflects on what Chara said, and on their own actions in the past, in the hopes of deciding what to do in the future. Meanwhile, Asriel must choose between risking it all in the hopes of finding a third option, or acting now and accepting the consequences that come from it.

Rating: T

Warnings: Death mention, murder mention, child death mention, child murder mention

Characters: Frisk, Asriel

________________________________________________________

Frisk knew they couldn’t run forever. They wanted to, to keep going until they ran out of underground. But, despite everything they were only human. Their lungs and muscles burned, even though the dust from New Home had barely left their clothes. They had to stop, rest, breathe.

So when they reached the end of the Core, they didn’t run out into the light and the searing heat of Hotland. Instead, they took a corner and entered a darkened doorway, darker still than the rest of the metal corridors that seemed to echo with the pounding of their shoes. For a moment, they stood in the doorway, straining their eyes against the darkness. Where were they?

Wherever they were, they had to hide, or Chara would find them.

They forced themself to go deeper into the darkness with small shuffles. Their lungs ached, but they resisted the urge to take huge, gasping breaths. Any moment now, they thought, they’d hear the sound of shoes against metal, or someone calling their name with restrained fury. They had to be completely silent.

Their attempts to avoid drawing attention to themself nearly ended when the floor underneath their left foot disappeared. They slapped their hands over their mouth, only to make a sound louder than the squeak they muffled, and pulled their foot back onto the solid ground.

Once they’d gotten their breathing back under control, they sank to their knees and felt around until their fingers curled over the lip of the floor. It was some kind of hole. A fairly deep one, they realized as they patted down the edge to find there wasn’t an end that they could reach. And it seemed to be a fairly wide ledge, they decided as they ran their hands along its lip and found it continued around a corner.

That was the fact that jostled Frisk’s memory and made them realize where they were. Without the magical flames floating in the pit, they could hardly tell it was one of the dead ends Alphys steered them into that one time. Or rather, that one time multiple times. Probably.

Perfect. Chara would never find them in there.

Frisk sat as close to the edge of the floor as they dared, deep in the shadows of the room. Their ears felt like they were straining to capture any noise. Any moment now, they thought, Chara would pass by, looking for them, demanding answers.

But no one came.

Frisk ignored the clenching in their throat, because shouldn’t they be happy Chara wasn’t following? Instead, they settled themself on the firm floor, feeling their heart race, keeping their breaths measured and quiet until their chest stopped aching.

That was when their mind couldn’t avoid reviewing the questions they had asked.

Could Frisk have saved their siblings in a previous timeline, only to make a true reset and completely forget?

That can’t be true. Their fingers clenched until it felt like their nails were piercing the centers of their palms. I always remembered the risks before resetting. No way would I risk losing the happiest ending!

They pushed down the nausea building in their stomach about what if that was a selfish answer, putting their siblings over at least one other person, maybe more, who needed help.

It was true that their memories of past timelines, when they did return, were vague, and they didn’t know which of them was their first travel through the underground. If they even remembered it at all. And yeah, most of what they remembered had been the things that happened, over and over, despite differences in how they ended. And of the surface, they had exactly one.

Or rather, many. All of the same conversation, repeated over and over so that even with their weak memory of previous timelines they had near-memorized every word that had come out of the talking flower’s mouth, the sting as he once again called Frisk by a name that wasn’t theirs.

But it had got Frisk to thinking about the strange things that had happened to them in the underground. Memories that weren’t theirs, playing in their head when they were unconscious, or dying. Why Asriel was still calling them Chara, even though he’d admitted that they and Frisk were barely alike.

Either way, Frisk had come to the conclusion that Chara was trapped in their soul. And if their brother’s situation had tempted them into taking the risk of making another reset, knowing their memories would vanish until they were no longer useful, then Chara’s own situation had pushed them over the edge.

Because while their brother was all alone in the darkness, soulless and wracked with guilt, at least he could speak, could react, could eventually seek others’ help and support if he changed his mind.

Chara, though, was sleeping. Their memories somehow leaking into Frisk’s mind when they were asleep, or unconscious, or dying. Barely aware, except when something managed to stir them enough for a brief comment on snowdecahedrons and smelling the flowers every now and again. They were barely aware, didn’t even realize they had been brought back to life. Not until they started gaining enough power to truly wake up.

No, that had only started in the previous timeline.

  ________________________________________________________

“Why are they attacking?”

At first Frisk had thought that they’d imagined the voice asking the question. They’d just barely survived an attack by some kind of monstrous frog, its dust still settling at their feet. Surely with all the fear they were feeling their brain wasn’t quite working right, because they’d long since stopped wondering why, and started focusing on keeping alive while trying to find Toriel.

“But why? They are made of love.” Frisk frowned and looked around. They were the only person in the room.

“They could not have possibly have feigned to be compassionate even toward humans all that time, could they?” Whoever was speaking, they didn’t even seem to realize Frisk was there. There was something unsettling about their voice, though, but Frisk didn’t quite know why.

But even though their voice was weird, Frisk recognized the tone in their voice. They were worried, and a little afraid, just like Frisk. Maybe they’d come out from wherever they were hiding if Frisk talked to them. They certainly seemed friendlier than most monsters they’d run into.

“Hello?” As Frisk raised their voice, they realized what had struck them as off about the person’s voice. In this room, Frisk’s voice had a faint echo. Not the cartoony one when someone was in a giant cave, as appropriate as it might be here, but the kind of echo you got when speaking at a normal volume in a house you were just moving into that had no furniture or boxes yet, the kind that made the ends of your sentences have a ringy sort of effect.

The other person’s, however, did not. It sounded like they were in a house without an echo.

For a moment, there was silence. Frisk almost thought the speaker had snuck away without them hearing their footsteps until the reply came at last. “Interesting. You can hear me?” The voice didn’t seem too surprised, more interested in a bored sort of way.

Frisk nodded, then wondered if whoever it was could see them, because they hadn’t yet stepped out from wherever they were hiding. “Yeah. Where are you?”

There was a pause. Frisk got the feeling that whoever it was that they were talking to was thinking. Finally, they replied, “It is hard to explain this, but I should not be here. Yet somehow my essence seems to have attached onto your soul.”

Normally, Frisk would think that the other person was making things up. But then again, monsters were real, and dissolved into dust if they hit them with a plain old stick that they’d picked up in a flowerbed after falling into an ancient underground ruin. People's essences accidentally being absorbed into others’  souls didn’t seem too unbelievable after that.

“How? And why?” Frisk got the feeling that whoever this was hadn’t intended to be here, based on their detached curiosity.

“I do not know. The last I remember, I was dying.” Despite how sad the words were, they sounded like they were just talking about the death of some other person they’d learned about in a history book.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed appropriate. Everyone who learned about what had happened to Frisk’s parents had said that. Frisk supposed it’d still be something people said in this situation, too.

“Do not be.” Okay, maybe Frisk was wrong. “If my brother had not let me down at the crucial moment, it would not have happened.”

“Oh.” They tried to come up with something to say to that situation. “That stinks.”

“Yes.” The voice sounded like they didn’t know what to say back. “I suppose you are searching for a way back to the surface?”

“Yeah.” Frisk sighed. “But this place is huge, and everyone keeps attacking me.” And they had no idea where to go. The only person who might know where they could find safety was gone, had left them alone to begin with. But since they didn’t want the person speaking to them to have more reason to be sad, scared, or alone than they already did, they forced themself to stand tall, shoulders back like it was picture day and they had to look happy and confident. “But I’ll get out of here!”

“I used to live around here, for a while at least.” The words made Frisk want to cry in happiness. “And I suppose that if I help you, you can stop killing so many monsters.”

Frisk crossed their arms.. “They were attacking me first.” And they would have killed Frisk, if they'd let them. They would've been happy to leave the monsters alone if they hadn't attacked for no reason.

“Yes, I suppose they were.” They clearly had their mind on something else, though. “The monsters I knew were friendly, and would have happily greeted you, even if you were human.”

“Maybe they changed. The only one who was happy to see me was Toriel.” And Flowey, though they didn’t really count, given what they’d tried to do to Frisk after.

“Toriel? You met my mother?” For the first time, the stranger broke through their bored-sounding tone to sound… happy? Nervous? A little of both?

“She’s your mom?” Frisk’s mind presented a picture of a goatlike monster like Toriel, no horns but a purple robe. But it didn’t quite feel like it quite matched the speaker, though Frisk couldn’t put their finger on why. After all, the speaker did speak like Toriel, so why shouldn’t they look just like her?

“Yes, she is.” They settled back into their neutral voice. “But why is she not here, if monsters were attacking you?”

Frisk sighed. “I don’t know. She told me to wait in this hallway while she did something, but then Flowey…” They swallowed, thinking back to their first meeting.

“Flowey? I do not know anyone by that name.”

“They attacked me when I first fell. They said they were going to be my friend, but then…” Then Frisk had gotten the feeling that they shouldn’t trust them, or the specks of magic spinning toward them. And when they’d followed that instinct, it turned out to be right. “Toriel saved my life.”

“And then she left you alone?” Even the speaker couldn’t hide how confused they were.

Frisk nodded. “Yeah. And I was going to wait, but then I saw Flowey on the other side of the hallway. But when I was trying to get away, a monster attacked me.”

“And you killed them.” Frisk winced; the stranger seemed not too happy with that.

“No!” They winced. “Not at first. But I tried talking to them like Toriel told me to, but they wouldn’t stop attacking, and wouldn’t let me run away. And…” They realized their hand was reaching toward their stomach, though the pain had long since stopped. “I think I died. But then I woke up back in the flowers where I’d fallen.” But instead of that strange anger they’d woken up with the first time, it’d just been fear, and the fading pain of injuries that were no longer there.

“You died? And then you came back?” The voice sounded thoughtful rather than surprised, but it still made Frisk realize just how weird that sounded.

“I thought it was a dream, but then Flowey recognized me. Toriel didn’t, but she did everything she’d done before. She left before I could try and tell her what was going on.” She’d been out of the room before they could even find the words to ask her not to leave them alone, and then they hadn’t got the chance to call her between dodging the monsters trying to kill them. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“No, I believe you.” Despite the seeming lack of emotion in their voice, it made Frisk feel like crying that finally someone had listened to them. “And I suppose I cannot blame you for trying to defend yourself.” The words seemed a little more hesitant, as if they were saying it without fully believing it. But they didn’t seem as upset about it, so Frisk thought that if they were still upset they were at least trying to be understanding.  

“Please, can you help me get out of here?” Frisk really just wanted to get out of the underground. They just wanted to go home.

Even if, really, there wasn’t a home to go back to now.

“I will. And you can start by going into the next room, and taking a left.”

As Frisk started moving deeper into the Ruins, they realized that they hadn’t learned the other person’s name. It was rather rude that they didn’t introduce themself to the person saving them, right?

“I’m Frisk, by the way.” They really wished this person had a body of their own, because weren’t they supposed to shake hands? “What’s your name?”

The voice paused, as if considering whether or not to introduce themself as well. But finally they spoke up once again. “My name is Chara.”

The thought of having found a friend, even trapped in a dangerous world and trying to find their way back to safety…

It filled Frisk with determination.

  ________________________________________________________

It had taken a while for the both of them to realize why Chara had woken up in that timeline and not the others. After waking up from their fall, they’d felt a strange anger burning through their muscles. It’d taken a while to remember it was a lingering emotion from Asriel’s speech for them to give up trying to help him and his sibling. But it must’ve strengthened the blows they made to monsters who would not stop hounding them through the Ruins, meaning less survived for them to spare. Between that and getting turned around once or twice or trying and failing to hide, they’d probably gained more LOVE than before.

And if they were gaining LOVE, so was Chara’s essence, trapped within their soul. Which gave them the strength to wake up and realize what was happening, to become more than just the occasional sleep-mumble that Frisk waved off as their imagination, more than just an occasional memory they wrote off as a dream, or something imagined in the midst of death.

But if they reset, they didn’t know if Chara would keep their consciousness in Frisk’s soul. And knowing their situation before Asriel absorbed the souls and gained the power to break the barrier had given them the chance to research ways to give both of them new souls and bodies, and the chance to put what they’d learned into action. If they had made a reset, there was no guarantee that they would’ve been able to keep their consciousness. They would’ve had to gain more LOVE to do so.

And then there was what Chara had done to keep it even in a timeline where Frisk hadn’t killed anyone.

What were the chances of that happening not once, but twice?

Not likely. They didn’t remember any other timeline where they’d killed enough for all that to happen. Surely even with just snippets from previous timelines–Undyne melting in the cool gloom of Waterfall or collapsing in the bright heat of Hotland, Mettaton breaking down or running out of battery, hot dog stands that were sometimes running and sometimes abandoned –surely Frisk would remember if they took so many lives their whole journey through the underground changed so dramatically?

Chara’s just afraid and not thinking right. They were acting like Frisk didn’t care about them, like Frisk’s actions had justified Chara trying to scare them into doing what they wanted and giving up the ability that had helped them make the perfect ending, just because they were afraid they were going to throw away everything the three of them had worked for.

And it wasn’t like Frisk needed to reset anyways, right? Loads were all they needed to handle this situation. And they’d only use them when they needed to, to make sure that no one, family or not, suffered more than they needed to. It wasn’t some corrupting force like Chara and Asriel seemed to think it was; it was Frisk’s own fault, not their powers’, that had killed all those monsters, hurt all those people. In fact, their powers allowed them to fix their mistakes. If they couldn’t, then so many monsters would be dead right now, and Frisk wouldn’t have been able to save them.

No more. They couldn’t let other monsters suffer, through their actions or lack of them. Since they had the power to do something, they owed it to everyone to use it to make sure everyone was happy and safe.

They hauled themself to their feet, feeling their muscles strain against the action. But before they could step out into the light, a distant voice echoed through the halls.

“Frisk? Are you here?” Chara’s voice was unsteady; Frisk couldn’t tell if it was because of how it echoed, or something else. “Where are you?”

Frisk took a step deeper back into the darkness, feeling their lungs still even as their heart pounded enough to make their whole body feel like it was shaking in sympathy.

The taps of shoes against metal came closer. “Frisk, I did not mean… I should not have said that to you. Please, come out from wherever you are hiding.”

I bet you do. Frisk resisted the urge to take a step back, deeper into the safety of the darkness. Only the thought of Chara hearing, or of themself falling into the pit, held them back. You just want to drag me back or yell at me some more.

Chara’s voice grew louder, clearer. “Can you hear me, Frisk?”

They’re going to pass the door, Frisk realized, digging their fingernails into the cuffs of their sweater. They forced themself to crouch down, curled into a huddle, trying to make any silhouette of theirs less obviously human. Maybe I should load my save. Only the hope that Chara wouldn’t find them stopped them from wasting more of their time trying to find a way to help the missing kid. Still, they made their soul gain power, feeling it resist even as they forced it to reach back toward the moment before they had left the house, just in case.

“I just want to say…” They trailed off. “I’m sorry. Please, if you’re there, please know that I’m sorry.”

It was like a switch had flicked, cutting off the flow of power to their soul. That… Chara sounded sincere.

A shadow fell over the doorway. Frisk felt their muscles tense, but Chara didn’t stop. They hadn’t seen them.

“Please, Frisk, I don’t want to fight.” Their voice was growing more distant. “You’re my sibling, and one of my best friends. Please, let’s talk about this.”

I don’t want to fight, either, Frisk thought, the corners of their eyes starting to sting.

Maybe they should talk to Chara and try to explain everything. If Chara could just understand why Frisk couldn’t sit and let other people do everything while Frisk was there, able to fix it, maybe they’d finally listen, and understand. The two had found a way to restore their and Asriel’s souls and bodies, after all, and had given the six other humans a second chance of their own. Maybe, if they just were on the same page again, Chara would be able to help them with this?

They forced themself to stay put as Chara’s footsteps and voice disappeared deeper into the Core. Even if Chara wasn’t saying what they needed to in order to get Frisk to do what they wanted, they’d be against loading back to before Frisk ran away. They’d always been big on consequences.

Frisk wasn’t afraid of facing punishment, no matter what Chara thought. But if they didn’t load, if they just let events run their course, everyone would remember this night. Toriel, Asgore, and Asriel would have to live, remembering how it felt when Frisk and Chara disappeared in one night. Chara would live with the fear they felt at the thought of Frisk resetting over their happy ending, and the guilt they felt after their fight.

And anyways, it wasn’t just about Frisk, Asriel, and Chara anymore.

Despite everything, they had to keep going, to save the missing kid. They had to make this the real best ending, for everyone.

They had to stay determined.

  ________________________________________________________

Asriel couldn’t stop watching the screen on Alphys’s monitor. His eyes were bleary and dry and his vision appeared blurry around the edges, but he still just couldn’t tear them away, even though the images on it had stopped meaning anything to him.

He wasn’t sure how Alphys could do it, steering the drone over Home the Third’s sky with shaking hands, scouring streets, occasionally using a microphone to call out Frisk and Chara’s names. She must’ve been just as tired, and she was so anxious at the best of times, let alone crises like these.

But beyond the shaking hands which sometimes caused the video to shudder and sitting curled in on herself even more than she had when the weight of her great secret crushed down on her shoulders, Alphys kept scanning the streets for two children she would not find.

Asriel could’ve sworn he felt his soul shudder with fear, even as he kept his expression merely concerned. Should I tell her? Maybe he could convince her that looking for Frisk and Chara was a bad idea.

But she’d tell Toriel. In timelines when she came clean about the amalgamates, she always made sure to be truthful, to avoid hiding things whenever possible. And she’d definitely tell Undyne and Toriel about that.

And once that happened, he’d better brace himself for making the same choice again.

And again.

And again.

There had to be another way.

“Uh, A–Asriel? You’ve been, well, kind of quiet.” Alphys’s voice was weak, both from anxiety and tiredness. She blinked and started speaking quickly. “Well, uh, I guess that I–I shouldn’t be surprised?” She gave a weak chuckle, her smile spread thin across her face. She seemed like she was expecting him to yell at her for not doing enough, for not being perfect, for failing to find two missing children.  

But he wouldn’t. Even though anger sparked at his soul, because she used to be the Royal Scientist, why hadn’t it occurred to her before trying to start comforting him that that wasn’t the best thing to say, and put a smile on his face. Between his anger, both at her, his siblings, himself, and the situation it didn’t meet his eyes, but he was sure she wouldn’t blame him if it looked a bit faked. “It’s okay. Just tired and worried.”

Her shoulders relaxed, just a little bit. “I–I understand. I’m worried about them, too.” She tugged at the collar of her shirt. “But, uh, they can’t have gotten too far, right? And with everyone looking together, they’re, uh, sure to turn up real soon!” She didn’t seem convinced, and seemed like she wasn’t just saying it for his benefit; she was clinging to the idea like it was a lifeboat slipping beneath the waves of an endless ocean.

Still, Asriel nodded and made himself grin a little more, even as his soul sank. All those people. Eventually one would put the pieces together, or get lucky, and find Frisk. And then he’d be out of time. Hopefully the déjà vu would convince Chara to help him on this third option next time. Maybe then they’d both think of something.

He resisted the ever-growing urge to bury his head in his hands, because that would alarm Alphys. Why can’t I figure out a way to stop Frisk from trapping the world in endless loads without hurting my friends and family more than they are?

“Asriel, uh, I don’t know if you can sleep or not, but, well, Undyne and I have a guest room, if you want to get some rest.”

Asriel bit down a snap that she didn’t have to speak like he’d snap at her at any moment. That really wouldn’t help anything.

Instead, he fixed a grateful expression on his face. His smile felt like it was stretching his face thin, threatening to expose the fury beneath, but it held for the moment. “Thanks, Alphys, but I’m fine for the moment.”

Alphys nodded. “All right, then.” She glanced to the side, the words dying down like the shreds of Asriel’s patience.

Asriel glanced away so he could gather himself. Come on, Asriel, he told himself, taking a deep breath in the hopes it would extinguish the anger. She’s already suffered enough because of you, so get ahold of yourself before you just make things worse!

Perhaps he should take Alphys up on the offer of the guest room. It wasn’t like he was doing anything here, sitting and watching her fly a machine over the darkened streets of Home the Third.

Wait.

“Hey, Alphys,” Asriel said, keeping his voice as light as he could, more like a small child scared for his siblings rather than a person who’d just realized there was a way to find them himself. “Do you have another one of those flying machine things? I don’t think I can sleep, and I really want to help find Frisk and Chara.”

Alphys glanced at him, and he already knew the answer before she spoke.

“I’m sorry, Asriel, but I don’t.” She truly looked it, too, but he could tell by looking at her that she wouldn’t let him use it anyways. Because he was just a kid. A kid who’d once been killed and then revived in the form of a flower, without a soul and with powers he truly didn’t understand. And, unknown to all but a few, hundreds of murders to his name. All in past timelines, of course.

Maybe he was still a kid. That didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything.

“Is there any way I can help? I don’t want to just sit here and do… do nothing.” Alphys winced as a little of his frustration at his helplessness leaked into his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.” Despite her words, Asriel could tell she was worried about it. “J–just let us handle this. I’m, uh, sure we’ll find Frisk and Chara any minute now, and your parents and Undyne will find out what made them want to run away.”

Asriel glanced away. The way his ability to feign expressions was working right now, he’d give up the game by looking terrified instead of hopeful.

“Are you, uh, sure that you don’t need to rest?” Alphys asked, her voice shaking a little. “Y–you’re acting really tense.”

“I’m just worried.” Despite the fact that he hated to admit it, just telling the truth for once tonight made his soul untense just the slightest bit. “I’m worried that something will happen and Frisk will have to reload.”

“I’m pretty sure that they’re not in that much danger,” Alphys said, speaking so quickly he knew she wasn’t so sure. “I mean, uh, they c–can’t have gone that far? And, well, they had to have left on their own. Undyne said that Dogamy and Dogaressa couldn’t pick up anyone else’s smell with Frisk before they lost their trail, so, they, uh, couldn’t have been kidnapped or anything! And, uh, well…” She trailed off, leaving the only sound in the room the muffled sound of the drone’s engines coming through the computer speakers and the tapping of her claws tapping against the keyboard as they trembled.

Asriel resisted the urge to yell and scream, “What is wrong with you!” at himself because he knew Alphys would take it as directed to her.

No matter what I do, I can’t help but hurt someone. He’d thrown his and Chara’s mistake back in their face, let Toriel worry about her two missing children when just a few words would’ve at least allowed her to know why they’d gone missing, and now he couldn’t stop upsetting or worrying Alphys.

“You know, maybe I will try getting some rest,” he told Alphys, because at least in the guest bedroom he couldn’t do the wrong things again, or have to lie or hide things.

He swiveled around and got off the chair, not looking back to see the self-recrimination on Alphys’s face as she unfairly blamed herself for what she mistakenly believed was yet another failure. Instead, he marched into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

He’d been nothing but a big failure that night. He was so good at reading people, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that Frisk would do this, would use their ability to save and load to run away and let everyone else worry. He knew their tendency to use it even when they didn’t need to, when something they thought was a mistake wasn’t as big a deal as they thought it was, or even a mistake at all; he and Chara were both worried about it, even if they’d never dared to talk to Frisk about it.

Maybe they should’ve. They shouldn’t have let it lie in the hopes that Frisk would learn better on their own.

And now, once again, everyone was going to pay the price for his failings.

And what am I doing? he asked himself, letting himself grab a fistful of blanket in one hand. Nothing but feeling sorry for myself.

But at the very least he hadn’t run off and worried his parents and friends. Not like his siblings.

But isn’t that selfish, too? Which was more selfish, staying there and doing nothing so he couldn’t hurt his family, even if it meant doing nothing in the face of their two missing children and doomed to relive a terrible night, or running away in the hopes of giving them a chance at a better future?

It’d be so easy to walk out of the bedroom, down the hall past a distracted Alphys, to slip away without anyone noticing.

There has to be another way.

But what if Chara was right? What if seeking a third way that might not exist doomed the world?

Or what if their actions led to their world being doomed?

He glanced out the window, at the horizon that seemed just a bit lighter than before. It was almost dawn. Maybe the last dawn, if it got that far.

He was running out of time.

He had to make a choice.

It was with a sense of finality that he dug up a forgotten notepad and pen, writing a short sentence on the front page before tearing it away and placing it on the comforter. With too much ease, he walked down the hallway, past Alphys’s office where she searched for children who she’d never find, and left the house without a single person any the wiser.

[sylvasthesnowfox]

11. intent

There is a chair at the center of the shaft. A woman with hair darker than any shadow sits in it.

Phobos is shaking with anxious anticipation, huddled around Parias' doorway, scurring away from Aplistia's screens. She has committed to being a part of this, but that doesn't mean that she's any less nervous about what is about to happen.

Yomi seems to already be aware. Her arms are folded, her eyes are narrowed. She regards Aplistia's screens with a dull indignance. Aplistia has already prepared her 'greeting': YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO, YOMI.

"Where shall I begin?" Yomi replies dryly.

"Phobos," Parias says softly, their voice gentle even as the deeper undercurrent can be heard faintly beneath. "It would be best if you could do this." And Phobos understands; she is the softest-spoken, the mildest-mannered. She doesn't think it's very abnormal for her to be afraid, but it perhaps is abnormal for her to stand up for someone else because of it, and that will have more meaning than Aplistia and Parias acting out when they have already defied Yomi a few times before.

We are concerned about the state of the remnant, Phobos starts. Her legs move erratically; her voice is shaking. W-We are, um, very surprised by the way that you spoke about Emily... a-and the general feeling that you don't care about the other people in the remnant...

"Bringing them along was not my original intent," Yomi sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Phobos feels some relief in the begrudging guilt in Yomi's voice. "That was Rei's idea."

WHAT EXACTLY WAS YOUR ORIGINAL INTENT? REI WAS CLEARLY A PART OF YOUR PLAN.

"I have not been entirely forthcoming with my identity," Yomi admits dully, "but to explain myself fully would be an exhaustive and pointless endeavor. Know this: I am tied to the lifecycle of this universe. When it ends - regardless of how, or for what purpose - I will cease to exist. I was never capable of influencing the outcome of reformation. So I have groomed Rei to do so instead."

To carry yourself forward, Phobos continues slowly. To create the next instance of you, safely. Yomi nods.

"That seems a reasonable motivation," Parias says warily, "and yet, I see no reason why you could not have explained this to us from the beginning. We are familiar with the concept of a Curator, and it is not something that is difficult to describe."

A curator, Phobos says lowly. Of a universe? Parias nods, ever patient.

"A curator is someone who watches over a universe throughout its lifespan," they explain. "Whether from inside, or outside. Or sometimes both."

TO BE FRANK, Aplistia adds, I THOUGHT THAT IT WAS FAIRLY OBVIOUS THAT YOMI WAS A CURATOR, TO A POINT OF NOT BEING WORTH MENTIONING. Phobos supposes that she agrees; just because she didn't have a name for it before doesn't mean it had never occurred to her that Yomi seemed to take a position of stewardship over her world. THAT DOES NOT EXPLAIN THE CALLOUSNESS WITH WHICH SHE HAS TREATED THE PEOPLE OF HER REMNANT NOR THE OPACITY SHE MAINTAINS IN DESCRIBING HER MOTIVES AND HER PLAN TO SHAPE HER UNIVERSE.

"What does it matter?" Yomi sighs, shaking her head. "The only thing you should be worried about is whether or not I mean you, specifically, harm. The people of the remnant will be recycled when the time comes, regardless of what any of us do. All I am doing is ensuring that Rei becomes the next curator. This world died far before it was intended to, and that has left me in an awkward position, but my goal is the same. I have promised to return you to existence as a payment for your help in accomplishing that goal. Are you willing to trust me that far, at least?"

"It's not especially comforting that you respond to Aplistia's distrust by telling her it does not matter," Parias mutters. "But for what it's worth, I suppose you're technically correct that it doesn't."

LET ME SEE IF I CAN ASSEMBLE THE CIRCUMSTANCES YOU ARE IN FROM WHAT WE'VE LEARNED, Aplistia says. YOU CLAIM THAT YOUR INTENT WAS TO GROOM REI AS YOUR SUCCESSOR, SUCH THAT SHE CAN CREATE AND THEN CURATE THE NEXT ITERATION OF THIS UNIVERSE. REASONABLE. YOUR WORLD ENDED PREMATURELY - HOW MUCH WARNING DID YOU HAVE?

"Enough to seek out a suitable, if suboptimal candidate," Yomi replies patiently, "and to adopt and raise her. But it was a close thing."

She looks just like you! Phobos skitters. I would have never guessed she was adoptive.

"There are probably timeline shenanigans involved," Parias mutters. Yomi smiles crookedly, but does not comment.

THE UNIVERSE THEN COLLAPSED, BUT ARMED WITH DOMINION OVER IT, YOU WERE ABLE TO PRESERVE ENOUGH SPACE FOR YOU TO CONTINUE YOUR TRAINING WITH YOUR PUPIL. HOWEVER, NOT UNDERSTANDING YET WHAT WAS HAPPENING AND BELIEVING THAT SHE WAS DOING THE RIGHT THING, SHE GATHERED AS MANY PEOPLE AS SHE COULD INTO THE REMNANT SUCH THAT THEY COULD BE SAVED. FROM YOUR PERSPECTIVE THIS WAS A POINTLESS EXERCISE, SO YOU DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THOSE PEOPLE, BECAUSE THEIR FATES WILL BE THE SAME NO MATTER WHETHER THEY LIVE OR DIE.

"In that case," Parias says airily, speaking now with many high-pitched voices, "why not kill them at the outset and be done with it?"

Yomi's eyes flash, the smile crossing her lips growing cruel. "It would be difficult to retain Rei's trust if I did that," she says coolly. Phobos doesn't know how to respond to that, and it seems Aplistia doesn't either. "They serve as an effective motivator for her, regardless," the curator continues, shrugging grandly. "I wouldn't have expected it to work so well, so perhaps that was a miscalculation on my part. But Rei and I can't spare energy caring for them. I only have so much time before the remnant decays in spite of my presence, and Rei only has so much time before even she begins to lose her sanity. You saw what's happening to the others, Phobos..."

Phobos recalls with despair the main laying comatose in his bed, entirely unresponsive, either oblivious or apathetic to the women talking about his potential death just beside him. She can't imagine that happening to Eliza or Rei. How much left is there to teach her? she asks anxiously. You said my being discovered was a setback... is she in danger now?

"Strictly speaking, she is always in danger," Yomi says lowly. "But this doesn't represent a substantial increase in danger. Yet. If anything else goes wrong it may be enough to worry me, but for now the risk is still manageable. So long as she continues to focus her attention on learning, practicing, and experimenting, and leaves care of the survivors to the more capable among her friends, we still have a good shot at this."

"So you would have us do this for your successor," Parias says, "and not for you." Phobos thinks this is reasonable. She might feel nervous about Yomi, but she likes Rei and her friends and feels bad for them, and wants at least for Rei to succeed.

AND SO WE CAN RETURN TO EXISTENCE MAGICALLY, SOMEHOW, Aplistia adds. DON'T FORGET THAT PART.

"Right!" Parias gasps, faux-eagerly, their voices again jumping several octaves. "Yes, what mechanism exactly do you intend to use for that?"

Yomi hesitates, chewing her lip, glaring back and forth between Aplistia's screens and Parias' silhouette. She takes a deep breath - Phobos realizes with a start that she seems rather nervous herself all of a sudden, and isn't keen to try to imagine what is coming that it would make even the Curator seem so hesitant.

"The reason you cannot exist normally is because you are bound to a concept," Yomi says, slowly and carefully. "Your existence by necessity requires that concept to exist along with you, but it is not something that can exist within a universe's domain. Only a weakened timeline can even attempt to reconcile a conceptual existence, and in doing so will severely weaken its own stability and wreak havoc on those perceiving that concept inside."

Phobos recalls what happened when she tried to open herself up to Emily. She recalls the look of bewildered horror on Gwen's face as their "eyes" met. She saw herself as a horde of spiders, but that wasn't what she actually was - she was 'fear', or some concept related to it, given consciousness. What did they see when they looked at her? Did they see her? Or...

"However," Yomi continues, "if a source of sufficient power is bound to your form, it can allow you to resolve the paradox of your own existence through brute force. It can act as an inhibitor of sorts, a way for your inherent concept to be contained, so that only your consciousness interacts with the universe in question."

AND YOU KNOW OF SUCH A POWER?

"I theorize one exists," Yomi replies quietly. "I theorize it is what allows me to exist as Curator."

Phobos jumps, shocked. Parias seems stunned. Aplistia's screens go briefly dark.

"As Curator you will be destroyed when your timeline ends," Parias says softly, the first to speak. "You want us to usurp your power and use it to manifest?"

"That would be one approach," Yomi agrees. "But Rei will also need that power to create her universe. I think that you'll find that you can get your hands on your fair share rather easily. You'll just need to be creative, like her."

Her form flickers - she flinches, then groans, covering her eyes. "They're waking me up," she mutters angrily. "Something must have happened. Aplistia, can you adjust your chronological perspective without my help?"

YOU WANT US TO SKIP FORWARD. HOW FAR?

"A year should be good," Yomi answers, flickering again. "That's enough time to be confident that Rei's learned what she needs to and for the remnant to decay to a sufficient point. We'll try again then."

A year, Phobos whispers in horror. But -

SOUNDS REASONABLE, Aplistia answers swiftly. WE'LL SEE YOU IN A YEAR THEN, FROM YOUR PERSPECTIVE.

"Let this play out," Parias whispers, flexing their fingers on the grating.

"Good," Yomi sighs. "Yes, see you then." Shadows bend to obscure her form, as before, and when they recede she is gone.

SHE IS GONE! Aplistia cries, in some sort of mischievous triumph. QUICKLY, TO THE BOUNDARY!

Wait, what? Phobos skitters anxiously. What are we doing? Did I miss something?

"No," Parias says, laughing gently. They have a nice laugh - like a little chorus. A bit haunting, but nice. "Aplistia is just excited to spy on our mysterious friend, I think."

I AM EXCITED ABOUT ALL OF THIS! Aplistia is radiant with her excitement, indeed. I'M SORRY IF THAT IS DAUNTING FOR YOU, PHOBOS. IT'S JUST! THIS IS ALL SO TERRIBLY ADVENTUROUS! I HAVE WITNESSED AND COPIED MANY UNIQUE MEMORIES, BUT NOTHING LIKE THIS - AND I GET TO BE THE CHRONICLE THIS TIME, INSTEAD OF MERELY AN OBSERVER! I CAN'T HELP IT!

Phobos laughs too, her spiders all chittering together. I'm glad you're happy, Aplistia. It makes this less scary.

"Do not forget," Parias sighs. "This is our penance." Phobos falters before remembering that Parias sometimes changes to refer to themselves as plural. Perhaps it is related to stress? "We are glad you are focused and motivated, but this is not play for us."

PARIAS. I DEMAND THAT YOU ENJOY YOURSELF MORE. SINCE YOU SEEM TO HATE IT SO MUCH, I DEEM IT A FITTING PUNISHMENT.

"I - " Parias stutters. "What? How dare... you?" Phobos and Aplistia both laugh. "Anyway," Parias adds, flustered and indignant now, "think also of Rei and her friends, who must endure another year like this. This is not play for them either."

Oh, Phobos gasps, and then she sighs mournfully, as best she can with spider legs to vocalize. The poor humans. I hope they're going to be okay.

"We will find out for ourselves," Parias says softly. "Without you there our vision might be a bit spotty, but it will be enough. And I think that if there is cause for us to interfere... we should not hesitate."

B-but won't Yomi -

YOMI CAN DEAL WITH IT. Aplistia shows an angry smiley face on some of her screens. WE ARE HEROES THAT HELP PEOPLE - WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT. NOW! LET'S GO AND WATCH. THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR CURATOR WILL BE OURS TO GUIDE SOON, EVEN IF THEY WILL NOT REALIZE IT. WE MUST BE READY FOR THEM!

[justrazorboy-blog]

Decaying Words

For the @bfu60min prompt this week! (Prison AU)

Page 1 

Time – what a weird concept. It exists, but is simultaneously just another thing the human race has come up with to bring order to society. The change between night and day, the change of seasons, our failed attempts to keep from growing old and dying in this cruel, short existence; all real. But who was the fool to come up with the measurement of time? Hours, minutes, seconds? Why did everyone agree to follow this? I theorize it’s because as humans, we feel the need to understand. Understand why it is things work the way they do, and to bring some kind of closure to life. We need time because without it, we’d be lost.

I’m lost. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, or what time of day it even is. Has the sun risen? Is it just starting to set? Is there snow, or is summer just beginning? Without the ability to tell time, everything just feels… Slow. Time is passing, that I know, but only because I can hear others going about their day. Prisoners yelling from somewhere distant, and the occasional footsteps of guards walking past. Without those indicators, I’d be stuck in a dark hole. Unable to control my thoughts. My dark, regretful thoughts.“

"Ryan-”

Ryan whipped around, the book slipping from his grasp and plummeting to the cemented floor. As he steadied his breathing, which had quickened at twice its usual pace to keep up with his beating heart, his eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. “Jesus Christ, Brent! You can’t just sneak up on me like that.” Ryan hissed, shielding his eyes as the beam of light from his partner’s flashlight passed by his face.

“Me, scare you? You’re the one who suddenly disappeared!” Brent pushed the rest of his body through the cell’s doorway, his head barely missing a cobweb hanging above. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ryan bent down to retrieve the book he had been reading. Considering its age, it was in decent condition. The pages were stained yellow and only a few were detached from its spine, but the words still readable. The cover, however, was skimmed in mold after years of abandonment and rot. “I found a journal of sorts. I think it may have belonged to a prisoner here.” He turned and held the object out for Brent to inspect. The camera crew following his lead got closer, hoping for a nice shot for the episode.

“You’re telling me this thing has been sitting here for nearly fifty years?” Brent asked with obvious disgust. He waved his flashlight across the cell, taking in the surroundings of which it had been discovered in. It was a nearly empty room with nothing but a rusted toilet in one corner, and piles of rubble littering the majority of the floor’s surface.

“Precisely, yes.”

Page 103

My stomach won’t stop begging for food, and my throat for water. I can practically feel the inside of my body rotting away with each passing moment. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? Guards pass by regularly but never stop. Perhaps they’ve forgotten about me. Or, more likely, decided I should finally die for my crimes. But that’s quite an unfair situation, dare I say. They have the death penalty for a reason.

I resorted to drinking my piss a few hours ago (hours? days? minutes? I can’t tell anymore). It’s certainly not the most ideal, but at least I can quench my dehydration a little bit. Less suffering on my part. More suffering; much more suffering. What a stupid idea. Prolonged death is never a good option.

Hah. So this is how I’ll die. Covered in my own piss and shit, as pale and thin as a skeleton. Perhaps already a skeleton, if the guards truly did forget about me. Those idiots. I can see their faces now, the smell of my decaying body overwhelming their senses – opening my cell door to find my lifeless corpse, propped against this wall. The news headlines would probably be praising my death; ‘Serial Killer Shane Madej Found Dead in Solitary Cell, Covered in Own Bodily Excretions.’

“This is horrific.” Brent interrupted, his face scrunching up.

Ryan nodded slowly. “Sad, too. Even if he was a serial killer…” His words trailed off as his mind began to wander. He pictured what it would be like to be in Shane’s position; all alone, going insane.

Dying.

A shiver ran up his spine. They weren’t pleasant thoughts at all.

“How did a guy in solitary have access to a journal and ink anyway?” Brent questioned, gesturing for one of the camera guys to get a close-up of the page they had just read from.

“Must have smuggled it in somehow. Prisoners in this solitary block were rarely checked on, so it makes sense if it was never discovered.” Ryan shrugged, not entirely sure of his answer. The situation was weird in itself; a prisoner just being abandoned like that. Surely the staff couldn’t be that forgetful.

Page 132

Footsteps. I hear them. Coming closer, echoing down the hall! Maybe if I scream I can finally get their attention-

… They ignored me. I screamed until I collapsed, but they just kept walking. My body is too weak to move anymore. I won’t be surprised if these are the last words I write before finally succumbing to my death. I wonder what will be waiting for me on the other side? Huh, I really am going crazy. I’ve never been a religious person, so darkness. That’s the only logical explanation. No God, no afterlife… Just eternal sleep.

Before his passing, my old cellmate used to talk constantly about ghosts. Spirits. The people who are leaving something behind when they die, unfinished business that they have, so their souls are stuck on Earth.

Even if ghosts existed, that’s not where I’ll end up. I have nothing to keep me here. My family hates me, always have. But who can blame them? I’m a maniac. Insane. Fucked up in the head. I’ve done all of the work I needed to do. All those lives I took; I’m repaying for them by being here. I don’t owe money. Nothing.

I’m ghost-proof.

I’ll just slip into the darkness and wither away.

“Ryan we need to go, our time is up. That tour lady will be back any minute to lead us out.” Brent moved his flashlight from where it was directed at the book and started to talk with the camera crew.

“We skipped so much of his story, though…” Ryan whispered, flipping back through the many pages they had jumped across. So many words gone unread. How could they just leave it here, to probably never be found again? Without a second thought, Ryan grabbed one of their equipment bags and stuffed the book inside. He absolutely could not leave it behind.

“Yo- Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Brent asked worriedly, catching Ryan’s act. “That’s stealing!”

Ryan zipped the bag shut and laughed darkly. “Stealing? They wouldn’t even know it’s gone, clearly if it’s been sitting here for decades!” Usually, he wasn’t the type to take risks or commit crimes, but something about this man’s story made him need to take it with him. Before either could get another word out, they were approached by the lady from earlier who had guided them through the prison.

“Any luck?” She asked, eyeing the two boys.

“Nah. Nothing very compelling,” Brent replied, his gaze shifting to Ryan. He wasn’t about to rat his friend out, but he would much rather leave with a guilt-free conscious.

“May I ask a question about this cell?” Ryan asked the woman, who nodded. “According to our research, a man named Shane Madej once resided here. Do you have any information on him?”

Brent could have very well strangled Ryan right there but remained silent. After all, he was a little curious himself.

“Ah, Shane Madej – he was jailed for murder, about seven counts if I recall correctly. While in prison he murdered his cellmate for no given explanation and was sent here to solitary. It’s actually kind of a scary thought, because he was here for about four months in total, including when the prison was shut down and abandoned. All of the other prisoners were relocated across the country, but somehow their records got messed up. He was left behind, unheard of for years. Nobody had any reason to enter this place until a new landowner swept the place clean. He found Shane’s skeleton right there,” she pointed to a corner of the cell, close to where Ryan had originally found the journal. “And that was that. They identified him after finding out from the old warden that he had been the only one in solitary within a month before the shutdown. He insisted they had moved Shane back to his regular cell but, obviously, that wasn’t the case. After determining the timeline, and using modern testing, it is believed that he would have been alive in this cell for over a week after the shutdown, before his death. So, in short, it’s quite a mystery. No one is exactly sure of how that had happened.”

Ryan gaped at the woman. “They just… Left him here? That’s absurd!” He exclaimed, trying to fit together the story in his mind. How was that even possible?

Leaving him to his thoughts, the group followed the woman out of the prison. It was only four in the morning so it was still dark outside. He, Brent and their crew thanked the woman before parting ways. It wasn’t until they were back at their hotel, Ryan flipping through the pages of the stolen journal, when something suddenly clicked in his mind.

“Brent… If the prison was abandoned over a week before Shane’s death, then whose footsteps and voices was he hearing?”

Brent was silent for several moments before his lips tugged upwards, producing a grin. “I guess the guy wasn’t so ghost-proof after all.”