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the--regenerating--degenerate · 4 years

Text

Sol Invictus

Chapter Four: Caviis IV

The Red Claw slammed out of the Fold, on fire and drifting. Her sublight engines flickered and died as the ship listed heavily to port. The cockpit a mess of tangled wires, the smell of cooked electronics and the stench of burning ozone.

They were alive.

True, they were without power, the Fold Drive was probably damaged beyond repair; and she was sure that neither the blonde brute, the black-haired Faunus or the off-putting girl in the red-cape had a spare one stashed somewhere. But surviving was a start.

Weiss collapsed into her seat as the thought hit her. She was alive, they had escaped Raven and the Muninn. There was a hiss of a fire suppressor as the Faunus woman hosed down an electrical fire that had sprung from behind the console she had been sitting at.

"Well…" the blonde, Yang, Weiss believed, began, as she looked back and gave a tired grin. "That could have gone better."

“We’re alive. That counts for something.” Ruby crossed her arms behind her head and leaned back, smiling, as though she was basking in the glory of her great accomplishment of not getting them all killed.

“Alive, but trapped in a tin can with no engines, little power and so heavily damaged I’m surprised we even survived that Fold,” Weiss interjected, providing a preverbal needle to Ruby’s inflated sense of accomplishment.

“Hey! Considering what we were up against, ” Yang shot back as she climbed from the copilot’s chair. “We just escaped from Raven Branwen and the White Fang. I think we’ve earned a bit of a pat on the back.”

“Back patting?” Weiss arched an eyebrow before she gestured to the state of the cockpit. She worked to bury her own panic and anxiety. It wouldn’t do if the other three could see how terrified she actually was. Weiss needed to present a cool, calm and collected front.

“Yes.” Weiss continued cooly, “We have most definitely earned that. Escaping certain doom, to… oh: near-certain doom from either thirst or starvation if we can’t get the engines back online.”

Weiss looked down to Ruby and then back to Yang. It was obvious that someone needed to take charge of this little group of misfits. She couldn’t trust the brute who had murdered her crewmember, the less said of the Faunus the better. And Ruby, while competent, if a little over-enthusiastic, was too immature. If any of them were to survive, she would have to assume command.

“Ruby, take the Faunus and see if you can find out what’s wrong with the engines. Yang, check the Fold Drive. Raven was able to hit that area a couple of times and, seeing as you were unable to get our shields up, it’s most likely been damaged. I will do a…”

“Wait, hold on. ” Yang’s tone lowered to a dangerous octave as she glared at the heiress. “Who put you in charge, princess?”

“And this Faunus has a name, Atlassian,” the cat Faunus hissed from behind her, “Don’t forget who also helped you to escape.”

Weiss sniffed as she straightened her back, attempting to intimidate the larger, hulking woman. An attempt, she noted, that was horrifically lost when Weiss realised she only came to just above the blonde savage’s well-developed bosom.

Nevertheless, Weiss stood her ground. “I am taking control due to the fact that I am the only one here qualified to do so.”

She turned to the Faunus with a polite bow of her head. “I am sorry, Faunus. But I do not know your name.”

“That’s Blake,” Yang answered, no doubt annoyed that she had been so casually dismissed, “but you and me aren’t finished here, Weiss. Considering the last time you were in charge you got locked up in the brig.”

“Belladonna Zech Blake Ist Dawn Hope,” the Faunus woman corrected, clearly becoming impatient with Yang.

“Like I said. Blake,” Yang said with a dismissive shrug, before turning back to Weiss. “Like I was saying you wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if it wasn’t for me and Rubes.”

“And all of you would have been captured and killed if not for me,” Belladonna snapped angrily. "I betrayed my Brothers and Sisters for you."

"Why?"

All three stopped as Ruby spoke up from the pilot seat, turning to look at the arguing women. Weiss had to suppress an uncomfortable shudder as Ruby’s wide silver eyes met hers before sliding over to Belladonna, who was seemingly unable to hide her own distaste at the aura of wrongness that radiated from the young girl.

It made Weiss wonder: What was so unsettling about her? She was cheerful, a little obnoxious, immature and overly cheerful to be sure. But that didn’t account for how… disturbed Ruby made Weiss. Not like the vat-freak Yang, or the terrorist Faunus. It was something more. Less physical, more like a gut feeling that something was not quite right with the girl.

“Why what?” Belladonna asked sharply pulling Weiss back to the present discussion.

“Why did you help us?” Ruby repeated, “I don’t know much about the White Fang. I mean, you think of each other almost as family, and we’re just humans. One of us is even Atlassian. So why?”

Belladonna was silent for a moment. Then she took in a shuddering breath.

“Because Menagerie wouldn’t survive if the White Fang killed the Schnee,” Belladonna said with a wave of her hand at Weiss. “If the Heir Apparent was executed, the Protectorate would use it as an excuse to invade the Menagerie Systems. We, the Faunus, the White Fang… We don’t have the numbers or resources to even give them pause.”

Weiss snorted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If Atlas did take such a direct retaliatory action, the other powers; Vale, The Vacuo Union, the Empire of Mistral, all of them would be forced to act. None of them want the Protectorate in the Menagerie Systems. Especially after what you White Fang did on Ophion a year ago.”

Belladonna continued on as she ignored the interruption, “It would be a massacre for the Faunus, ending with either every one of us dead or back in slave chains working in the Protectorate’s foundries and mines. Meanwhile, the galaxy would be torn apart in another Great War.”

She paused then, her eyes shifting back and forth between the three of them. Weiss was about to snap at her to stop stalling and spit out what more she was hiding when she took a breath, licked the top of her lip and plunged on.

“Besides there is something worse out there.” Her words were hurried and she often stumbled over them as though chasing a half-believed memory. “My… my leader, Brother-Commander Taurus Naut Adam Ist White Fang… he made an ally out here in Wild Space. An ally who… Gods of Sanctuary… I barely believe this myself. But he has an ally who can command the Grimm.”

Silence hung in the cockpit for several long seconds.

Then Yang laughed and the silence shattered like a fragile, crystalline glass. Weiss couldn’t help herself as her own lips pulled into a grin, at the sheer absurdity of it.

“Controlling the Grimm,” Yang chortled as she wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry Blakey but that’s a good one. You had me. You had me for a moment.”

"I know it's hard to believe…"

"Impossible to believe," Weiss curtly interrupted with a chopping gesture, "the Grimm are mindless beasts. You cannot control them."

"I have seen them!" Belladonna shouted back pausing to take a breath, "I have seen the woman control them. They follow her every instruction, every command. It’s even worse than that. And… Taurus is gathering White Fang there. With High-Leader Khan's approval.”

Weiss couldn’t believe the tale that this Belladonna was weaving… well… no. She could believe that some techno-barbarians like the Faunus could think someone could control the Grimm. A few light projectors, a hologram or two and superstitious savages would be falling over themselves to ally themselves with someone who could claim to ‘control the Grimm.’

But superstition could be dangerous if that person was using it to gather the White Fang. That was a danger that needed to be addressed. Quickly. If not, the raiders would be able to strike deep into Protectorate territory. Maybe as far as the core worlds. The fleet was vast, but even it couldn’t be everywhere at once. What had happened at Ophion, would break across a hundred more worlds.

That could not be allowed to happen.

“How though? How can someone control the Grimm?” Ruby asked, frowning worriedly. Weiss couldn't help but snort. Of course, the bumpkin would believe it.

"I don't know," Belladonna sounded terrified as she shrugged helplessly. "Tech? Dark magic? Witchcraft? I don't know. Does it matter?"

She looked back over at Weiss. "I know asking an Atlassian to help the Faunus is fighting a black hole. I know that this idea of some magic woman controlling the Grimm is insane. But the White Fang is gathering strength on the edge of Wild Space. I don't need to tell you how dangerous that is, Schnee."

"So what do you want, Belladonna?" Weiss asked after a moment of silence.

"Come with me. Come and see what's happening. Then you can warn the Protectorate,” The Faunus eyes were wide, almost pleadingly.

“Why can’t you warn them, Blake?” Yang asked, ignoring the angry and frustrated frown Belladonna shot her.

Weiss answered for her, as it was her duty to instruct the savage. “The Lord and Lady Marshalls of the Protectorate would never take the word of a Faunus."

If Belladonna was annoyed at being spoken for, she didn't show it. She merely nodded in agreement. "But if the Heir Apparent was to give first-hand evidence, along with the women who helped rescue her, the Protectorate would have to respond."

"Okay.” Ruby chirped, speaking up before anyone else. “I’m in.”

“Ruby?” Yang rounded on her sister in surprise, “You can’t be serious.”

Ruby looked up at Yang then motioned with a nod of her head to the hold. “A word please?”

Yang looked like she was about to protest, but shrugged and followed the smaller woman out.

Weiss eyed Belladonna for several moments, glaring at the red wolf’s head and three claw marks emblazoned on the woman’s white and grey uniform.

Belladonna for her part, returned the glare as the two settled into an uneasy, silent stalemate.

The White Fang was nothing but pirates. Zealots. Mass murdering thugs and terrorists.

But now she was indebted to one. One who had recently left the White Fang, certainly, but a good deed did not wash blood-stained hands clean.

“Belladonna Blake,” Weiss broke the uneasy silence with a polite bow of her head. “I don’t trust you. I don’t like that you show up seemingly out of the void as the one person who can not only help us escape from Raven but also just happens to dump an extraordinary piece of intelligence into my lap. But… You did save me. You betrayed your own…”

Belladonna raised a hand. “Don’t say it. I know what I did. I knew some of those Brothers and Sisters since before I first joined. I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t do it for the Protectorate or any human, for that matter. I did it for the Faunus. ”

Weiss nodded, letting the subject of their rescue drop. “I will still thank you for what you did and it is because of that, and the grave danger the White Fang represents, I will go to this planet with you to ascertain this threat. I will speak on your behalf to the Council of Marshalls if your claims are true.”

She held out a hand. For a moment Belladonna stared at it, then, gingerly, took it. Sealing the pact between the two, between the former White Fang terrorist and Atlassian officer.

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

Ruby lead Yang through the hold, stepping over the fallen wires, broken cargo and ruptured armour. She grimaced in sympathetic pain with the ship. Though a total inspection would be needed, it was doubtful that the Red Claw would be able to survive many more Folds or even be void worthy at all. But that was a problem for another time.

“Yang,” Ruby turned to her sister when she was sure they were alone and in no danger of being overheard by their two other crewmates. “We have to help them.”

Yang shook her head. “No, we don’t. We already helped them, Ruby. We got them out of there. What we need to do is leave and go somewhere else. Away from Wild Space. Somewhere Raven can’t come after us.”

“So we’re running?” Ruby asked, unable to believe what she was hearing coming from her tough as nails sister.

“No. It’s just- This isn’t our fight,” Yang huffed angrily as she sat down on a piece of wreckage. “It’s the White Fang and the Protectorate’s fight. We got nothing to gain and a lot to lose.”

“Sounds like we’re running.” Ruby sat down beside Yang, voice filled with concern. “That’s not you, Yang. You don’t run from fights. You always took them head-on. Better or for worse.”

“Ruby...All I know is that I can’t lose you. I’ve lost everyone else. Dad, Qrow, Gris, Raven. You’re the only one I got left.” Yang put her arm around Ruby’s shoulders and pulled her in a tight hug. “We’ll help the Princess and Blakey get a ship, then we’ll get our own. Maybe head to Vacuo or Mistral, see what trouble we can stir up there.”

The two were quiet for a moment, then Ruby pushed Yang’s arm off and stood up.

“Ruby? What is it?” Yang asked. Ruby could tell she was trying not to sound hurt.

“I know what you did on Raven’s ship.”

Yang stiffened; Ruby could see the panic rising in her sister’s eyes. It tore Ruby’s heart out to see Yang actually frightened, but she pushed on regardless. Yang needed to hear this.

“I know what you did. I know you killed someone.”

“Ruby please…” Yang tried to interrupt the tears forming in her eyes but was stopped as Ruby raised a hand.

“I was scared of you. Horrified that you could do something like that and for a second I thought you were exactly like them. And that hurt Yang. More than you running away, more than anything since mom died.”

Yang flinched, each word hitting her like a physical blow, and Ruby knew that this could destroy her sister. But she had to press on, if she didn’t Ruby felt like she would lose her sister to this new, frightening and bitter Yang.

“I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that I wanted the old Yang back, and I was terrified that I had lost her forever... Then I saw that little picture. That crayon drawing I made you when I was four.”

Ruby sat back down and hugged her sister. “I knew that you weren’t some monster. I knew that you were not one of them. You weren’t Raven. You were still Yang. Still my older brash, hot-headed, stubborn sister Yang. Sure, that Yang could do silly, stupid things, but she would always try and do what’s right. That Yang wouldn’t abandon people in need. She would have charged in head first, fists swinging. Please… Give me that Yang back.”

Ruby smiled a little. “I’m not going to abandon you either. You are my sister too. You’re all I got out here as well.”

Yang wiped the tears forming as she hugged her sister back. “I’m sorry Ruby. I’m so sorry.”

Ruby didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to, so she just held her sister.

They sat there for several moments as Yang tried to reign in her emotions, taking deep long breaths. Finally, Yang looked up and wiped her face. A small grin slowly stretching her tear-streaked cheeks.

“I’m still going to ask the princess for a buttload of money.” Yang grinned as she stood up.

Ruby laughed as she hopped to her feet. “If she will even agree to that.”

Yang shrugged as she walked back to the cockpit. "Why not? I'm me!"

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

Weiss wiped the sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of grease and grit. Her nose wrinkled with the smell of burning electronics, as Ruby stripped the burnt power cables away and replaced them with fresh wiring. There was a hiss from the electro-spanner and the faint glow of light blue sparks as Ruby worked on the Fold Drive’s sensitive circuitry.

The last several days had been… stressful to say the least.

Repairs were slow, due mostly to the constant headbutting. If Yang wasn’t being a vulgar extortionist, then Belladonna was sneaking around and questioning everything that Weiss was doing. It didn’t help that both Yang and Belladonna seemed to also be constantly arguing about one thing or another.

Or to be more accurate, Yang would loudly complain and Belladonna would either ignore her, get into an argument, or get annoyed and sneak off to work someplace more quiet.

Weiss was at her wit’s end.

She had tried to take command, tried to get the rest to listen to her. Yang had been happy enough to follow her lead after Weiss had, very grudgingly accepted Yang’s demanded ‘Princess Rescue and Bodyguard Service’ fee. However, Yang, it seemed, was more interested in teasing and annoying their resident Faunus. As well as testing what buttons she could push with Weiss, her new employer.

Belladonna, for her part, was paranoid and suspicious, often questioning or ignoring Weiss’s instructions and plans; instead preferring to stalk off somewhere else to work or find some other task to complete. Usually alone.

And Ruby… Was Ruby.

Thankfully, she seemed to have some coherent ideas about what needed to be done, so she required little supervision.

Weiss still tried to help.

But in truth, the Protectorate, or to be more specific, her father’s tutors, had not included classes on ship repair or electrical engineering. So it wasn’t entirely her fault when she handed Ruby an arc-wrench, when Ruby had asked for a circuit-infuser. For the seventh or so time.

Though to be perfectly honest, Weiss did not want to be working with the girl. Not because Weiss didn’t like her. No. Weiss actually found herself warming up to the girl. Despite her initial assessment of Ruby being somewhat more negative, Weiss had to admit that Ruby was competent. She was clearly skilled in what makeshift repairs they could do with their rather limited resources. Ruby had a good head on her shoulders too, despite her immaturity.

No, it was that Ruby made her… uncomfortable. Not in the way Ruby’s vat-grown sister did. That was a purely physical reaction to the ‘gene-fucking’ as Yang so vulgary called it.

The feeling of otherness from Ruby’s was more subtle. Like a stranger stepping on your shadow. Or the feeling of someone you cannot see, watching you.

It was upsetting for reasons Weiss could not fully understand. That intrigued her.

“Well that’s going to be about all we’re gonna be able to do,” Ruby muttered, sounding annoyed. “If we had been able to get shields up this would have been simple but noooo.”

Weiss stood up, collecting tools and broken parts as she did. “Well? Are you going to tell me what you did? Or just complain?”

Ruby shrugged angrily and let out a frustrated breath, “I managed to get us some power to the Fold Drive. Problem is, she's not in great shape. Neither is the ship. We can make three, maybe four Folds before either the Drive explodes or the ship’s hull falls apart. I don’t know about you, Weiss, but I’m not really interested in finding out which one goes first.”

“That would make two of us,” Weiss agreed, following the strange woman to the cockpit. She frowned as the two found Yang sitting in the copilot’s chair, her feet kicked up on the dashboard, slowly chewing on a nutrient bar.

“Well?” Yang asked through a mouthful of dried, tasteless nutrient bar ration pack, from their dwindling supplies.

Weiss ignored her question. “Where’s Belladonna?”

“Somewhere.” Yang shrugged, sounding bored. “Blakey got huffy for some reason, then wandered off to another part of the ship.”

“That’s because you keep insulting her,” Ruby piped up.

“As I told you three or four days ago,” Weiss reminded her ‘bodyguard,’ “Faunus names are particular, and you are being incredibly informal with her.”

“I’m a pirate. Just seems overly complicated.” Yang laughed around a mouthful of the nutrient bar.

“We’re kinda stuck together,” Ruby pleaded, “Can we just try to get along?”

Yang rolled her eyes but smiled reassuringly. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”

The door slid open with a hiss as the joined them. Weiss immediately noticed Belladonna had changed out of the White Fang uniform. She now wore a long, twin-tailed white coat with a dark purple lining. Her boots were heeled and her top was short, exposing her midriff.

Weiss hand pressed into her forehead in frustration, as Yang let out an appreciative wolf whistle

“Hey Blakey! So that’s where you been.” Yang smiled and waved.

Belladonna frowned but quickly schooled her emotions; adopting the emotionally distant persona the three had come to know. “Xiao Long Yang, I have asked you to please stop being so informal. We don’t know each other, you have no right to call me ‘Blakey.’”

Yang rolled her eyes with a teasing grin. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’m sorry Belladonna.”

Belladonna held the blonde’s eyes for several more seconds before she nodded her acceptance of the apology.

“I inspected the fuel lines. Most were damaged and the fuel pumps were disengaged. I managed to patch one of the pumps…” Belladonna trailed off.

“The ship’s pretty much a wreck,” Ruby finished for her. “I just told Weiss, we maybe have three or so Folds left before this ship either falls apart or explodes.”

“So we’re dead?” Belladonna asked grimly.

“Not necessarily.” Yang’s grin was smug as she brought up the star charts. “I managed to Fold us fairly close to Caviis IV. We’re no more than two, maybe two-and-a-half Folds away.”

“What’s Caviis IV? And wouldn’t Raven be looking for us there? And why didn't you Fold us in the planetary system?” Weiss asked as she studied the holographic chart. "She knows we couldn't have Folded that far from her, and after the damage we sustained, we would need a harbour."

"Yeah, buuuut…. We got three things going for us. One: She has no idea where we are and two: Caviis IV is home to several gangs who… well… they hate Raven more than they hate each other. And while Raven is tough, ruthless, vengeful and cunning; she knows when she's beat. The Muninn is only one ship. She wouldn’t be able to take on a small armada of pirates. Which is why I avoided dropping us in the system. If they found us in this near-derelict of a craft, we would have ended back at square one. In pirate chains.”

“Gangs?” Ruby asked curiously peeking over Yang’s shoulder. “What kind of gangs?”

“Mostly pirate, and most loyal to the crime families and syndicates in Mistral. Which leads us to the third thing.” Yang held up her fingers. “Where there are syndicates, there’s Slot smugglers. Caviis IV has been used as a popular stopping point for them.”

“Slot?” Weiss almost screeched. ”Grimmaphage? Are you insane?”

Weiss grimaced, Grimmaphage, or Slot as it was commonly called, was highly illegal in all civilized areas of space; baring the Union, but that went without saying. Grimmaphage was a mix of stimulant and hallucinogenic made from several chemicals found commonly in Wild Space and was distilled from Grimm blood. Taken in small doses it left the user hyper-aware, filled with energy, having pleasant visions. It gave increased strength, speed, and reaction time. Too much though… Well… Pleasant dreams can easily become mind breaking nightmares.

“A little,” Yang’s smile turned crooked, “But hey. Unless you got a better idea for finding us a ship to get us all the way to the edge of Grimm Space then back to Atlas, I’m waiting for it. Besides, the smugglers aren’t that bad… Unless they’ve been sampling the product.”

Weiss had to admit, she didn’t have a better plan. Still, she wasn’t overly excited to put her hands into drug smugglers, especially those in the pockets of Mistralian crime syndicates. But it appeared there was very little choice.

“I agree with Xiao Long,” Belladonna spoke up from behind them, “We need a ship.”

“Yep.” Ruby cheerily added, popping the ‘p.’ “Besides, we took on Raven. What chances do a bunch of smugglers got against us?”

Weiss sighed. She didn’t like this, not one bit. But she was outvoted. More importantly, she had come to realize, they were right. Yang, Belladonna, Ruby, her; without a ship they were stuck. Caviis IV it was.

Not that she had to like it.

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

Blake groaned inwardly and resigned herself to another round of angry negotiations, as Xiao Long’s temper rose. It was becoming a rather common occurrence if she thought about it. The human was rather ill-tempered.

“Twenty-five thousand? Don’t be insulting!” Xiao Long crossed her arms frowning in exacerbation. “The ship is worth at least eighty.”

“This ship is rubbish. Barely worth the scrap,” The man she was bartering with countered patiently as though he was speaking to an over-eager child, “The engines are nearly fried. The Fold drive is cooked. Half of the bulkheads have collapsed, the superstructure is falling apart. No, twenty-five is more than reasonable.”

Xiao Long was about to start again. Blake knew she had to step in before her companion decided to do something impulsive and drastic.

“You forgot the torpedoes, sir,” Blake calmly interrupted before Xiao Long could start, “Certainly they are worth more than the twenty-five you are offering us.”

Xiao Long shot her a grateful look but quickly returned to the hanger dealer. “There’s four of them in there. You know as well as I do that those alone are worth an easy one-hundred. I’m offering the ship and the torps for eighty. Fair?”

The man sat back for a moment thinking.

“Sixty-five,” He offered evenly.

“Seventy,” Xiao Long offered, as she leaned on the table.

The man nodded. “Done. I’ll make the transfer…”

Xiao Long shook her head. “No, I want hard currency. Aegisalt bars, not E-creds.”

The man looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a spacer. E-creds will be fine.”

“Aegisalt,” Xiao Long insisted again.

Blake watched the two as they stared each other down. Finally, the man relented.

“I’ll be right back.” He said before turning around back into his shop.

“Easier than I thought it was going to be. Thanks.” Xiao Long grinned with a nod.

“E-Creds would have been fine though.” Blake’s fingers tapped a steady tattoo on the grease stained counter. She was becoming aggravated. The argument and the haggling had taken up valuable time. Every moment spent here was a moment the White Fang spent building their forces. A moment where Cinder could continue to weave her dark magics, gathering the Grimm to her.

“Nah,” Yang waved her off, “No smuggler out in Wild Space will take E-creds. They're virtually worthless out here.”

Blake nodded. “So our scrap dealer here was trying to cheat us.”

Xiao Long shrugged. “Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t put it past the bastard.”

It was just then the man returned and placed a dozen or so milky white and purple streaked card-sized bars on the counter. Xiao Long quickly scooped them up, and after a moment of counting, slipped them into a pouch at her side.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Xiao Long waved once she was satisfied with the payment.

The man grunted something that not even Blake’s superior hearing could detect before he turned away yelling at his workers to go and collect the ship.

“Well, that’s part one done,” Xiao Long grunted as she walked down the street, weaving through the small groups of people clustered around stalls selling everything from weapons to intoxicants to scraps of strange foul smelling meats. “Now to find us a ship.”

“And where will we find that?” Blake raised an eyebrow as she followed after her. Side stepping the odd solitary pickpocket and dodging around an overly aggressive merchant hawking Grimm repellent charms made from what Blake could only guess; were human bones tied together with leather strips.

Xiao Long turned and winked. “At the nearest drinking hole, Blakey.”

Inwardly Blake seethed as she struggled to maintain an air of aloofness. Xiao Long had been told again and again, over several days, not just by her, but by her sister and the Atlassian as well. It was obvious the pirate was just trying to get under her skin.

“Well… This looks like a good place to start as any.” Xiao Long ignoring her seething companion and pushed her way inside and into the dark entrance of the bar, as Blake, still seething with annoyance, followed close behind.

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

Jaune Arc, smuggler and Captain of the Juniper checked his cards again, then placed a small Aegisalt bar in front of himself buying another card before tossing a larger tablet from his stack into the middle pile. His long, scraggly blond hair and bright blue eyes made his wide smile seem boyish and charmingly disarming, as he passed his turn with a wave.

Beside him, his co-pilot, first mate and ship’s cook, Lie Ren, was almost the complete opposite. Where Jaune was blond and open: grinning and laughing, Ren was black-haired, stoic and emotionless. His only movements were to purchase a card himself and to toss in a matching bet; indicating an end to his phase.

Jaune nodded as two of their opponents tossed their cards away in disgust, while another eyed him suspiciously.

“No hard feelings then, Jaune?” Perry, the man who sat across from him, asked lightly.

Jaune leaned back into his seat nonchalantly. “If I had a problem with everyone who tried to blow the Juniper out of the sky I wouldn’t have a whole lot of business partners left. It's the way of the game sometimes isn’t it?”

Jaune wasn’t much one for holding grudges. It was a simple truth that came with the business. Sometimes your employer was your best friend. Other times they would try and shoot you in the back. All you could do was deal with it.

Take Perry as an example. Just the other day he had tried to down the Juniper as it came back from a Mistral run. Perry’s ship had gotten the worse from that exchange, but now the two were playing cards in some dingy drinking hole.

To the outsider, this was a strange turn of events. For Jaune and the crew of the Juniper, this was simply a part of life as a smuggler in Wild Space

Perry gwaffed a short laugh. “You shorted the Spiders. They’re pissed, and their reach is long outside of Mistral.”

“Well, it’s not like they were trying to short me. We had an agreement, they failed to live up to it. So I sold off the cargo which they didn’t pay for.” Jaune’s fingers tapped the back of his cards before he looked back down at them. Waiting patiently for Perry to reveal his own hand.

“You sold their cargo to the Tiandihui,” Perry commented idly as he laid down his cards. “Queen’s Right Chalice.”

“No, I sold the cargo they failed to purchase to the Tiandihui,” Jaune corrected raising a finger, as he turned his own cards over. “King’s Golden Sword.”

The man laughed again as Jaune scooped up the pot and tossed several bars of Aegisalt to Ren who had been cleaned out over the past hour or so.

“Well then. I’ll be seeing you around Jaune,” Perry grinned as he stood up and walked out of the bar, the two others from his crew following behind him.

“He’s going to be back,” Ren warned.

Jaune nodded as he lit a Lhostick and took a drag. “Probably.”

“Want me to get the ship ready?”

Jaune sat quietly for a moment. “We were shorted for our last run, yes?”

Ren closed his eyes, a habit he developed when number crunching, and nodded. “Compared to last month? We’re down roughly forty percent. Getting shorted by the Spiders didn’t help much.”

“No it didn't… There’s a lot of money to be made here, so I don't think we'll be leaving just yet. Besides we have Pyrrha.” Jaune tapped his lho out with a small, fond grin. “She’s worth an easy hundred mercs. We'll be fine."

Ren was about to reply when two women, surprisingly both Faunus, walked straight up to their table.

"You Jaune Arc? Captain of the Juniper?" The blonde Faunus asked. She was smaller than Jaune in height, but the well-defined muscles on her arms made her tough and strong looking. Her smile revealed sharp fang like canines and her pupils were slits.

“I am,” Jaune answered, not overly concerned. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ren’s arm move subtly to pull his pistol from his holster.

“Great!” The blonde dropped into the chair across from him. “I’m Yang, this is Bla… Belladonna. We’re looking to book a ship.”

“Lucky for you the Juniper is available for hire.” Jaune straightened his shoulders and back, folding his hands in front of him in an effort to appear professional. “What’s the cargo?”

The other Faunus, Belladonna, a cat by her ears, shook her head as she too sat down. “No cargo. Just passengers. Four of us all together.”

“All Faunus?”

“Just the one. Me. is that a problem?” Belladonna asked with a note of hostility in her voice.

Jaune shook his head. “No, just wanting to know if we have to make climate and accommodation adjustments.”

Belladonna slowly eased back into her seat.

“So where are you going? Is there a time frame?” Ren took his cue and leaned forward. “Anything we need to avoid?”

Yang smiled and leaned forward, pushing her… assets out in a very provocative manner. Jaune gulped and snapped his eyes to her, refusing to look down.

“You see Captain Arc,” Yang’s voice took on a husky, breathy tone. “We have two stops to make. The first is out to the edge of Grimm Space. Then we are going to be returning to Atlas.”

“Grimm Space?” Thankfully Ren was less distracted by the display. “Why would you need to go there? That’s suicide.”

“Oh, we don’t need to go into Grimm Space. Just near the edge,” Belladonna answered back cooly, ignoring her companion’s display. “You see, we were hired to bring an Atlassian academic to the edge of Grimm Space. She wishes to collect several specimens to study the evolution of Grimm who haven’t come into contact with intelligent life.”

“I see,” Jaune said, not daring to remove his eyes from Yang’s. “Well then… Let’s talk price.”

He turned to Ren who quickly wrote a number down and pushed it over to the two ladies.

“Thirty thousand!” Yang was astounded. “I could buy a ship for that.”

“You could buy a piece of junk. The Juniper is the fastest ship this side of Wild Space.” Ren steepled his fingers together as he peered over them at the two. “Plus we are then headed almost half-way across the galaxy from Grimm Space to the core world of the Protectorate. Thirty-thousand includes our refueling costs, as well as danger pay.”

“We could go to any other pilot and get a much better deal.” Belladonna argued back. “All who could make the same ‘fastest ship’ claim.”

Yang nodded in agreement with her compatriot. “What she said. Fifteen.”

Ren bowed his head as though agreeing with their assessment. “Indeed. They can all make that claim. The Juniper, however, simply is the fastest ship in Wild Space. Or else you wouldn’t have come to us. Thirty thousand is reasonable.”

Yang snorted. “We both know it isn’t. Twenty-thousand.”

Jaune knew that twenty-thousand was an insult. No pilot or Captain would accept the job under twenty-five. Yet... There was something about these two ladies. The way they held themselves, the way their eyes kept flickering between him and Ren, the windows, the doors, and the other patrons. That interested him; there was something more and though he had very little interest in heroics. Adventure, well… adventure was something quite different. Jaune, for some reason, knew he wanted this job.

Besides, these women, it seemed like they needed help. Jaune Arc, despite cynicism that had come to colour his views on the galaxy, would never turn away someone in need. That just wasn’t him.

Before Ren could open his mouth, Jaune cut him off. “Twenty-three. Up front. In Aegisalt.”

Both Yang and Belladonna sat back in surprise. Yang was the first to recover.

“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand, which Jaune took.

There was a dull klink as several bars of Aegisalt dropped from Yang’s hand onto the table. Ren quickly scooped them up but spent several seconds examining each one carefully, checking for marks and purity before giving Jaune a nod.

“Well, you got yourselves a ship. Hanger Thirty-Two A whenever you’re ready.” Jaune stood up and motioned with his head “Come on Ren, let’s get the ship ready.”

#RWBY #rwby fanfic #Yang #Blake #Weiss #Ruby #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren

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pallasperilous · 5 years

Text

Morning Glory

Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1795, complete Pairing: Dean/Castiel Tags: Temporarily Human Castiel, Canon universe, anxiety, insomnia, sleep disorders, angel vessels, references to the Empty, references to alcohol abuse AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163709 Prompt: Written as a lil clapback to the fanon trope that Human!Castiel Is Not A Morning Person. (For @cr-noble-writes and @chuckwinchester)

Dean couldn’t really explain why he’d assumed Cas would suck at mornings. Maybe the 24/7 bedhead and the “it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere” shadow; maybe the fact he never really seemed convinced that “taking a shower” and “eating breakfast” weren’t just some elaborate long con they’ve been pulling on him for the last half a goddamn decade. Maybe just the way he veers into grouchy asshole territory whenever the world takes a dump on his shoes, which is kind of the definition of mornings.

Whatever: Cas just seems like the kind of guy who’d need forty minutes of silence and three cups of coffee before he’d count as human.

Hey, well, joke’s on Dean, ‘cuz the guy definitely (currently) counts as human, and he’s awake at five fucking thirty in the morning, every morning, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed and talking a mile a minute. A mile a second. He’s breaking the sound barrier and exerting serious G-forces.

Dean would tear his own face off if he thought it’d make the dude shut up until the Pop-Tarts came up. Instead he just kinda lets the Cas Chatter wash over him, like really phlegmy birdsong, or the world’s weirdest morning chit chat show.

Cas has at least taught himself to make coffee –– apparently all on his own, since Sam isn’t taking credit for it, and Sam loves taking credit for shit. It’s not the worst coffee, either. I mean, it’s bad coffee, nobody here is drinking Good Coffee, it’s a weapon, not an experience –– but it’s not watery or full of grounds or made with orange juice or some other weird dumbass goof.

Sam’s take is that maybe Jimmy Novak was a Morning Person and now that Cas isn’t using the guy’s body as a kind of celestial thermos, some of the dude’s original behaviors or genetics or whatever are sort of…coming back online, reasserting themselves. “Like the burger thing,” Sam says, shrugging.

“Well, that’s ten kinds of fucked up,” Dean answers, but then the goddamn ghoul turns out to be a whole Leave It To Beaver nuclear ghoul family and the conversation gets extremely tabled.

There’s a morning awhile after where Dean wakes up still drunk and can’t handle the thought of two more hours riding the motel bed over the rolling seas of FuckUpistan, so he gets up and showers off the townie bar fug as best he can without waking Sam – only Sam, because it’s dawn and so Cas is already up and probably singing Disney princess songs to the seagulls haunting the trashcans in the parking lot.

Dean reaches to scoop his keys and does a bleary double take when they’re not on the nightstand. He takes a moment to freak out at the possibility of Cas doing his clutch-smiting routine on the Impala, but something twigs and he peels open the door and yep, the car’s still in the lot, outlined in scribbly motel neon and highway dawn pink. There’s a faint warble of bass rolling off it in time tooooo…Dean’s gonna say Hole in the Sky? So he kinda queases his way over the lumpy asphalt and knuckles on the driver side window and Cas jumps a fucking foot, or he would if he weren’t wearing the goddamn lap belt in a perfectly stationary car.

Dean thumbs at the other side and Cas shakes himself off enough to lean over and pop it for him. Dean slides in and the car smells like three hour-old motel check-in desk coffee – his stomach immediately tries to file a lawsuit but the sanctity of the leather interior wins over his bodily need to evacuate poisons every time. Cas’s hands are back on the steering wheel, gripping it at 10 and 2 like a good boy but with his knuckles the color of popcorn, an abused-looking paper cup empty on the seat besides him, and Sabbath is still living on the profits of pride at top volume. Dean rolls it down to conversational levels so he doesn’t have to scream when he says “What’s the story, morning glory?”

Reminder: Dean is definitely still drunk.

Thankfully Cas doesn’t really know from Oasis or Sunday morning BJs so Dean just gets two blue eyeballs full of blank terror.

Dean tries again, picks the cup up off the seat. There’s a rind of dried coffee juice inside. “What’s up? Sunrise three minutes off? Songbirds outta order? Thought you’d be out here braiding your hair and frolicking in the dew or some shit.”

Cas blinks, which is something he’s been doing a lot more lately and frankly is a weird look for him. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “I haven’t done any of those things this morning.” He frowns, which is a little better. “Or any morning, to my knowledge.”

“So, what then? Bad dreams?”

Cas scrunches his face up in his left hand, pulls it back through his already frankly insane hair, sighs out a gust of Eau de Flopsweat. “No. I didn’t dream at all.”

“Congrats.”

Cas goggles back at him. “As much as I dislike dreaming as a…subject, instead of an observer. I find its absence.” He hesitates. “Much worse.”

Dean rubs his eyes because this has that angsty metaphysical angel pong to it and that’s really more of a Sam Specialty. “How’s it worse? I drink for those nights, man. It’s a few hours off of. You know.” He gestures at The Universe, Generally. “All this shit.”

Cas scoffs and leans back in the seat, although he doesn’t release the wheel from the iron grip. “Dean, in almost four billion years of existence –”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters, because this is the traditional overture to an absolute diarrhea of angelsplaining.

Cas ignores him, or maybe Sabbath covers his tracks – “I have never been rendered…unconscious.”

Dean gives him a look, because bullshit. “C’mon. I’ve seen you knocked out before. Down for the count.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve been forced to cede control over my vessel. I’ve withdrawn into it to preserve myelf. I’ve experienced a fugue state, or been made to retroactively forget details of my experience. But I have never.” He breathes in through his nose, the edges of his nostrils going white to match his knuckles. “I’ve never been insensate and unaware at the same time.”

Some asshat pulling his rig out of the diner across the way opens up his jake brake and Cas flinches at the crack.

“Huh,” is about what Dean’s got to serve up. “You worried somebody’s gonna snuff you while you’re down? We can take shifts when we’re on the road, if that’s what’s freakin’ you out.”

Another shake of the head. “Anyone truly invested in eliminating me specifically in this…state would be too powerful or competent to be defended against through normal means. Angels can be killed, Dean. My experience of a mortal death would be – ” he cuts himself off. “Less worrisome than the alternative, in many ways.”

“Cool, so, being murdered in your sleep, not a concern.”

“I’m more concerned,” Cas huffs, “that I am unable to defend you.” His forehead droops down towards the steering wheel, like a houseplant somebody forgot to water before a Disneyland vacation.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Dean says.

“I am not,” Cas answers, “fucking kidding you.”

Dean snorts. “I made it thirty years without your feathery ass watching over me. Now you’ve just got a normal-ass…ass, you think I’m suddenly shaking in my boots? C’mon, man.”

Cas shrugs, which looks even weirder on him than the blinking.

Dean twiddles the paper cup, rolls it between his palms. “You haven’t been, like, watching me and Sam sleep, have you? Because you know I can stand that Twilight shit.”

“No,” Cas says, in a tone of infinite offense, like Dean has suggested he sleeps in girls underwear or something. “But, Dean. The experience of sleep. Dreamless sleep. It’s not. It’s not dissimilar to what we are told to expect, as angels, after death.”

(The music slides over into Symptom of the Universe and Dean desperately wishes he’d left something peppier in the deck when they pulled in last night.)

“Only I’m given to understand that we are at least…in company with each other. Though silent and unaware. We share the same sleep. In a way it’s a return to our origin as an undifferentiated host. But in human sleep.” He looks over at Dean, face slack. “You’re alone. Prisoner in a corporeal cell. Did you know,” he goes on, practically stepping on himself, warming up the verbal jet engines, “that some individuals experience a phenomenon where, upon waking, they suffer a period of total bodily paralysis?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah. Sounds shitty.”

Cas nods. “Jimmy experienced it semi-regularly.” Then he looks out and up, squints at the motel sign. Maybe he needs glasses.

“So you inherited it, huh?” Dean says, softly. Cas doesn’t respond. “So, sleeping’s shit. And waking up’s shit.”

Cas’s squint turns into a wince. “In the Bunker, I’ll get up and make coffee.”

Dean waggles the mutilated cup. “Yeah, noticed that. Thinking of buying stock in Folger’s.”

“I’ll visit the archives, or. Write letters.” (Who the fuck is he writing letters to, Dean idly wonders? Dear Angel Abby?) “Go up to the roof to,” he glances at Dean, anticipating the eyeroll, “watch the dawn. On the road, it’s…more difficult to keep myself occupied. Keep my mind off of the fact that I can no longer hear the rest of the host. That I am,” he stretches his palms out over the wheel, tenses his clenched fingers, “quite nearly useless,”

“Cas,” Dean says, even more softly.

“And that, in a mere matter of hours,” Castiel closes his eyes, or the eyes he is currently doing business under. “The cycle will repeat.”

“Cas,” Dean says. And he reaches out what he suspects is the memory of Mom’s hand and sets his palm on the back of the guy’s neck, against the damp skin and unwashed hair. The muscles there relax but the blue eyes stay closed and Dean drops the cup on the floor and sets the other hand that’s just his on the side of Cas’s face, and slowly sweeps the side of his thumb over the sandpaper jaw and waxy cheekbone.

And he pulls Cas’s head towards him, then down against his own shoulder and chest. Cas’s hands peel off the steering wheel and drift to lie, palms open, up, across their undistinguished assortment of kneecaps and thighs.

After awhile, a few more tracks in the tape, Cas’s breathing goes smoothe and deep. Dean feels eyelashes flicker against his collarbone – guy’s already dreaming.

Dean watches the dawn, reflected on motel windows.

#spn fanfic #deancas #castiel is not a morning person #pallasperilous fic #dean winchester #human!cas

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rockmywings · 6 years

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Korean Crime TV Series Review#2: VOICE (보이스)

THE MAIN CHARACTERS TRIO:

Lead Male (Moo Jinhyuk “Mad Dog”): A veteran detective from Serious Crime Unit, being demoted as a leader of Golden Time Team under Emergency Call Department.

Lead Female (Kang Kwonjoo “Kang Center”): A profiler who has super hearing ability, The chief of Emergency Call Department.

second lead male Main Antagonist (Mo Taegu “Mr. Mo”): CEO of Sungwun Express, an upper-classman. Psychopath.

PLOT:

Main: To catch the criminal who has murdered both Mad Dog’s wife and Kang Center’s dad and who also committed several crimes.

Sub: To save a life who is in crucial danger from their emergency call.

OFFICIAL ENGLISH TRAILER:

youtube

REVIEW BY GENRES:

1) Various Crimes: There are Serial Killer, Kidnapping/Abduction, Child Abuse, Gangster, Illegal Immigrant, Stalker, Human Organ Trafficking, Corrupted Company, Corrupted Police--so complete. The series touches from individual crime to organizational crime, from marginal society to upper-class community. And the gruesome of crime scene places us in reality how horror the real crime is, why they are deserved to be censored in blur like News do on TV Channel (although it’s bothersome to me who use to see gore scenes in The Walking Dead and violence in any US Crime TV Series). I like how Golden Team looks so smart along with Kang Center herself as the profiler and with a hacking skilled officer to get any information. Though, there’s one staff whose multi-language ability is seriously wasted because what she did most times are similar to the hacker, as she also seeks information through internet. However, because our protagonists come from Emergency Call Center, we see how Serious Crime Unit are always outsmarted, making us wonder if they’re a bit competent in investigating while this one should be their expertise. For example, there’s no forensic or CCTV investigation ever shown here but somehow it makes sense because all of the victims who died here are under the main antagonist’s control who could ask to be covered while Golden Team successfully rescues all victims who made the emergency call.

2) Horror Elements: A part of the success of any popular scary movie is the perfect killer. There’s no other character more interesting in the show rather than the killer himself and I can guarantee Mo Taegu would steal your attention in every of his appearance. Let me explain it: A man wearing a black raincoat with face covered behind hoodie but his devilish grin is walking closer in calm steps, a sinister voice with a gravel-like quality of his jaw cracks then strikes the fear of a tormented fresh-faced woman before brutally murdering her--that’s your first impression of him. But, it wasn’t just a typical random unfortunate person whom a serial killer encounter in the dark street with certain modus operandi, nope!! More the killer is introduced, you realize he’s a type who could appear right in front of your door or behind the window creepily, making a hiss like a dinosaur to enter your room whether he decides to kill or just intentionally scare you--we’d find he did it at least 4-5 times in the series!!! (and my fave is when Kwonjoo met his eyes behind the lookout lens of her door) And behind the mask, there’s a rich, smart, and classy-typed businessman wearing an elegant suit with charming face who enchants everyone--so charismatic. Well, there is one episode that doesn’t really makes sense when he’s brutally murdering Madam Fantasia off-screen. The body is nowhere to be found in the building while he clearly didn’t have enough time to hid it in his car unnoticeable, laundry his suit (I mean, look at how much the blood he spread on floor and wall while he killed her not under his raincoat), peeking on Kang Center who has arrived 10 minutes after the phone call only to see her reaction finding his crime scene, then come back to meeting room he left before. But fuck off the logic, once again, this is horror show; let’s enjoy every killing scene of every bone he’s crushing using his kettlebell, or grotesque art of blood he painted on the wall citing Bible quote, or when he keeps the body wrapped in his house then doing bloodbath like Elizabeth Bathory, it’s all horrifyingly entertaining. Don’t forget that his victims also made a bad move tropes to meet him and give us a death flag. As if it wasn’t enough, Taegu also has some hallucination things, how creepy it is when he stared at the policeman in the car like a supernatural horror and when he’s being murdered on his mind like a zombie scene. Although those all aren’t enough to scare me, I’m sure there are some audiences who maintain to keep watching this show with eyes peeking behind their fingers but you can’t leave it yet to see who he’d murder next and who’d be survived. You’d be surprised when it reveals he commits more crimes through his company and more number of murders he had done for years with many different sizes of his weapon that will freak you out!! And with high status to work with gangster and a certain police to cover it all whom he could just eliminate as his next murdering target if he wanted, I’ll say “Welcome to Sungwun City, Mo Taegu’s World.” He is too complete to be a psychopath, an extremely powerful evil case with intellect brain to know what he does. He could be starring his own horror movie if Voice ever made a prequel. Maybe the only thing he hadn’t done yet (or ever shown) is cooking and eating the victims' meat LOL. But seriously, as the citing bible, doing bloodbath, and keeping body or organs, comes from nowhere (that is kinda different persona from the mysterious killer in eps 1-3); the writer even can add if he was ever cannibal too.

3) The high suspense in every episode: While the main villain is horror enough, the co-villains in some emergency cases also could raise the suspension that makes you hold your chair and grit your teeth. This was the most exciting thing because you could see desperate emotions of the victims transported through the call and how The Golden Team is rescuing them, battle in countdown timer minutes by minutes, second by second. Even after the first two cases that you become to feel every rescue is predictably success, you won’t lose the suspense. Voice is directed in plot-driven like a formula one’s car and once you’re seated there, you can’t stop ‘til finish line. My fave case is the child abuse, we feel so pity and hopeless because the one who makes a call is a little boy hiding in washing machine and bleeding. The least suspense is the rescue of bus passengers as the last rescue case in eps 15, probably I’ve been pretty surfeited of the repetitive rescue (but the case is important to show how crazy Mr. Mo runs his business).

4) Full Packed Action: Well, a premise of a lead male seeks revenge for the murder of the person he loves is cliche and standard in action movies; this how Mad Dog vs Mr. Mo’s confrontation has been lead since the series prolog, we know their final battle should happen. Jinhyuk himself wouldn’t be called “Mad Dog” without reason if this genre were absent. Look how his action is performed throughout the series, especially when he beat up all the gangsters in the meat house—so intense and brutal!! Don’t ever ask his nonstop energy, this is how action genre treats the main hero. Then, I expect a same intense hand in hand combat scene as to how action movie’s climax battle should be handled, main hero and main villain are equal although it’s predictable who’d be the winner in the end. Both Mad Dog and Mr. Mo are canonly brutal, you can see the same of them staring terrifyingly and intimidating when they talked to Nam Sang Tae in different scenes; you see how strong they are. Instead, we just get a short gunfighting?! I don’t complaint the gunfighting, but I mean, can they also make a duel with Jet Kun Do vs Tae Kwon Do as the two actors have the martial art skill for real? The director could make they ran out of bullet, then fight brutally, then the cops stop them to arrest him. It’s a wasted potential because the director even had given Mad Dog’s fight against a South East Asian assassin for two episodes! However, Taegu’s ending in the rooftop scene is still satisfying. Maybe the concept of Mad Dog vs Mr. Mo kinda like Batman and Joker. Despite being evil, of course Joker is powerless compared to Batman’s strength if he ever challenged him in combat. The purpose isn’t about which one is stronger. Same as Joker provokes Batman, Taegu also enjoys provoking Jinhyuk to kill himself even by telling him how he killed his wife, to prove he’s just another monster like him. And although we see how Jinhyuk doesn't hesitate to shoot Taegu four times in the rooftop brutally, he didn’t kill him at the end as he pities his enemy. But audiences would know later how it punishes Taegu in a very cruel way unexpectedly compared to what if he just died in Jinhyuk’s hand as he wishes. And of course, he deserves it.

5) The Drama is about The Victims: As well as how the credit title is presented, it tells us that this show is about the victim’s voice in asking help that used to be abandoned by slow police procedural--including our hero and heroine’s beloved one. But not only that, the profiler’s approach to seeking the Criminal’s motive then trying to calm them, making them tremble, and feeling sympathy really reminds me of Criminal Minds; criminals can be born because they were a victim too in the past--trust me, even you’d pity Taegu in the end!

6) Almost Zero Romance:

Tbh, I don’t like the cliche that the lead male and lead female eventually hook up in the end (although I’m okay with the possible idea) so I’m glad it doesn’t happen with Voice. Even though they start to work together as a team professionally, they didn’t have to fall into an affair like duo Mulder and Scully of The X-Files. Their relationship is amazingly platonic ‘til the end as you watch them developing trust, teamwork, bond, and care to each other.

If there’s any romance ever sparking, two Kwonjoo’s staffs in Emergency Call may be hinted. The woman is cool at first while the guy is cheerful and kind of a flirt. An obsessive fan of him is even jealous of her. But as I said, it was just hinted. Their occasional heartwarming interaction may be made for taking a break in all suspense and violent cases. It wasn’t out of place since it’s just a little and eps 9 could give you space to breathe.

Well, this one depends on interpretation, but Taegu seems to have special attraction/interest of Kwonjoo sexually (of course, in a sick mind only psychopath could describe), for example when he stalked her, caressed her bed, stared at her picture, gave her a gift, happy when she found him, claimed that both of them are different from common herd, and show a disappointment that she doesn’t like it. On her profiling, Kwonjoo said why he’s “soft” at her probably because she reminds him of his mother, the only person he genuinely loves. Their chemistry is something the audiences not expecting before, especially in the rooftop scene as their climax. But I'm sure no one complaints [laughs].

Nah, the only true romance no one can’t debate is Jinhyuk’s love for his deceased wife; how he’s broken, how’s he seeks revenge, and then how he finally let it go.

OTHER POSSIBLE FLAWS:

Voice is an easy story and predictable with those action, suspense, and horror elements (although there’s still a twist); the ending is also clear, not open. The main mystery isn’t something that makes you heavily think to guess who is the culprit or suspect someone. Well, it’s enough to thrill for half series because once Taegu’s character is introduced at eps 8, the focus itself actually isn’t about a conspiracy behind the police/prosecutor institution like TvN Signal or TvN Stranger since the mastermind is the person outside it. Some audience may be fooled or even disappointed about it but I’m not (once again, I said Taegu’s character as psychopath fits more in horror tropes). The procedural pace, the variety of crimes, and the plot-driven won’t make you bored that you probably forget to ask for character development and question the logic; though, sometimes the running clock is too long to make us question if the run really happened just in 5 minutes.

The lead female’s super hearing ability is the reason why all the emergency rescues success where the title “Voice” comes from, it’s full an entertaining fiction, we know real life isn’t like that. Still, it isn’t without flaw; for example, she could amazingly hear the boy’s slow tap behind the wall through communication but she failed to hear the hitting sound Taegu made when he’s smashing Daeshik’s head in the basement right when she’s entering his house. And her ability might be useless if the criminals were smart enough to make sure there's no cellphone being kept in their victim's pocket to be able to make contacts.

OVERALL THOUGHTS:

Voice is definitely my fave Korean TV Series so far. It isn’t perfect but somehow I don’t feel this is a Kdrama at all. Look at those three main characters:

The nuance I feel around the lead female’s department and how she handles the cases is almost like when I watch US TV Series of Police Procedural Dramas (many felt like Criminal Minds mixed with 9-1-1),

the lead male’s fighting scene is like The Raid, Bourne, or John Wick (also the Surim-dong case reminds me of NCIS: New Orleans’s case “Clearwater”),

the main killer’s approach is like Wes Craven’s SCREAM and his personality is like American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman.

With these references, I don’t recommend this series to those who can’t stand to watch gruesome violence. The age rating in Korea's Standard is 19+ and if it was measured to my country's rating standard (Indonesia), it'd be 21+.

I haven’t mentioned yet that the actors and the actresses, both leads and supporting, are amazing. I don’t watch much Korean entertainment (movie and show) so this is the first time I’m introduced to them all, and suddenly both Jinhyuk’s actor (Jang Hyuk) and Taegu’s actor (Kim Jae Wook) are added to my fave list for me interested to watch their other projects. I also like the veteran actress who plays a granny in Surim-dong incident; she could act as three different characters!

I’m looking forward to Season 2 aired on 11th August 2018. Now, without Jinhyuk and Taegu’s characters anymore as their confrontation story is over; I wonder if this time The Golden Team somehow ever fails to save a life like TvN Signal and have kind of a sociopath as main villain like OCN Tunnel. Who knows? I still can’t imagine someone more psycho and charismatic than Taegu yet haha. And with a different director, it’s probably not horror as season 1 anymore, but more thriller. But most importantly, I want to see and know more about the heroine, Kang Center, she’s at least need character development since she was the core of “voice”.

#ocn voice #kdrama #lee ha na #jang hyuk #kim jae wook #review #tv series

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anthonybialy · 3 years

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Soul Hole

Identifying the souls of parties is tricky since they're soulless entities. It's not quite the height of cynicism to note those competing for elections are interested in winning them. But each of the two viable regrettable tribes faces a respective identity crisis. They're jerks either way.

Those addicted to awful platforms can't quit. As for the disloyal opposition, they still prefer a person over ideas. The worst part is same person's identity. Republicans are unable to give up on longtime Democrat and oft-liberal Donald Trump. He still could serve a presidential term for some baffling and horrid reason. You'd think his most recent party could learn how to divorce from the master.

A side that used to pretend to oppose government apparently take greats comfort in unlimited cultism as a replacement. Those exhausted by exhausting options somehow have to once again restate the case against the most toxic human and egregious phony imaginable.

Notoriously authentic Trump still crudely restates what he thinks his audience wants to hear, which is an odd style of integrity. Similarly, spending that'd make Barack Obama blush seems odd for a conservative. Balancing a budget is tricky for an all-time genius who still doesn't understand what a trade deficit is.

Incinerating trillions is nothing compared to worshiping the alleged commercial messiah behind it. Pretend being an ungrateful bitching glory hog is tough. Trump mastered the worst political performance of them all.

The man who couldn't sell football to Americans promises to be back just in time to muck up the midterms. We can only hope he's staying true to form by lying. Besides, the races began the day after the previous ones concluded.

Endless campaigns are our punishment for whatever bad things we did. The last Republican either drags down the worthy or take credit for success. An alleged embodiment of a strong personality is always just there at convenient times, like when he faced Hillary freaking Clinton or was born Fred Trump's son.

An utterly predictable tantrum fan will claim his cult of unpleasant personality is what defeats Joe Biden's party. Meanwhile, Trump's own spectacular ineptness is what inflicted Biden in the first place. He happens to be present as the opposing party benefits from the incumbent's inherent ineptness. This was surely his plan all along, just like all those failed companies taught him how to fix his endless errors. We all know what it's like to live in Atlantic City.

Lucky Americans have just the president for opportunistic opponents of autonomy to manipulate. Democratic lunacy from the Obama era seems like minutes from a John Birch Society meeting compared to the present pinko plunge. Buy by the case. There won't be a quantity discount. This is government, after all.

It's always tough for a faction based on not letting you do anything for yourself to measure how badly they want to claim what's yours is ours. For Democrats, this counts as balance. They also remain moderate by expanding federal authority while demolishing federal institutions. The debate is over just how many constitutional pages they wish to incinerate. They treat it like your money.

Psychiatric battles are natural amongst the deranged. Ego fights id for just how much the party will announce. Massive control is being taken to its logically illogical conclusion. Tearing down the institutions they seek to dominate shows how much they thought ahead. Cutting out middle management almost seems efficient until you realize they just want to streamline tyranny.

Calling every dumb mandated program communism might be a bit of an exaggeration. Some goofy drive like, say, universal pre-kindergarten may be a counterproductive mandatory waste and not a sign the Czech Republic and Slovakia are reuniting. But laying waste to markets and federal limits is a problem as persistent as it is dangerous even if there aren't as many Reds hiding in federal agencies as Tucker Carlson claims. Commies seem like moderates by present debate standards.

Which awful party will get your vote? Republicans either only want to dominate a medium portion of our lives or are just better at keeping secrets. Good luck to those trying to determine whether it's better to be polite about wanting to seize what's yours or if honesty is no virtue for scoundrels. Offer best wishes to those determining which is more conducive to liberty.

Internal bitch-slapping doesn't exactly constitute fun or fair battles. It's politics, so the result already tends toward atrociousness for anyone interested in remaining unbothered. But the present gloom is even more palpable as nearly everyone involved forgets lawmakers are supposed to obey laws.

Intramural party civil wars are presently liberals versus leftists and conservatives versus liberals. Constitutional decency doesn't look to stand much of a chance. Each alternative to telling government to sod off shows why iconoclastic subversion has never been more valuable. There needs to be a choice better than determining who's going to spend currency taken from you so you can finally prosper.

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xoruffitup · 6 years

Text

Fic: Love Is A Four-Letter Word

AU!Adam as an international business magnate. He’s just met the love of his life, but doesn’t know how to explain his unconventional home life to her; Namely that he already has two people living with him. The best solution is probably to see for yourself, to really understand all the different forms of love and intimacy of which the human heart is capable.

(This is an expansion from a beautiful dream I had, of inexplicably finding yourself dropped into a household where Adam, John Boyega, and Laura from Paterson/Golshifteh Farahani all live together. You start puzzling the situation apart, and fall more in love with each of them the closer you get.)

You’ve recently arrived at a giant, beautiful manor house in the countryside. You’re there because you’ve just become engaged to the owner - none other than Adam, of course. It was a short, whirlwind courtship because he’s a very prolific business magnate, and press attention made it difficult to spend time alone. But you were taken with him from the first time you met - so much so that you were sure you’d be happy to spend your life with him, even after barely three months.

Upon getting engaged, he finally invited you to come live with him. He’d been shifty about it before, and you know there’s plenty of mystery surrounding his private life. When you arrive, the unexpected begins right away. There are other people living in the house, and you’re not sure who they are or why they’re there. (One is John Boyega, the other is Laura from Paterson aka Golshifteh Farahani, among various people who keep the house and grounds maintained.) Then, Adam has to leave suddenly for an unexpected business trip. In bed, he kisses your fingers early in the morning before he leaves: “When I get back, then I’ll be your husband.” There seems to be something he’s not saying - a silent ‘If you still want me.’ You wish he was already back from his trip.

You’re not sure how to act when he’s gone - the house is massive and you’re not used to this class of living. Are the people in the house servants? You don’t know to address them, so you’re equally surprised and glad when John comes up to you first. “Laura was so right. She thought he’d leave you with us.” You stare for a second in confusion before he smiles and holds his hand out to shake. “I’m John. Let me find Laura so you can meet her too. We’ll give you the tour.”

Laura is, somehow, even nicer than John. They’re both incredibly welcoming, walking you through the massive house and gorgeous gardens. But they keep asking annoyingly cryptic things, like “So, Adam didn’t tell you about us?” or “You don’t read tabloid rumors?” Laura pauses in the ground floor living room and fixes you with a scrutinizing look: “You’re with him for the right reasons, right?” John elbows her, but you’re not really offended. Her voice isn’t hard, just genuine. “Not just the money?”

You think the answer’s kind of obvious - You’ve never seen this stunning place before, you couldn’t imagine even half this kind of wealth. If anything, you’re annoyed with it all because it’s made it so complicated to be with him.

Laura smiles and nods, and you notice John relaxing a bit too. “Let’s take you out to the pool,” Laura says with a kind smile.

John elbows you at the pool’s edge. “I’ll go in if you do.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Doesn’t matter!” Without batting an eyelash, Laura strips down to her underwear and dives in.

John winks at you. “C’mon - No one else will see.” He starts pulling his shirt off. Laura pops up at the side of the pool just in time for John to cannonball and thoroughly douse her in spray.

You’re really perplexed now. How are they so comfortable with each other, when they don’t seem to be a couple? And again, why are they living here? Neither look like they could be related to Adam.

You hang back for a minute, watching them splashing around in the water. Eventually, their warm energy becomes infectious and all your questions slip away. You strip down and dive in with them, to approving cheers.

You start spending all your time with them; Their company a pleasant distraction from missing Adam. Within a few days, you realize they’re definitely not staff in the house. They live there - They have their own entire wings in the manor. You know you’re still missing something, but aren’t quite ready to ask. You have the feeling they’re waiting for you to realize yourself.

Then you go to the kitchen late one night, and walk in on Laura kissing one of the gardeners you’ve seen around a lot. You know his name’s Troy. She looks upset that you’ve seen, but you just apologize and quickly duck out. You see John sitting out on the back veranda and decide to join him. You think you may be at the edge of it now.

Sitting next to John under the stars, you try your best, very carefully: “Laura… Is she married to Troy?”

John half-smiles, turning to look at you closely. “Not quite.”

“Adam would have mentioned you both if you were family. And you obviously don’t work here or anything. Which kind of leaves only one possibility…”

John leans back, crossing his arms behind his head. He lets the night silence linger between you both for a moment before he begins to speak.

“Laura was married to Adam 6 years ago now. She’s from a wealthy and influential family, who pressured her to marry well. Adam was almost 30 and still an eligible bachelor; Her family offered crazy connections and hookups for business deals. And obviously, Laura’s stunning. Why not? Seemed like a good deal on both sides.

“She came to the manor for the first time just after they were married - That very day. And right away, she saw Troy. They knew each other when she was a teenager, and she’d loved him her whole life. It was just incredible chance that they found each other here, and Adam was as amazed by it as anyone. He didn’t get in the way. He and Laura had barely had the chance to get to know each other before the wedding, so he didn’t show any entitlement or nothing. Laura’s family had told her she’d have to forget Troy. They’d tried to control her all her life, but turns out that by marrying someone else, she found her way back to him. And for Adam’s part, everyone stopped bugging him about getting married, which was really all he wanted.”

“So… It’s like they’re really only married in name?”

“Just about. Now and then they go around to visit Laura’s parents, to show how happy they are and keep everything in order. Always makes for great stories when they get back,” John said with a grin.

“But… what about you?”

“Well. I know Adam would tell this differently, but basically…”

It began with a public campaign to match a major business figure with the ‘ideal’ husband. John and Adam were both pressured in different ways. For John, he’d been doing minor modeling jobs in his small hometown to feed his family. Then his agent suggested competing in the campaign - If John won, his family would never worry about money again. For Adam, public pressure had been mounting to have both a wife and husband, since he worked all over the world and cosmopolitan society had come to expect a certain progressive fluidity to sexuality. Adam only agreed to the campaign in its final stages, so neither man knew who they’d end up with until the very end. They were never even alone together until after the wedding, in the hotel suite afterwards.

(You’re surprised to see John totally relaxed, reclined and grinning at the memory as he recounts.)

There was stiff smalltalk as they unpacked their bags in the shared room. Neither had any idea how to act. They’d kissed on the altar and danced (surprisingly well) together, and yet this was their first proper conversation. John was thinking the night had to be heading in a single direction at some point, and he found himself less freaked out by it than he’d expected.

When Adam turned his back and started taking off his suit jacket to hang up, then unbuttoning his shirt, John whispered a ‘Fuck it’ to himself, strode over, reached a hand to Adam’s shoulder and spun him around. John went up for the kiss, but Adam held him at a distance, looking utterly off-guard for a second.

“Wait,” Adam said quickly. “Can I ask you… Have you ever done this before?”

His meaning was crystal clear, but John was much less clear on what answer the other man wanted. Something cliche and porn-movie? “No, but I want you to be my first?”

He finally just said, “Why’s it matter?”

“Well…” They’d separated now, standing a few feet apart, and Adam was fiddling with the end of one shirtsleeve, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I hope this doesn’t sound unkind because you are unquestionably extremely handsome, but… I wouldn’t really mind if this never happens. … I agreed to this campaign for the wrong reasons, I’m ashamed to admit. I’ve been told incessantly that I needed to find a husband to keep business partners across the world mollified, and this seemed the only way to get one without having to actually… date a man myself.“

“Wait…” John completely froze in place, in disbelief. “Are you not…”

“Er, no. I’m afraid not.” “You’re not.” John waited until he watched Adam shake his head - confirmation in both word and deed. Only then did John go on, “So… then, maybe you won’t be furious if I tell you that I’m not either?”

Adam’s eyes got wide for a moment, before his face relaxed completely. He gave an abrupt bubble of laughter, looking at John with a new sense of calm.

“Should we go… I don’t know, drink a beer?”

John laughed. “This is mad, mate. Completely mental. But yeah, I think we should.”

…… “And that’s how we spent our wedding night watching football and getting trashed on expensive room service alcohol. We wound up both falling asleep in the bed together, but by that point it wasn’t weird anymore. True bromance, you get me?”

You just stare at John for a long time, because this is too much to wrap your head around that quickly.

You finally manage: “And so, everything turned out well for you, just like Laura?”

“Right as rain. Before I met him, I’d been terrified my future husband would want a divorce right away, when I was exposed as a defective straight guy. But turns out Adam’s hopelessly straight too, so we keep each other’s secret. Anyone asks, we bang every night. Even my family believes it, but Adam’s been so generous to them, I think my mum’s in love with him herself and can’t imagine I’m not. So my family moved out of the ends, my sis is in college, and I’m married to my best mate. Not too bad, all things considered.”

You lay in Adam’s massive bed, alone, staring at the ceiling for most of the night. Adam’s twice married. He’s got a wife and a husband. You’re more… stunned, than hurt. Puzzled, than betrayed. Adam’s twice married, but it sounds like neither of his spouses have ever slept in this bed, where you are now. Adam’s got a wife and a husband, who’ve both been nothing but warm and welcoming to you; Neither showing a trace of bitterness or envy. But not because they don’t care for Adam - Rather, they care for Adam’s happiness almost above their own.

You see Laura at breakfast, and she can tell by your face that you’ve learned everything. Laura smiles and sits down close at your side.

“I’ve been telling him for the last couple years to look - telling him he should date. It’s thanks to him that I’m finally free to be with Troy, and John never has to worry for his family ever again. He deserves someone who makes him as happy as he’s made us.”

You bite your lip. You don’t want to - You don’t want to be petty in the face of their stunning, open way of life - but you know you have to ask. You have to know.

“Laura… Are you sure, you and Adam really never…”

Her smile is dim but understanding.

“There was never a ‘me and Adam.’ I’ll never know what might have been. After we were married, I had been ready to go to bed with him, but… then I saw Troy here before the wedding night and at first, it was the worst despair. How could I ever be happy with anyone else, knowing he was here? And how could Troy ever forgive me, now that I had to pretend to be?

“But Adam saw right away. He didn’t make me pretend. He stopped me before I even got to the stairs. I was trying to hide it, but I was crying. And he…” Laura sighed, her gaze distant, melancholy but deeply fond at the same time, “He brushed my tears away and told me I could decide - Right then, if I wanted. Decide if I wanted to only be his wife in name. We barely knew each other, so he didn’t feel it was his right to claim some entitlement to me just because we’d said some words in a church.

“I could barely manage to speak, I was so overwhelmed. But I tried to explain: It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be his wife. It was that, in my heart, I was already someone else’s.

“So I spent my wedding night with Troy - the first time I’d seen him in years. And Adam told the truth when he promised me he understood. He’s never showed a trace of resentment, towards either of us. He even helps me keep my family fooled into believing our marriage is real.”

Laura reaches over to cover one of your hands with hers.

“Ironically… because Adam’s never showed signs of wanting me that way, there are moments when I think I might love him, just a little. I was wracked with guilt the first year - That even though I was legally his wife, I was repaying his kindness and acceptance with what others would view as betrayal. I know he didn’t see it that way, and I went to all his public appearances with him so everything remained convincing, but sometimes the guilt became too much.

“In hotels when I would travel with him… He’d sleep on the far opposite side of the bed. One night, just once, I got this idea in my head that I should try to repay him for our wedding night - the wedding night he never had. I only barely touched him before he stopped me.

“‘This isn’t the way,’ he said. ‘You’ll make yourself unhappy.’

“‘I’m already unhappy - That I’ve repaid you terribly for how good you’ve been to me’

“‘Don’t say that. You know there’s nothing to repay - As long as you and Troy make each other happy.’

“‘But what about you? You deserve someone too.’

“I was still close to him. A distant smile on his face was the only hint I had before he leaned up and kissed me.

“‘Some day,’ was all he said, afterwards. Then he gently put me back on my side of the bed, and turned away again.

Laura was smiling distantly. “I’ll always remember that kiss. It was lovely; It was all I needed. I love him in a certain way and I always will, but that kiss was enough to know. To know that he’s content with how things are, and there’s a reason I have to be with Troy.”

Laura looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “That’s it. Really. When you marry him, you’ll be the only one who’s ever been his wife in the true sense.”

You find that you believe her, and you’re surprisingly moved.

Laura’s gaze shifts down to the table for a moment. She briefly draws her hand back from yours. “But believe me when I say that John and I both love him in our own ways, and we would do anything to protect him.”

She fixes you with a long look, and you understand. You lift your head, meeting her gaze.

“So would I,” is all you say.

Laura nods, and then her face goes light and illuminated again, smiling at you over her toast.

Adam finally gets home. You see his car coming up to the house and selfishly you don’t tell the others, so you’re in the doorway alone when he walks up. He looks apprehensive - Knowing that you know everything, now. You hold your arms out immediately, and he gratefully ducks into them, clutching you close. You close your eyes and breathe him in. He’s been gone too long, and you know beyond a shred of doubt that you’re never letting him go again.

After several deep, lingering kisses, you finally speak.

“I understand, but why didn’t you explain to me yourself?”

“Would you have really believed it? That I’m married to two people for reasons of politics and public appearances, and I’ve never touched either of them? Even if you believed it, you would have found it incredible - insane, unless you met them both yourself.“

Arms hooked around his neck, you just look into his eyes for a moment, realizing he’s right. You couldn’t have really understood unless you’d seen yourself.

“I love you,” you say. “Even more because you love so generously.”

His mouth works silently for a moment, expression going soft. With a hand in your hair, he gently guides your head to tuck in beneath his chin.

He speaks softly, “I plan to always stay married to both of them. I hope you’ve seen - We’re an odd family of sorts, and they rely on me. But I want you to know, you’re the only one I love this way; The only one I ever have.”

You nod against his chest. “I understand. I do. And I think I can come to love them too.”

Adam falls silent, just holding you for a long moment. He was so frightened of this reunion - Of how you would react to his complicated home life. Now, he finds himself swept up in the sudden feeling of truly having someone to come home to - Someone he could carry up the stairs, lay out in the bed you share, and make love to all night. Someone who would come down to the kitchen in the morning, and help him cook pancakes for Laura and burnt bacon for John. He couldn’t wait to learn how you liked your eggs cooked; what side of the bed you would claim; how often you would text when he had to go on business trips.

He kisses you, and thinks his life is finally complete.

You lean closer, and think your life is just beginning.

“He’s ba-ack!” John sing-songed as he slid into the entryway where you and Adam stood. Adam pulls back from you, looking up with an immediate grin.

“Welcome home, brother,” John trilled.

“Good to be home.”

The two slapped hands and bumped shoulders in rehearsed coordination. John made it look natural as breathing and suave as ice; Adam just looked keenly White.

“Did you bring me the good stuff?” John asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Only the best for you, of course.” Adam dug a hand into an inside pocket of his jacket, producing a glossy cigar case. John made an excited noise as he took it. He grinned at you meaningfully.

“He was in Cuba, you know. Best cigars in the world.”

Adam made a sound between a huff and a sigh. “I know you quit cigarettes, John, but some day you’ll give these up too, won’t you? Though I suppose it’s my fault for indulging you…”

John’s mouth was already open to reply when Laura appeared.

“You’re home!”

You step out of the way slightly awkwardly when Laura comes over to wrap Adam in a tight hug, kissing his cheek on the way in. He returns the tiny kiss just above the corner of her mouth, leaning down to give her a brief squeeze. He laughs a little as he straightens again. “What, were you all that bored? I’m getting the royal welcome tonight.”

“We missed you,” Laura says with a shrug as John picks up the bag Adam had dropped and slings it over his shoulder to carry inside. “Probably because we were talking about you so much.” She smiles at you, eyes glittering, and just like that you remember you’re here with them, one of them - in the middle of their circle of warmth.

Adam gives a theatrical groan. “I knew it might be dangerous to leave her with you both.”

Laura and John start up the hallway leading into the house proper. Laura protests, “Hey, we can behave. When we want to.” You and Adam fall in behind them, his arm finding you and guiding you close to his side.

“Speaking of dangerous… Laura, you didn’t try to cook, did you?”

She spins to walk backwards as they near the kitchen, looking deeply offended. “I slave to make a nice meal for you and insults are what I get for it?”

John snickers. “’Slave’? You put in leftovers to reheat.”

Laura slaps John’s arm and he yelps. You look up to see Adam grinning as he watches them. Before you know it, your grin perfectly matches his.

In the kitchen, Laura flits around taking things in and out of the oven, Adam recounts his boring trip, and you can’t seem to keep your arms anywhere but wrapped around his waist, leaning into him while he keeps an arm draped over your shoulders. John just sits on one of the counters pointedly not helping. Then he looks over and catches you and Adam mooning at each other.

“For Christssake, forget dinner. Laura, just let them go get it on already.”

You go red, but at the same time… you wouldn’t be opposed to an escape. Adam was gone for a long time, and you’ve got fresh, burning affection for him that badly needs exercising.

“I think I managed to ruin dinner anyway…” Laura sniffs, oven mitts on her hands as she withdraws a dish from the oven whose contents are blackened on top.

“That’s okay,” Adam is quick to say, “Thanks for the effort, but why don’t we just order Chinese or Indian?”

“Indian,” John equivocates immediately. “Always Indian.”

“Great,” Adam says, clearly in a bit of a hurry now. “Why don’t you order our usual? Plus an order of…” He looks down towards you with an prompting look.

Meeting his gaze, you can’t recall a single Indian dish for the life of you. You just manage in an embarrassingly dreamy voice, “Whatever you’re having.”

John tries to cover up his laugh, but doesn’t quite manage. “Just take the woman to bed already!”

Adam’s already taking your hand and backing out of the kitchen, pulling you with him.

“Just don’t forget to eat later!” Laura calls just before you lose the kitchen from sight. You just catch her grin as she looks up to watch you both go.

Finally alone together in Adam’s huge bed, it’s the best sex of your life.

The next morning, you find a tray outside the bedroom door that allows for breakfast in bed.

“That was Laura. Breakfast she can make just fine,” Adam says with certainty, even though there’s a note in John’s handwriting: Congrats on the loud sex.

The manor truly comes to life when Adam’s home. He has routines, spending long stretches of the days with John and Laura, while trying to make sure you feel as at home as possible. You can tell he’s torn between keeping you company all the time, and leaving you space to breathe and adjust.

Most mornings, Adam’s already up from bed when you wake. Converging with Laura in the kitchen, she supplies, “Adam and John are downstairs in the gym. They’re freaks who love their crazy work outs at the break of dawn.” Laura rolls her eyes over her coffee cup.

“Nice to watch now and then, though,” she adds with a teasing raise of her eyebrows as you sit down beside her with your own mug. She mouths, “Shirtless and sweaty” and you choke on your drink a little while a laugh sputters out.

Sure enough, you’re both still sitting at the table when John and Adam’s voices come up the stairs.

“No way you benched 240.”

“What – You weren’t here to see it so it didn’t happen?”

“Exactly.”

They both traipse into the kitchen and you sit up abruptly.

Laura wasn’t kidding. They’re both shirtless. And sweaty. And gleaming.

Laura hides her grin in her coffee mug. Adam comes past your side of the table.

“Morning, babe.” He leans down to peck the top of your head. “Sorry I reek.”

“Sorry? You smell hot, actually.”

Adam grins as he goes for the weird smoothie maker you’ve never dared to touch. John wolf-whistles from where he’s standing at the fridge. “Down, girl.”

John comes over to the table with a bottle of some fancy electrolyte drink. You’ve never thought about it before, but he’s half-naked and you’re appreciative in an aesthetic sort of way.

“John. Shake?” Adam asks over his shoulder, chopping and dropping things into the blender.

“Only if you leave out that hemp shit.”

Adam sighs. “That’s the healthy shit.”

“Fuck the healthy shit. It’s nasty.”

Laura pokes John’s shoulder, then makes a face and theatrically wipes her finger on a napkin. “You could use more healthy shit, John.”

Adam makes a noise of agreement.

John grimaces. “Ugh. Two naggers.” He points a finger at you. “Don’t you start too.”

You hold up your hands. “Leave me out of discussions about shit of any kind.”

A minute later, Adam comes over, places a glass of some lumpy smoothie shake thing in front of John and sits beside you. He downs his own glass and you can’t help but watch how his bare throat moves.

You aren’t sure yet of the line – How openly affectionate you can be with Adam around Laura and John. There’s yet to be any awkward moments, but you don’t want to push things.

So you just say, “You know, I haven’t showered this morning yet.”

Adam’s eyes twinkle. “What a coincidence.”

Under the table, his warm hand spreads across your thigh.

A half hour later, you gain a new appreciation for the huge rain shower in Adam’s bathroom. The fall of water covers your moans, and washes away fresh sweat as Adam presses you into three different positions in three different corners of the shower.

On Sunday, you’re in the bedroom going through weeks of neglected work emails. Your attention is broken by a banging sound in the direction of the window. It’s not loud enough to cause you alarm, but insistent and grating enough to draw you irreversibly from your work.

Puzzled, you go to pull the curtains open.

To your immense surprise, you see a construction platform raised a short distance from the window. A few windows down, Adam’s hammering something and John’s handing him nails from a bucket at their feet. Adam’s in the most worn pair of jeans you’ve ever seen and a white t-shirt that looks stained with paint. You’re struck, just like he were wearing a thousand-dollar, tailored suit.

You yank the window open and stick your head out.

“What are you two doing?”

Adam and John both take a moment looking around, before they find the window where your voice is coming from.

“Laura says her window frame’s been letting rain in,” Adam calls over to you.

You stare for half a second, while Adam waves the tools in his hands as if they explain everything.

“And you didn’t want to… hire someone…?”

Adam just smiles wide, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead with the back of one hand.

“Takes all the fun out of it.”

Beside him, John covertly points at Adam, then twirls his finger beside his own forehead in the insinuation of crazy.

You look down over the gardens, thinking it’s a little strange that none of the groundkeepers are around fretting that Adam and John might fall to their deaths and possibly ruin the landscaping.

Then you remember the Sunday rules. All the grounds and housekeeping staff are banned from the manor on Sundays. You didn’t understand why, until Adam explained that he’d always given everyone Sundays off but for years few had actually taken the day for themselves. It made him uncomfortable to think a lot of them never left the house, so he’d instituted the Sunday rule along with a travel stipend and three-day weekends on demand. Troy was the only one allowed to stay, if he wanted to spend time with Laura.

Laura warned you that Adam often insists the three of them go on cleaning binges on Sundays – Just to show they don’t take the staff for granted. Laura sees your expression and adds, “I thought it was sweet too – Until he made me de-mouse the garden shed.”

Coming inside from reading out in the gardens, you hear voices coming from the direction of Adam’s office. Intrigued, you make your way barefoot towards the room Adam’s usually holed up silently in for several hours a day.

Finding the door open, you poke your head in. Adam, Laura, and John are all sitting around the long desk, papers and notebooks scattered over the whole surface.

Adam’s flipping through something that looks like either an appointment calendar or a large check book.

“15,000 should cover everything, shouldn’t it? I saw you added contingencies to the budget, but even if we do have to change venue or hire new catering, that should still cover our bases.”

“Hold on, she’s getting 15,000?” John asks, causing the other two to look up from whatever page they’d been looking at together to see his semi-pouting face. “And I’m only getting 8?”

“Well, her event is a lot larger. But next time, I’d be more than happy to give you a 15,000 budget as well.”

While Adam spoke reasonably, Laura sticks her tongue out at John behind Adam’s back.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Laura says, shaking her head at John. “Last time you had all the kids from South America flown here and your whole tournament clocked in at almost 30,000. I still think I could have planned that whole event more efficiently.”

John makes a dismissive ‘psh’ sound. “Says the person asking for $15,000 for a fancy dinner party.”

“Actually. Sorry John, but I have to say that Laura’s budgeting looks rather seamless,” Adam interjects, waving a bundle of papers that had been sitting in front of him on the desk.

Before John could launch a fresh defense, Adam spots you in the doorway. He drops the papers again. “Hey. Sorry, we’re just finalizing a few budgets. Shouldn’t take too much longer.”

“Budgets for what?”

A brief moment of silence follows, the three around the desk shooting looks at each other. Adam finally looks back over to you with a patient smile.

“Laura organizes charity events for MSF. She’s been a volunteer nurse for almost ten years now, going on deployments a couple months every year. John ran a football league for underprivileged kids in his hometown. Now he also plans bigger tournaments for youth leagues in underdeveloped countries. I bankroll everything, so I have to make sure all of their plans look airtight before we move forward.”

You stare for a moment, mouth slightly agape. You remember just yesterday – You’d been wondering to yourself what Laura and John did with all their time. Marrying Adam obviously meant neither would have to think about working ever again, and they’d both seemed to live such leisurely lives.

…Or so you’d thought.

“Oh. God, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’ll leave you all to finish.”

You’ve ducked out of the room before Adam has a chance to call you back.

You feel faintly mortified. Just when you think you’re getting on the same wavelength and figuring everything out, you’ll learn something new that makes you feel like the clueless outsider again – Invading a personal space built by people tied to each other long before you ever came along.

You also have the vague feeling that you’ve insulted John and Laura. Of course they do things with their lives. Why didn’t you ever ask them before? Somehow, no one’s work – theirs or your own – ever seemed to come up.

You may be trying to hide in your bedroom for a while, but that plan’s rather flawed since it’s Adam’s bedroom too. He comes up to find you a half-hour later.

You open your mouth to speak first. “I’m really sorry.”

“What for?” he asks, coming over with a gentle smile to brush hair from your forehead.

You sigh. “For being so clueless. And implying Laura and John are lazy house wives.”

Adam laughs while he lazily pulls you into his chest. “I didn’t hear that implication, and I don’t think they did either.”

Adam’s been holding you all of ten seconds and already you feel calmer.

“I’ve hardly lifted a single finger for work since I came out here,” you murmur, sounding only faintly penitent as you rest your head against his shoulder. “But they did owe me weeks of paid leave.”

You feel Adam’s mouth lift in a smile against your hair, and you know he’s thinking about when you met. The day he walked into a top-floor conference room in the Tokyo office of a tech start-up and sat down across the table from you – His people on one side, you and your team from Deloitte on the other. You were both there to hear the same investment pitch, but you followed the presentation with sharp questions scrutinizing the company’s value chains and business strategies. You landed the account before you left the room.

Your teammates had been determined to corral Adam’s group into joining for drinks. You couldn’t decide if you found it more amusing or frustrating that your teammates were still falling over themselves to meet Adam and put business cards in his hand – When you’d just taken the account from right under him.

But sure enough, Adam’s team had shown up at the chic sushi bar. Fifteen minutes later, the first round of drinks arrived, and that was when Adam himself strode into the restaurant and made his way to the bar table. He came straight over to shake your hand.

“Congratulations on the account. You deserved it. I clearly didn’t do enough research to compete.”

Your first instinct is to make sure you handshake’s firm, and fasten the prim, professional smile to your face. But then you look up to really see him. And it’s nothing like sitting across a conference table from him. You notice the color of his eyes; the curl of his dark hair back from his ears where they stick out a bit; the mole between his mouth and nose that draws your attention to his lips. It’s intense. Too much to look at all at once.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it too much.” You smile at him, and you’re not even sure yourself if the smile is more a challenge or a flirtation. “I never lose an account.”

“Is that so?” He’s smiling too – amused and interested. “I used to say the same. But as of today, that’s no longer true.”

You had told yourself you were above the whole hype surrounding him. And yet, you’re strangely proud of yourself.

“I guess there’s a first for everything.”

“It would seem so,” he says, looking into your eyes so directly that you’re not sure he’s still talking about the account.

Sake is set down before you both. Adam picks up two glasses and hands you one. You notice the one other woman on your team shooting not-very-covert looks at Adam. Or rather… up and down Adam. You ignore her.

He raises his own glass towards you.

“To first times.”

It turns out to be a night of many firsts. It’s the first time an internationally-known investor doesn’t ask you for your name again, because he’d actually been listening the first time you said it. It’s the first time you ditch your team to follow a relative stranger out into the night, when he suggests a change in scenery. It’s the first time you see the whole Tokyo skyline, from a rooftop bar that’s Adam’s favorite in the city. It’s the first time that you open up about your apprehension that no matter how well you perform, the lingering glass ceiling will hold you back from the elite sphere. It’s the first time a man from that very same elite sphere looks disturbed by your apprehensions, rather than just patient.

It’s the first time you walk miles through flashing city streets – all the way back to your hotel. You both know a cab would be available at a snap, but you both seem to want to prolong the night as long as possible. It’s the first time you ask a man up to your floor, without even a proper date first. It’s the first time a man doesn’t take your invitation into your room.

But the gentle, tender way he presses his body to yours at the door and kisses you hints at how badly he wanted to, how difficult it was to let his judgment prevail over his desires.

There's no wedding ring on his hand.

When he slowly pulls back, looking down at you in the dim light of the doorway, he's nothing you would have expected. You've watched him making bond yield and futures projections on Bloomberg, heard him called the leader and shaper of the next generation’s business world.

But right before you, he's so incredibly vivid and utterly unpretentious. He’s… smaller than life. And yet more tempting than anything you could imagine.

So you ask if you can see him the following night. If he'll still be in town.

One of his thumbs traces your jaw before he pulls back completely.

"I don't leave until the day after. Tomorrow, same time and place?"

You have to shake yourself, and force yourself to close the door when you realize you're watching his back walk down the hallway, back towards the elevators.

You meet as planned (he's even on time), but he immediately steers you back out to the street.

"I know a better place."

The next thing you know, you're sharing a private table at one of the most revered and expensive sushi bars in the city, on the top floor at the highest point of the skyline, over a sweeping view of the city. You take one look at the menu and quickly decide you won't make your usual insistence on paying for yourself, when a guy offers to be chivalrous. Next thing you know, you've been sitting at the table for 3 hours - talking, laughing, drinking, and sharing two rounds of desserts.

When the (long) bill comes, you make a show of pushing it towards him.

“It was your ‘better place,’ after all.”

He laughs to himself, eyes twinkling. He doesn’t make a show of how nimbly he handles his wallet.

Next thing you know, you're both back at your hotel in the early hours of the morning. Adam comes up again. You unlock the door. When you push it open and turn back, he's watching you. Something in his eyes is wide open, fixated and resigned at the same time. You see his gaze almost trembling as he takes you in. It’s different from the night before. This time, he doesn't hold himself back.

Seconds after the door clicks locked, you're spread on the bed beneath him.

He is warm and overwhelming, in turns forceful and hesitant. He whispers your name against your ear before he comes, and you feel infinite.

In the too-early morning hours, he shifts against you and murmurs something to you. But your memory doesn't process it; your arms just pull yourself closer to him. You fall instantly back to sleep against him, missing the indecisive pain on his face before he finally musters the will to disentangle himself for the sake of his early-morning flight and his day of meetings halfway across the world. You sleep on - Unaware you're the reason that some extremely important royals in Dubai came within a hair's breath of having all their appointments cancelled.

Dressed, Adam lingers in the room until the last possible moment. He's looking at the notepad and the pen on the desk, then back to you sleeping peacefully in the bed. He looks at the remnants of your suit scattered across the floor where he heedlessly peeled it off you and dropped it piece by piece. He thinks about the early years of his life he lost, building his businesses. He thinks about what it cost. But he looks at you, so beautiful you seem untouchable, and the only reason someone like you would be single is because you're giving up those years too.

Hours later, the mid-morning sun draws you from bed. All sign of Adam is gone, and the room won't seem to warm. You know you remember him whispering something to you before he left, and you're berating yourself for not having woken up. You became more and more attached to his voice the more you heard it, and even at the airport later that day, you're still bitterly wishing you could have the memory to hold on to of his voice rumbling and gentle and sleepy against the shell of your ear, bare in bed beside you.

You tell yourself you're not thinking about him. But there's a matchbox in your bag from the sushi bar, and somehow it always ends up on your desk every day - right where you can see it.

Two weeks later, you get an unsolicited request for an appointment with an oil futures investment firm based in Paris. You definitely haven't worked with their portfolio before. But your boss tells you to take it – It’s not the first direct meeting request you’ve received, after landing the Japanese tech account. You fly to Paris three days later.

At their building, you're shown up to a conference room with a wall of wide windows. You're the only one there, and the receptionist tells you the CEO will be right with you. You let yourself be drawn to the windows, trying not to grow nervous over how little you were able to prepare for this meeting. They'd shared nothing further than "exploring their diversification options." At the windows, you can see the Eiffel Tower across only a few blocks of building roofs. You take in the view for a few minutes, before the door to the conference room opens.

You hear his voice before you turn. Just your last name, with a formal, unassuming 'Miss' preceding it. Then you turn. And stare. Everything grinds to a sparking halt around you.

Adam pushes the door closed behind him. Then he's standing there in an impeccably tailored suit, his hair grown out just enough that it brushes his collar, with a tentative smile at just the corners of his mouth. You notice he’s let his beard grow in more.

You're stunned, completely caught off guard - By the surprise, but also by how strangely natural it all seems.

"I don't understand," is what you finally say, voice soft. "You orchestrated this meeting? How are you here?"

He winces for a moment, uncertain, and lifts a hand to draw his fingers through his hair. You think inexplicably that you like it longer like this. A lot.

"My name is off the books. I’m the founder but our CFO goes to most of our high level meetings so the company operates on its own. But... Yes, I did. I hope you'll forgive me."

For a long, disorienting moment, you really don’t know how you feel. There is an instinct that you should tell him off for something – Wasting your billable hours, flying you all the way here under a pretense…

But instinct gives way to logic: Adam certainly doesn’t need consulting services on diversification options. He didn’t lure you all the way here for anything Deloitte had to offer.

You still can’t look away from him, and now you’re remembering far too vividly and longingly how those lips taste; You’re remembering how your thighs stretched apart on either side of his wide hips; You’re remembering the sparks in his fingertips.

He’s gnawing his bottom lip now, so you take pity on him and break the silence, though not with a direct answer.

“That depends on why it is exactly that you brought me all the way here. And why you didn’t just look up my number and call.”

Still biting his lip, he gives you a long, appraising look. Not one that makes you squirm or want to fidget away, but one that makes you glow from inside out.

“Because over the phone, I couldn’t do this.”

And then he’s striding towards you, his eyes watching you so keenly, you know that if you were to hold your hand up or show the slightest sign of uncertainty, he’d stop in his tracks. But you don’t. You don’t want him to stop at all. He looks strained in his effort not to misread you – equal to the strain of not touching you already.

And then, after what seems an age, he’s finally there a breath away. The two weeks since you last saw him collapse into an instant as he cups your face between his hands and bends to kiss you in a rush of minimal control.

You reach instinctively for the warmth of his chest. (Your bed hasn’t been the same since Tokyo.) You sink into him entirely – His exalting mouth, his tall frame dipping to embrace you.

Your lips part from his for a moment while your brain’s scrambling to catch up with this turn of events you certainly weren’t expecting when you woke up this morning. After a shared breath lost in wonder, you both collapse into each other again. Eyes closed, your hands scrabble up to his shoulders and then loop around his neck, as his fall to frame your waist.

There’s an urgency to the press of his mouth – A surging rush of his tongue between your lips, desperately seeking account of time lost and decisions inexplicable.

You’re pressed close, hanging from him and crumpling his jacket when you finally part. Your smile won’t seem to subside, and you can’t help letting your forehead tip forward to rest against his jaw. His breath tickles your hair – His arms still around your waist an acceptable substitute for the sight of his smile.

“I know the real reason you couldn’t just call me like a normal person,” you murmur, eyes closed in his orbit.

He hums. “What’s that?”

“You conveniently forgot the whole world’s not on your speed dial.”

His rush of exhale is half amusement, half regret. Before you can help yourself, you’ve admitted, “I would have done things differently, if I’d known you would be gone so early.”

Adam’s quiet for a moment, then his fingers start moving through your hair – top to bottom, and over again.

“You want to know everything I would do differently – if we could go back to that morning?”

His voice is gentle, musing, but you’re not fooled. You can hear how much he’s tortured himself with this question over the last two weeks.

“I would have gotten up, taken my phone into the bathroom so I wouldn’t wake you. Cancelled my flight to Dubai and all my meetings for the day, if not the week. Then I would have turned my phone off, and come back to you in bed.”

You smile beneath his chin, where he can’t see. “You make a good case. Not many guys can say they’d stand up a prince for me.”

“I may as well not have gone at all. I was sitting there, supposedly consulting on leveraging oil revenues, and my mind was still back halfway across the world, in your hotel room. I have absolutely no idea what kind of advice I actually gave. It was certainly terrible.”

“Where was your mind that morning?” you ask, pushing back enough to see him.

This is important. The weight in his eyes is important. You have to know which it was that had been harder for him: That morning’s clean break, or thinking beyond the glare of morning when he woke up beside you. “Why did you go like that?”

“Because… I watched you sleep, I thought about the whole spectrum of life we’d talked about across those two nights, and I thought – You’re just like me.

“You’re ambitious and cunning and uncompromising. For years in my life, I never made compromises. It’s how I got where I am. Sometimes I think it was worth it, other times I’m not so sure – The loneliness, the constant state of transit. So I thought of your determination against the glass ceiling, and how you took that account right from under me. You’re better than me at all this – Quicker and certainly smarter, but it will be harder for you for reasons that are entirely unjust and beyond control.

“So… I thought back to those years of my life, empty but formative. And watching you sleep that morning, I knew I would be a compromise. A distraction.”

You take a moment to assess and absorb his sincerity. You’re touched by his earnest attempt to put himself in your shoes – Something not many men have ever really tried. But there’s still a big missing piece.

“So what made you change your mind? Why was it okay to invite me here today?”

Adam lifts one shoulder, a hint of embarrassment that the answer wasn’t clear to him from the beginning.

“It’s not my choice to make, whether your life has space for me. It’s yours.”

You smile at him for real now, and you can see him visibly relax slightly. “Right answer,” you whisper as you lean in to kiss him briefly. You’ve gone more serious again when you pull back.

“But almost everything else was wrong.”

He cracks an abrupt laugh and your eyes go to his mouth again. You’re still drawn there, but your mind is ruminating over his words.

“I’m nothing like you. You speak as if success and happiness have nothing to do with each other – as if they’re mutual exclusives. I don’t buy that. Isn’t happiness itself a form of success?”

The slant of his mouth is serious, his eyes near and focused. You lift a hand to rest at his neck, letting your fingers slide into the ends of his hair. He’s watching you reverently, to every minute detail.

“Any plan that makes me cut out exploring and loving and living from my life isn’t one I’m interested in. My only goal is open-mindedness.” You give him an exaggerated look up and down. “Happiness in this form? I could certainly live with that.”

Part of you knows it’s ludicrous – to be talking about “happiness” when really, you two barely know each other. But he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t take the words as anything but consequential.

Because maybe those years don't have to be sacrificed - And maybe it's not selfish for him to think he deserves something good in return for those lonely years paid out.

“Does this mean you forgive me for the trick I pulled today?” he asks cautiously.

“Jury’s still out, but I think your chances look good.”

And then he’s smiling at you, and your own returning smile is automatic – even while the warmth he kindles in your chest is jumbled with an edge of indignant panic at the effect that smile works upon you.

You’ve already forgiven him everything.

“We’re making this a lunch meeting,” he declares. “I’m taking you out on the Champs d’Elysee. And then-…”

“Then I’m going back to my hotel, getting my things and checking out.”

His face falls, slightly but sharply. He trips over reconciliatory words for a moment (“That’s okay, I understand if you don’t, if you can’t…”), and you can’t believe this is a world-leading business entrepreneur. Neither can you bear watching his disappointed discomfort, so you slide your arms up around his neck again to soothe him.

“And I thought…,” you finish, “I’d be coming over to your hotel, or flat, or wherever it is you live in Paris.”

You watch in delight as his face kindles again. “Those are the best words I’ve heard all week.”

“Couldn’t have had a very exciting week, then.”

“To the contrary. I had a very productive meeting today with a consultant from Deloitte, and I think we may be on our way to closing a highly profitable agreement.”

“Don’t ever use business talk like that on me again. It’s repulsive, truly.”

“Mm….. Really?” he teases in a whisper, savoring your kisses.

“Really. When I’m kissing you, don’t ever think it’s for your business smarts. Dubious as they are.”

“What is it for, then?” he can’t resist asking, the question slipped against your lips like a humble supplication.

You reach up to trail your fingers through his hair, then down along his jaw.

“Everything else.”

“There is something I want to ask you.”

You bring it up once the wine’s been poured, but before the food arrives at the small, white tablecloth-covered table on the restaurant’s outdoor terrace.

“When you talked about the lonely period of your life, making the sacrifices you thought were necessary… You spoke as if it were far off in the past. Has there been someone in your life who ended it?”

Adam’s brows pull together in consideration, his mouth tightening as his bottom lip sucks in between his teeth.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Too long of a moment.

“Look, if you’re married just tell me now,” you blurt, voice hitching up nervously.

Adam releases a breath of laughter, his shoulders relaxing again at some private joke.

“So, there’s a long and short answer to that question. The long one will have to wait for another time. But the short answer is: No, I’m not.”

“…Divorced?” is all you can come up with.

He leans back in his chair, a small, mysterious smile on his face.

“No. Trust me; This isn’t the time for the longer story. But soon, I hope it will be.”

And then the food comes, so you’re not given any option but to trust him.

The question passes, under the intimate ease and warm flow of conversation – the trill of grateful disbelief that strikes you every time you look up from your plate to see him sitting there with you.

Your shared reverie is only disrupted when someone recognizes Adam, and people quickly begin congregating at the edge of the restaurant’s tables, snapping pictures. Adam manages it with grace.

“Time to go.”

Without waiting for the check, he tucks more than enough large bills under his empty plate to cover the meal. You rise from the table with him. He slides sunglasses on, and takes your hand as he strides towards the street. You don’t look at the photographers; Only at him.

A month later, John sees the photos. He runs to find Laura and shows them to her with a gleeful smile on his face.

"It's just... The longer I'm with her, the more I feel like I'm lying to her."

"You're too hard on yourself, Adam."

It's late, and the manor is quiet. Adam and Laura are seated on opposite ends of the same couch, facing each other.

"When we first decided to date, I knew I couldn't tell her yet. It would have been over right away. But now it's been months and the right time to explain never seems to come along. It's just getting harder. I can barely even imagine... I'm so afraid of losing her..."

Laura reaches across to take his hand in hers.

"You've never lied to her. You're not married in the way she asked, and you wouldn't be fair to yourself if you acted like you are. And maybe... You don't have to explain it to her at all."

Adam cocks an eyebrow. "What, keep you and John a secret? Never bring her here?"

"No, I mean do bring her here. Let her meet us. We can do the explaining for you. It would all probably make more sense if she sees for herself"

"Sees what?"

Laura's quiet for a moment, thinking while her thumb rubs across the back of his hand.

"That there's love and commitment between the three of us, but you’re not IN love the way you are with her. It’s always been different with John and me.”

“You really think she could forgive me...? You really think she could understand?”

“She’s intelligent and open-minded, isn’t she?”

Adam goes quiet for a moment, then slowly smiles to himself. He thinks back to Paris. (“I’m nothing like you... All I care about is open-mindedness.”)

“She certainly is.”

“I think she’ll realize there’s nothing to forgive. She holds a singular place in your life.”

Comfortable, appreciative silence settles between them for a long moment. Adam’s fingers are curled in the palm of Laura’s hand, her thumb absently stroking across the wide row of his knuckles.

“I’m incredibly fortunate to have you, Laura. Every man in the world should be lucky enough to ask for a trusted woman’s advice.”

“It’s just what you need now and then, isn’t it?”

Adam looks into her face now, smiling gently. “But isn’t it crazy – I’m asking my wife for advice on how to keep my girlfriend.”

Laura lingers in his soft smile for a moment, before her gaze falls.

“Isn’t it crazier... that your wife makes you need a girlfriend?”

She isn’t looking at him, but feels him lean closer to her. His voice goes worlds different – hushed and gently chiding.

“Laura. As long as you’re happy, you know I don’t regret a single thing.”

“I know. It’s just… you deserve the world, and sometimes I do regret I wasn’t the one to give it to you.”

Adam shakes his head firmly, twining his fingers a little tighter around hers. Looking at her, his eyes focus and hone in on the present moment. “You’ve brought such happiness into my life. Just as we are. Before I married you, I wasn’t looking for any kind of partner; I didn’t know what steady companionship was. You will always be irreplaceable to me. Without you, I wouldn’t know how to be with anyone. I wouldn’t even know myself.”

Laura blinks slowly, pushed quiet for a moment.

“I taught you all that?”

“‘Just what I need, now and then’,” he echoes back to her, his head tilting sideways to make sure his reassuring smile reaches her.

“Adam,” she says, “You know that I love you, right?”

“Of course. You know too, don’t you?”

With her free hand, Laura reaches over to stroke her fingers through his hair once.

“I do.”

After walking up the stairs together with their hands still linked, then parting for their separate bedrooms, Laura marvels at the capacity of the human heart. She thinks of asking Troy to stay over tomorrow night; Thinks of how she’ll tell him she loves him before they fall asleep together. And she knows she’ll mean it every bit as much as when she said the same words to her husband - But in a meaning and feeling worlds apart.

Some days it was hard. Some days it was the most beautiful life she could imagine - Loving two different men completely differently. Troy had claimed her young heart that loved impulsively and passionately, with stubborn irreversibility and no space for rationality. In a strange way, she had come to think it might be a good thing that she and Troy could never marry. Their juvenile, indulgent passion would have been stunted by marriage - Warped into something different than the heart and stomach-seizing dreams he brought to life for her.

Then there had come Adam, who never presumed to lay claim to a single corner of her. It was his generosity, his understanding. It was the kind smile he’d given her during their wedding, when he spoke the vow that he would care for her always and do everything in his power to make her happy - The same smile when he brushed tears from her face and told her to be with Troy.

She loved one because he consumed her, and the other because he left her every choice.

Of course, there had been months when her feelings became confused and tangled up. When she would feel Troy’s hands on her skin and wish they were Adam’s. When she would call Adam late at night in his hotel to make sure he landed safely, and wish she could share the same domesticity with Troy.

Then there had come the single kiss Adam had given her the night she tried to touch him, and then everything had become clear again. Most people would never feel even one type of real love in their lives; She had two, distinct as night and day. It would be a cheapening to pretend her love for each of them could be combined into one single form. She didn’t need to touch Adam to know. He was her husband and they would always care for each other.

So, the first time Laura sees the woman who would soon be Adam’s wife in every sense, the jealousy rushes through in a single wave – Then leaves her for good. Her heart is lifted, welcoming the woman who would bring Adam every happiness Laura couldn’t – With a heart that wasn’t split in two.

Getting ready for bed one night, you ask Adam to clarify: “You don’t wear any wedding rings. I noticed – In Tokyo.”

“They’re both there.” Adam nods towards the small top drawer of the dresser, where he painstakingly keeps his watches lined up. “I gave them both rings at our weddings of course, but no, none of us wear them. I didn’t think it would really be fair – To John, or to Troy…”

“To John?”

Adam shrugs a bit as he pulls on a sleep shirt. “Wearing a ring changes the way people see you. It would mean John could never talk to a woman without her thinking he’s duplicitous. I don’t want that for him. He should still have his freedom.”

“Have you met any of his flings?” you ask, curious.

Adam shakes his head with the quirk of an amused smile. “No, I don’t think John’s quite at the settling-down stage yet. Unless it’s with me, of course,” he adds with a brief laugh.

“What if he were, some day? What if he wanted a girlfriend to move in with him?”

“If she’s fine with all of the weirdness here, she’d be more than welcome.”

Adam’s already in bed by now, and you finally slide in with him. After reaching to turn the light off, you curl up close against his chest as he pulls the blankets up over you both.

There’s a minute of quiet before you ask slightly cautiously, “Did you have your freedom, too? Before me?”

You feel his fingers thread into your hair. “Not really, if I’m honest. I know it doesn’t really make sense but,�� it felt strange, after I married Laura. Rationally, I knew perfectly well she was with Troy and I never expected that to change. But even still… I sort of lost interest, after I always found myself thinking it felt wrong, somehow.”

“That’s why you didn’t stay – the first night in Tokyo.”

“I wanted to, I really did. But I was worried I would feel bitter towards myself afterwards, and I didn’t want to ruin all the brightness you’d sparked in me.”

He crushes you a little closer, nose brushing against the top of your head.

“Then the second night, I realized nothing could dim that. By that time, I knew you’d be different – singular.”

“And? Was it?”

“Spectacularly. I thought of nothing but you for those two weeks, until I found a way to see you again.”

You’re almost asleep – Lulled to such complete comfort by his embrace and soft, loving words, when he adds softly, “It will be different with yours, you know.”

“My what?” you mumble.

“Your wedding ring. That one’s never coming off my hand.”

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips, and you’re warm from head to toe as you tip your head back to nuzzle kisses against his neck and jaw, before falling asleep wrapped in his warmth.

Not long after you’ve moved in comes Adam and Laura’s anniversary. They’ve been married seven years. The manor becomes the venue for a very high-class, stiff-backed party, put on mostly for the benefit of Laura’s family. Adam and Laura inhabit their hosting roles naturally and convincingly.

Sipping champagne, you watch from across the room where they're speaking with Laura's parents. Laura's leaning into his side. He has a hand resting on her hip and he smiles when he talks. You're a bit out of it until John appears out of nowhere at your side.

"You okay?" He asks, seeing your face and then following your gaze. "You're watching them a lot."

You shrug - not sure why you don't feel your usual calm. Nothing's really different tonight, but you think all the people here just have you on edge. Whenever you have to put on public personas, sometimes you lose track of how things really are between you all. For most people, the truth would be even harder to believe.

"They just... look good together," is all you say.

John swirls his own champagne glass as he joins you for a moment in watching Laura and the husband you all share. "Yeah, they do. But you know what?"

John lets the question hang in the air long enough to make you turn to look at him. Then a roguish grin snaps onto his face. "So do we." And then, before you've got any warning, he lands a smacking kiss right on your surprised lips. You're laughing, scandalized and shocked the instant he pulls back, and then you're both standing there laughing together.

Your raucous outburst earns admonishing glances from most people around you. You look up, just in time to catch Adam's warm gaze on you from across the room. He's smiling, his expression light and besotted, and for the moment your eyes catch his and you smile back, you two are alone in the room. And he's yours - Only yours.

You give Adam a small wave only he'll notice, then elbow John. "Come on, it's awful in here. Let's go get drunk on the terrace."

John's face crinkles in delight. "That's my girl."

You're thinking about after the party, when Adam will come up to you in bed, tired from talking so much. You're thinking about undoing the knot of his tie for him, and letting him fall into bed with you still half-dressed.

John sneaks more drinks out onto the terrace, and then you're thinking about the epic pranks you're going to pull on John, at the next one of these stuck-up parties. He'll have no idea what hit him.

You both have moved down to the pool's edge, sitting with your feet dangling in the water and a line of empty glasses beside you both. Your chest feels light from laughter and bubbly from the champagne. John just finished telling you about when he went to Prague with Adam but managed to get so drunk and lost one night, Adam had to check every police station to find him. Still chuckling with the memory, John leans down to swirl his fingers in the water. When he sits up again, his face is smoothed more serious. He nudges you gently with an elbow to make sure he has your attention. It's not often that he gets somber.

"Listen, I know it's different for you, harder, when we have to go in public and make people believe things are a certain way. Maybe it's harder for you on the day-to-day too, just because the two of us are around..."

You're caught off guard. Instinctively, you cover John’s hand with your own. "No, John..."

"Well, it's more complicated, difficult,” he presses you.

"... Maybe." In your head, you're trying to compare that moment of tightness in your chest as you watched Adam and Laura glowing and greeting everyone in the room like some duke and duchess - Compare that with your instinct to deny there's any part of your shared lives that you would trade.

"Maybe I was a little lost in all this at the beginning, and maybe there are just moments now and then when I get a little lost again."

John withdraws his feet from the water and folds them against his chest as he spins to speak to you more closely.

"Look, you know Adam in ways Laura and I never will, but we've both known and lived with him for years. And listen - You should know that really, it's not complicated at all.”

John’s expression is narrowly focused on you, his voice earnest, and you’ve rarely seen him this determined.

“You know, he didn't say anything to us the whole first month you two were dating. Not until I saw paparazzi pictures in some gossip rag - Not that I ever read those... He actually apologized to us, the bloody idiot. Laura's with someone else and I'm hooking up all the time and he actually thought he had to apologize for pictures of him holding hands? Made us feel like right shit."

You're aware of your heart steadily thumping along to John's words, but even so the smile and bursts of giggles come automatically - They always do, whenever John's telling a story.

"The only reason we asked him about it was because we were excited for him. You know, he's not a monk - and since he's never slept with either of us after 6 and 4 years of marriage respectively, we figured he was getting some on business trips. Hoped he was, at least. He's too fit to go his life with blue balls, y'feel me?"

"Oh, I feel you, John. I feel him too, quite a bit."

"That's what I like to hear." He interrupts his recounting for a grin before resuming, "But we had to ask him about you because there are never photos of him holding hands. I'm always careful if I hook up, make sure nothing ends up in the press that could reflect badly on him. If he was getting laid, he's even more careful and never talked about it. So when we saw these? It was big. He hadn't said anything because he knew it, too. Or knew it could be.

"And from that night Adam came home and I saw you two together the first time, I knew you were it - you were what he'd been missing. Laura and I - Of course in some ways, we do really think of Adam as our husband. We're devoted to him for life, and we try to take care of him like he does for us. And even though Adam’s the kind of irritatingly noble guy to stand by his promises even though Laura and I didn't work out the way marriages usually do - All of that has absolutely nothing to do with his marriage to you. You: That's the only one for him, and Laura and I are basically the third and fourth wheels along for the ride."

"Adam would never..."

"I know he wouldn't," John interrupts, watching you patiently. "But it's true. Sure, he still loves us, but you two are the real thing, and that's not complicated at all."

You look down at your lap, momentarily unsure what to say. The strongest feelings are relief and gratitude, but there’s a swirl of guilt along the surface of everything. You shake your head a bit in attempt to clear it, then just turn and fall against John to hug him.

“Thank you,” you say, voice muffled in John’s shirt.

You feel John’s laughter rumbling out as he rubs your back.

You add into John’s shoulder, “Sorry I stole him.”

“Damn. And he and I had so many sex plans.”

You pinch John’s side as you pull back, satisfied when he yelps and almost falls in the pool.

Days later, in the main living room with mischief in your eyes, you can’t help asking: “Come on, you two, you never got at least curious, what it’d be like…?” Adam and John look at each other, trapped between containing laughter and spilling a secret.

“There was…. maybe…. once when we got a bit too drunk together at one of his boring business events.” Adam groans and covers his face with both hands, sinking down in his chair. “Don’t, John, she’s never going to let us live it down…” Adam feebly waves a hand in Laura’s direction. But John is on the kick already, seeing how Laura had sat up straight, looking eager. “We got back to the hotel and honestly, I was horny. But obviously since I was there under husband cover, I couldn’t go look for girls at the pub or whatever. So we get inside, and I’m so piss drunk I said that I wondered whether giving a blowjob felt as good as getting one.” “Is that what you said? You were unintelligible,” Adam mutters from behind his hands. “I got his pants down, and didn’t even back down or nothing when I saw his dick. I was gonna go for it. And you know what he does? Just falls on the bed, dead asleep.” “Sorry I can’t hold liquor like you.” “Yeah, well, sorry my blowjobs don’t get you excited anymore, honey. I guess the spark’s gone.” Adam reaches for a coaster on the table beside him and lobs it at John’s head. Still a little in awe of their easy dynamic with each other, you say, “You know, I really can’t say I know that many guys who could pull this off. I mean, who are comfortable enough in their masculinity.” John shrugs, getting up from his chair. “It’s not really a big deal. Adam’s hot.” On his way across the room, John leans down with a flourish over Adam’s chair and kisses him briefly on the mouth. “You too, babe,” Adam quips, swatting John’s ass as he passed. Laura’s laughing up a storm from the couch, and Adam drops a wink in your direction. John puts the movie projector on, and you go slide into Adam’s chair with him. He puts his arms around you and kisses your temple as the lights dim. Your heart is full, and you couldn’t think of anything better in the whole world than being part of this family.

#Adam Driver #John Boyega #Golshifteh Farahani #Kylo Ren #idk what to even tag this really : ))#Polyamory #real person fiction #Plz go with me on this for a minute people #I've been writing this world for the past two weeks and it's been the loveliest place #Hope I managed to do it justice

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screaminginternallyalleternity · 7 years

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jane headcanons (+ others, because this girls relationship to other people is important to me)

ben can turn into a beast. like an actual beast. but he has full control over it, and he never ever does it unless he thinks he's in a life-or-death situation. jane knows about it and doesn't tell anyone cuz its none of their business but it does lead to weird looks when jane gives him something humans can't eat/drink and everyones like wait a sec

because ben can change and by definition he is Not Human but everyone forgets that (they also forget janes fae a lot too)

jane and ben are actually really good friends because Introverts™ need to stick together.

bens really protective of her but he'll never admit it unless someone asks (brother/sister but no one else has context for it so they come across as two random people that know weird amounts about each other). Do Not Hurt Jane Where Ben Can See It.

janes kinda like sherlock holmes, running experiments and doing stuff that looks really bizarre without context (and she rarely gives it because people don't ask and having a reputation as a weirdo lets her get away with doing stuff other people would DEFINITELY get in trouble for) (ben lonnie doug and sometimes chad know what the context is. they let her do it, because the bafflement on peoples faces is always funny)

she and her mother have a relationship kinda like gina and holt on brooklyn nine-nine: ones more of an authority figure, but have a rock-solid friendship (this does cause trouble when jane needs her to be a parent) because parental authority doesn't quite stick after the fortieth year of a humans life and that authority doesn't stick around anywhere near as long for fae.

you're equals in physical power and there isn't a full chance one will outlive the other why deal with that?? fae run on a different morality than humans okay, parental authority isn't gonna be a thing that transgresses species. (also FG has been more on the neglectful side when it comes to raising jane (not fully her fault she's a busy lady) and as jane ages she's lost the desire to have FGs attention. they are friends tho

like "mom i need your permission to do this thing"

"you've never asked my permission to do this thing before?? why now??"

"because if i screw it up i don't wanna be the only one blamed for it"

(jane and ben have had this conversation too btw)

if jane and FG are gina and holt then jane and chad are gina and jake: they've influenced each other since childhood (jane on chad more than the other way around) but most people don't know they known each other that long so when the two do something weirdly in sync everyone not in the know is just???

but they love each other but jane thinks chad a douche now and is going to be forever Not Impressed™ until he cuts it out

she knows where all the clubs and bars for fae are and she drinks there once or twice a month. she keeps getting into arguments with other magic peoples, mostly over magic theory. it never really escalates except in volume because turns out janes really easy to rile up when she's drunk?? jordan has to drag her away

everything jane knows about magic is almost entirely self taught. FG won't teach her but she can cajole info out of other faeries when she plays her cards right & jane totally knows where EVERY store in the city that sells magic shit is. every. single. one. she's a regular at all of them

really hates that when audrey left she was put in charge of cotillion planning?? she's an introvert whats she doing this for. its her own personal hell.

Queen of Odd Friendships. well not really Odd Friendships, its just that she gives off the air of someone without many (any) friends, so when it turns out she's low-key friends with half the fae community in Auradon City (and some in Cinderella's kingdom) its jarring. the girl ignored in Auradon Prep is on first name basis' with a five hundred year old gargoyle and a vampire? when did this happen everyone asks. fours years ago, jane answers with a straight face. janes telling the truth

top student (doesn't need to sleep). refuses to compete or even let people know that she's a high-achieving student because she knows her classmates will go nuts trying to figure how she's so good (she hasn't slept in months. she does homework to fill in the hours to dawn. you cant beat her)

doug knows this, doesn't even try to top her in class. its not "be the best in class" its "be the next person after jane to be best in class". he's dealing w it. other people aren't.

when she's grateful to people she kisses her fingertips and then presses them against the persons forehead. its super cute and always (ALWAYS) leaves the other person blushing to their ears because who expects that from her??

loves scary movies. watched silence of the lambs when she was like. nine. whenever she's rewatching it she laughs at the most inappropriate moments. laughed when the dinosaurs ate people in jurassic park

she speaks a bunch of languages with varying fluency including the native fae language (which she and her mother use solely whenever they're alone. keep that heritage up ladies). can read about a dozen more languages (magic books are old a lot of the time and you need to be able to read them properly otherwise you mess up)

is a good bit stronger than anyone knows. like. she could flick a person across a room if she's angry enough. can totally cave someones skull in if she's got enough adrenaline in her. doesn't like that about herself and tries to hide it. because faery

(but she and jay spar all the time when jaynelos are in the flirting stage/awkward trying to figure out emotions stage and have no-holds-barred fist fights. janes SUPER brutal when she fights even when she's holding back. one time she kicks jay in the head and he's all Heart Eyes™)

anyone who knows takes bets whenever/if-ever she gets attacked on just how trashed the other person is gonna be. anyone who doesn't is freaking out because jane looks like Jane. she's tiny. why are you so calm about someone trying to kill her. (get to her and the attacker is moaning in pain on the floor. not-knowers are ????)

brenna d'amico is a really good singer and so jane is too. one of the tie-in books says janes in the acapella group and is an alto. she can play guitar and piano. also did ballet when she was younger and hated it - was forced basically at knifepoint. you Don't want her to kick you.

she does pole-dancing now. less for the 'sexiness', more for the cardio. pole dancing is exhausting.

she and her mother have a deal: jane wears the light blue shit during school hours/days and at formal events. on weekends, jane gets to wear whatever she wants. leads to weird looks when people need to talk to her and she's dressed like someone else. she refuses to explain herself.

blushes whenever someone complements her because people don't complement her much. is even cuter when she does it. complementer is blushing too. she's cute. its a loop of blushes. (she deserves all the complements. come on guys. be nice to her)

sweaters and knitwear everywhere. all winter she can wear a sweater every day and never repeat and outfit (she makes them)

has tattoos. will never tell, and they're really little and she can hide them under her clothes, but she has them. she's got freckles on her back that have been joined into constellations and a couple runes on her skin for protection (she was visiting her dad in starlight valley and he held her hand when she got them done) she loves them.

also has blue freckles and pointed ears. if mal gets to have magic green eyes and purple hair then jane gets to have magic identifiers too. (she covers the freckles up w makeup tho, it weirds people out)

#jane descendants #ben descendants #doug descendants #lonnie descendants #chad charming #fairy godmother #jordan descendants #disney descendants #descendants 2 #alex stfu #jay descendants #jay x jane x carlos #jay x carlos #carlos x jane #jane #jaynelos

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fandoms-archive-blog · 7 years

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Inhuman Winchester

Supernatural

Prompt: You are an inhuman and you’ve been competing at the fight nights to control your power in some way, but your brothers don’t know until they find out.

Requested by: Anonymous

Written By: Idjit-Only - Danni

Reader: Female

Warning: long

A/N: Hi again

======

I hold my head in my hands sitting on the side of my bed. This guy I fought last night had super strength along with body enhancements. It was horrible and I didn’t win. Two months ago I got these powers after I turned into stone and I don’t know what it is but It looks like magic.

I force two pills down and head to the kitchen to get caffeine. I can already smell the coffee that is brewed non-stop. I yawn and stretch pretending that I got enough sleep(about 3 hours).

“Good, your up. I think I found a case and it’s local.” Sam states scanning his computer.

I grab a coffee cup and pour some finally joining him at the table, “Oh yeah?”

“People have got into this building where there are different people fighting with supernatural abilities but when they come back, the party has moved elsewhere.”

I almost choke on my coffee. That is how my fight night works. Even though I am the youngest of the Winchester family doesn’t make me defenseless. Over the last two months since I got those..abilities...I’ve done my best to hide them and to do that I need to learn how to fight. I have been doing really well. How and why did someone get in there? Only inhumans are allowed in there, unless someone who is inhuman and works for the other team decided to act like the crazy old lady.

“Does that surprise you?”

“No. I just find it weird. Which is what we do, so let’s wake Dean up and go.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Sam states matter-of-factly.

“The hell I ain’t.”

“You looked drained and you spilled half of your coffee on the floor and didn’t think anything of it. Get some sleep. I’ll have Cass stay here and make sure you stay here.”

“Sam-”

“End of discussion.”

------

Sam and Dean left about an hour ago. I really hope they don’t get hurt. I stare at the beer in front of me. I’ve never liked beer but now I can’t get enough of it. The Bunker door closes and Cas comes back with the food.

“You're supposed to be in bed.” Cass says

“And you're not suppose to wait on me.” I roll my eyes

“Sam said your overly tired and you need rest. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No. I’m fine.”

My mind has been racing nonstop. If someone did see the place that means Sam and Dean are going to hunt down all those inhumans and kill them or some organization will find them and kill them.

“You don’t look fine.”

Cass places his fingers on my forehead and I jerk from it. I don’t want him knowing anything about me. I grab th3e beer I had in front of me, as I’m walking away I get a call from my brothers.

“What’s up?” I start

“You should be sleeping.” Dean states

“Then why’d you call?”

“We think that that they are witches, very powerful, unlike anything I’ve seen.” I nod toward Cass who’s staring at me. “We might need back up but for now we are going to head back home. Get some sleep.”

With that Dean hangs up. “They are coming back, be here soon.”

“Are you feeling alright? Do you notice anything different about yourself?” Cass questions

“Cass. I am fine, the same as I’ve ever been.”

------

3rd POV

Dean stares in shock at Cass for even suggesting that the Winchesters sister is a monster. A monster that kills.

“Cass that doesn’t make any sense.” Sam counters

“Whatever I felt, that wasn’t (y/n)”

“We will test her then, show you that your mojo is out of whack and get on with it.”

“Dean, has Cass’s mojo been wrong before?”

“I’ll go get her” Cass says as he disappears but reappears in a flash without (y/n). “She’s gone.”

------

“I thought you said this place is protected against actual humans!” I yell at the man in the booth.

“It was-I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, figure it out.”

The man rubs his face and takes a look at his clipboard, “Your fight is next.” I roll my eyes and get ready for the match. Putting my hood over my head and getting my powers warmed up.

I sit in the locker room watching the colored smoke I’ve created move around in front of me. I take a deep breath and let it bounce off the walls. I’m ready.

People cheer for me as well as my opponent.

Let’s address the elephant in the room, I know it was a stupid move to come here when Sam and Dean are worried about my sleep schedule but if I don’t come here, I may lose control of my powers. I waste all the energy here so it spends the day recharging.

I’m thrown into the ring. The woman across from me smirks, “I heard that your very powerful, but lets see how good you are without your powers.”

An immune.

She punches first hitting me square in the face, I stumble back a bit while the crowd laughs. She goes in for a kick to the head but I block it, grab her leg and kick her in the stomach. She falls back but backward summersaults back onto her feet.

“I knew you didn’t know how to fight properly.”

I have to put her in a daze long enough so she stops neutralizing my powers. So for the next round, I let her try to hit my wearing her out. Last round and the board says I’m losing. I smirk and wait for the opportunity to get a hit. She's so worn that I lay a nice kick to her temple. She stumbles to the ground and I can feel my powers coming back. Suddenly, she jumps me with a knife. ni block it from coming to my face but I'm pinned to the ground.

There are no knives allowed here. I can hear the people trying to open the ring but they can’t get in.

“You brought them here, and now you're going to pay!” She screams. She brings the knife up to strike for the last time but I hit her in the stomach and the knife comes down hitting my side. I scream in pain. I don’t know what happened but she is suddenly thrown from me, through the gate, into the crowd.

I win.

People try to rush to me but I put up a force field. Suddenly a burning anger comes through me and I want to run out of here as fast as possible. I hold my side and stumble out not forgetting to take the bidding money that I won.

I take in the alley smell and I feel better. Then blackness.

------

My head pounds but my side feels better. It’s still too bright to see where I am but it looks like the Bunkers dungeon. I try to itch my nose but my chained hands can’t reach my face. Finally, I come to see Sam, Dean, and Cass sitting in front of me.

“Guys, I can explain-.” I start but get a splash of holy water on my face. “Great.” Sam cuts my upper arm with a silver knife. I hiss in pain but other than that nothing. “I’m not a demon or a shapeshifter.”

“You're a witch.” Dean states darkly.

“So you put my in chains?”

“We had no choice. We saw the fight. How you threw that woman across the ring. Very powerful magic you're using there.” Dean starts circling me while Sam stares with disappointment.

“You think I killed people?”

“It’s leading you to it.”

“Can I get out of these chains? I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Dean please-”

“Why should we listen to you?”

“Because I’m still me.”

“That’s not what Cass says. That’s not what we saw tonight. What are you?”

I swallow down tears, “You think I’m a monster?”

“Dean.” Sam stops, “we don’t think that. We just want to know why you did it.”

“I didn’t kill people.” I glare. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You both would freak out, thinking I’m a monster, you wouldn’t listen to me-”

“Because we don’t listen to witches. What? Did Crowley do this to you?” Dean snaps

“Two hunts ago when we were hunting “Witches”-who were actually inhumans-there was a mishap in the suspect's house. They had this gem and they threw it at me. I caught it and I started turning into stone. I was too scared to scream and I thought this is it. But I broke away from it. Stone went everywhere and different colored mists glowed from my body-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asks, now sorry.

I lift up the chains on my hands and they fall off, and the one on my neck. “I would never hurt those people.” Deans gun is now pointing in my direction, “Dean I'll show you.” I hold out my hand and show a blue mist. “I think it’s actual magic. I have even more proof on what’s happening if you let me show you.”

“How can we cure you?” Dean asks

“Dean.” Sam glares, “This is exactly what happened to me when I kinda-”

“Yeah. I know.”

“It’s been happening a lot now. It’s on the news all the time and they are everywhere-”

Dean pulls me into a hug, and I hug him back. I stepped out of the demon's trap.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchester #Winchester brothers #inhumans #inhuman #sister!winchester #sister!reader #cass #castiel

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theotherscarmanthewoman · 7 years

Text

Season 2 Episode 5: ‘Daleks...I hate those guys’ (and other stories)

In fact, he talks to the Daleks with cool contempt, and tells Ian they’d better put their wits against the Daleks and defeat them; hilariously, the Dalek tells him it can, y’know, hear what they’re saying. Oh and thanks, InfoText, for alerting me to a cut Ian line: ‘When all the history of Earth is put together, the Daleks won’t occupy more than one half a page.’ WHY DID THEY CUT THIS it’s a lovely little line and indeed shows him thinking in Barbara’s terms. Anyway, the Doctor doesn’t believe resistance is in any way futile (because of course) and that if the Daleks are going to conquer the Earth they’re going to have to destroy all living matter. Well, they probably will. As the Space Bros are dragged off by the Robomen, the Dalek rather shakily repeats ‘WE ARE THE MASTERS OF EARTH’ to itself like it’s a therapist’s mantra. Daleks are hella insecure. Back at the rebel base, everyone is listening to the Daleks broadcasting an ultimatum: survivors are to show themselves in the street and live or be killed horribly. Presumably Babs and Susan have already been briefed on the whole Dalek thing, because they seem unphased by this returning nightmare. Dortmun (the scientist in the wheelchair) scoffs at what he refers to as the ‘motorised dustbins’ (which was a rehearsal ad lib—thanks, InfoText!), and Tyler tells Jenny—a defensively hardfaced woman in the resistance who is somewhere between my idol and my spirit animal—to go and find food for Babs and Susan and see to Susan’s ankle. Because this is what women do in the twenty-second century. What she also does, fortunately, is command a certain level of respect: for one thing, when she goes around asking questions, they get sensible answers. She goes over and asks who the one with the bad ankle is, with the bluntest bedside manner ever; Susan is reasonably aggressive in identifying herself as the hobbler, and has her foot unceremoniously yanked about for her trouble. Hilariously, considering how Babs spent all that time mucking about in the diseased river last week, Jenny asks why nobody put a wet bandage on it (which seems to be the universal cure for a bad ankle in Classic Who), and an indignant Babs points out they’ve only just arrived. Jenny sees to the ankle, and continues to be brusque as hell sending Babs off for the food. Babs politely points out she doesn’t know where it is, and responds to Jenny’s instructions to sign them both up for work with indignation on account of the fact that Susan can’t work because of her bad ankle. Jenny points out that Susan could do something, y'know, sitting down. Then this happens:

Jenny, let me love you for doing my job; Babs, let me love you because WHAT an eyebrow. I LOVE SEEING THESE TWO INTERACT. It’s so unusual for Barbara not to be the most capable woman (and let's face it, often the most capable human/person) in the room, so it’s a complete change of dynamic to have two incredibly capable older women (ugh I hate that phrase because they’re not old at all, so let’s just say women over thirty) onscreen. Jenny, although she radiates competence, is also prickly as hell and brusque to the point of rudeness—almost Doctor-like, actually, in the early days before Babs got to him. And you can see Barbara being ever-so polite and suddenly coming across as this rather prim sixties schoolteacher but also rolling her eyes like ‘here we go again’. Also, as I shall discuss later, I have complex-ish headcanons about Barbara identifying with Jenny simultaneously in terms of a pre-Barbara Doctor and a potential post-war, post-Ian-hypothetically-dying Barbara. But more of that anon. Also I ship these two like crazy. Sorry not sorry, hashtag Bibara, hashtag Barbara loves a Dalek-fighting blonde, hashtag why the hell not. Anyway, Dortmun is talking to Tyler about attacking the Daleks; Tyler gets in a quip about this not being the twentieth century where men with bayonets charged at machine guns. That’s two for two in terms of serials and references to WWI. Dortmun wheels himself over to a shelf where he’s apparently left his new bomb lying around. He puts it on the table and declares it finished. Tyler asks whether it’s been tested; it hasn’t. Dortmun is a terrible scientist/tactician. I mean I get it, he’s got a chip on his shoulder about being in the chair, but that doesn’t mean his blind faith in his own theoretical formula is an adequate substitute for an actual weapons test. Enter David through the chute in the wall with a crate of apples. And corrects Jenny on something? I dunno, I still don’t like David (yet). Meanwhile, Dortmun is yelling at Tyler for thinking like a worm. Ugh, do shut up, Dortmun. Tyler (I quite like Tyler) protests that they’ve got to have a decent chance of survival. Which is sensible. David rocks up and tells them about Ian and the Doctor being taken, and Dortmun reckons it’s a shame as they could’ve used those two. Dortmun has more than a touch of the Captain Ahabs.

At the saucer at the Chelsea heliport, Ian and the Doctor have been brought face to face with more Daleks. Ian, bless him, has some classic ‘Doctor, I don’t understand’ companion dialogue so the Doctor can do a spot of exposition. Ian doesn’t get how the Daleks can be here when Team Tardis saw them destroyed already; the Doctor tells Ian that what happened on Skaro was a million years in the future. (How does he know that when the Tardis controls are buggered? And how do the Daleks on Skaro not recognise Team Tardis? Ach, Dalek timelines are an omnishambles. But this is apparently the middle history of the Daleks.) As more prisoners enter, Ian observes that the Daleks look different these days what with the discs on their backs, and reckons it might have something to do with their increased mobility—remember, they could only move on metal on Skaro. The Doctor reminds Ian that this is an invasion force and must adapt itself to local conditions. Though this doesn’t, as yet, include stairs. One guy who killed two of the Robomen is brought forwards, and his friend decides to make a run for it…and is murdered by the Daleks. There’s a rather poignant moment where Ian stops the guy running to help his friend, yelling ‘you can’t help him now’. Because obviously Ian has seen the Daleks kill before. And it’s a nasty scene, actually. I sometimes get a teeny bit frustrated when Classic Who gets painfully slow, but actually it’s a hundred times more effective having the Daleks silently close in around the terrified man who yells for help he knows won’t come. Anyway, the Dalek Supreme (who has ‘a different paint job’—thanks, InfoText!) tells the other prisoners to expect more of the same if they run, and the Space Bros are herded into the ship. (Is it just me, or does Dalek Supreme sound like a pizza? I’ve always thought this. Am I alone?) Back at resistance HQ, Susan is holding David’s gun while he polishes it. And I don’t know just what to do with that image. David continues to earn my loathing by telling Susan about the men being at the saucer but insisting that they not tell Barbara. For reasons? Why is David a dick to Barbara? Why has Susan allowed herself to be taken in by the bullshit logic he offers when she protests? Enter Jenny (a.k.a. Classic Who's new Queen of No Time For Your Shit) with a Roboman’s helmet and holds it out to David, who has apparently asked for a look at it. When he carries on with what he’s doing, this happens:

Jenny: Well here you are, then, take them. I’ve got better things to do. David: Oh, you’re a model of charm and patience, aren’t you? Jenny: Well I don’t believe in wasting time! And I don’t believe in sentiment either.

YES JENNY! SMASH HIM! Also, someone’s been Hurt Bad, haven’t they? Enter Babs, breathless with admiration and looking eager to please, and in a weird reversal of the ‘apple for the teacher’ thing, brings Jenny some apples. When Jenny rather carelessly tells her to just put them down, Babs rolls her eyes yet again and lobs an apple at her Space Daughter and soon-to-be Space Son-in-Law. Who seems to have learned some manners at least and thanks her. But more importantly, Barbara, never ever stop pulling those faces.

Babs picks up the Roboman helmet and asks Susan what it is (hurrah!) but when Susan (correctly) tells Babs that they (meaning, I assume the beings from which they were taken) are called Robomen, David cuts across her and tells her she’s got it wrong, and proceeds to mansplain that the devices were taken from dead human beings. I mean, I suppose you could make the case for David trying to afford the mutilated human slaves some dignity in death, but Susan’s answer was more useful. Jenny chips in about the Daleks needing helpers and operating on prisoners; David explains about the Daleks controlling the brains for a bit. Babs, rather naively, asks whether the humans revert afterwards, and Jenny answers her with ruthless bleakness: ‘They die.’ David talks about the Robos going crazy and killing themselves, and Barbara realises just what she saw when she found that body in the river last week. Then, in a classic Babs move, she permits herself to wax lyrical: ‘Daleks…everything they touch turns into a horrible sort of nightmare.’ Well, quite. Susan asks if they’re still making Robomen, and Jenny again answers: yes, and they got her brother last year. Well, that explains a lot. Oblivious to the fact that Ian and the Doctor are at a heliport, Jenny tells Susan that once the Daleks have you on board a saucer you haven’t got a hope; Susan looks horrified. As well she might. Digression: this is what I meant when I said that for Babs looking at Jenny was probably like looking at one potential future self—a future self after ten years of war and having lost her Space Fam. I mean don’t get me wrong, Babs is a very different person if only because she tends to luxuriate in her morbid streak or fixate on the absurd when things get grim, whereas Jenny has been hardened by her experiences and uses that hardness as a defence mechanism. But I at least find it interesting that this is the first time Babs has met a woman her own age on her travels and instantly tries to reach out (who can blame her after all those weeks spent mothering Susan?) only to realise that she has another right pain-in-the-arse on her hands. Albeit one with whom she nevertheless empathises because of course Babs’s Space Fam is what keeps her grounded even as she develops in the face of extreme adversity, whereas Jenny has recently lost her brother. Back on the saucer, the InfoText tells me of some cut dialogue in which Ian chides the Doctor for sounding like the secretary of the Dalek Fan Club and the Doctor retorts by saying ‘One can admire the ingenuity of a people without condoning their ethics’. He later calls the Daleks the most brutal but the most brilliant people in the universe. Which is interesting insofar as they clearly cut it to make his morals more human/less problematic. Anyway, the Doctor is pretty confident he can get them out of the cell into which they’ve been placed. The Daleks spy on them and think the Doctor’s spiel about resistance etc. means he’s more intelligent than other humans so they’re going to give him The Test. Whatever that is.

Inside the cell, the Doctor chides the new guy (Jack Craddock) for being pessimistic and Ian asks how the Daleks invaded and that. Craddock asks whether they’ve been on moon station; they hastily agree. Though I call bullshit on that, as surely ten years is enough time to figure out the Earth has been invaded. Anyway, ten years ago the Earth was bombarded with meteorites and everyone got the plague. The Daleks waited for everyone to get weak from the germ bombs and eventually the survivors were either too spread out or too few to resist effectively. There are some interesting alternative versions of this in the InfoText which has it begin in 1980 and sounds eerily like it had post-Trump USA and post-Brexit Britain in mind, because one is at war with Russia and China while the other is on the brink of war with Europe. Mankind forgets its differences and unites against the Daleks, proving that xenophobia always wins, it’s just a matter of scale. The other version has bacteria bombs and oh I don’t have to explain it because apparently Terry Nation reused the scenario for his 1975 TV series The Survivors. Which I’d like to see. Though it does sound a bit H.G. Wells. Anyway, we cut back to David explaining what happened to Babs and Susan, who is (rather worryingly) holding the barrel of David’s gun to her chin. PUT THE GUN DOWN, SUSAN. ‘Divide and conquer,’ observes history teacher Babs, knowingly, and David agrees. David starts to explain that it was at this point that the Dalek saucers arrived and they started killing people, but honestly I’m just distracted and mega impressed by the Dalek operators managing to zoom down the ramp and turn off like that. Oh though apparently on the first attempt one of them went smashing into a camera. I’m not surprised. Anyway, WELL DONE, DALEK OPERATORS. Ahem. The Daleks turned people into Robomen, the end. I think? I’m sorry, I’m usually mega into post-apocalyptic world-building but I’m also mega into Dalek manoeuvres.

Craddock’s voice takes over saying how the Daleks knew full well the psychological impact of using their own people against them, and we’re treated to an image of a Roboman knocking a woman to the ground just so we know how bad stuff is. Then Ian asks what we’re all thinking: WHY? Oh Ian, you do NOT want to know. Anyway, apparently the Daleks have turned the whole of Bedfordshire into a gigantic mine. The Doctor gives zero fucks about ‘all this blab about Bedfordshire’ because it’s escape time. The Daleks issue a final warning, telling the resistance that if they come and work for them, they get life. Obvious and chilling Nazi parallels are both obvious and chilling. (Also, has anyone ever listened to the Dalek Empire stories from Big Finish? Because it’s one of the few things I have from Big Finish and it’s brilliant, if only because a lot of it is about Dalek labour camps and resistance and collaboration and it’s dead interesting. I mean I only have I-III, but I would absolutely recommend.) Back at Resistance HQ, the Rebels of London are listening and a random lady extra has hysterics. Dortmun starts waving his untested bomb around saying they’ll come out of hiding…WITH THIS, claiming it will shatter the Daleks’ casing. Instant hubbub! Though through it I see Jenny sternly asking how many they’ve got, being told by Tyler ‘we’ve got enough’, and retorting ‘well, I hope so’. Heart eyes. I do like Tyler, too, actually. Jenny objects strongly to a frontal attack, and oh I’m glad the InfoText is on because I can confirm that I’m not imagining things and Dortmun is indeed modelled a bit on Churchill, because the rhetoric he cracks out about just needing one victory is distinctly Churchillian. He stands for good measure. Jenny still isn’t drinking the Kool Aid and asks how they get close enough to the heliport to throw the bombs; Tyler says they have plenty of cover from buildings; some guy (Baker?) says the Daleks will start firing on them; Dortmun says it will be a SURPRISE attack; Baker says as soon as the first bomb is thrown the surprise will be over. And then—brace yourselves for gushing—BARBARA ROLLS HER EYES AND PIPES UP: they can get right into the middle of the Daleks if they disguise themselves as Robomen! (Which apparently was what they were already doing in an earlier script but bless whoever changed it.) Tyler beams at her and tells her it’ll work; Susan pops up behind her Space Mum and hugs her delightedly and oh I do love how in this serial everyone falls in love with Babs whenever she has a good idea. Because this is essentially what I do. Anyway, they attack in one hour! Hurrah!

Back in the cell, there’s a crystal box thing and a magnifying glass and some bars and essentially it’s the test the Daleks were talking about but the Doctor reckons it’s there so Daleks can get out if they’re locked in and they do a Sciency thing with some sort of electromagnetism and get out of the cell. I’m sorry I can’t go into more detail because it makes no sense but there is a cute bit where the Doctor asks Ian whether he did three-dimensional graph geometry at his school and Ian rather sheepishly says he only ever did Boyle’s Law and the Doctor makes a terrible Dad Joke about having to Boyle this down and giggles like he’s been the wittiest man in the universe and Ian grins and yeah the Space Bros are just too much. Oh and this happens:

Ian: You know, Doctor, sometimes you astound me. Doctor: Only sometimes, dear boy? What's happened to your memory?

Oh and the Doctor rather proudly tells Craddock they managed to outwit the Daleks once before and tells him to go away. They open the door with magnets. Which is educational. The Doctor tells everyone to get out of here ‘and be crafty’…only to run right into a Dalek patrol. The Robomen take the Doctor off to be Robotised, and Ian and Craddock are shoved back into the cell. Outside, Barbara, David, and Susan are lurking. According to the InfoText, Susan, who feels super involved with the insurgents’ struggle, asks to go with David without telling Barbara, who remains behind at the rebel base. Again, I am enormously thankful that they changed this, though I’m sad that we don’t get to see more of Susan actually feeling involved at this point, which would make her thing with David make more sense. And give her a properly satisfying character arc. Nevertheless, the badass bouffant is here, too, and I am very glad about that. The Doctor is being dragged over to the Robotising machine or whatever it’s called. There’s a bit that, much like the bit where the Daleks very slowly surround that extra and kill him, makes me feel super uncomfortable where the Daleks instruct the Robomen to take the Doctor’s coat off him, which they do by force. Which is really horrible. Not only because it makes the Doctor seem really, really vulnerable but also because he stretches his hand out towards his coat in genuine anguish, which only bolsters my headcanon about Gallifreyans deriving their health from fabulous clothing (see Susan’s apparent allergy to squalor in The Reign of Terror). They manhandle him onto the operating table. Outside the saucer, the fake Robomen are trying to blag their way past the Daleks and are almost immediately rumbled, but who cares, because now the fabulous Babs and Susan are lobbing bombs at the Daleks!

Oh and here’s some InfoText: apparently Jacqueline Hill got a bit too into it and bruised her knuckles on the window frame in this scene, which caused the BBC’s head of serials to write her a letter about ‘being a big brave girl’. I hope she knew him well and he was being funny, because otherwise that’s just patronising as hell. Also, one day I will do a master post on Jacqueline Hill v Sets, beginning with that time she broke the rockface in the spelunking section on Skaro. God this scene must’ve been bedlam to film. There’s smoke and extras and bangs and people being exterminated and Daleks whizzing down ramps. They really went for broke on this serial what with this and all the location shooting and I bloody love it. Having said that, the Daleks don’t seem enormously affected by the bombs. Maybe Dortmun should’ve, y’know, ACTUALLY TESTED THEM. Tyler is now in the saucer, and looking for prisoners to rescue. Maybe he should start with the Doctor, WHO IS ABOUT TO BE ROBOTISED! SHIT THE BED WILL THE DOCTOR BECOME A DALEK ZOMBIE? WILL IAN BE RESCUED? WILL SUSAN AND DAVID STOP BEING DICKS AND PUT BARBARA IN THE LOOP? WHERE IS JENNY IN THIS FIGHT? AND WILL SUSAN'S NEWFOUND BADASSERY BE ALLOWED TO CONTINUE? Summary (as applicable to this episode)

Does it pass the Bechdel test? With flying colours. Is the gaze problematic? Nope. Is/are the woman companion(s) dressed 'for the Dads'? Nope. Save the girl or save the world? Whose decision is it? N/A. Does a woman fall over/twist her ankle (whilst running from peril)? Nope. Though Susan's ankle is still twisted. However, it recovers in time for her to go out to fight the Daleks. Does a woman wander off alone for the sole dramatic purpose of getting into trouble so she can be rescued later? Nope. Is/are the woman companion(s) captured? Nope. The Doctor and Ian are captured this week. Does the Doctor/a man companion/any other man have to rescue the woman companion(s) from peril? Nope, it's the Space Bros who need rescuing this week. Is a woman placed under threat of actual bodily harm? Apart from that extra, no, though Babs and Susan are in the middle of a guerrilla battle. Does a woman have to deal with a sexual predator? Nope. Is/are the woman companion's/s' first/only reaction(s) to peril gratuitous screaming? No. Does a woman faint at the sight of peril/horror or generally lose consciousness (discounting normal sleep)? Nope. Does a woman companion go into hysterics over something reasonably minor? No.

Is a woman 'spared' the ordeal of having to do/witness something unpleasant by a man who makes a decision on her behalf/keeps her deliberately ignorant? YES. And Susan is complicit, which infuriates me. Why on Earth didn't they tell Barbara that Ian and the Doctor were at the heliport? What did they think she was going to do? Have a fit of the vapours and find herself incapable of bowling overarm? Does a woman suffer in silence (to further the plot)? Nope. Does a man automatically disbelieve or belittle something a woman (companion) says happened to her? No. Does a man talk over a woman or talk about a woman as though she isn't there? No, and when David tries to blank Jenny she lets him know about it.

Does the woman companion have to be calmed/comforted by the Doctor/a man companion/a man? Nope.

Is a woman the first/only person to be (most gratuitously) menaced by the episode's antagonist(s)? Nope. That would be the Doctor himself.

Is a man shamed into doing/not doing something because the alternative is a woman doing/not doing something? No.

Does the woman companion come up with a plan? YES. The Roboman disguise plan.

Does the woman companion do something stupid/banal/weird which inspires a man to be a Man with a Plan? No.

Does a woman come up with a theory and is it ridiculed by the Doctor/a man? No.

Does a woman call the Doctor out on his bullshit? N/A.

Does a woman get to be a badass? Yes indeed. Both Barbara and Susan get to throw bombs at Daleks.

Is the young, strong, straight, white male lead the person most often in control of the situation? Nope.

Is there past/future/alien sexism? There is still this idea that women are mostly responsible for food and first aid, even though Barbara and Susan (and later Jenny, as we shall see) go on the attack.

Does a 'present'-day character call anybody out on past/future/alien sexism? Jenny responds to David's criticism of her lack of attractive feminine qualities (charm and patience) by calling him a sentimental time-waster. Does an past/future/alien person have the hots for a woman companion and is it reciprocated? David and Susan no longer violently dislike each other, but I wouldn't call it the hots just yet.

Did a woman write/direct/produce this episode? No/No/Yes.

Verdict A good week for the women, who get stuck in with the rebellion. We also get to meet Jenny, who is one of my favourite side characters of all time...possibly because she gets a Doctor-style character development arc in the space of one serial. Also, isn't it nice when you have more than one speaking role for a woman over thirty and they get to interact? So that here you get to see two different reactions to having been catapulted into a crazy way of living from two different human women? So that you are allowed to enjoy their strengths and flaws as people rather than constantly having to analyse said strengths and flaws in terms of their being the single onscreen representative of adult womanhood? I warmed to David a little more this week (if only because he referred to the two women as women rather than girls and remembered his p's and q's) but he also infuriated me with his mansplaining and his inexplicable wish to keep Babs in the dark. I also feel like they could have given Susan the character development that comes with actively asking to go on the mission and kept it so that Barbara also went along, as some of Susan seemed to get lost in the cut. The Space Bros continue to be Science Dorks, which I love, and the Daleks were actually pretty chilling this week. Also Dalek manoeuvres. I love Dalek manoeuvres. Next week, RUNNING AROUND LONDON WITH DALEKS.

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nyxysabyss · 7 years

Text

LEVEL HORIZON; YEAR ONE.30 1/3; Mortal Contention

CHAPTER 10!

I think that everyone has a choice in every difficult situation. The thing about anger is that it invades your thoughts in such a way that you forget you have those choices and your emotions take control. ~Jim Medlock

~One Month Later; Summer’s End~

Koushi Sugawara hands a glass of water to Daichi where he sits beside the Volley net, sweat coating his brow.

“How’s it going?” He asks with a grin and his leveler glances up at him.

“Excellent. Thank you, my beautiful silver star.” He murmurs softly, his hand brushing across Koushi’s fingers a little too long. The thrush’s face heats and he knows he’s blushing.

“Daichi, you’re being embarrassing.” He murmurs, but his mouth tugs in a sheepish smile all the same.

“How else am I supposed to get you to look like that?” The crow says with a smirk and Koushi’s eyes widen. If he wasn’t blazing red before, he is now.

“Daichi.” He scolds. Daichi reaches for him and he ducks away with a laugh.

And then he stumbles at the sharp bark from Kageyama, and the thrush wants to both cringe and sigh. The two have been taking passive-aggressive shots at each other for over a month… since the last time they’d brought Hinata into Sheru Bay, to be precise. And they had planned another trip with the redhead today, but it sounds like Hinata has taken the same approach as last time and opted not to say anything until they are basically ready to go.

Koushi gets why the redhead has stooped to keeping his plans from the other setter until the last minute, but it makes him anxious with dread because Kageyama doesn’t do surprises— unpleasant ones even less so.

For the first months after they’d joined the beach crew a year ago, things had been fine between the two in the wake of their leveler ‘enlightenment’. But Hinata had slowly been losing his mind by the following spring, and that’s when things had begun to unravel. With Kageyama stuck at the beach house while Hinata mitigated his sanity with human interaction, a tension had returned between them that had only built. By that third trip with the redhead, they were blatantly arguing over it which had done nothing but escalate over the next six months.

As the thrush hears the rise of Hinata’s musical voice until it competes with Kageyama’s, he laments at where they’ve come. It truly breaks his heart to see them fight; they are members of his unit and his friends— his family at this point.

But he and Daichi have never had this kind of problem and he has no idea what to do about it. He’s tried reasoning with both Hinata and Kageyama to get them to mellow and has apparently hit a brick wall in both directions, because they are at it as hard today as they were last time— maybe more. And it’s accelerating down that horrible spiral much faster this time.

“I can’t stay here all the time, Kageyama! It’s like going around a circular room searching for a corner.” Hinata finally snaps at the setter, his patience gone and that heavy voice that betrays his fury lashes out at Kageyama.

Koushi sucks in a breath and turns to stare at them. He can’t remember a time where the redhead has turned that tone against the black-haired setter, no matter how insufferable he could be. Daichi had told him that it did occasionally happen growing up, but it was quite uncommon. Apparently, it’s as rare as he thinks it must be, given the way Kageyama stares back at the redhead. Finally, the crow setter’s face smooths out.

“Then go. And maybe don’t back, because I can’t do this every time you want to take a field trip.” He says flatly, his voice sounding horribly dead, and Hinata’s face goes slack, as if the words were a capital sentence.

Before Koushi can even process the enormity of Kageyama’s brittle remark, Noya is brushing by him, headed in their direction. It’s odd, he thinks, because the shortest crow has been probably the least inclined to interfere in the past.

“Oi!” He barks at them, but neither even notice him. Instead, Hinata’s face pulls down into a glare.

“Maybe I will.” He says spitefully, but it doesn’t seem to rattle the taller setter who readily fires back a retort.

“Good. While you’re at it, try not to die. You hold the other end of my rope, so if you buy it, I’m done, too.” The redhead steps backward almost as if the setter took a swing at him.

“Kageyama…” He says, his leaded voice wavering.

“Oi! You two brats—”

“This is what you want, isn’t it? Freedom? It’s yours. Go Hinata.” Kageyama cuts the smallest crow off as he reaches them.

Noya hauls the redhead backward in an effort to put distance between the two, but neither falter in their face off.

“You’re really being an ass.” Hinata spits instead, his face furrowing with a massive frown. Hinata rarely swears let alone at his leveler, and Koushi knows he’s really starting to lose all rationale.

“And you aren’t listening, you freaking shrimp. Leave.”

Noya freezes along with the rest of the Karasuno group. He turns to stare up at Kageyama beside a once more slack-jawed Hinata. Everyone outside has gone still. Lev, Kuroo, Tsukishima, Yamguchi, and the owls pause at the net while Tanaka and Asahi exchange a glance from where they are collecting items for trade, and Daichi finds Koushi’s wrist in a crushing grip.

Even if the significance of the setter’s barb is lost on the guys by the net, he and the other Karasuno unit members catch it. The Grand King was the first to call Hinata ‘shrimp’. Plenty of others had regularly called him that, but never Kageyama. Coming from anyone else, it would simply be a word… but coming from the raven-haired setter, it’s an epithet.

“That was un-fucking-called for!” Tanaka says and is quickly following the path Noya had cut across the beach to where he still has a hold on Hinata. The thrush jumps as the door slams open and Yaku bursts out, his expression narrowed with anger.

“Stop them.” He barks, leaping down off the porch, his feet never touching any of the steps. Daichi beside him starts moving at the cat’s command, but they are too late to stop the redhead’s watery remark.

“Fine, be an egotistical tyrant king.” Kageyama’s gaze narrows and he takes a step forward.

“Go.” The taller boy growls out.

“Dammit, stop them!” Yaku snaps, throwing his arms around Kageyama’s waist and attempting to haul him backward. Tanaka joins Noya in pulling Hinata away while Daichi plants a hand against the crow setter’s chest. Kuroo materializes out of nowhere and grabs Kageyama’s shoulder. The setter allows himself to be forced backward, but Hinata rails at the hands holding him.

“Kageyama, you’re such an idiot!” He bites out in a fractured voice.

“Get him out of here or we’ll be burying them!” Yaku snarls at Noya and Tanaka who jump at his sharp command. Daichi finally finds his voice.

“Go. We’ll cool Kageyama down.” He says and Noya and Tanaka pick the redhead up entirely and haul him away.

Asahi and Lev join them when they finally put Hinata down and steer him toward town. Kageyama’s gaze remains on them until they are out of sight, his cobalt eyes hollow while Koushi is frozen where he stands. Somewhere along the line, the girls and Kenma have come out to see what the commotion was and watch with wide eyes. Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and the owls all stare in tense silence, and all Koushi can process is horror.

Get him out of here or we’ll be burying them!

Yaku’s words ring in his ears as Kuroo and the russet cat slowly release the black-haired setter who simply stares at the bend in the beach where his leveler and the others disappeared.

Koushi’s seen it before; any minute now, Kageyama’s body will revolt on him and he will be emptying his stomach of this morning’s breakfast. Daichi knows what’s coming, too, and places a hand on his shoulder to steer him back toward the house. The setter looks at it before roughly shaking him off.

“Get off me.” He mutters coldly before staggering toward the porch under his own power.

Koushi can see the sweat already coating his face as he wavers on his feet. Kuroo shadows him and Yachi tentatively reaches out to him before withdrawing her hand as he struggles up the steps, his eyes glazed.

A low whistle over his shoulder catches his attention and he turns to see Bokuto and Akaashi, their eyes enormous.

“That was crazy.” The streaked owl says in a low voice.

“No, that was dangerous.” Yaku mutters as Kageyama disappears inside.

“He took it too far this time.” Daichi murmurs after the avian prince, but the russet cat shakes his head at him.

“Wrong. He was trying to stop that disaster by getting Hinata to leave.”

“Eh?” Bokuto asks with confusion.

“Stop a fight in the middle and yeah, they both still stew with anger, but they don’t have the chance to do more damage by loosing more of those destructive words. Kageyama was trying to control it— admittedly probably poorly— but he was trying to stop it.”

Kuroo’s hand finds its way to the back of his neck and he looks up at the sky with a brooding expression.

“This is getting worse. I’d have thought we’d be facing dangers from outside like that sentry a few months back, but our biggest threat is coming from within.”

“Do you have any ideas for fixing it?” Daichi asks, his face looking tired. Kuroo shakes his head.

“I don’t really—”

“Yaku!” Yachi squeals, her head poking out the door with a stricken expression and everyone looks at her. “Yaku, Kageyama’s down!”

For the second time, Koushi feels like his feet root into place as he runs through the possibilities that could mean while trying to avoid the most likely of them. Yaku curses under his breath and zips up the steps. Daichi takes his arm and it’s only after the other crow touches him that he can move again, and he joins the others as they all crowd into the house after the girls and Yaku.

Kageyama’s crumpled form is sprawled across the floor, vomit pooled around his face as Yaku and Yachi kneel beside him.

“What do I do?” She asks frantically.

“He’s just unconscious… no, don’t roll him backward, keep him on his side.” He instructs as Shimizu comes in with a rag and starts to wipe away his stomach’s expulsion.

“If he throws up again, you don’t want him to choke.” He murmurs as he peels back an eyelid. Koushi shivers at the black stare in the middle of the cobalt iris.

“Damn, dilated eyes. His body’s trying to detox.”

“What do we do for him?” Yachi asks again and the cat huffs.

“This is breaking. It’s the chemical reaction that levelers experience when they fight. The body releases a toxin that makes them physically sick and scalds the feathers. There’s no antidote and it’s not something you can just fix. He’ll have to ride it out. About the only thing we can do is make sure he’s comfortable and monitor him. If you believe in the gods, pray he’ll be fine.” He says with a dark frown. Kuroo and Bokuto move to pick him up while Akaashi pulls out a blanket to lay him on. Yaku looks up at Shimizu.

“Can we get a cool wet rag? He’s still burning with fever. We’ll probably need a light blanket, too, because he’ll be flipping between sweating and chills.”

“Ah! He’s heaving again!” Yachi squeaks, attempting to catch any mess with a towel, but it’s not nearly as much this time as his stomach is already empty. Yaku nods with a morose frown.

“Expect it off and on every half hour, give or take for a while.” Another four or five contractions of Kageyama’s gut and he goes still. And then his muscles start shaking, waves of shivers running the length of his spine and into his limbs.

“What’s wrong with him?” Bokuto asks.

“Toxic shock. The muscles go weak and his body will chill after vomiting, so they shake. Another fifteen minutes and he’ll be sweating as his body gears up for another round of heaving.”

The door slams open and Noya pushes in.

“Shouyou’s…” He pulls up short as everyone huddled around Kageyama turns to stare at him. The short crow’s gaze drops to the unconscious setter.

“What—”

“Shouyou’s what, Noya?” Yaku asks firmly. The crow’s mocha eyes snap back to him.

“We got maybe halfway to Sheru Bay when he threw up, and he’s really dizzy. He can’t walk a straight line and Asahi’s carrying him back right now.”

“Perfect.” He murmurs cynically. “Bring him inside when they get here. He could use the wakeup call, too.”

Noya’s eyes are still wide as he disappears back outside and in moments Asahi is following him back in cradling a pale redhead. His almond eyes lock onto his shivering leveler as the large crow deposits him on his shaky feet, the pupils dilating until Koushi can barely see the warm brown around them.

“Kageyama?” He whispers and stumbles forward two steps. “What happened to him?”

“You did.” Yaku mutters with a touch of anger. Hinata shakes his head, his lower lip trembling.

“I… I’d never do something like this.” Yaku eyes him incredulously.

“Did you think the ‘breaking’ thing was a myth? He’s been getting sick after every fight and yet you repeat the process each time. You finally managed to render him unconscious. Pray he survives, because if he goes, so do you.” Hinata’s eyes blow wide.

“Kageyama’s going to die?” He whispers.

“Hard to say... but I haven’t seen many people come back from this level of toxicity. You’d best hope he wants to live; it might be the only thing that saves him because your leveler link won’t help you this time. The ‘binding’ property can’t fix leveler inflicted injuries.” Hinata’s jaw drops and his orange head shakes once. He backs up a step and shakes his head again.

“Kageyama…” He whimpers before he turns and stumbles back outside, his eyes glossing with tears. Noya moves to follow but Yaku shakes his head as Tanaka walks back in with a raised eyebrow.

“Let him be. He needs to realize how serious this is. He won’t go far.”

“There’s something off. Why isn’t Hinata affected?” Tsukishima says from beside the door and Koushi looks toward the russet cat, having wondered that himself.

“He is. He just threw up, too, but it’s nothing like this. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it and puzzle it out, but I don’t have an answer, yet. I thought it might be something to do with being different species, but—”

“Wait, what?” Noya stops him. “Different species? What are you talking about?” Yaku blinks blandly at him.

“Hinata isn’t a crow. His hair and voice are indicative of that.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s my brother. He is a crow.” Noya says with a frown and Yaku points at Kageyama.

“He’s a crow, but the redhead isn’t. He might be your ‘brother’ for all practical purposes, but he doesn’t share your blood. I think someone said he spoke another language when he came to the rookery, too?” Yaku asks glancing around for verification and Tanaka nods.

“He couldn’t speak a word of ours at first.”

“That’s another good indicator. See crows have a unique speech pattern...it doesn’t matter where you go, you will still be able to grasp what another crow is trying to say. The dialect and accent may make it difficult, but you can always generally get the gist of it even if you are on the other side of the world. The fact that your languages were completely separate means he didn’t start out around crows.”

“His wings were black, though.” Asahi murmurs helplessly.

“Plenty of others have black wings. Ravens, stilts, certain flycatchers, and cormorants all have black wings. But his hair makes me think he’s more a songbird, the foreign language, something exotic. I’d thought that could have something to do with it and Kageyama was somehow shouldering the majority of the effects, but…” The russet cat finds Koushi and he straightens. “You and Daichi aren’t the same species either. Does the breaking thing affect you differently?”

Koushi meets his leveler’s gaze. They’ve never had a fight like this; they wouldn’t be able to offer a credible example.

“It doesn’t.” Daichi says to his surprise. “We had a minor argument early on that still affected us both. Suga wasn’t exempt.” One of Koushi’s silver brows arches. That could hardly have been called an argument even if he still remembers how crappy he’d felt...

“Didn’t think so. And Hinata glows every night, so there’s no question that they are levelers....” The cat trails away in thought.

“What about the wings?” Kenma says softly drawing everyone’s attention.

“What?”

“The difference between them as a level pair and say Daichi and Suga or Bokuto and Akaashi is that one of them is grounded. Shouyou doesn’t have wings, and he doesn’t feel the full force of ‘breaking’. Maybe it’s something to do with that?”

“I get it.” Kuroo breaks in. “The toxin releases from glands in a cat’s ears. Do you guys know where it releases from for avians?” Kuroo asks, glancing up at them but it’s Tsukishima who answers with a flat expression.

“The feathers. Your princeling loses the burned-out feathers because they’re ground zero of the toxin release point and get hit the hardest. Hinata doesn’t have wings, just the few feathers around the base, so he doesn’t have the glands that release it.” Yaku eyes him with newfound respect.

“You’re probably right.”

“Is Kageyama really in danger?” Asahi asks quietly, breaking the brainstorm session.

“I’m not sure, but he’ll probably pull through okay.”

“But you said you haven’t seen many people come out of this.” Tanaka says with a scowl.

“That’s because I haven’t seen many people take it this far. But since Hinata escapes the physical effects of what this can do, the best way to make sure it doesn’t happen again is to give him a memory he won’t want to repeat. Real, gut-wrenching fear is one of the most effective tools for that. If he’s legitimately terrified he might lose Kageyama, he will be that much more cautious in the future because he will remember this moment.”

“That’s a little harsh.” Noya says with a frown.

“The alternative might be a double funeral.” The cat mutters with a dark glance at the small crow. Koushi gets it… tough love in this case might save both their lives.

“I wish we had more information on all this. None of our parents ever told us anything beyond the stories as kids.” Daichi says with a frown.

“They probably didn’t know much more than that themselves.” Yaku says mildly, taking the rag Shimizu holds out for him and runs it across the already beading skin of Kageyama’s forehead as the female crow sets a bowl of water beside him and Noya edges closer.

“It’s entirely possible to build an unbreakable bond with someone who isn’t your leveler. Avians achieve this all the time given how many of them never find theirs. But therein lies the danger of knowing your leveler, and level pairs frequently take that tether for granted—for more than it is, never considering its true nature.” Koushi’s brow furrows in puzzlement.

“What do you mean?” He asks and Yaku glances at him briefly before wiping the rag across Kageyama’s burning skin.

“Most people don’t realize that the leveler connection is essentially an indicator, nothing more. It’s like when you build a fire. The leveler link is the match that ignites the flames, but those flames will go out without more wood being added. A level pair will all too often rely solely on that connection as the foundation of their relationship, and they don’t realize that it’s like any other and requires work to sustain. There must be communication, empathy with the other half, the desire to understand each other without resentment, and the will to make it all happen. The leveler link provides the spark, but they must put in the effort to keep it going themselves. When they fail to do so, this is what happens.” He says with a pointed look at the unconscious avian. “The difference for level pairs is that they can’t weather fights like this without repercussion like anyone else… as I’m sure you can see.”

“How do you know all this? I mean, you’re a cat but you know about avians, too.” Akaashi says, and Yaku shrugs.

“I’ve met my fair share of feline level pairs, but I also spent a decade as the reluctant ‘guest’ of an eccentric group of avians after I survived the boat I was on running aground on an atoll. They’d maintained a constant almost unnoticeable cut on the undersides of their wings until they found their leveler. They had a tendency toward sleep piles like you guys, so when someone started glowing, they’d figure out who they were linked to through the ‘binding’ effect. Very few ended up with someone who wasn’t their leveler, and most of my avian knowledge comes from them.”

“You’re sure he’s going to come through?” Kuroo asks heavily.

“Not one-hundred percent, but probably about seventy-five. I don’t have much to go on here experience-wise; the avians I stayed with were good at mitigating arguments— sometimes several people would get involved to prevent something like this, so I rarely saw anything this crazy. If he makes it to tomorrow morning, I’ll be a lot more comfortable in giving you a ‘yes’.”

Koushi swallows.

Odds are in their favor then, strictly speaking, but in the thrush’s opinion, they aren’t good odds. There’s a one in four chance that Kageyama dies— and if he goes, so does Hinata. According to Yaku, there’s a twenty-five percent likelihood that they will be burying two members in the morning. Never mind the ramifications this will have with the rookery if the avian prince dies, he doubts any of them can stomach that loss.

And his entire being trembles, because if they survive, it’s a certainty that it will happen again. Hinata needs people and Kageyama can’t risk exposure. They will always be stuck being forced to separate to preserve the redhead’s sanity and for whatever reason, it’s something Kageyama can’t deal with. Koushi knows them too well; even if this incident leaves a lasting impression on them, they will still butt heads and argue again eventually. If they don’t want a repeat, something has to change. There has to be an alternative to a road that will only lead them full circle and right back here.

Koushi’s mind finally kicks into gear again after feeling like he’s been under water since the first words of the younger level pair’s confrontation had frozen his thoughts earlier. As Kageyama begins another round of heaving, Koushi’s eyes narrow.

They have to find another way.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 9; Chapter 11

A/N: And so begins the slow torture of my characters. Nyx should not be allowed to write stories.

This was one of the very first ones I completed for Horizon; it's still pretty close to the original rough I wrote with very little change.

I hope this was interesting... I've been over it enough times that my mind is pretty fried, which means the full effect of the chapter is a bit lost on me. I've been 'too close' to the story too long, so I can't tell if it is still legitimately interesting.

Eh. Have a spectacular evening you guys!

#level pair #level horizon #haikyuu!!#kagehina #Tobio Kageyama #Shouyou Hinata #sugawara koushi #fanfiction #long post

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